Read Online For the King's Favor by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page B

living.
    “I am pleased to see you at court,” Henry said. “You have been too long absent.”
    “Sire, I have been busy on my lands,” Roger answered, putting a slight emphasis on the “my.” “There has been much to do.”
    Henry rubbed his chin and considered him with thoughtful leisure. Roger remained stoical under the scrutiny. He had felt sick to realise that his stepmother and half-brothers had arrived at court before him and used the advantage of time to make the first plea. They had been staring across the hall at him earlier with a mingling of hostility and smugness.
    Henry signalled a chamberlain to pour wine and gestured Roger to sit on the bench before the hearth. “Your stepmother has offered a fine of a thousand marks for me to find in her favour on the matter of your father’s lands,” he said.
    Roger took the cup, hoping the contents were better than the usual sludge Henry served to his guests. “I have always known my father’s wife would dispute the inheritance, sire, and I deny her claim to the utmost. The lands are mine by right as the eldest son. If provision is to be made for my half-brothers, then let it be out of their mother’s estate. Whatever my father acquired in his lifetime is due to me, not them.” Taking a tentative sip, he discovered his hopes in respect of the wine had been in vain.
    “I am not unsympathetic to your plea,” Henry replied, “but the matter needs examining in more detail before I can give a decision.”
    Behind a neutral expression Roger wondered if “more detail” was a euphemism for more bribes. Presents and gratuities served to grease the wheels of court life, but Roger had no intention of setting himself up in competition with his stepmother and beggaring himself whilst Henry rubbed his hands.
    Henry leaned back in his chair, one shoulder pressed into the corner, arm braced, hand gripping the finial. “What I can say for certain, and this the Church endorses, is that you are of legitimate birth, but it does not entitle you to the entire inheritance and your stepmother still has grounds for dispute.”
    Relief coursed through Roger. That at least was something, although in truth he hadn’t expected to fail on that score.
    “While the issue is being deliberated, the title of earl has to be withheld, and the third penny of the shire.” Henry’s gaze narrowed. “To be blunt, it is not within my interests to grant preference and promotion to a family whose titled lord betrayed me at every turn.”
    Roger’s breathing quickened. Even though he had been prepared for this moment—because Henry was hardly going to return privileges and revenues with an open hand—the words were like a blow to the midriff. “Sire, I am not my father. I have served you in good faith since the battle at Fornham and done all you have asked of me.”
    “Yes, you have,” Henry replied tepidly, “but in so doing, you have also been serving yourself, and that seems to be an overweening family trait. You abandoned your own father, and that tells me you have the capacity within you to bite the hand that feeds.”
    It was another blow, this time at groin level. Roger’s jaw tightened. “Sire, given the choice between treason to my King and disloyalty to my father, I chose the lesser dishonour. What would you have had me do?”
    “Perhaps, too, you gambled on which would be the greater benefit to your future.” Henry’s lips curved in a wintry smile. “Thus far I am pleased with your loyalty, but like good bread it needs a second proving. Before I entrust anything to you, I need to know you will be steadfast. It is not good enough for you to swear you are. I need proof.”
    Roger suppressed the comment that proof would only come from shouldering the burden. “By whatever means you ask I will give you that proof, sire,” he said instead, holding his voice steady and keeping his posture relaxed.
    Henry pressed his forefinger to his lips, considering. “So be it,” he