Roselynde (23 page)

"You are constant in nothing," a sharp voice said.
"I came to comfort your weeping and find you laughing instead."

Isobel of Gloucester sounded disappointed, but her eyes were not
completely dissatisfied. The marks of tears were still plain on Alinor's face.

I am constant in my dislike of you, Alinor thought, but all she
said was, "Raining clears the skies and crying clears the eyes. Having
seen my own silliness clearly, I have come to laugh at myself."

"And so you should. Even
I
do not aspire to the
King."

The statement coupled with what she had been thinking left Alinor
completely bewildered. "Aspire to the King!" she echoed.

Isobel of Gloucester laughed. "Do not think to hide it now
for you betrayed yourself most openly, saying he was 'beautiful' and then, when
Elizabeth said you could not look so high bursting into tears and crying, 'I
know.' It will be all over the Court."

And I know who will spread the word, Alinor thought. Then her eyes
grew round. There could be little harm in the rumor that she was smitten by the
King, especially if she shrank away from Richard so that no one believed she
really aspired to him. At least it would direct attention away from her love
for Simon. Alinor no longer had any doubts of her feelings, not since her
terror for him had exaggerated three little trickles into a man covered in
blood.

"Only such silly geese could think such a thing," Alinor
replied. "When one has seen the sun, one is ravished and blinded. But only
a madman reaches out to seize it. I do not deny," she added haughtily,
"that I think the King is beautiful. No one could think otherwise. He is
beautiful."

"And yet there is something odd in him—is there not?"

"Odd?" Alinor echoed.

"It is said he is not like to breed up sons."

"Bite your tongue!" Alinor exclaimed. "I never
heard such and, in mercy to you, I have grown deaf and do not hear it
now." She spoke as loudly as she could without screaming. To echo Isobel's
whisper could leave in doubt who told and who received secrets.

Isobel sneered and Alinor looked at her in wonderment. Could she
be so stupid as to believe she could say such things because she was Lord
John's betrothed? Did she forget the Queen, imprisoned for sixteen years? High
place was no guarantee of safety. Yet Isobel had less to fear than most. The
King would be in England a very short time and then Lord John would be the most
powerful noble in the land. Alinor remembered John's eyes and Simon's tense
body. John would not object to such a rumor about Richard. It would more surely
mark him as the heir to the throne.

Every alarm mechanism Alinor had was screaming. Isobel as the wife
of the heir apparent was dangerous. For some reason Isobel had disliked her
from the moment they met.

Safety lay in the favor and the life of the Queen, but how long
could that be? And it was too horribly true that the King was not likely to
breed up heirs—not only because of that which Alinor was trying to repress into
the depths of her mind but because men died on Crusade, even kings. If Richard
died, John would be King—and Isobel would be Queen.

Even Alinor's sturdy spirit was somewhat overset by contemplation
of the idea of John and Isobel as King and Queen. It haunted her as she dressed
for the great celebration, the first of many, that was prepared to welcome the
King. She wore the latest fashions now—a wimple of white, all flecked with gold
thread to bring out the sparkle of her hazel eyes; a tunic of white, gold
embroidered at the neck; a cotte of pale green brocaded with gold thread. She
had a grander dress prepared also, but she had put it aside for Isobel of
Clare's wedding. Tonight she did not wish to shine too brightly.

Nonetheless, hardly was dinner over than Alinor was embroiled in
trouble. She had forgotten what the Queen said about making Simon and the King
better known to each other. Thus when the tables had been cleared and the
musicians began to tune their instruments, Alinor waited with confidence for
Simon to appear. He always asked her for the first dance so that neither Bigod
nor de Bohun could claim that she had shown him that favor. What was more,
Simon regulated which of them she accepted later, how often, and in what order.
There had been a sharp tussle about that, but Simon won hands down by pointing
out that, once she had brewed the trouble, it was his hide that was punched
full of holes to sieve it out. Surprisingly, the two rivals accepted Simon's
direction of Alinor's activities without apparent protest. He was absolutely
even handed; if neither could feel that he was given an advantage, both knew
their rival was equally constrained.

Alinor was not much conscious of the passage of time because the
King had chosen to announce that the betrothal of William the Marshal and
Isobel, Countess of Pembroke and Strigul, would be consummated in marriage at
Salisbury Cathedral on August 22 and that of his "dearly beloved
brother" Lord John to Isobel, Countess of Gloucester, on August 29 at Marlborough.
Both Isobels were surrounded by well-wishers and the talk among the women was
lively and, for once, good-natured.

It was not until William came to claim his betrothed's hand for
the first dance that Alinor realized Simon had failed her. She heard Isobel
murmur, "William, no, there is no need," and William's deep voice
replying, "Hush, Isobel. It is custom. It will not hurt me." Alinor's
first reaction was a flash of rage. She thought Simon had not come because the
sets were being led by the affianced couples. The rage was first drowned by
anxiety and then intensified when she saw Bigod and de Bohun bearing down on
her from opposite sides of the Hall. Then rage was drowned again when she saw
Simon's red-gray head well above the crowd in close conjunction with an equally
tall red-gold one.

To neither de Bohun nor Bigod would Alinor give her hand. To give
it to someone else after refusing them would be an insult. To say she did not
wish to dance would condemn her to inactivity for the whole evening. She was
left with the unappetizing choice of saying she had promised the dance to Simon
and he was too busy to claim it. She could just hear the remarks and jests that
would follow such a confession. In addition it was not even a safe haven. Since
he was not there, she would be pressed to accept another partner anyway. Ali-
nor cast a flickering glance from one pursuer to the other and between them she
saw a path of escape. "Ian," she called.

The young man was standing well back but also well within ear- and
eye-shot of his goddess. He started, came forward, and bowed. "My
lady?"

Alinor glanced right and left again. "Can you dance?"

Ian's mouth dropped open.

"Ian," Alinor insisted impatiently, "can you
dance?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Thank God for that! Lead me into the set then,
quickly."

"I, my lady?" The young man's voice cracked as it had
not done in a year.

"Yes, yes, quick! Your master is busy with the King. You were
sent to be his deputy. Quick!"

But it was already too late; de Bohun was upon them. Alinor put her
hand formally on Ian's wrist.

"Will you dance this dance with me, Lady Alinor?"

"I am sorry, my lord, it is already promised."

"What, to this stripling?"

De Bohun cast Ian so venomous a glance that Alinor's breath
checked. Had de Bohun attempted to abduct her and had someone told him that Ian
gave the warning? Her nervous reaction communicated itself to Ian, whose lips
had already tightened at the sneer. Alinor felt the tendons in his wrist tense
and she tightened her grip on him.

"I am my lord's deputy," Ian replied quietly, obedient
to Alinor's warning although he longed to throw the sneer back in de Bohun's
face.

"What, are you abandoned, Lady Alinor?" Bigod asked from
the other side.

"You see I am not," she rejoined smoothly, but her heart
sank. She had hoped that, whichever reached her first, the other would have
common sense enough to stay away when it became clear she would not accept his
rival.

"Come now, I cannot leave you to so youthful and
inexperienced a rescuer," Bigod said politely, ignoring de Bohun's
presence.

"Oh, well," de Bohun snickered. "It depends upon
what he must rescue her from. Some attempts are so futile that this silly child
would be sufficient protection."

Having seen the sneer and heard the tone of the first few words,
Alinor was prepared. She blocked Ian's movement toward de Bohun with her own
body and bore down with all her strength on the hand Ian was struggling to free
so that he could strike at his tormentor. Because she had the idea that de
Bohun had attempted the abduction, she saw the sneer as directed only at Ian.
In fact, she should have been watching Bigod who, with a snarl of rage,
launched himself at de Bohun.

"My lords, please!" Alinor shrieked, moving forward to
come between them, and was promptly knocked off her feet by a chance blow.

"Lady Alinor!" Ian cried, going down upon his knees.

The crowd that was gathering suddenly parted as water forms a bow
wave when a large vessel is swift driven by the wind. Two huge hands plucked
Alinor and Ian from the floor. Two others, equally large and hard although
covered with rings, grasped the combatants by their collars and shook them like
rats.

"Peace, I say!" Richard bellowed.

"Alinor, what have you done?" Simon roared.

It had been a terrible day. Too much, all of it frightening or
unpleasant, had happened all at once. Alinor burst into tears and buried her
face in Simon's breast. Ian turned a pasty gray, which was as white as his
swarthy skin could get.

Simon's throat closed. He had never seen Alinor cry, except an
occasional few tears of frustration when rage had made her incoherent.

Meanwhile, Milo de Bohun had straightened his garments and
apologized gaily. It was his fault, he said, for he had made a silly jest that
Sir Roger had not taken as funny. Bigod confirmed Milo's tale and even growled
an apology of sorts, but both had cast sidelong glances toward Alinor when they
thought Richard was engaged with the other. The King kissed them both and
dismissed them, then bent his eyes upon the other group.

"Well, Lady Alinor," he said, totally indifferent to the
pathetic picture she made, "what have you done?"

Simon bit his lips to hold back an angry order to let Alinor
alone, but Ian had less self-control.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed. "She is not at
fault."

Richard cocked a brow upward. "Yet every eye is upon her, and
her warden cries out, 'What have you done?'"

Alinor gave a defiant sniff and turned around within the safe
circle of Simon's arm, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand like a child.
"That is because I am very unruly and often make mischief, Your
Grace," she replied forthrightly. There was nothing feminine in her
manner. Aside from her clothing, she might have been a boy somewhat younger
than Ian. "But I swear upon my honor that I did not cause this mischief.
At least, I suppose I am the cause, but through no intention or desire of my
own."

"Yes?" Richard encouraged, somewhat more gently, but his
eye flicked briefly toward Ian.

Simon's arm tightened around Alinor. It was not she, however, whom
he wished to enfold in that protective gesture. He saw Ian with new eyes—and
realized the boy was beautiful.

He was a little under Simon's height and slender as a reed with
youth. The height was striking, but the face more so—hot, dark eyes and a
profusion of unruly blue-black curls topped a well-shaped, tender mouth and a
fine, thin nose with mobile nostrils. There was no real interest yet in the
King's eyes, Simon judged. If Ian disappeared now, Richard would never think of
him again.

Judging from Richard's manner that she had set out on the right
foot, Alinor gave a frank recital of the rivalry between Milo de Bohun and
Roger Bigod for possession of her estates and, stemming from that, their
courtship of her. She did not mention the attempted abduction. There was no
evidence of which, if either one, had been involved. From there she continued
to her reluctance to give the first dance to either of them and told how she
had summoned Ian to deputize for his master. The King's eyes moved briefly to
Ian again. However, he did not address any remark to the young man.

All he said was, "And which do you favor, Lady Alinor?"

"Good God, neither!" she exclaimed. "Nor any other
man. I am your ward, Your Grace, and have no desire to change my state. I hope
you will favor me in so much."

"You wish to remain a ward of the King?" Richard asked
incredulously. Then his eyes dropped from her face to Simon's arm, which still
enfolded her. "You are happy in your warden, I see," he said drily.

"Oh, yes!" Alinor replied with enthusiasm. "Sir
Simon is as kind to me as my grandfather." Then she laughed. "And as
unkind, too, for he checks me sharply for just the same things."

Richard's brow climbed upward again. "He is scarce as old as
your grandfather," he warned.