eyes lit up a bit then, and she ceased looking quite as faded as he’d previously thought.
“’ Tis said the king will cross the channel to deal with Geoffrey now that Christ’s Mass has passed,” Merle said to Dirick as one of the pages brought a new platter, this one with stuffed turbot.
Dirick nodded, chewing his bread slowly. While he had to take care what he said—after all, he was newly come from Paris, not from the king’s side at Westminster—much of what they spoke of would only be heard between the four of them. Neither of the ladies would take much from his words, so he needn’t be overly cautious.
“ Aye,” he replied. “I hear that Geoffrey is stocking his estates for war—claiming that Old King Henry meant for his son to relinquish Anjou to Geoffrey when he succeeded the throne of England.”
“ Matilda is still at Westminster with Henry?” asked Merle.
“ Aye. ’Twas she that kept him from heading off to Ireland to conquer the lands for his brother William. With Geoffrey stirring the pot in Anjou, the king has trouble enough across the channel that he doesn’t need to make more war here. The rumors are that the queen’s vassals do not much like him either.”
Merle tsked into his cup of wine as he took a long draught. “The king has his hands full,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. “But he is a man who loves his war and action.”
“ Aye. And whilst Aquitaine seethes for her mistress, Eleanor, Anjou is about to be gobbled up by Geoffrey.” Dirick wiped his hands on a damp cloth proffered by a page. “And the queen is enceinte once again,” he offered in a low voice.
“ Then she will not accompany her husband across the channel?” asked Maris, leaning around her father to look at him.
Dirick started, assuming that his conversation had been between himself and Merle, but he recovered quickly. “Nay, lady. She stays at Westminster—so the rumors say—because of her condition.”
Maris quirked her eyebrow in a most becoming manner. “It might be worthwhile for the king if her majesty visited Aquitaine if ’tis in such an uproar.”
“ It’s not so bad as that…and Henry has enough problems with Geoffrey in Anjou. The king will cross the channel and leave Richard of Luci as official administrator of England. But the queen will still be here.”
Maris made a soft sound of comprehension. “The king might appoint Luci officially, yet the queen is certain to hold her own. She will be the one truly in control.”
Dirick almost choked on a chunk of bread, taken by surprise at her grasp of the situation, and her accurate assessment. Women didn’t talk politics—at least, women other than Matilda and Eleanor—and they were queens, for God’s sake. “Aye, my lady, I do believe you are correct. The queen stands back to none but her husband.”
Turning back to Merle, Dirick asked, “How fares the king’s chancellor? ’Tis said he takes the court by storm.”
“ Aye, Thomas à Becket is the king’s friend as well as his chancellor. To think that it was the Archbishop who forced Henry to take him on as chancellor…now the two are nearly inseparable,” Merle replied.
“’ Tis said the chancellor holds court rather than the king,” Maris interjected. “The king goes to Becket’s court, rather than the chancellor coming to his. Even the diplomats attend Becket, rather than the queen—which I cannot imagine she appreciates.”
“ Nay, I would not expect it thus,” Dirick said. He cast a brief glance at his host, wondering whether the man was merely indulgent of his daughter’s vocal tendencies, or whether he encouraged it. And he wondered where Maris got her information—by listening in on such conversations, or from her father.
Or mayhap from whomever she was meeting in the village a night.
All at once, Lady Maris didn’t seem quite as naïve and innocent as
“’ Tis said the king will cross the channel to deal with Geoffrey now that Christ’s Mass has passed,” Merle said to Dirick as one of the pages brought a new platter, this one with stuffed turbot.
Dirick nodded, chewing his bread slowly. While he had to take care what he said—after all, he was newly come from Paris, not from the king’s side at Westminster—much of what they spoke of would only be heard between the four of them. Neither of the ladies would take much from his words, so he needn’t be overly cautious.
“ Aye,” he replied. “I hear that Geoffrey is stocking his estates for war—claiming that Old King Henry meant for his son to relinquish Anjou to Geoffrey when he succeeded the throne of England.”
“ Matilda is still at Westminster with Henry?” asked Merle.
“ Aye. ’Twas she that kept him from heading off to Ireland to conquer the lands for his brother William. With Geoffrey stirring the pot in Anjou, the king has trouble enough across the channel that he doesn’t need to make more war here. The rumors are that the queen’s vassals do not much like him either.”
Merle tsked into his cup of wine as he took a long draught. “The king has his hands full,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. “But he is a man who loves his war and action.”
“ Aye. And whilst Aquitaine seethes for her mistress, Eleanor, Anjou is about to be gobbled up by Geoffrey.” Dirick wiped his hands on a damp cloth proffered by a page. “And the queen is enceinte once again,” he offered in a low voice.
“ Then she will not accompany her husband across the channel?” asked Maris, leaning around her father to look at him.
Dirick started, assuming that his conversation had been between himself and Merle, but he recovered quickly. “Nay, lady. She stays at Westminster—so the rumors say—because of her condition.”
Maris quirked her eyebrow in a most becoming manner. “It might be worthwhile for the king if her majesty visited Aquitaine if ’tis in such an uproar.”
“ It’s not so bad as that…and Henry has enough problems with Geoffrey in Anjou. The king will cross the channel and leave Richard of Luci as official administrator of England. But the queen will still be here.”
Maris made a soft sound of comprehension. “The king might appoint Luci officially, yet the queen is certain to hold her own. She will be the one truly in control.”
Dirick almost choked on a chunk of bread, taken by surprise at her grasp of the situation, and her accurate assessment. Women didn’t talk politics—at least, women other than Matilda and Eleanor—and they were queens, for God’s sake. “Aye, my lady, I do believe you are correct. The queen stands back to none but her husband.”
Turning back to Merle, Dirick asked, “How fares the king’s chancellor? ’Tis said he takes the court by storm.”
“ Aye, Thomas à Becket is the king’s friend as well as his chancellor. To think that it was the Archbishop who forced Henry to take him on as chancellor…now the two are nearly inseparable,” Merle replied.
“’ Tis said the chancellor holds court rather than the king,” Maris interjected. “The king goes to Becket’s court, rather than the chancellor coming to his. Even the diplomats attend Becket, rather than the queen—which I cannot imagine she appreciates.”
“ Nay, I would not expect it thus,” Dirick said. He cast a brief glance at his host, wondering whether the man was merely indulgent of his daughter’s vocal tendencies, or whether he encouraged it. And he wondered where Maris got her information—by listening in on such conversations, or from her father.
Or mayhap from whomever she was meeting in the village a night.
All at once, Lady Maris didn’t seem quite as naïve and innocent as
Similar Books
