The Stolen Queen by Lisa Hilton Page A

came first, with a long train of men-at-arms to prepare against the king’s arrival, and I leaped joyfully into his travel-stained cloak and snuggled my face against his beard. I had grown used to Lord Hugh but now I was struck again by how cold and elegant he looked next to my father, who was rounder and more red-faced than ever. I hopped about Father, asking him where he had been and if he had experienced any adventures, and teasing him for presents.
    â€˜I hear you’ve become a fine rider,’ he smiled. ‘So I thought you might want this.’ He gave me a thin parcel wrapped in vellum. Inside was a whip, an ivory whip tooled in silver with a scarlet tassel on the grip.
    â€˜Thank you, oh thank you, Papa!’ I hoped he couldn’t hear the disappointment in my voice. It was a beautiful gift, but it was a lady’s tool, far too small and delicate for Othon. I suddenly felt very sad. Why did things change? Why did people go away and when they came back everything was different? Now that I looked, I could see my papa was older, the lines on his face deepened into little runnels, with streaks of grey in his beard. I was ashamed of my ingratitude and determined to behave beautifully, to make him proud of my accomplishments. His hand felt the same, though, so big and rough around my palm. In that moment I never wanted to let it go.
    Hal had grown upwards, not outwards, and I had to think that he looked fine, broader through his shoulders, but still with that same sullen air. We greeted one another coolly, playing at grown-ups, but he barely spoke to me again as we sat over a simple supper of bread, cheese and dried fruit. The kitchens were already swarming with King John’s purveyors, who had commandeered every deer and game bird for miles around.
    â€˜They’re making entremets of marchpane,’ I couldn’t help whispering excitedly to Hal. ‘We can save some for my horse, Othon. He loves sugar.’
    â€˜What do I care about your horse?’ he hissed back rudely. So he was just as stupid as ever.
    Agnes wanted to put me to bed after we had eaten, but I begged to be allowed to sit a little, first mixing the men’s wine so that my papa smiled at my grave new manners, and then leaning against him on the settle. The hall at Lusignan had a new fireplace, a huge stone chamber that could take a wholetree, and the heat from the flames made me doze. I slipped in and out of dreams until I was roused by one of my father’s mastiffs licking my hand, but something made me keep my eyes closed and let my head drop more heavily against his shoulder.
    â€˜Do you think he will really do it?’ my father was asking.
    â€˜Of course. Look at her. He’s known for it, after all,’ replied Lord Hugh.
    My father’s rough hand stroked my cheek, I muttered something and twitched my face away as though he had disturbed my sleep. ‘Look at her, though. She’s such a little maid.’
    â€˜You thought her old enough for my boy.’
    â€˜Indeed.’
    â€˜And afterwards?’
    â€˜We’ll wait a while. And then, Duke Arthur knows what we wish.’
    Why were they talking about me like this? And why Duke Arthur? Behind my eyelids the firelight glowed red. I was wide awake now, but I kept my breathing soft and regular. For a while there was no sound except the horn beakers on the trestle as the men drank their wine.
    â€˜I regret La Marche. Sincerely I do,’ Father began.
    â€˜No matter. There will be other lands.’
    What was my father talking about? La Marche was his county, our county. It had been ever since he had sworn loyalty to King John. La Marche was the reason I was betrothed, was it not? The county that had been contested between Lusignans and Taillefers for generations? When Hal married me, the Lusignanlands, Angouleme and La Marche, would be joined together, creating one apanage for our children.
    â€˜I think,’ Lord Hugh was