For the King’s Favor by Elizabeth Chadwick Page B

were occupied with some new acquaintances they had made among the squires. Ida looked too. The older one’s shoulders were thrown back and his chest was puffed out like a cockerel’s as he boasted about something or other.
    Gundreda shifted position so that she was hemming Ida into the corner, cutting her off from the hall. It was a dominant, almost masculine ploy, and disquieted Ida. “I have heard,” Gundreda said, “that you have a certain—shall we say—influence with the King?”
    Ida’s cheeks burned. “My lady, whoever told you so is mistaken. I have no influence with the King at all.”
    Gundreda arched her brows. “I have it on good authority that he dotes on you and you are one of his favourites.”
    “People always exaggerate,” Ida said.
    “Even so, there must be a grain of truth in the gossip; there always is.” Gundreda sighed and suddenly looked worn out rather than intimidating. “You were kind to me earlier. I would not impose on your goodwill and kinship, but if you can find it within you to help me, I ask you to intercede on my behalf. I only want what is mine by right of law. As another woman, I hope you will understand.”
    Ida looked down at her hands, at her trimmed pink nails and the gold rings Henry had given to her. Her initial thought was that if the lands were Gundreda’s by right, she would receive them, but she knew now from bitter experience that life was not fair. Gundreda of Norfolk had to fight for her advantage with whatever weapons came to hand. “I will tell him,” she said. “But I have no influence upon his decisions—truly.”
    “Even so, I am grateful. I will not forget.” Gundreda leaned forward, kissed Ida on both cheeks with her dry, cold lips, then left. Soon afterwards, a servant approached Ida and presented her with an exquisite wooden box, enamelled with scenes from the miracle of Saint Edmund in rich colours, including the vastly expensive vibrant blue of ground lapis. “My mistress the Countess of Norfolk begs you to receive this gift as a token of her esteem,” the man said.
    “Thank your mistress and tell her that I esteem her too,” Ida replied with formal courtesy. Feeling a frisson of unease, she sprang the lock with the small bolt key provided and opened the lid. Framed in swirls of gleaming red silk was a silver-gilt goblet patterned with a design of oak leaves. Amethysts as dark as blackberries glowed around the base, their power protecting from poison whoever drank from the cup. Ida suspected that both the box and the cup were valuable beyond anything she was going to be able to do for Gundreda.
    ***
    Ida smoothed her oiled hands over Henry’s shoulders and back. He had a barrel-shaped body and was a little corpulent around the gut, but his skin felt good under her fingertips and the freckling reminded her delightfully of the speckles on an egg.
    As she worked, he took the silver cup from its box and examined it in his rough hands. “Well, well,” he said with a rumble of laughter, “the dowager Countess is selling off Hugh’s baubles to bribe her way to riches. Crafty vixen.”
    “Sire?” Ida suspected from Henry’s tone of voice that he wasn’t going to be sympathetic to her kinswoman’s cause.
    He twisted to look at her. “This cup’s from a set I gave to Hugh Bigod in the year I became King. Fashioned on the Rhine. My mother had them made when she was Empress of Germany. I’ll warrant the box is something to do with the knights’ fees the Bigods owe to the abbey at Edmundsbury. Wouldn’t surprise me if it had been misappropriated from the abbey itself.”
    Ida gave a mute shake of her head to say she didn’t know.
    He gave an amused grunt. “Do you like your gift?”
    Ida pondered. “I can see it is worthy and handsome,” she said, “and I understand that both are valuable and the cup would look very magnificent on a sideboard or table, but glass is prettier and finer.”
    She felt him laugh. “Prettier, yes, but more