Read Online The Autumn Throne by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page B

complaints about their behaviour.
    Had her papa been here, Belle knew John and Will would never have got away with such mischief, but her parents were not due home from Sicily until Christmas. She sometimes thought she would have liked to accompany them, but then again, she would only have been a handmaid and Joanna would have stolen all the attention. At least when her mother and father returned, Belle would not have to compete with her pretty royal cousin and there would be gifts too – ivory combs, jewels and rich silks – from the famed Sicilian workshops. She was eagerly awaiting those.
    John whispered something, and as Will turned to look at her and grin she saw John sneak one of Will’s pieces from the board and secrete it in his palm. Realising she had observed his trickery, John shot her a warning look, which she returned with superior contempt. There had always been friction between her and John. He would pull her hair, spit in her cup, break her possessions, and she would tell tales on him to her father, pinch him, and until recently push him around, although he was growing too strong for that and she was more wary these days, especially while she did not have the cushion of her father’s protection.
    His recent betrothal to Hawise of Gloucester and his father’s plans to make him King of Ireland had made John far too full of himself. He had developed a swagger which she hated.
    She picked up her sewing basket which contained a tunic band she was embroidering for her father’s return, but on removing the woven lid she recoiled from the vile stench of decay and then shrieked to see a decomposing rat on top ofthe fabric, its corpse leaking stains onto her painstaking toil. She hurled the basket across the room and the rat flew out, striking John across the arm and chest, leaving a vile smear on his cloak. He flung himself backwards with a shout, but swiftly recovered, seized the rodent’s scaly tail and slung it back at Belle, while Will doubled over, helpless with laughter.
    A stocky young man with wavy auburn hair walked into the midst of the furore. ‘What is this unseemliness?’ he shouted, hands on hips. ‘Are you brawling, peasant brats?’
    ‘I thought that was your inheritance,’ John drawled insolently. ‘Wasn’t your mother a common whore?’
    Belle’s eyes widened in horror at John’s insult, but with an underlying secret glee because of the challenge to authority – it was exciting and something she would never dare. Jeoffrey FitzRoy was the King’s oldest son, but bastard-born. He was the royal chancellor, designate Bishop of Lincoln and John’s half-brother.
    Jeoffrey strode over to John, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ‘I have no time for your foolish insolence,’ he snapped, grey eyes bright with anger. ‘Yes, foolish, not clever, however you may smirk.’
    John writhed and tried to push him off without success. ‘Don’t touch me; I’ll tell Papa.’
    ‘Oh yes, carry the tale and see how far you get,’ Jeoffrey scoffed.
    John’s expression grew narrow and mean but he pressed his lips together. Jeoffrey released him with a final shake and John shrugged away and straightened his clothes, defiant but wary. The obnoxious reek of dead rodent filled the air.
    ‘He put the rat in my sewing box and spoiled all my work!’ Belle was determined that John was going to pay the price. ‘I’ll have to throw it away now and it was going to be a band for my papa’s tunic.’ She did not have to feign the quiver in her voice. It had been a lot of hard work. She sent Jeoffrey a look intimating that he was her champion and would see justice done.
    Jeoffrey eyed the ruined basket and a look of revulsioncrossed his face. ‘You will be compensated; I will personally make sure it happens.’
    Belle said nothing. How could there be compensation for all her time and effort?
    John shrugged sulkily. ‘It’s a fuss over nothing, a silly piece of embroidery.’
    Jeoffrey stared at