sudden smile of the lad who had run so eagerly to hold his horse. “No. I’ll take that new fellow, Blondel de Cahaignes, and no one else,” he decided.
“He is very young, Sir,” pointed out Gregory, with the decorous liberty of an old family servant.
“All the better. He won’t have had time to pick up all the family scandal,” said Richard grimly. “Tell him to pack my gear.”
“Well, anyhow, it must be worth a compulsory change of air to have told that little trollop what you really think of her!” consoled Henry, when he and Richard were alone.
“I am finished with women!” growled Richard.
“You mean, you haven’t yet begun!” rallied Henry, drawing him back to the dying fire. In spite of the curfew he threw on fresh logs and made a cheerful blaze. No English law was going to make him go to bed at dusk like a ploughboy. “You know, Dickon, it may be quite amusing in Navarre,” he prophesied. “They have the best music and dancing and tournaments in Europe. None of our haphazard sort of mêlées. Properly run tournaments with judges who mark each point and all the competitors drawn by lot so that you might get a chance to try those muscles of yours against men like de Barre and the Lusignorts. And you know how well you got on with Sholto when he was here.”
Richard considered the prospect. Sholto, the King of Navarre’s son, had been a good sportsman. There was nothing very exciting happening in England these days, with everything so well ordered and peaceful; and only a wide stretch of sea, he felt, could wash out the foulness of Ann. “I shall see those new crossbows Sholto was always bragging about,” he said, surprised to find himself talking about such trivial things so soon. Of course, if he had loved Ann it would have been different…
“Like Robin’s ingenious cranes, they should come in useful for our Crusade,” Henry was saying, skilfully doctoring the hurt he had caused.
Richard’s thoughts easily projected themselves into the future. After all, life was just beginning and there were plenty of splendid things left. He saw himself cutting a fine figure in the famous lists at Pamplona—impressing experienced knights with his armament plans—leading a conquering army through the gates of Jerusalem. “If only I’d a couple of Arab chargers and a two-handed sword!” he sighed.
Although the Plantagenets had plenty of land and castles, their upbringing, compared with some of the princes of Europe, had been spartan. They lived hard. And Geoffrey had taken some of their best trappings and accoutrements when he married Constance of Brittany and went to rule Anjou.
“Ask young John to lend you that new dagger of his,” suggested Henry.
“I’ll probably look fool enough without it!” laughed Richard ruefully, and looked up to see Johanna standing at the foot of the gallery stairs. The colour was drained from her cheeks, and she had hurriedly thrown a miniver cloak over her bed robe. “Oh, Richard, is it true what Blondel says?” she cried. “That father is sending you to Navarre?”
“Quite true,” he admitted. “He was furious. Our amiable pleasantries are probably already being repeated in the guard-room.”
She threw out her arms in exasperation. “But why did you have to infuriate him now ? So that you won’t be there to say ‘Goodbye’—when the ship takes me to Sicily?”
Richard regarded her remorsefully. “I am afraid I didn’t stop to think about that. I had just found that bitch Ann in his bedroom.”
“Richard! Will you still have to marry her?”
Richard shrugged the ugly matter aside. “Blondel and I start at dawn,” he said. “So you and I will have to say ‘Good-bye’ now, my sweet.”
“If it hadn’t been for Blondel coming to tell me I should have gone to bed without knowing, and then…” There was a slither of soft slippers across the stone floor as she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Richard! Richard!” she sobbed
“He is very young, Sir,” pointed out Gregory, with the decorous liberty of an old family servant.
“All the better. He won’t have had time to pick up all the family scandal,” said Richard grimly. “Tell him to pack my gear.”
“Well, anyhow, it must be worth a compulsory change of air to have told that little trollop what you really think of her!” consoled Henry, when he and Richard were alone.
“I am finished with women!” growled Richard.
“You mean, you haven’t yet begun!” rallied Henry, drawing him back to the dying fire. In spite of the curfew he threw on fresh logs and made a cheerful blaze. No English law was going to make him go to bed at dusk like a ploughboy. “You know, Dickon, it may be quite amusing in Navarre,” he prophesied. “They have the best music and dancing and tournaments in Europe. None of our haphazard sort of mêlées. Properly run tournaments with judges who mark each point and all the competitors drawn by lot so that you might get a chance to try those muscles of yours against men like de Barre and the Lusignorts. And you know how well you got on with Sholto when he was here.”
Richard considered the prospect. Sholto, the King of Navarre’s son, had been a good sportsman. There was nothing very exciting happening in England these days, with everything so well ordered and peaceful; and only a wide stretch of sea, he felt, could wash out the foulness of Ann. “I shall see those new crossbows Sholto was always bragging about,” he said, surprised to find himself talking about such trivial things so soon. Of course, if he had loved Ann it would have been different…
“Like Robin’s ingenious cranes, they should come in useful for our Crusade,” Henry was saying, skilfully doctoring the hurt he had caused.
Richard’s thoughts easily projected themselves into the future. After all, life was just beginning and there were plenty of splendid things left. He saw himself cutting a fine figure in the famous lists at Pamplona—impressing experienced knights with his armament plans—leading a conquering army through the gates of Jerusalem. “If only I’d a couple of Arab chargers and a two-handed sword!” he sighed.
Although the Plantagenets had plenty of land and castles, their upbringing, compared with some of the princes of Europe, had been spartan. They lived hard. And Geoffrey had taken some of their best trappings and accoutrements when he married Constance of Brittany and went to rule Anjou.
“Ask young John to lend you that new dagger of his,” suggested Henry.
“I’ll probably look fool enough without it!” laughed Richard ruefully, and looked up to see Johanna standing at the foot of the gallery stairs. The colour was drained from her cheeks, and she had hurriedly thrown a miniver cloak over her bed robe. “Oh, Richard, is it true what Blondel says?” she cried. “That father is sending you to Navarre?”
“Quite true,” he admitted. “He was furious. Our amiable pleasantries are probably already being repeated in the guard-room.”
She threw out her arms in exasperation. “But why did you have to infuriate him now ? So that you won’t be there to say ‘Goodbye’—when the ship takes me to Sicily?”
Richard regarded her remorsefully. “I am afraid I didn’t stop to think about that. I had just found that bitch Ann in his bedroom.”
“Richard! Will you still have to marry her?”
Richard shrugged the ugly matter aside. “Blondel and I start at dawn,” he said. “So you and I will have to say ‘Good-bye’ now, my sweet.”
“If it hadn’t been for Blondel coming to tell me I should have gone to bed without knowing, and then…” There was a slither of soft slippers across the stone floor as she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Richard! Richard!” she sobbed
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