Read Online The Scarlet Lion by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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Mahelt's poupées , make do with that.
Six
LUSIGNAN, POITOU, SUMMER 1200
The July heat had settled into balminess as night fell and William was sitting outside enjoying the slight breeze rustling through chestnut and lime. Crickets chirred softly and moths performed dances of death around the lamps and torches lighting the trestle tables set up in the castle gardens. He drank the rich red wine, nibbled candied fruits, and watched a group of dancers weave the steps of a carole to the lively music created by lute, pipe, and tabor. He might have joined them, except he felt lazy tonight. It had been a long day in the saddle, the same as yesterday, and the exertion would likely continue on the morrow. A royal progress by its nature entailed a different destination almost every night. Much of John's travelling through his lands had been a show of military strength, a display of the power he could bring to bear should it become necessary. William had sweltered each day in his hauberk, sword girded at his hip, even though he wasn't expecting to fight. The only women in the entourage were courtesans and laundresses. No wives were present on what was essentially a military parade.
They had arrived at Lusignan late in the afternoon to find the castle grounds aflower with gaudy pavilions, stalls, entertainers, and folk clad in their richest garments; however, the festivities were not in John's honour. Hugh le Brun of Lusignan was celebrating his betrothal to the daughter of his neighbour, Count Aymer of Angoulême. Since the houses of Lusignan and Angoulême were traditional enemies, it was an auspicious occasion—although not for John, who had relied on the antagonism to play one off against the other. United they were a danger to him.
William had no love for the name of Lusignan and would rather not have accepted hospitality from one of their number, but a courtier's diplomacy made him restrain his aversion. In his youth, his uncle had been murdered before his eyes by a Lusignan and he himself had been wounded and imprisoned. Time had created distance, but he had never forgiven or forgotten. The slick scar tissue on his right thigh was a constant reminder.
John was sitting on an arbour bench beside Aymer, talking earnestly and smiling a lot. Aymer was listening with arms folded, a look of deep interest on his narrow, sun-browned features.
"Fine night for making plans and trysts," remarked Baldwin de Béthune, Count of Aumale, joining William at the trestle and refilling his cup from the wine jug standing there.
"If you're of that mind," William agreed with a smile. He and Baldwin had served together as young knights in the mesnie of King Henry's eldest son, had ridden together on the tourney fields of France and Flanders, and carved reputations for themselves. Both were now established as powerful lords with retinues and young knights of their own. "Aymer and the King seem to have plenty to discuss."
"Bound to now that Aymer's set the fat in the fire by betrothing his daughter to Hugh of Lusignan. Hardly in John's interest, is it?"
"It's awkward," William agreed. "If the houses of Lusignan and Angoulême unite instead of fighting each other, they'll create trouble for John."
"Very awkward, although our King doesn't appear unduly bothered."
"Oh, he's bothered," William said, eyeing John. "I've seen him approach women at court like that when he's intent on seduction. You'll notice de Braose is keeping Hugh of Lusignan occupied while his master makes his play."
Baldwin glanced towards de Braose's large striped pavilion, its interior luminous with lanterns and loud with the noise of hearty masculine camaraderie. "John's going to have to offer a lot to make Aymer of Angoulême sell his virtue."
"He can but try. What does he have to lose?"
Baldwin grunted.
"How's your daughter?" William replenished his
Six
LUSIGNAN, POITOU, SUMMER 1200
The July heat had settled into balminess as night fell and William was sitting outside enjoying the slight breeze rustling through chestnut and lime. Crickets chirred softly and moths performed dances of death around the lamps and torches lighting the trestle tables set up in the castle gardens. He drank the rich red wine, nibbled candied fruits, and watched a group of dancers weave the steps of a carole to the lively music created by lute, pipe, and tabor. He might have joined them, except he felt lazy tonight. It had been a long day in the saddle, the same as yesterday, and the exertion would likely continue on the morrow. A royal progress by its nature entailed a different destination almost every night. Much of John's travelling through his lands had been a show of military strength, a display of the power he could bring to bear should it become necessary. William had sweltered each day in his hauberk, sword girded at his hip, even though he wasn't expecting to fight. The only women in the entourage were courtesans and laundresses. No wives were present on what was essentially a military parade.
They had arrived at Lusignan late in the afternoon to find the castle grounds aflower with gaudy pavilions, stalls, entertainers, and folk clad in their richest garments; however, the festivities were not in John's honour. Hugh le Brun of Lusignan was celebrating his betrothal to the daughter of his neighbour, Count Aymer of Angoulême. Since the houses of Lusignan and Angoulême were traditional enemies, it was an auspicious occasion—although not for John, who had relied on the antagonism to play one off against the other. United they were a danger to him.
William had no love for the name of Lusignan and would rather not have accepted hospitality from one of their number, but a courtier's diplomacy made him restrain his aversion. In his youth, his uncle had been murdered before his eyes by a Lusignan and he himself had been wounded and imprisoned. Time had created distance, but he had never forgiven or forgotten. The slick scar tissue on his right thigh was a constant reminder.
John was sitting on an arbour bench beside Aymer, talking earnestly and smiling a lot. Aymer was listening with arms folded, a look of deep interest on his narrow, sun-browned features.
"Fine night for making plans and trysts," remarked Baldwin de Béthune, Count of Aumale, joining William at the trestle and refilling his cup from the wine jug standing there.
"If you're of that mind," William agreed with a smile. He and Baldwin had served together as young knights in the mesnie of King Henry's eldest son, had ridden together on the tourney fields of France and Flanders, and carved reputations for themselves. Both were now established as powerful lords with retinues and young knights of their own. "Aymer and the King seem to have plenty to discuss."
"Bound to now that Aymer's set the fat in the fire by betrothing his daughter to Hugh of Lusignan. Hardly in John's interest, is it?"
"It's awkward," William agreed. "If the houses of Lusignan and Angoulême unite instead of fighting each other, they'll create trouble for John."
"Very awkward, although our King doesn't appear unduly bothered."
"Oh, he's bothered," William said, eyeing John. "I've seen him approach women at court like that when he's intent on seduction. You'll notice de Braose is keeping Hugh of Lusignan occupied while his master makes his play."
Baldwin glanced towards de Braose's large striped pavilion, its interior luminous with lanterns and loud with the noise of hearty masculine camaraderie. "John's going to have to offer a lot to make Aymer of Angoulême sell his virtue."
"He can but try. What does he have to lose?"
Baldwin grunted.
"How's your daughter?" William replenished his
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