Read Online The Rebel Princess by Judith Koll Healey - Free Book Online

I’d like to have my maidservants in to do up my hair, but I suppose it would give them scandal to see you lolling in my tub.” My hair was disheveled, but, truth to tell, I was expert at catching it with my good hand in a band of ribbons I had made especially for the purpose. I pulled a loose robeover my head before I busied myself with this task, but could not forbear at last to express my pique at his long absence.
    “So, Lord William, tell me. Why has it been these many long months since you have found time to make your way back to the court of France? One would almost think you had forgotten me. Only a handful of letters. And no news that you were meeting with my brother at Blois just weeks ago. I might have joined his party.”
    “That meeting was clandestine, my love. If I were free to tell you of it, I would have done. But Philippe swore me to silence. He came with only a few men, under pretense of hunting. He did not want anyone to know he was seeing Raymond.”
    I recalled Philippe’s comment that it was William who demanded secrecy for this meeting, but I forbore to say anything for the moment.
    “And what was the result of this all-important meeting?” Although I had not yet found the gown I sought I left off searching the garderobe and leaned against the door, my arms folded, waiting to hear what I could be told. I was behind William and he could not see my face, but I hoped the tone of my voice conveyed my serious intent.
    “Philippe wants to avoid war with his cousin in the south, and the pope seems intent on pushing him into it. Rome has already sent two formal letters requesting arms and men from Philippe to threaten Raymond. The king thought a personal conversation with the Count of Toulouse might help to resolve the situation, make Raymond understand the gravity of his position if he continues to support these heretic nobles of his.” William adopted a casual air in these remarks, which did not fool me one whit. I knew the well-being of William’s mission depended on such diplomatic meetings.
    “And was the king successful?” I pursued the topic.
    “Not exactly.” William now spoke tersely, as if to end the discussion. “It was not clear at the end what Raymond would do. He promised Philippe nothing, but he did reiterate his loyalty as vassal to the king of France.” William reached out to the little oak table next to thetub, and snatched a handful of grapes from a bowl. He popped them into his mouth one by one talking all the while, as he deftly changed the subject.
    “By the by, your son has decided he prefers his Anglo-Norman name, Francis, and has instructed us all to call him that, although he probably will make an exception for you if you prefer the French.” He chuckled.
    I could not suppress my smile at that sally. Francis was truly fond of me, of that I had no doubt, and the mention of my son lightened my heart. “Have a care, my lord, in making free with my scented soaps and oils. You’ll have every woman in the Great Hall trailing you tonight if you are so liberal.”
    “Good, if it will make you sick with jealousy,” he replied, sinking into the tub, oblivious of the waves of water spilling out onto the rushes. “The holy father was quite taken with Francis and all his talents.” William surveyed the ceiling thoughtfully, his head cushioned on the back edge of the wooden tub as mine was earlier. “Philippe is not the only one who thinks Francis is my natural-born son. The pope is curious, as well.”
    “Ah, well, in a way, I myself think you are nearly his father.” I came to sit on the edge of the tub and, catching up my sleeve, soaped his shoulders with my right hand. “Henry sired him, I birthed him, but ’twas you who saw to his care and upbringing.”
    “Only because you could not do it,” he said, catching the fingers of my good hand and bringing them gently to his lips. “Have you forgiven me for having kept news of his safety from you those many