Alinor (38 page)

"Word went out from Roselynde. You must have meant to visit them there and sent a messenger. That was good of you, brother. Truly, I was somewhat afraid that you would cherish a spite against them. I came to welcome you, of course, but also to beg you to be generous in your dealing with de Vipont and his lady."

"Just a few minutes ago you were warranting his loyalty. Are you warning me now that he will turn on me?" John purred.

"Not de Vipont—barring any—er—insult to his lady." Salisbury's eyes shifted. He had hated to say that, but Alinor was very beautiful, and he knew his brother. "He is still young," Salisbury added apologetically, "at least in that way, and very proud and passionate. No, the danger does not come from de Vipont. I am sorry for it, but I must say there was some ill feeling when word of whom you offered as husband to Lady Alinor spread."

"And how did that come about?" John snapped. "Did my loyal vassal Ian de Vipont cry it aloud to excuse his disobedience."

"Now, John, you know there was no disobedience. I have explained that already. And, no, he did not say who you had offered to her," Salisbury soothed. "Well, what could he say? He was married already. He could not say he was sorry for that—not with the lady standing beside him. What happened was that your letter frightened Lady Alinor. She sought reassurance from the bishops that you would not put her marriage aside. When they said it was a Church matter in which you— er—" Salisbury hesitated. He was too wise to repeat the bishops' assurances that John
could
not interfere with the Church. "In which you would not wish to meddle," he went on, "she was greatly relieved and said she was grateful for it because she did not wish to disobey you but she could not have brought herself to accept Fulk or Henry."

"Lady Alinor was frightened, was she?" John said neutrally.

Salisbury glanced at him, but the king's face betrayed nothing. "She did not say it for any purpose," he assured John. "It was only a woman's thoughtlessness. In her fear she was heedless of what import her words might have."

"And what import did they have?"

After a longer look at his brother, Salisbury shrugged. "What did you expect? I will say the truth. I was disgusted myself. There are enough decent men who are bound to you by de upon tie and would be faithful in the face of any temptation to reward with such a woman and such estates. Why in the name of God did you choose those two? Every man and woman there was outraged, and the vassals of both de Vipont and Lady Alinor clustered around them to swear again what they had just sworn—support to the uttermost. Whatever use Fulk and Henry are to you, John, this is no way to reward them. You will turn every nobleman away from you."

"What is it their affair?" John snarled.

"They have wives and daughters, too," Salisbury pointed out. "My own belly churned. Do you think I wish to fear that Ela will end in such hands?"

"Nonsense," John said, almost laughing at the idea. His surface irritation was considerably abated by the thought of his sister-in-law in the hands of his henchmen, but the cold hate for Ian and Alinor lay coiled inside him like a snake.

"For me, perhaps," Salisbury replied, having no idea what had changed John's mood except that he believed his brother was warmed by realizing he could be a strong protector to Lady Ela. "For others who are not so sure of your love and favor, it is a more real fear."

"Oh, very well. There will be no more talk of it. I have told you already that I plan to make the best of the marriage. I will take no more than a tithe from Lady Alinor as a fine, and I will show de Vipont my favor."

"And I may come with you to Winchester?" Salisbury asked with a slight hesitancy. He feared the implication that he did not trust John, but that was indeed the case. John had lied to him often on such matters, concealing his rancor and then inflicting his revenge when Salisbury was elsewhere.

"Of course," John laughed aloud. "If you think you can get so far before Ela's heart begins to beat too hard or her head pains start again."

Salisbury laughed also. Perhaps his suspicion that John's spite was directed against Alinor was incorrect If so, the worst was over. "I do not fear it," he said gaily. "She started before me to meet us there. She looks forward to cossetting Isabella in her present condition. I declare, that news made her recovery more swift and sure than my homecoming."

Lady Ela was indeed in Winchester, settled into a house her husband had purchased soon after John became king. Salisbury owned similar houses in London and Oxford, other favorite royal places of residence. Of course, his rank and relationship to the king, and John's affection for him, could have commanded a lodging in the castles themselves, but his wife complained so bitterly of the noise and crowding and their effect on her fragile health that private residences seemed necessary. They were also convenient, Salisbury admitted to himself not long after he had been whined and pleaded into the purchases. Ela was always indirect and she never admitted she did anything for his good, but he found himself far better off with a retreat from the court.

Within a day of her arrival, Alinor received a note requesting that she pay a visit to the Countess of Salisbury at her earliest convenience. She was a little surprised. She had not taken to Lady Ela and saw no reason why Salisbury's wife should seek her company— except, perhaps, as Salisbury's wife, carrying some message for him. With Ian's reputation what it was, it would be unwise for Lady Ela to invite him to her house when her husband was away. Alinor knew she would have to go, but Ian was out and she did not know where to reach him. Alinor sent a page for the bishop's secretary, told him where she was going, and asked him to inform Ian when she had left and her destination as soon as he returned. She then threw a cloak over herself, summoned Beorn and ten men-at-arms, and declared herself ready to follow the messenger to the Countess of Salisbury's house.

The first thing that struck Alinor when she entered Lady Ela's home was the immaculate precision with which she was welcomed, divested of her outer garments, her men-at-arms were arranged for, and she herself was shepherded upstairs to the countess' solar. The house did not look like the dwelling of a lazy sloven, and the servants did not act like those of a careless mistress. Lady Ela, however, was reclined on a well-cushioned article of furniture, the likes of which Alinor had never seen before and which gave her a strong desire to giggle. It was a cross between a chair and a bed, narrow, with a high back and arms but with a long footstool attached so that the lady could lie down or sit up as best pleased her. Ela held out a hand, not to be kissed, as Alinor had at first suspected with a quiver of resentment, but to clasp Alinor's.

"It is so kind of you to come and visit me," she sighed. "I should have come to you—a stranger and new-married as you are—but you know my sad health makes even such pleasures a painful effort. And the bishop's house is so large and draughty, and there are so many people coming and going that I cannot bear the noise. Oh, please, do sit down, Lady Alinor."

Alinor complied with the invitation promptly. Now that she was no longer distracted by worry about Ian and the myriad problems of being a hostess to a large and complex group of guests, the expression in Lady Ela's eyes, so much at variance with her whining voice and silly conversation, came into sharp focus.

"You do me honor to invite me, madam," she replied cautiously.

"Oh no, not at all. I will always do for you and Lord Ian anything in my power. William told me, you see, that if it had not been for your husband's help, he would not have returned to me at all."

The voice was so different that Alinor's eyes widened.

"Did Lord Ian not tell you?" Lady Ela continued. "That is a generous man, generous to foolishness."

"He did tell me," Alinor replied after an instant of swift thought, "but what he did is meaningless. He would have done as much for a common man-at-arms, and Lord Salisbury would have done the same for him. There is no debt. I never thought of it again."

"That is generous of you, and kindly said, but I think of it. Of course," Lady Ela's voice changed suddenly again, taking on its normal high-pitched whine, as if she had given Alinor a signal and now wished to see whether she were clever enough to pick it up, "I do not know why I should care. You see how William misuses me, sending me off all alone to face the dangers of the road and to open the house and order the servants and all things, rushing off to greet his brother as if that is the most important thing of all. So cruel, when I am so weak and so troubled by a dizziness behind my eyes and a strange ringing in my ears."

The lips were petulant, the hands fluttered idly and helplessly, but Alinor was not looking at those attention-demanding distractions. Her eyes were fixed upon Lady Ela's, taking in with amazement the bright and mischievous twinkle that dwelt in their pale depths.

"Do you not think William is grossly unkind?" Lady Ela insisted.

Alinor opened her mouth to utter an appropriate platitude, but a giggle came out instead. She gasped and choked. Not a muscle quivered in Lady Ela's face.

"I am sure he does not mean to be unkind," Alinor got out. "Men seldom consider the burdens we women must bear. Look at Ian, inconsiderately spending his time ridding my lands of outlaws instead of staying at home to help me make the wedding arrangements and take care of the guests." Alinor's voice quivered and she uttered another gasp as she strove to steady it. "And never a word to tell me whether he was alive or dead."

"Men are dreadful creatures, are they not?" Lady Ela sighed, as if she were expiring. "They never seem to care about talking at the top of their lungs of the most private things right in the midst of a crowd. It makes my head ache. I can never do so. And men act as if strange servants had no ears and the noise does not trouble them at all. How they do not misunderstand each other more often is a marvel to me. I cannot think, much less talk sense, in such a situation."

"Yes, indeed," Alinor murmured, all desire to laugh gone.

This was the second time Lady Ela had stressed noise and crowds. The meaning finally penetrated to her. How incredibly stupid she had been, but it was a long time since she had been at court and, at that time, no one had been interested in the doings of one young girl— at least not interested in the sense of setting spies on her to hear what she said. In addition, the court had been different in those days—except for the few months when old Queen Alinor had sparred with the Chancellor Longchamp. Richard never felt he needed to set spies on his subjects. He was willing, even eager, to meet any rebellion or treachery they planned head on in battle. There was no need for his subjects to spy upon him. Whatever faults Richard had, concealing his feelings was not one of them. John was different entirely. He was deceitful by nature and totally paranoid. Spies were as natural to his court as ants to a honeypot, and probably as frequent.

"How stupid of me," Alinor exclaimed involuntarily, and then, her own eyes twinkling, "here I have been feeling quite out of sorts, which you know is most unusual to me, and I did not know what was troubling me until you brought it to my mind. I am quite unused to the rush and hurry of a court. I think, perhaps, if it is decided that we will stay, I will have to seek out a house where I may have a little quiet."

"So wise," Lady Ela agreed. "And then if one has any little ailment that needs physicking, it may be attended to easily in decent privacy and comfort."

The question of how often Salisbury, who was as strong as an ox, might need "physicking" flashed across Alinor's mind, but it would be both dangerous and ungrateful to ask. Instead she said, "Now that you have so kindly solved this problem for me, Lady Ela, perhaps you would be so good as to help me with another. It is many years since I have been to court. I am sure the modes and manners are much changed from the time of King Richard. If it would not weary you too much, would you tell me how I must bear myself in Queen Isabella's presence?"

"I am seldom wearied by talking to one person at a time in a quiet place. Indeed, I find that a restorative to my health and just the kind of quiet liveliness that is best for me. And I am never, never wearied by giving advice."

That time Lady Ela's lips twitched with amusement, and Alinor was betrayed into another giggle. However, both returned immediately to practicalities. On the subject of when to bow, what form of address to use, and similar matters, Lady Ela's advice was clear and direct. She spoke directly, too, of the queen's exquisite beauty and how great a pleasure it was to tell Isabella how lovely she looked and how well her clothes and jewels became her. It was never necessary to lie or force a compliment, for the queen's taste was excellent, and the king was very generous in supplying his wife with any adornment she desired.

Constant flattery was necessary, Alinor noted mentally, interpreting Lady Ela's complimentary remarks quite correctly.

"The only thing I find distasteful, and that is my fault, is that the queen's ladies are so much interested in the affairs of the realm. The queen is in no way to blame for it. To her credit, she does not listen to such talk and grows quite cross with the ladies when they wander from the more important subjects of clothes and jewels. I cannot but help agree with Isabella. It makes my heart beat much too hard to talk of those matters that are more fitted to menfolk." The whine in Lady Ela's voice was particularly pronounced. "Those foolish women think it a mark of a husband's or lover's affection that he have a loose tongue and tell them all his business. If that is true, I must be sure that William loves me dearly despite his lack of consideration of my feeble health. He is always wanting to speak of such matters to me, but I cannot bear it. It makes my breath catch and my head ache, and the dizziness behind my eyes becomes so great that I must send him away and lie down."

"How fortunate you are," Alinor murmured dulcetly, "both in your husband's affection and in the afflictions that save you from any chance of speaking unwisely. Now I myself am most curious about such matters; I was accustomed to be a scribe to old Queen Alinor and so I grew a taste for state affairs, but Ian will never mention a word of them." Alinor stared wide-eyed into the keen eyes that looked so steadily back into her own. She had neither the intention nor the expectation of being believed, but she was satisfied by the approval in Ela's glance. "I suppose it is because we are so lately married, and he has as yet no trust in me. Perhaps I can learn something to his benefit from the ladies, especially those in the queen's confidence. Then he will trust me better."