Alinor (31 page)

"What the devil do you think of me?" Ian burst out furiously. "Will I let a man deny my son his right?"

"Ian, Ian." Alinor took his face between her hands and kissed him. "You cannot shield him forever. Some day he will need to face them, God willing he live to be a man. Once he has his spurs, he must fight his own battles. You cannot even go with him to advise him, or the men will credit you, and he will be nothing in their eyes."

He gnawed his lower lip, and Alinor remembered Simon doing that when his heart warred with his head. Likely Ian had picked up the habit from years of watching it. His face was rough with beard stubble, and it scraped her hands when he turned his head to kiss her palm.

"You speak so calmly of it." Ian's voice was husky and muffled by Alinor's hand across his lips.

"It is a woman's fate to watch her men go out, and pray in pain for their return."

Ian shuddered. "I do not envy you."

"It has its compensations. You do not know the joy of seeing the beloved ride home safe. Oh, such joy. Only in heaven, if what the priests tell us is true, can there be its equal."

"I do not know. It is said that women are frail, yet such pains and such joys would kill me. Well, that is not to the point. You are right, and in any case I will not live forever. I will do what I can, and you also must say what you can to discourage Oxford, if he should speak to you. He is too old. That leaves only Leicester and Salisbury."

"I suppose you think William—I mean Pembroke— a pox on so many Williams—is also too old? It would be easy to say that Simon had already promised—but then there is the trouble with the king."

"It is not that, nor that he is old. Oxford acts like an old man; he goes no more to war but sends his sons. I think that is why he desires a young one around the house. Pembroke is different. He will be active in the field until he dies, but he will not be in England—at least, I do not think so. That much is settled, that Pembroke will leave for Ireland as soon as he can gather a suitable force and the weather will permit. That will be no brief work. It will be a matter of some years. You spoke so ill of Ireland that I did not think you would wish Adam to go there."

"No," Alinor replied emphatically, "not to Ireland. Not Adam. Besides, Adam has no place there. The kind of battle that will be fought there will teach him little he will need to know. Simon's lands are all rich and well-castled and they are here in Sussex and in Leicester, near Robert's." She turned her head a little so that Ian could not see her eyes. "And you? Will you go?"

"I told you, not yet. I will provide a force—I have not yet decided whether to levy on the vassals or hire mercenaries. Later, when Pembroke knows what more is needed, I will go myself, bringing such additional aid as he will direct."

"And Oxford? And Salisbury?"

"Oxford will send men and, I think, his youngest son. Salisbury has offered to send men also, and that I cannot understand. He has no stake in Ireland, except— If you want my thoughts, he does this for John's sake."

"What!" Alinor exclaimed. "Ian, if it is John's desire to get Pembroke to go to Ireland, I must warn Isobel to stop him. And, as for you, you will not go even if I must―"

"Alinor!" Ian said sharply. "I will go where it is right for me to go, and where I have passed my word I will go, even if hell should bar the way. Fortunately, we will not need to quarrel over this. John has no desire for Pembroke to go to Ireland; he has thrice forbidden it. You did not understand what I meant. I believe it is Salisbury who desires Pembroke's absence so that John cannot demand of Pembroke something he cannot in honor give."

"You make my head go around," Alinor said irritably. "I thought the idea was Oxford's."

"Indeed it was, and I think Oxford brought the idea to Salisbury only to discover whether it would bring down John's wrath upon him. Salisbury then saw how great good for all could be gained. Look at it thus. John is already greatly hated and is not mending matters by this new tax. There is no man in England, or anywhere else, who does not honor Pembroke or who does not know how patiently he has borne the slights the king has placed upon him. If John should demand what is not lawful of Pembroke and drive him into rebellion, it is not impossible all England would rise with him. Even if it does not, the anger and bitterness of the barons will be a hundredfold increased. Each will see himself treated as Pembroke is."

"Ian," Alinor breathed softly, "is there no way to be rid of this king?"

"He is my king. I do not wish to be rid of him," Ian replied firmly. "I wish to control him so that he cannot do harm. I tell you there is good in him also. Salisbury is a clever man. He will send Pembroke to Ireland to tame the Irish. For a year or two, John will be sufficiently busy coming to terms with his new Archbishop of Canterbury to have no thoughts of one who is out of sight. Which reminds me, I have yet to tell you what brought
three
bishops to our wedding—but that can wait. Then John will go to Ireland with an army that need do nothing beyond marching about. Thus John will win a great victory, and in his pride he will forgive Pembroke—who will have done all the work— and all will be well again."

"I understand what you have said about John being an English king. Nonetheless, my gorge rises―"

"Swallow it, then! At least the king is coming to know he is no great soldier. If he can have the appearance of leading, he is content to leave such matters to Salisbury now. In many tilings he is hated for what is no fault of his own. John is greatly blamed for the rise in taxes, but if he had not received a kingdom deep in debt owing to Richard's crusade and Richard's ransom, the taxes would be much less."

"Perhaps, but you know, Ian, it is the man, not the money. Oh, I do not love to part with what is mine any more than another." That made her husband snort with laughter. Alinor was a good deal more reluctant than most to part with anything. She cast
him
a glance of amusement mingled with irritation, but it did not divert her from her subject. "It is what I said before. A man without honor is a two-legged beast, and not fit to be a king."

"I wonder if any man is fit to be a king," Ian replied slowly. "It is so large a thing. Those from the north want one thing; those from the south another; and a man raised to the customs of England thinks scorn on the customs of Wales, while those touched with the luxury of the East, those of Poitiers, condemn all of us here in England as barbarians. Yet the king must content all. And all the while he must watch those who would wrest his power and place from him—but he must not act unjustly. Is it any wonder that even a good man runs mad in the end. Hardly, even with good will, can he do what is right. If he yield gently to demands, he is called weak and scorned. If he forces order, he is called tyrant. Moreover, he is expected to spin justice out of his gut like a spider, regardless of his own humors or desires; yet he is condemned if the justice is tainted with bile or lust."

"What are you saying? That we should have no king?"

"God forbid! That way lies chaos and hell. No, but it seems to me that there should be some writing, almost like unto a marriage contract, whereby the two parties —on the one hand, the barons and the people, and on the other hand, the king—would know what is required of them. Alinor, think how little we have to quarrel about―"

That drew a spurt of laughter from Alinor, who knew that two people in love could always find plenty of grounds for quarreling. Ian laughed briefly, too, not being such an idiot as to believe that marriage to Alinor would be all sweetness and light. He foresaw already that there would be some raging contests over the question of his departure for Ireland. That, however, would be a quarrel that grew out of tenderness and love and fear for him. Whatever the outcome of the argument itself, however angry each was at the outcome, no bitterness from it would taint the long future. They both understood Ian's deeper meaning in spite of the laughter. Both thought at once of the ceremony of homage that would be enacted that day and thought it was an excellent example. If their marriage contract had not specified that Alinor would continue to take homage from her vassals, Ian might have expected to do so. Then a different kind of quarrel, one that might end in permanent separation or even in war, might have arisen.

"Doubtless," Alinor remarked, "between your temper and mine we will find the wherewithal for a few cross words. Nonetheless, I see what you mean. The difficulty―"

"I," Ian interrupted sententiously, "have a very sweet temper." They both laughed again, but Ian sobered quickly. "The difficulty, of course, is to convince the king to sign such a contract. He will see it certainly as a means to chain him down."

"Which it is. Is this your thought on how to cage the wolf, Ian?"

"Not mine alone, but I had some part in it. Contracts, as you may imagine, have been on my mind for some time."

"It is a good thought, but I cannot see, short of rebellion, how to force the king to sign."

Ian rubbed at the stubble of his beard nervously. "I will not have part in any rebellion. I am sworn to the king. Still, it might be managed. There are many things the barons say are their right that the king contests. The contract could be sweetened by chaining the barons, too."

"But then neither will be willing to sign!"

"I have some hope of it. It must be carefully written and not done in any haste. If each side thinks there is more of benefit in it for him—the Church might be of some help, and Langton, if he be chosen for archbishop— Alinor, this is no time to be talking of such matters. We will have time enough when our guests are gone. What must be settled is whether you wish to make some commitment either to Leicester or Salisbury about Adam and, if so, to which."

"It is no easy choice. Leicester would be kind to Adam and would not take his mischief amiss, having a merry nature of his own. His lands are not far divided from Simon's—Adam's, I mean—and he is wise in the management of his vassals. He is a good man of his hands also; Simon said he fought well in the Holy Land. I have nothing to say against him except that he leans to his father's teachings and will not fight in the king's wars if he can avoid it. This is good and wise, but no way for a boy to learn of battle."

"I do not think you need to worry overmuch for that," Ian remarked drily. "If what I fear comes, there will be fighting enough. In any case, there are bound to be disaffected vassals that Leicester must deal with or, in these times, attacks upon his vassals for which he must bring them aid."

"I suppose that is true, but I have come much to your way of thinking about Salisbury. Certainly he is a good man, and Adam could learn from him all there is to know about war, but against that, his lady could sour any young man upon marriage for life." Ian chuckled acknowledgment of that, but Alinor continued, "And also there is the problem that he is so much at court that Adam could almost as well go to the king."

"There is something else I had better tell you. It may be easier to put off Salisbury than Leicester. Salisbury can be told that you do not wish to make a double tie to one house—that will not give him offense; he will acknowledge it as reasonable. Salisbury desires to make contract for Joanna with his son Geoffrey."

"No!" Alinor exclaimed explosively.

Ian was shocked speechless for a moment. He had grown very fond of Geoffrey in the past few weeks and, although he had sense enough not to make any commitment to Salisbury, reminding both of them at the last moment that Joanna was Alinor's daughter and not his to dispose of, he had been delighted with the idea. The shock was of infinite benefit in that it gave Ian time to control his sense of outrage and permitted him to ask quietly, "Why no? Do you object to the boy's bastardy? Salisbury is mad for him and may well have him legitimatized. In any case, he is no pauper. Both the boy's grandfather and Salisbury have assigned property to be his, and I am sure Salisbury would find more to give
him
―"

"Do not be foolish. Why should I care that the boy is a bastard! His mother was not unknown or ignoble. We know his blood, and it is good on both sides. And you should know I do not care about what lands he brings, either. Joanna will be rich enough to marry as she pleases—and that is what she shall do."

"Marry as she pleases?"

Ian could have been no more amazed if Alinor had said Joanna would grow wings, fly off, and live in a tree. Girls simply did not choose their own husbands. Kind and thoughtful parents tried to match temperament and age so that their daughters would be happy. Ambitious parents used daughters as pawns to further their plans for increased power or land, without a thought for the girl's fate. Girls, after all, were bom to marry to cement land boundaries or to breed children for a
ming
ling of blood lines. Their feelings about the husband who shared those duties were totally irrelevant. Older women sometimes did make a free choice, as Alinor had—well, almost free—but not young girls.

Intemperate words rose to Alinor's lips, but before they poured out she realized that they might also be cruel words. Certainly on this day, it would be a bitter thing to remind Ian that her first marriage had been to her own pleasure; indeed, that she had followed Simon halfway around the world, scaling mountains and crossing deserts only to be near him. To say that at this time would imply that she had married Ian only from necessity—and it was not true. That thought and the memory of her recent pleasure washed away her quick anger.

"You would not wish Joanna to be unhappy, would you?" Alinor asked softly.

"Wish her unhappy! You know how much I love her. That was why I was so pleased when Salisbury suggested Geoffrey. Think how suitable they are in age and in disposition also. You do not know the boy as well as I, but he is kind and gentle, with a most loving heart— and he is drawn to her. That was what gave Salisbury the idea. He could look considerably higher for a wife, even for his bastard, as well you know. The thing is, Salisbury is most anxious for Geoffrey's happiness. He feels he has done the boy a wrong, and he will go far to amend it."