The Bastard King by Jean Plaidy

seneschals?’
    â€˜I would appoint my successor . . . our little Duke.’
    â€˜William!’
    â€˜Why not? I have decided that none but he shall follow me.’
    â€˜A child not yet seven years old!’
    â€˜A fine boy and old beyond his years. I will make a Duke of him. I will prepare all to accept him when I am gone.’
    â€˜Do not speak of such things. Are we not happy now together? Why should we wish for anything different?’
    â€˜You do not understand, my Arlette. I am heavy with my sins. I fear retribution if I do not seek forgiveness.’
    â€˜Then ask it here . . . ask it on your knees.’
    â€˜It is not enough. I must make sacrifices. I must leave what I love most . . . you and the boy and the girl. My home, my love, my little ones. I must leave you all and go to the Holy Land. I will be back, my love, purged of my sins.’
    â€˜I fear,’ she said. ‘I fear greatly.’
    â€˜It must be, Arlette.’
    â€˜What if you do not return?’
    â€˜You will have a son to protect you.’
    â€˜A little boy. Even William could not do that.’
    â€˜You shall have protectors, my love. But I must think on this. When I saw my broken ships I knew that this was a sign. I cannot pass it over.’
    And Arlette was filled with great foreboding.
    William had ridden out into the forest, Thorold beside him as ever. There was something going on in the castle, he knew. His father looked strange and remote and no more confidences were exchanged between them now, although sometimes he would find his father’s eyes fixed upon him in a kind of wondering stare. His mother was silent too. Sometimes she would seize him and hold him tightly against her. He wanted to wriggle free but did not care to hurt her by doing so. They were both acting strangely and he believed it had something to do with the great defeat and the disintegration of the fleet. He wanted to remind them that at least the Athelings were happy. They did not want to go out and conquer England and regain the throne.
    But all this could be forgotten in the fresh air and to ride through the green forest was a delight. Thorold had said he must give up ponies and master a real horse and this he had done after a while, although it had not been easy. There was so much to be learned; he must be a pupil in chivalry and the mastering of a horse however fiery must be quickly accomplished.
    The bearers had carried the venison home. It was a fine beast. There would be rejoicing when it reached the great hall; but doubtless there would be the same solemnity at table as there had been since the return of his father.
    They left the forest and rode into the town and as they did so a heavy, broad-shouldered man dismounted his horse and swaggered towards them.
    There was something terrifying about this man; William had been aware that the few people he had seen had disappeared into their homes. The man was evil; there was no doubt of that. It was in those small lively eyes, that thin cruel mouth. On his face was the mark of a thousand debaucheries and it was evident that those eyes had looked on sights from which all decent men should turn away.
    Thorold had laid a hand on William’s bridle so that their horses were still close together.
    â€˜Count Talvas,’ said Thorold, ‘I present to you the son of your Seigneur.’
    William felt the colour in his face. This was the man of whom he had heard such tales. This was the most wicked, the most cruel man not only in Normandy but in the whole of the world.
    He knew that what he had heard had been only half of the atrocities this man had committed; he knew that he had strangled his own wife with his bare hands because she had begged him not to practise such cruelties; he knew that he had married another and at his wedding feast committed such odious and sickening torture on his victims that he had shocked even those who followed in his footsteps.
    To be unprepared