hand, offering him an excuse to—”
“If you will give me leave, my lord, to say what I think—and
what Sir Adam, my brother, thinks—it is that it does not matter what you do
unless it be to yield entirely. Even then I am not sure the king will be
content. What he did to de Burgh seems to have given him an appetite for subduing
to utter helplessness every man in the land.”
“I told you, Richard—” Isabella interrupted.
“Hush, Isabella,” Richard said absently, his eyes fixed on
Simon. “What do Lord Ian and Lord Geoffrey say?” he asked slowly.
“My father says nothing, except that Henry does not mean evil. He remembers a golden-haired child bereft of a father and with a mother
who had no soul. Lord Geoffrey says nothing also, but—but he looks like death.
What can he say, my lord? Henry is his cousin and—and I cannot deny has
always behaved most lovingly to him. Even this spring when he dismissed all his
castellans and put his castles into the hands of those two—”
“Mind your tongue before my sister,” Richard said, half
jesting, but with the jest covering a warning as servants entered the room to
empty the bath water. Simon drew a breath; the servants belonged to the brother
of the king.
“My brother-by-marriage is tied with bond upon bond,” Simon
said. “He could no more fail to support the king than my Lord of Cornwall.”
Reminded of something that had been overwhelmed in his
sister’s excited greeting and then in Simon’s news, Richard asked, “Where is
Cornwall?”
“He had business with the king,” Isabella said, staring hard
at her brother and then letting her eyes slip to the servants and back again.
“I sent word that you had come. He will be here as soon as he can.”
Simon’s breath drew in again, but Richard’s eyes flicked to
him and he said nothing. As if the preceding question and answer were of no
importance, Richard said, “You were knighted before my brother died, were you
not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you now hold, or have you taken over your father’s
meinie?”
“Papa is not so old as that,” Simon said. “In any case, the
lands are mostly my mother’s. They will be Geoffrey’s to worry about when— But
that will be many, many years.”
“Lord Geoffrey’s?” Richard asked, actually interested as
well as relieved to have an unexceptional subject to discuss while the servants
tidied the room. “How does that come about? Is not Adam your mother’s eldest
son?”
“Yes, but Adam inherited his father’s lands. My mother has
full power over her own, and chooses to leave them in the female line. My
sister Joanna will hold Roselynde and my mother’s other honors, and it is
already settled that the bulk of the lands will go after her to Sybelle, and
then to Sybelle’s eldest daughter.”
“You do not mind?” Richard asked curiously.
“God, no!” Simon exclaimed. “That is not to my taste at all,
to be tied to a seat of justice and an account book. My father has already
given me what I most desired. With Prince Llewelyn’s permission, he has ceded
to me his Welsh properties.”
“Welsh? You are vassal to Lord Llewelyn?” Richard asked,
leaning forward with sudden alertness.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are you in good repute with him?”
“Very good.” Simon replied, and then, seeing it was
important for some reason, he added, “He has given me permission to seek the
hand of his natural daughter, Lady Rhiannon, in marriage.”
“Seek? If he desires you for a son—”
“Lady Rhiannon is not that kind of woman,” Simon said
stiffly. “She cannot be given away like a horse or a parcel of land.”
“Well, as soon as she sees your face, she will be lost.”
Richard laughed. “We can consider that bond as good as made.”
He leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on nothing while
he considered certain possibilities uncovered by Simon’s willingness to save
him and the connection with Llewelyn. Thus, he missed Simon’s
“If you will give me leave, my lord, to say what I think—and
what Sir Adam, my brother, thinks—it is that it does not matter what you do
unless it be to yield entirely. Even then I am not sure the king will be
content. What he did to de Burgh seems to have given him an appetite for subduing
to utter helplessness every man in the land.”
“I told you, Richard—” Isabella interrupted.
“Hush, Isabella,” Richard said absently, his eyes fixed on
Simon. “What do Lord Ian and Lord Geoffrey say?” he asked slowly.
“My father says nothing, except that Henry does not mean evil. He remembers a golden-haired child bereft of a father and with a mother
who had no soul. Lord Geoffrey says nothing also, but—but he looks like death.
What can he say, my lord? Henry is his cousin and—and I cannot deny has
always behaved most lovingly to him. Even this spring when he dismissed all his
castellans and put his castles into the hands of those two—”
“Mind your tongue before my sister,” Richard said, half
jesting, but with the jest covering a warning as servants entered the room to
empty the bath water. Simon drew a breath; the servants belonged to the brother
of the king.
“My brother-by-marriage is tied with bond upon bond,” Simon
said. “He could no more fail to support the king than my Lord of Cornwall.”
Reminded of something that had been overwhelmed in his
sister’s excited greeting and then in Simon’s news, Richard asked, “Where is
Cornwall?”
“He had business with the king,” Isabella said, staring hard
at her brother and then letting her eyes slip to the servants and back again.
“I sent word that you had come. He will be here as soon as he can.”
Simon’s breath drew in again, but Richard’s eyes flicked to
him and he said nothing. As if the preceding question and answer were of no
importance, Richard said, “You were knighted before my brother died, were you
not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you now hold, or have you taken over your father’s
meinie?”
“Papa is not so old as that,” Simon said. “In any case, the
lands are mostly my mother’s. They will be Geoffrey’s to worry about when— But
that will be many, many years.”
“Lord Geoffrey’s?” Richard asked, actually interested as
well as relieved to have an unexceptional subject to discuss while the servants
tidied the room. “How does that come about? Is not Adam your mother’s eldest
son?”
“Yes, but Adam inherited his father’s lands. My mother has
full power over her own, and chooses to leave them in the female line. My
sister Joanna will hold Roselynde and my mother’s other honors, and it is
already settled that the bulk of the lands will go after her to Sybelle, and
then to Sybelle’s eldest daughter.”
“You do not mind?” Richard asked curiously.
“God, no!” Simon exclaimed. “That is not to my taste at all,
to be tied to a seat of justice and an account book. My father has already
given me what I most desired. With Prince Llewelyn’s permission, he has ceded
to me his Welsh properties.”
“Welsh? You are vassal to Lord Llewelyn?” Richard asked,
leaning forward with sudden alertness.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are you in good repute with him?”
“Very good.” Simon replied, and then, seeing it was
important for some reason, he added, “He has given me permission to seek the
hand of his natural daughter, Lady Rhiannon, in marriage.”
“Seek? If he desires you for a son—”
“Lady Rhiannon is not that kind of woman,” Simon said
stiffly. “She cannot be given away like a horse or a parcel of land.”
“Well, as soon as she sees your face, she will be lost.”
Richard laughed. “We can consider that bond as good as made.”
He leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on nothing while
he considered certain possibilities uncovered by Simon’s willingness to save
him and the connection with Llewelyn. Thus, he missed Simon’s
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