Roselynde (16 page)

"It is not exactly me you will be serving," he began,
and then reassured by the kindness and intelligence in her face he simply told
her William's story.

"I do not know," Alinor said when he was through.
"Isobel certainly is not happy, but whether it is because she is being
pressed to repudiate the bargain with William Marshal, I cannot say. Simon, I
will speak for the Marshal upon your word, but—but is it kind? Is it well to
try to set her heart upon him? She will not stand her ground. She has not the
way of it and, more, she has been taught that obedience is the way of virtue,
even unreasonable obedience. She will marry this Baldwin if commanded."

Simon chewed his lower lip. "Alinor, can you not stiffen her
spirit? Even if she feels she is damned for the sin of disobedience or pride or
whatever it is she fears, it would be better than marriage to Baldwin. I swear
I do not say this only because William is my friend and I wish that he have his
heart's desire, but for Lady Isobel's sake, too—"

"But—"

"No woman will get any good out of Baldwin of Bethune as a
husband," Simon burst out. "And do not ask me to say more for I
cannot nor will not."

Lord Richard and his dear friend Baldwin, who would be no good to
any woman, and the weight on the Queen's heart— Somehow Alinor knew these were
connected. Were they also connected with Lady Alais? And what, she wondered,
suddenly focusing on more immediate problems, would be offered to William
Marshal as compensation? Not Isobel of Gloucester. She boasted freely that she
would marry the last remaining Angevin, Prince John, and did not even hesitate
to say how like it was she would be Queen, for many more died on Crusade than
ever returned. Even Alinor the outspoken looked sidelong at her after that
remark. And the lesser maidens, no matter how good their blood, and nothing in
terms of land. That, Alinor realized, leaves me!

As soon as the thought came, it was confirmed by her memory of the
Queen saying that if Alinor was constrained to marry the man would be worthy.
From what Simon said, the Queen had spoken the exact truth. William Marshal
seemed a man worthy of any woman's love, and greater in importance than Simon
would ever be. Alinor became aware that Simon was looking up, and the first
drops of rain began to spatter the leaves above them.

"I will do my best," she said in answer to his question
about stiffening Isobel of Clare's spirit, and, as they ran for the doorway
through the downpour, "I have not given much mind to these matters, but I
will listen better now to what Isobel says. Perhaps I will be able to discover
what is intended."

Alinor did pay attention to what she heard in the women's chambers
and tried to pick the grains of truth out of the heaps of chaff. Before the
afternoon was gone it was clear to her that Isobel would be married and several
times over a mother before she obtained any real information in this manner.
Perhaps among the older women who waited on the Queen— That was it! It was the
solution to her boredom and dissatisfaction and a far better place to glean
information.

In her enthusiasm, Alinor almost ran to look for Simon and tell
him of her brilliant idea, but fortunately she thought that over. Simon, she
realized, far from being equally enthusiastic, would absolutely forbid it. He
would call it "spying on the Queen." Well, and so it would be, Alinor
acknowledged. But, she decided, Simon is an honorable idiot. If the Queen is
constrained by her good—or by her son's or even the realm's good—why should I
not be constrained by my good? Moreover, I am no idle gossip. No one will hear
from me what goes forward. Only I will know, and know how to act for my own
good.

That evening Alinor put the first step of her plan into action.
She flirted outrageously with two of the men who had the most need of her wide
estates and some vague possibilities of obtaining them. They were both younger
sons of powerful magnates who were not notable for fixed loyalties.

Roger Bigod was as black browed and blackly ambitious as his
grandfather. Doubtless a livelihood could be found for him among his father's
enormous possessions, but such limited prospects were little to his taste. Milo
de Bohun was more the picture of a courtier, most elegantly clad and
smooth-tongued, but his pale eyes slid aside from Alinor's direct glance, and his
lips grew loose and wet when he looked at her.

To Alinor's surprise, Simon made no comment, not even when she
refused a dance with him in favor of the grinning Bigod. He bowed stiffly and
stepped back, so consumed with jealousy that he dared not trust his judgment or
open his mouth. These were the wrong men to play with, he knew, but he also
knew that—for him—there was no right man for Alinor.

Repetition of these tactics at the morning meal had no greater
effect and, having racked her brains for an excuse to seek Simon out and found
none, she ran into him just outside the stairways to the women's quarters.
Before he could turn angrily away, Alinor seized his wrist.

"Oof, you are hard as a stone wall," she complained,
"but just the person I desired most to see in the world."

"And what has brought about this change in heart?" Simon
growled, turning his arm.

Alinor clung to his wrist like a limpet. "Your business, or
rather your friend's. Come to where we will not be overheard." Simon
looked rebellious and wrenched his wrist free, but he only went to a window
embrasure where he sat down and folded his arms across his chest. Alinor stood
just in front of him.

"It is useless to tell me to praise William Marshal to Isobel
of Clare," she said tartly, "when he stands like an image against the
wall as she dances with every other heiress-seeker in the room."

"Are you accusing Isobel of Clare of immodesty?" Simon
grated. "Her behavior is most innocent compared with that of another I
have recently seen."

"So, you object to my behavior, do you? I had almost
despaired of your common sense. Have you yet complained of me to the
Queen?"

"I? I betray you to the Queen? What sort of protector—"
Then Simon's brain caught up with his ears. "What do you mean you had
almost despaired of my common sense?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Simon," Alinor sighed, with marked exasperation,
"you desire that the Queen should
know
Isobel favors William, do
you not? How will she know this? Isobel will not tell her. You can say that
William's heart is set on the marriage, and the Queen will know you speak from
knowledge, but how can you say aught of Isobel? Would she mention such matters
to you?"

"Since it is doubtless the Queen who will press in favor of
Baldwin, I do not see why telling her of Isobel's feelings will help. Besides,
if you wish to tell her, ask to speak to her. The Queen will not deny
you."

Alinor stamped her foot. "I do despair of your common sense!
First, if the Queen wishes to press Baldwin's suit, she will not be overjoyed
at my interference. In fact, if I say I wish to speak of Isobel, doubtless she
will find herself too busy to see me today, and then tomorrow there will be
another excuse. Second—"

"I tell you it does not matter. If the Queen wishes to press
Baldwin's suit, nothing you say or Isobel feels will move her."

"You do her an injustice. I do not say a knowledge of
Isobel's heart will change the Queen's mind, but she is kind. She must know
whatever you know about Baldwin. When she knows Isobel is not indifferent and
will be made doubly unhappy—at least she will think on it. Unhappy women make
trouble."

"Perhaps, but what has all this to do with—with your liking
for Roger Bigod and Milo de Bohun."

"Liking? Who likes them? They are dangerous men. You cannot
warn them away from me—"

"I cannot? Can I not?" Simon bellowed, leaping to his
feet and clenching his fists. "Do you think I am afraid of Bigod or de
Bohun?"

"Sit down and be quiet," Alinor hissed, pushing against
him and producing about as much effect as she would have had on a mountain.
"Do you want the whole castlefolk to hear of this? Of course, I do not
think you fear either of those fools. But a word from you, the King's warden,
would be taken as a slight from the King."

It was the bitter truth. Simon ground his teeth. "You are the
fool," he growled. "You have started something that will bring grief
upon us."

"Not if the Queen checks
my
behavior and I retire into
maidenly modesty."

Simon shook his head as if there were a buzzing in his ears. Then
he passed his hand over his face. His eyes looked bemused. "You flirted
with those men for the purpose that the Queen should scold you and you should
stop
flirting with them?" Again he rubbed his face as if to clear from it
some obscuring veil. "I am going mad!"

"But Simon," Alinor said soothingly, "it is most
reasonable really. If you say I am stiff-necked and will not obey you— which
the Queen will believe—"

"With good cause!"

"Oh, Simon, it is not true. I obey you very well, except when
you wish us both to run headfirst into a stone wall. Never mind that," she
said hastily as she saw him draw a furious breath, "do not begin to
quarrel with me about nothing.

You can tell her also that you did not wish to affront Bigod and
de Bohun except by her order. Then the Queen will summon me to correct my
ways."

"The Queen's wrath is not light to bear, Alinor. I had
rather—"

She put up her hand and touched his face, her eyes so tender all
of a sudden that Simon's voice and heart checked. "She will not be
wroth," Alinor said gently, smiling her thanks for his indulgence. "A
girl's foolish error—I am new to Court. I will yield at once and promise
amendment—and
then
I will have good reason to speak of Isobel, saying
that her modesty is causing her great grief. And by the by, I believe that is
so. Why does William Marshal not dance with her and speak to her? She cannot,
for shame, go to him."

"He cannot dance. He tries to speak, but no sooner does he
say a few words than some gallant asks her to dance and carries her away."

"Well, what ails you? You dance beautifully. Can you not
teach him?"

"William knows how to dance. He cannot."

It was Alinor's turn to look confused. "What do you mean, he
knows how but cannot? Has he taken some vow not to dance?"

"Of course not. He was sore hurt in an accident on a ship.
His ribs were crushed. He can hardly walk, not to speak of dancing."

"And he did not tell her?" Alinor squealed.

"Why should he tell Isobel? If she has a softness toward him,
she would worry. If she has not, she would think him whining. In fact, he has
told no one, except me, and makes his appearance in Court as usual because he
prefers that his enemies do not know he is nearly helpless."

"Isobel will not spread the news, and I am not a
gabble-monger. Now that I think it over, Simon, you are right. It is much
better for me to tell her. And you, Simon, do not fear for me. You must tell
the Queen, or I will be in sad trouble."

Alinor spent the next few hours in a dither of impatience,
wondering whether Simon would see through her device, wondering whether at the
last moment he would again begin to feel that it was wrong to bear tales. One
bit of good came of Alinor's nervousness. Isobel of Clare, after watching her
choose the wrong color thread, do the wrong stitch in the wrong place on the
collar she was embroidering for Simon, and pick it all out blaspheming heartily
under her breath, came over and asked if she could help.

The opportunity was golden, and Alinor did not waste it. "I
do not deserve any help," she exclaimed. "I am cross because I am a
selfish, inconsiderate little beast, and knowing I am in the wrong only makes
me crosser."

Isobel was not accustomed to quite so much frankness, but she was
drawn to it. "You are very honest," she murmured. She did not, as
Alinor feared, retreat but picked up a thread and filled Alinor's needle.
"This is right," she urged.

"But I am not," Alinor said with a wry smile. "You
are so skilled. Fill in that petal for me and I will tell you." And she
tumbled out a confused tale of Simon's failure to keep a promise to attend to
some want of hers—what want being thoroughly obscured because Alinor could not
really think of anything. However the reason for the failure was clear enough.
Simon had need to keep company with a friend who was not well.

"And how I can be so selfish as to wish to deny William
Marshal Simon's help and company, I cannot imagine. There is no finer, kinder
man than William. Is that not true, Isobel?" Alinor asked provocatively.

"Yes, but—but how not well?" Isobel asked breathlessly.
"Surely I saw him this morning, as usual, speaking with the Queen."

Alinor clapped a hand across her mouth. "Oh, my wagging
tongue. Isobel, you like William, do you not? You would not wish harm to come
to him?"

"Harm? What harm?"

The big eyes filled with unshed tears, the slender body trembled,
but there was surprising strength in the voice. Alinor began to think she had
underestimated Isobel of Clare. Perhaps given adequate stimulation she could
stand firm.