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Authors: Roberta Gellis

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BOOK: Roselynde
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"It is a pretty trap," he growled, "and I still do
not understand how Lord Rannulf could have stepped into it apurpose."

"That is because you came here with King Henry when the worst
of the troubles were over. In Lord Rannulf's time there was no law nor was any
man safe as overlord. It was very easy to find a different master who would
make a new vassal out of an old castellan."

Simon spat an oath. "Yes, I see. And I also see that evil
will come of this some day."

"Do you suspect Sir Giles of wishing to take to himself
outright what is mine?"

"No, no. Sir Giles, I believe, you may trust for now. I was
talking of the years ahead."

"You are sure trouble is coming, Simon?"

"Trouble, yes. How can trouble be avoided when the head of
the realm is missing and there is no control on the hand that holds the reins?
My uneasiness lies in that I do not know what kind of trouble. For now, I will
not attempt to change the ordering of your keeps. I do not see my way clearly
enough."

It was just as well that Simon had not decided upon any action. At
Kingsclere they found Sir Andre waiting with the message they had been
expecting from the Queen. Had Simon been conscious of an unfinished task, he
might well have used that as an excuse not to respond to the Queen's invitation
at once and have blinded himself to his reluctance to do so. As it was, he
faced the rebellious desire to keep Alinor to himself.

She is not for me, Simon reminded himself, and drew his breath
sharply at the pain the thought caused him. He had realized from the beginning
that Alinor was only a prize that he guarded for another man. He had realized
from the beginning that Alinor was attractive to him in a different way from
the casual animal interest he had felt for all women—except the Queen, whom he
had long thought the most perfect woman and worshipped as a goddess. After that
he had done his best not to think about the matter at all. It had seemed to him
that he had succeeded. He had enjoyed Alinor's company, of course, but he
enjoyed many men's company and many women's. What shocked him was the intensity
of his pain and the increase in the intensity in the past few weeks. While he
deceived himself that he was not thinking about her, he had fallen deep in love
with Alinor.

Alinor was so taken up with her own reactions, that she had no
eyes or mind for Simon's. For once she was all sixteen-year-old girl with no
taint of the woman with heavy responsibilities. She laughed and chattered with
Grisel, the wife of Kingsclere's castellan, and then began to worry about her
wardrobe.

"Simon," she exclaimed. But Simon was deep in talk with
Sir Andre, and the two men had walked away to be free of the high, distracting
voices of the women. "Simon," Alinor insisted, running over and tugging
at his sleeve.

"My lady?"

Alinor did not notice how withdrawn and chilly the voice was.
"Clothes!" she exclaimed. "What am I to do about clothes? Do I
have time to have new made? Will I be accounted a fool for not wearing the new
styles?"

"How would Sir Simon know the answer to such women's
foolishness?" Sir Andre asked sharply, uneasy without quite knowing why.

"In fact I do not know," Simon said slowly.

"And you a courtier!" Alinor snapped scornfully.

"A courtier who has been long away from Court. The old King
did not love me overmuch in the last years. I sat still on my lands."

"But you must tell me
something,"
Alinor
insisted.

"My suggestion is that you wait and take the Queen's advice.
To ape the new fashion incorrectly will make you more a target for sharp
tongues than to admit you obeyed your grandfather's will and, thus, your gowns
are not of the latest style."

The laughing green and gold flecks in Alinor's dark hazel eyes
dimmed a trifle. "And there will be sharp tongues. There I will be as a maid
among other maidens, no more mistress and first in importance." She looked
up into Simon's face and saw it closed against her. "Simon! Do not desert
me. I have no friends at Court, not even any female blood kin."

Simon's jaw clenched. "There is nothing I can do for you
among the women," he warned.

"You can tell me if they have led me to make a fool of
myself. It is very well to bid me ask the Queen, but she is like to have more
important business than the style of my gowns."

A shaken laugh was drawn from Simon. "Do not trust me
overmuch. Perhaps I have no desire that you appear too beautiful."

"No, indeed," Sir Andre said hastily, now well aware of
the cause of Simon's tension—Simon was in love with Lady Alinor. "Alinor,
you must comport yourself with great reserve and modesty. If you arouse the
hopes of the wild young bucks at Court, you are like to come to grief." He
turned to Simon. "Would she not be safer in a house of her own in London,
which can be well guarded by your men and hers?"

To this notion, with which he had hoped to create a diversion, Sir
Andre received no reply. Simon had frightened himself mute by his near
confession. He swallowed convulsively and, when he still could not speak,
turned on his heel and walked away. Alinor opened her mouth to recall him, but
Sir Andre's hand flashed up and clamped across her lips.

"Devil!" he hissed. "Let him be. It is all game and
jest to you, Alinor, but you are hurting a good man. You will destroy him if
you do not have a care to what you do."

"Are you so sure it is all game and jest to me?" Alinor
replied sharply.

"Alinor!" Sir Andre exclaimed. "It is impossible.
Do not be a fool."

"You said he is a good man. And he is high in the Queen's
favor."

Sir Andre put up his hands and pulled his hair. "That is a
different thing to being of sufficient weight to aspire to your lands and
person. He is a valued servant, yes, but he has no family, no influence, and, I
suspect, few powerful friends. A man who deals strict justice seldom makes
friends."

"He has me," Alinor said slowly, "and, at my
command, my vassals—who would, I think, soon obey him for his own sake."

"Alinor, Alinor!" Sir Andre was whispering, his voice
suspended by horror. "Do not bring disaster upon him and upon us. If you
name this mad preference of yours—or even show it openly so that it comes to
the Queen's ears—you will have a new warden and he—if the Queen truly loves
him, he will be fortunate and only end in prison. If her favor is less, he will
lay his head on the block because of your wild foolishness."

"I do not believe you," Alinor said, but her voice was
shaking.

"His life and honor are the price. If you wish to gamble with
them, there is nothing more I can do to stop you," Sir Andre said stiffly.

For a moment Alinor was silent. Then she said, "I swear to
you I will look before I leap and I will go very slowly and with great care.
But if I can win the Royal sanction to it, would such a marriage for me content
you and my other vassals?"

"You will never win royal approval. Do not look on him, Alinor.
You will only make grief for yourself and for him."

"Answer me. Is Sir Simon such a man as can lead my vassals to
their satisfaction?"

Sir Andre rubbed the back of his neck. "He is too old for
you." And, as he saw her draw an indignant breath, "No, listen to me.
Now he is strong and fit, but he is only a few years younger than I. I am old.
Sir John is not young. You should choose a young man so that when Sir John and
I can no longer hold your men together you will have a strong leader for them
and to protect your children."

"What has age to do with that?" Alinor asked. "My
grandfather was fit to lead his men and protect me when he was near to eighty
years old."

"Alinor, do not be a fool. Do not make a rule from one
exception. In that way your grandfather was not as other men." He saw her
lips tighten and her jaw thrust forward. "Very well! Very well! The man
himself would be most welcome to us. You know that. You know Sir John and I
were delighted when he was named King's warden.
If he,
were younger—
If
the King were willing to throw you away on a man he has no need to bind to him—
Those ifs lead only to grief."

She did not answer, merely stood looking down the hall toward the
doorway through which Simon had gone out. Sir Andre was somewhat puzzled by her
expression. She did not look contrite, as when she had said, "I
will," and had been reasoned out of a foolish idea. She did not look
mulish, as when she had determined to have her own way at all costs, and for
that Sir Andre was thankful. She looked thoughtful, as when a new idea that she
liked but was not certain of was presented to her.

In fact Sir Andre had judged Alinor's state of mind quite
accurately. Although she was very skilled in handling men, she was almost
totally inexperienced in dalliance. She knew only those symptoms of
"love" described in the poems of the troubadours or the romances she
had read or the exaggerated sighs and ogling glances exhibited by the squires
of the men who came to visit her grandfather. And in the last year, when she would
have known better how to gauge the value of sighs and oglings, there had been
none. Sir Andre had permitted no guestings. He was too cautious to allow a
potential enemy into the gates.

Thus, the idea that Simon had a different feeling for her than Sir
Andre had was new to Alinor. When she had originally decided to reduce him to a
state in which he would ask her permission "to draw breath" she had
been thinking of her grandfather's and Sir Andre's paternal love, which could
really deny her nothing, and of Sir John's nervous devotion. Her initial
response to Sir Andre's accusation that she was playing with Simon had been
mostly defensive denial. Sir Andre's horrified reaction had spurred her
interest, and by the end of the conversation she was, for the first time,
considering Simon as a male creature rather than as a person, male or female,
that she liked and enjoyed being with.

It was an exciting, a delightful, and a completely uncomfortable
idea. When it was time to get ready for dinner, Alinor had changed her gown
three times and reduced her maids to tears before she took herself in hand. She
comforted Gertrude and Ethelburga, stripped off the jewelry she had foolishly
donned, and sat down to think. The period she had left for reflection was
unfortunately too brief to accomplish much so that Alinor descended from the
solar still unsure of what she should say or how she should act. She found
instead that all her preparations and qualms were wasted. Simon had ridden out
and would not dine with them.

An initial wash of relief was ousted by rage. Alinor's brows shot
upward. "Without informing me? To what purpose?" she asked in a voice
that made Lady Grisel shrink back from her side and even caused the doughty
castellan himself to blench slightly.

"To ride. To hunt." Sir Andre's reply was so blank, so
colorless that Alinor's rage congealed.

"Oh." She waved an airy hand. "So long as he does
not meddle with my lands when I am not by."

Sir Andre choked. The castellan turned to look at him. "Our
lady has used that poor man worse than a serf—more like a slave." It was
all he could think of to say.

"Why not?" Alinor commented, quick to see the advantage
of Sir Andre's lead. "He is very wise in the ways of war. Since the Queen
has appointed him my warden, let him guard me in truth."

"He has a right to a day's freedom, my lady," Sir Andre
warned.

"Oh, yes," Alinor agreed lightly. "I said I did not
mind if he hunted."

Then she turned the talk as if she had dismissed Sir Simon from
her mind completely. This was not possible, Sir Andre knew, but he felt
considerable relief at her skillful pretense. The castellan, who knew nothing
about the byplay of the morning, put down Alinor's seeming deep absorption in
the affairs of Kingsclere to a desire to know more about the estate than Simon
could learn. Loyally, he related every fact he could think of that might be of
help to his very kind and gracious lady.

Enough was enough. Soon after dinner Alinor retreated to the
women's quarters, but she did not wish to sew and was too restless to read. The
long evening and a good part of an equally long night were spent in checking
over what furniture she had with her and making a list of what she would need
in addition to furnish a house in London. If by any means she could make the
Queen agree, Alinor thought she might prefer to live in her own house. She was
not at all sure she would be able to accommodate herself to being one
unimportant individual in a large group of highborn maidens. Also, it would be
very difficult to be alone with Simon in the crowded Court or to conceal her
desire for him.

Caught short by where her mind had wandered from furniture, Alinor
thought— Do I desire him? Her hand remained poised above the parchment upon
which she had been inscribing "2 pr chair wi cushion."

"I will never finish this," she said aloud, exasperated
with her unruly mind, and then burst into laughter as she looked down at what
she had written. Instead of the word "red," which should have
followed "cushion," bold and black, as if she had scored down harder
than usual with her pen, stood "SIMON."

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