Read Online The Scarlet Lion by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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their houses at Charing by barge. William was to attend the new King's council in the morning, but for now John had retired with his latest amour: a London merchant's daughter with fat golden braids and breasts the size of cow udders.
Isabelle listened to the rhythmic plash of the oars in the water as the two bargemen leaned forward and pulled back. A lantern shone at the prow, and glimmers of light answered from other travellers late on the river. A wistful smile lit her face as she thought of another boat journey she and William had made ten years ago on the way to their marriage at the cathedral of St. Paul. The time had flown so fast that it seemed not a moment since he had come to claim her from the Tower where she had been lodged as the King's ward. The memory of their wedding prompted her thoughts, and she turned to him. "I was talking to Ida of Norfolk earlier," she said.
He gave a reminiscent smile. "I remember when she first came to the court as the King's ward. She was as delightful as a kitten but sweet and shy with it too. Everyone wanted to play with her, but it was inevitable she'd end up curled in the King's bed, and even more inevitable that he'd get her with child."
Isabelle gave him an assessing look. Ida's son, born of that liaison before her marriage to Norfolk, was William Longespée, the young Earl of Salisbury and Marshal kin by marriage. "Did you ever wish she was curled in yours?" she asked, her question prompted by the timbre of his voice as he had spoken of Ida.
He flashed her a grin. "Roger of Norfolk's a very lucky man," he said, "but not as lucky as I am."
Isabelle acknowledged his diplomacy with amusement-filled eyes. "Roger of Norfolk has a rather handsome son," she said. "I was thinking about Mahelt. A marriage bond with the Bigods would be useful, especially as Ida's firstborn son is the King's half-brother."
William shifted on the bench. "Worth considering," he said in an offhand way, "although perhaps not yet."
"No, but for the future." Isabelle gave him a knowing look through the lantern-lit darkness. William adored Mahelt and she him. As their only daughter she held an unchallenged place in her father's affections and it would be as difficult for him to see her go to a husband as it would be for Isabelle to watch her sons leave the bower to become knights and soldiers.
The oarsmen altered stroke and began pulling in towards a landing stage, its weed-covered struts glistening in the lantern's light. "I didn't see John's wife at the feast today," she said to change the subject. "I assume he does not intend making her his Queen?"
William shook his head. "He married Havise for her lands; they've never shared a bed. De Braose says John's going to set her aside and look to Portugal or Spain for a consort. He needs to protect his southernmost borders and what better way than an alliance with such kingdoms?"
Isabelle wondered what Havise of Gloucester was feeling. Since Havise and John had only paid lip service to their marriage, Isabelle could not see her being distraught over an annulment, but she might regret being denied the opportunity to be Queen.
The barge bumped against the jetty. "I suppose we'll be returning to Normandy," she said with a resigned sigh.
William stood up, legs planted wide to keep his balance. "It has to be secured for John, and Anjou as well, but I will ask his leave to go to Pembroke and Leinster, I promise."
Isabelle forced a smile as she took his extended hand. She knew he was honour bound to serve in Normandy first. It was the reason John had clasped the gilded belt of an earl at William's waist, and why they had Pembroke at all, but she wondered if they were ever going to see it, much less use its port to sail for Ireland. Perhaps she ought to have their own cook build her a castle of marchpane with an Irish sea of whipped and coloured egg white and, after populating it with
Isabelle listened to the rhythmic plash of the oars in the water as the two bargemen leaned forward and pulled back. A lantern shone at the prow, and glimmers of light answered from other travellers late on the river. A wistful smile lit her face as she thought of another boat journey she and William had made ten years ago on the way to their marriage at the cathedral of St. Paul. The time had flown so fast that it seemed not a moment since he had come to claim her from the Tower where she had been lodged as the King's ward. The memory of their wedding prompted her thoughts, and she turned to him. "I was talking to Ida of Norfolk earlier," she said.
He gave a reminiscent smile. "I remember when she first came to the court as the King's ward. She was as delightful as a kitten but sweet and shy with it too. Everyone wanted to play with her, but it was inevitable she'd end up curled in the King's bed, and even more inevitable that he'd get her with child."
Isabelle gave him an assessing look. Ida's son, born of that liaison before her marriage to Norfolk, was William Longespée, the young Earl of Salisbury and Marshal kin by marriage. "Did you ever wish she was curled in yours?" she asked, her question prompted by the timbre of his voice as he had spoken of Ida.
He flashed her a grin. "Roger of Norfolk's a very lucky man," he said, "but not as lucky as I am."
Isabelle acknowledged his diplomacy with amusement-filled eyes. "Roger of Norfolk has a rather handsome son," she said. "I was thinking about Mahelt. A marriage bond with the Bigods would be useful, especially as Ida's firstborn son is the King's half-brother."
William shifted on the bench. "Worth considering," he said in an offhand way, "although perhaps not yet."
"No, but for the future." Isabelle gave him a knowing look through the lantern-lit darkness. William adored Mahelt and she him. As their only daughter she held an unchallenged place in her father's affections and it would be as difficult for him to see her go to a husband as it would be for Isabelle to watch her sons leave the bower to become knights and soldiers.
The oarsmen altered stroke and began pulling in towards a landing stage, its weed-covered struts glistening in the lantern's light. "I didn't see John's wife at the feast today," she said to change the subject. "I assume he does not intend making her his Queen?"
William shook his head. "He married Havise for her lands; they've never shared a bed. De Braose says John's going to set her aside and look to Portugal or Spain for a consort. He needs to protect his southernmost borders and what better way than an alliance with such kingdoms?"
Isabelle wondered what Havise of Gloucester was feeling. Since Havise and John had only paid lip service to their marriage, Isabelle could not see her being distraught over an annulment, but she might regret being denied the opportunity to be Queen.
The barge bumped against the jetty. "I suppose we'll be returning to Normandy," she said with a resigned sigh.
William stood up, legs planted wide to keep his balance. "It has to be secured for John, and Anjou as well, but I will ask his leave to go to Pembroke and Leinster, I promise."
Isabelle forced a smile as she took his extended hand. She knew he was honour bound to serve in Normandy first. It was the reason John had clasped the gilded belt of an earl at William's waist, and why they had Pembroke at all, but she wondered if they were ever going to see it, much less use its port to sail for Ireland. Perhaps she ought to have their own cook build her a castle of marchpane with an Irish sea of whipped and coloured egg white and, after populating it with
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