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been in Stephen’s position. And now, for all his affection, Stephen could not help being secretly pleased that the Queen did not astonish them all by the speed with which she had conceived. This must needs put a barrier between them. Well, he could scarcely blame Stephen for being ambitious.
    The sooner a son was on the way the sooner everything would be settled. Stephen would then know that he could no longer hope. But in the meantime the situation was a difficult one and there had begun to come into the King’s mind a fear that the Queen might be barren.
    There was one man who could usually entertain him. This was Luke de Barré, one of his best warriors, who was at the same time a poet. The verses Luke wrote were of such a nature as to amuse the King; he had known Luke since theirboyhood and they had always been good friends.
    Now he sent for Luke and commanded him to sing some of his latest songs.
    Luke complied, and although occasionally the songs were a little ribald and now and then contained sly allusions to the King himself, Henry was amused and forgot his irritation.
    While Luke sang to the company a messenger arrived. He had ridden at full speed from the Welsh border. He had brought grave news. The Welsh were marching on Chester. The Earl of Chester had recently died and it was due to this that the Welsh had revolted.
    The King rose from his chair.
    â€˜There is nothing else to be done,’ he said, ‘than for me to leave for Wales without delay.’
    Adelicia was tearful.
    It was so short a time since they had been married.
    The King took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. ‘Who knows,’ he said, ‘perhaps by the time I return you will have some news for me. If you should have it, send to me wherever I am. Nothing could put me in better spirits.’
    â€˜I will, my lord, and I will pray day and night.’
    Prayers! he thought with some impatience. Of what avail were they? Babies were got in warm beds not draughty chapels.
    But let her pray. She was a good sweet child, and longed to give him what he wanted as fervently as he wished for it.
    â€˜It grieves me to leave you, my fair Queen,’ he said.
    But already he was thinking of Wales – the home of Nesta. He was remembering how, when he had heard that his presence was needed in Wales his blood would tingle and his spirits soar; and in fact when Matilda had been alive he had invented trouble in Wales that he might have an excuse to ride to Carew Castle.
    Adelicia stood at the turret watching him ride away. He turned to lift a hand to her in farewell.
    â€˜Oh, God,’ she prayed, ‘let me be with child.’
    It was no difficult task, old warrior that he was, to subdue the Welsh. The enemy retreated before him and he marched as far as Snowdon. It was not long before they were ready to accepthim as the victor. He insisted they pay him tribute – always something which pleased him. He loved money as his father had before him. Money, land, possessions to have and to hold and never lose grip of them – for they meant power. Rufus had been the same; only Robert had been the foolish one of the family; and look what had happened to him: his patrimony lost – the beloved Dukedom of Normandy – and himself his brother’s prisoner. He took hostages from the Princes of Wales – their sons – and by so doing he was sure that the tribute would be paid.
    Now he could call at Carew Castle and be sure of a welcome.
    He was amazed by her just as he had always been. She was no longer young but seemed to have lost none of her allure.
    â€˜You amaze me, Nesta,’ he told her. ‘Every time I see you I seem to have forgotten how desirable you are.’
    â€˜You should remember,’ she told him.
    Gerald de Windsor was complaisant. How could he be aught else? Who had given him his rich lands? Where would Gerald be if he had not had the good fortune to be selected by the King as