Alinor

by Roberta Gellis

  There was the accident that should have taken place. Alinor covered her eyes for a moment. Had the father substituted his son for Arthur in an attempt to save the prince? Had he then found he was too late, that the prince was dead already, and realized that no man who knew that would be allowed to live? Had he seen his son’s fall and known the ruse had failed doubly, that he had made a useless sacrifice? In an extremity of hatred, had he taken Arthur’s body to hide so that John would be blamed at the same time as he would be vulnerable to any claimant who rose up and cried out he was Prince Arthur, saved from death, come to overthrow the evil king? It was possible; it was very possible. Moreover, an honest son often predicates an honest father.

  “Where were you?” Alinor asked breathlessly. “How came you to escape? How did your servant escape?”

  “I was at home. My mother was ill. I have something, at least, to be thankful for. She died before the news of Arthur’s death and my father’s disappearance spread abroad. The servant had a whore who hid him and sent him forth in her garments. He sought me out and bid me fly for my life. We were to be weeded out, we Hedinghams, root, stock, and branch, so that none would cry aloud that my father was innocent.” Then, suddenly, Sir Guy began to laugh bitterly, and his eyes lit. “Fool that I am, fool! I know how you can obtain restitution for the losses I have inflicted upon you. Please, Lady Alinor, bid your lord pardon my men. They are worth nothing. You can sell me to the king for any price you like to name.”

  “Does the king know you?” Alinor asked.

  “He knows I exist.”

  “Does he know your face?” Alinor insisted.

  “I do not think so. I cannot see how he would, having seen me only once or twice and then as part of a crowd, but I can prove who I am. I swear if you pardon my men, I will not deny my name nor will I—”

  Alinor began to laugh aloud. Sir Guy was shocked by the sound as well as by the sudden brilliant, greenish glow in her eyes. Alinor laughed even more at his expression.

  “No, no, I am not a monster,” she said, sobering after a moment. “I do not laugh at the horrors you tell me or at your sorrows and wrongs. It merely gives me great pleasure to know that I can be the cause whereby our beloved king will sleep less easily in his bed at night.”

  There was a moment of silence while Sir Guy stared stonily at the floor. Then his head snapped up. “Did you say less easily, madam?”

  “If I could strew his bed with thorns or nettles, I would do it,” Alinor said grimly, “but as I cannot, at least you will be a sharp fear to prick his mind.”

  The blue eyes, at once hopeful and unbelieving, stared at her. “I do not understand,” Sir Guy whispered.

  “I have a private quarrel with the king,” Alinor replied. “That is no affair of yours, except that I will tell you plain that it is not of weight or moment to match your quarrel with him. Nonetheless, though no more than an insult was offered me and a deep, abiding hurt was done to you, your revenge can be no greater than mine. I will not try to convince you of the necessity of accepting this injustice. All I will say is that sometimes a man must endure a great injury for the good of the realm at large. When Lord Ian returns, he will explain more fully to you why it is wrong and impossible to do the king any injury, no matter what kind of devil he is.”

  “Madam, madam,” Sir Guy cried, holding his head in his hands, “I do not understand you at all.”

  “No indeed, and no wonder. You are wounded and tired and I am gabbling about political matters. Beorn, take Sir Guy to the eastern wall chamber. I will send the maids to attend to him. Let them tell me if there is any wound I must see to myself.” She looked at the young man’s clothes distastefully. “And throw those things he is wearing to the dog boys. I will send down some suitable garments.” She paused again and cocked her head, examining Sir Guy’s face with attention. It had a stubble of unshaven beard, but it was plain that in less critical moments he was clean-shaven. “Yes, and do not permit him to be shaved. We will all be safer, Sir Guy, if you pretend love for the king and ape him by growing a neat beard and mustache—just like the king’s.”

  Sir Guy stared even more uncomprehendingly. “Madam, I beg you to tell me what will become of my men,” he pleaded. “You speak as if I am a guest in your castle and this cannot be. Had I known you were at odds with the king, I would never— I beg pardon. I do not mean to excuse myself, but do not make me hang by my fingers.”

  “As to your men, I can only assure you that Lord Ian is both good-tempered and just. I imagine he will sieve them and dispose of them suitably to their characters and abilities. Final justice rests with me on these lands. If it comes to hanging or maiming, I will know of it and I will do you the courtesy to tell you what is decided, so that you can speak for the man, if you believe he deserves to be spoken for. As for yourself, I suppose you are a prisoner, not a guest, but you have given your parole not to try to escape. I cannot see why you should want to escape. I assure you I have no intention of selling you to the king. You have nowhere else to go. Thus, I can see no reason to confine you or to waste my men’s time by setting a guard upon you.”

  “But how can I make restitution, then? I have nothing!”

  “You have a strong body and, I believe, a clean nature. I have some profit already,” Alinor smiled sardonically, “simply in knowing that hiding you from the king will make him uneasy. The rest, if Lord Ian agrees and if you can convince us of your sincere desire to be loyal to us, I will take out of you in service. A knight is paid a shilling a day. Adding the cost of horse and armor, which I must furnish to you since yours is gone, it will take you some few years to clear your debt, but—” Alinor broke off and began to laugh again. One would think from Sir Guy’s expression that she was proposing immediate entry into heaven without the intervention of death, instead of many years of hard service. She waved the young man away before he embarrassed her by too great gratitude or himself by bursting into tears. If he was what he seemed, she had made a good bargain in exchange for a few cows and a few loads of grain.

  At almost the same time that Alinor opened the gateway to Sir Guy’s notion of heaven, King John was considering her entrance into hell on earth. On the previous night, he had not summoned his current mistress among his wife’s ladies to his bed. He had sent Fulk de Cantelu and Henry of Cornhill into the town to procure three whores. The gentlemen had gone about their task with considerable enthusiasm. If they were not as quick as the king’s half brother at seeing the onset of one of his periods of indolence, they had at least come to know—far better than Salisbury—one of the signs of his emergence from that state.

  The women they collected were neither clean nor beautiful, but that did not matter. All that was important was that no one should care whether the creatures lived or died. They might survive the night; some did, but in case they did not, no questions would be asked. In fact, one did survive, being thrust out of the castle, muffled in the blood-stained shreds of the women’s garments. There was no danger that she would tell any tales, however; her tongue had been cut out, even though she had already been reduced to gibbering idiocy by pain and terror.

  In the course of the night, Fulk had suggested—shouting into John’s ear to be heard above the screams of fear and pain—that the game they were playing might well tame Lady Alinor. He had tried any number of times during the past weeks to reawaken John’s interest in giving him the heiress in marriage. Although the king had several times smiled and agreed that he thought it an excellent notion, he had done nothing at all to forward the idea. Now, however, his eyes lit.

  “But it is Henry who is making the sweet music,” he bellowed in reply, laughing. “Let me see you prove yourself as skilled.”

  Fulk had returned to his efforts to amuse his master with redoubled spirit, but Henry of Cornhill had heard both remarks and would not be outdone. Moreover, he reminded John of Salisbury’s suggestion that the lady should be allowed to choose for herself. The exquisite humor of allowing Alinor to pay a heav
y fine for the privilege of choosing between Fulk and Henry had appealed greatly to John. He had been so delighted with the idea and had laughed so heartily at it that the knife with which he was threatening one of the whores slipped and brought her a premature peace.

  That little accident annoyed John. He would not go further with bestowing Alinor on one or the other of his companions that night. By the following afternoon, when he woke after a most pleasant and refreshing sleep, the notion had regained its appeal. He had sent for the companions of his peculiar pleasures and smiled upon both impartially.

  “Now you know that I love you both well,” the king began mellifluously. He was amused by the wary fearfulness that woke in both pairs of hard eyes, but he did not allow himself to be led down the pleasant byway of watching his men grovel this time. “Thus I am willing to expose myself to my barons’ blame in order to gain for one of you a rich prize.”

  The men both bowed low. Although the fear receded from their eyes, the wariness did not. Their lord was not one to give something for nothing. He expected an equivalent benefit—in political advantage, murder, or money. Neither of them could conceive what they could offer that would be the equivalent of this prize.

  “I want to be sure, very sure, that Lady Alinor is treated as she deserves,” John continued with a broad smile.

  “You may be sure, my lord,” Fulk said passionately.

  “Indeed you may,” Henry assured him also, “and that if she be given to me she will live long enough to see her son die and her daughter broached.”

  Fulk began to elaborate on his own briefer statement, but although John nodded agreeably, he held up a restraining hand.

  “I am sure you will equally do your best to make Lady Alinor’s life full and complete,” the king purred, “and that neither of you would be dissuaded from your purpose by the disapproval of my lily-livered great lords. Nonetheless, I would not have it seem as if I had parted with the lady’s rich estates only for the poor, mean satisfaction of revenge. Roselynde Keep, commanding as it does the port and anchorage, and its demesne lands also, must come into my hands.”

  “From what I have heard,” Henry was quick to say, “there is plenty more. I will agree to that much if I can have her.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Fulk agreed also.

  “In addition, I would expect that the vassal who holds Iford Keep and lands, Sir Giles, will be removed—as forcibly as possible—from his estate. It would be best if he survived long enough to see his wife and daughters be given to your troops to use as they will, after you have tasted them first, of course, if they are worth tasting.”

  “My lord, it is always so great a pleasure to serve you that it makes your service very light.” Fulk was first in with his agreement this time.

  “The sons would have to be gathered up and removed also,” Henry remarked thoughtfully.

  “Oh, yes, certainly,” John said approvingly. “You will probably have to remove all the other vassals and castellans also,” he remarked slyly, again amused as consternation leaped into his men’s eyes, and then added, “and William of Pembroke is not likely to be best pleased when he hears that his dearest friend’s son is dead and his wife and daughter— But you will surely know how to deal with him.”

  But that time he had gone too far, John saw. There was real fear in his henchmen’s eyes and sweat on both faces. Dealing with Pembroke would be a challenge neither wanted. John did not want them to back out, so he said soothingly, “Perhaps Pembroke will be too busy about his own affairs to bother, however. And I do not have any bone to pick with any of Lady Alinor’s vassals, except Sir Giles, other than that their loyalty has been unwisely given. I warn you against them only because I doubt that they will accept your overlordship easily. They will all believe themselves more fit either to have the lady’s hand or to bestow it where they think best—all, even the meanest, being better born than you.”

  That had saved the situation. Rage and hate had temporarily driven out fear. John paused to enjoy the bitten lips, clenched jaws and flushed faces that betrayed the leashed-in emotions his remarks had generated. He pricked the clods of filth that served his baser purposes quite deliberately. Because they did not dare revenge themselves upon him, the hate he bred spilled out all around. It made his “dear” Fulk and Henry more able at the work he chose for them. Moreover, the reminder of the hatred and contempt in which they were held by the great noblemen of John’s court increased their loyalty even as it increased their responsive hatred. There was no one to whom they could turn for help and support. If anything happened to King John, they would be torn apart by the nobles whom his power now held in check.

  “Now,” he went on, “as I said when you first came in, I love you both and I love you equally and you are equally fit for this piece of work. Therefore, I find it impossible to choose between you.”

  “I will add whatever else you desire of the lady’s lands,” Fulk suggested persuasively.

  “And I, of course,” Henry hastened to agree, but a faint frown was beginning to grow between his shrewd eyes.

  If the king was right and Alinor’s vassals resisted, it would take much money and many men to subdue them. If a great part of the estate were promised away to the king, what would be left of the great prize besides debts? To Henry’s relief, John shook his head.

  “Roselynde and Iford I desire. The rest may remain with the lady and go to her heir when she goes, happily I trust, to her final rest. I do not mean to breed conflict between you by allowing you to strive for this prize. Neither do I wish to have one feel I prefer the other over him. Thus we will follow my brother Salisbury’s counsel—which you were clever enough to remind me of, Henry—and we will allow the lady to choose for herself.”

  “How can she choose?”

  “That is for her to decide. To the best of my knowledge, she has never set eyes on either of you and, even if she should find someone who has and who can tell her of you, it will not matter. My love for you, I say, is equal because you are so equal in every respect.” Again the two men flushed and winced under the king’s tone, but he went on smoothly. “I will offer a consolation prize to the loser. With him, I will divide the fine the lady will pay for the right to pick her own husband.”

  Both men bowed again, their eyes lighting with greed and satisfaction. John smiled on them, well pleased with himself because he knew he had handled this situation perfectly. He would achieve his purpose concerning Alinor’s person; he would have two great strongholds, both in important positions, under his own personal control; it would cost him nothing to obtain the castles; and neither of his tools would have cause for resentment. The one who achieved the lady would have considerable wealth, but only after great effort had been expended; the loser would have a rich reward for nothing at all. Neither probably knew which prize to desire most.

  John had read his henchmen’s feelings quite accurately, except for one thing. No matter which man gained which reward, he would feel cheated. He would be sure the other had benefited more than himself. Such was the nature of Fulk and Henry, that of ungrateful beasts. Nonetheless, at the moment that canker had not yet had time to take root. The only concern Fulk and Henry felt was that the king would slip back into his lethargy before setting the choice of delicacies before Lady Alinor. That had been known to happen. In this case, however, it did not. The king’s men had the pleasure of seeing John call for one of his scribes, dictate the letter to Alinor, and finally, without any waste time, summon a messenger to carry it to Roselynde Keep, or wherever else the lady should be.

  Chapter Ten

  In the next two weeks, Alinor became convinced she had made a good investment in Sir Guy. One reason was that Ian did not come as she had expected, and this fact occupied her mind to such a degree that she found it hard to give proper attention to the children. Joanna was not really a problem. Alinor kept her daughter so busy overseeing the wedding preparations that Joanna had no time to do anything except ask for instruction and then
turn to her task. It was a happy solution for everyone. Joanna was enjoying herself in her new position of authority and was gaining invaluable experience, while the maids and menservants were somewhat shielded from Alinor’s temper.

  Adam would have borne the brunt of his mother’s impatience if not for the advent of Sir Guy. The young knight was charged with exercising the child in arms and horsemanship. Of course, both child and tutor were discreetly watched at every moment. Alinor was almost certain of Sir Guy’s integrity, but she was taking no chances with her son’s safety. Properly safeguarded, Adam was out from under her feet and was learning skills that were necessary to him in company more suitable than that of the men-at-arms. Alinor realized that Sir Guy was not of Simon’s or Ian’s caliber, but there were years in which to polish Adam’s performance. The basics he was learning from Sir Guy were sound.

  On November 20th, a large troop of horsemen were reported coming from the west. Alinor was fit to be tied. The guests had started to arrive and her soon-to-be husband was still, for a purpose Alinor mistakenly believed she understood all too well, lingering in a louse-infested serf’s hut on the borders of her land. Fuming, all but incoherent because he seemed to have beaten her and she was forced into sending for him, Alinor wrote to Ian. In her fury she was somewhat less than polite in her demand that he return to Roselynde. She did not dare weep with rage because she was too proud to expose a tear-marked face, which might be misunderstood, to the arriving guests. She bit her lips and dug her nails into her palms to curb herself into some semblance of welcoming propriety. Most fortunately, the first arrival was welcome for herself and no polite greeting was necessary.