Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

their Marcher neighbors, who had come to attend the betrothal of the king's youngest son, John, to the Earl of Gloucester's daughter, Isabella; and it was even later before William, arrayed in his finest clothes, took Matilda at last to wait upon the king.

They found him in one of the upper rooms of the palace, seated at a large table on which were unrolled several maps. Beside him stood William Fitzherbert, Earl of Gloucester, who had arrived from his castle at Cardiff only two days previously, escorting his wife and small daughter, and several other nobles. Wine goblets had been used to hold maps flat as together they pored over the rough-drawn lines in the light of a cluster of great wax candles. There was no sign of Richard de Clare, she saw at a glance as she curtseyed low before the king, her heart thumping nervously. She had so desperately hoped he would be there.

"Glad to see you made it, Sir William. " Henry acknowledged his bow. "My son is to be your neighbor in the Marches if our plans work out and we get a dispensation for this marriage. " He peered at Matilda, half hidden behind her husband. "Your wife, Sir William? She can wait on young Isabella tomorrow. See if she can stop the wench blubbering. " He snorted, holding his hand out to Matilda, who came forward eagerly.

"Your Grace, " she murmured, bowing low. She glanced up at the heavy lined face and wiry red hair dusted with white, and found the king surveying her closely with brilliant blue eyes. She sensed at once the appreciation in his gaze and uncertainly drew closer to her husband.

"Your father, Sir Reginald, was a good man, my dear. "

The king held on to her hand. "The best steward I've had to attend me. And you've the look of him about you. " He grinned at William. "Lucky man. She's a lovely girl. "

Matilda blushed and stepped back as the king released his grasp, glancing nervously up at him from lowered eyes, but already his attention was on the maps before him once more. William was drawn immediately into the discussion around the table, so she moved quietly to the hearth, where the king's two great sable dogs lay basking in the heat, and she stood gazing down into the flames, wondering whether she should withdraw.

A moment later a door near her was flung open and a boy came striding into the room. He stopped short and looked her up and down arrogantly.

"I saw you this afternoon with Sir William's party, " he announced, coming to stand near her. His sandy hair was disarrayed and damp from riding in the rain. "Your mare was lame. You should have dismounted and led her. "

"I beg your pardon. " Matilda blushed hotly. "She was not lame. "

"She was. " He made a face at her. "I saw her. She was stumbling badly. "

"She was tired. " Matilda was furiously indignant. "There was nothing whatsoever wrong with her. I should never have ridden her if there was. " She looked at the boy with dislike, noting his torn tunic and the scuffed shoes. "Anyway, it's got nothing to do with you. You've no business to tell me what I should or should not do. " Her voice had risen slightly and she was conscious suddenly of a silence at the table behind her.

She turned, embarrassed, and met the king's cool gaze as he surveyed her, one eyebrow raised, over the maps.

"I hope my son is not being a nuisance, Lady de Braose, " he commented quietly. And then, louder: "Come here, John. "

Matilda gasped and, blushing, looked back at the prince, but already he had turned his back on her and gone to stand beside his father. From the safety of his position at the king's side he stuck out his tongue defiantly.

His father may not have seen, but one or two of the others at the table certainly had, including William. She saw him glare sharply at the boy, raising his hand as if he wanted to clout him, then, obviously remembering where he was, he too bent once again to the map before him. The king, suppressing with difficulty the amusement in his face, bowed slightly toward Matilda and once more lowered his own eyes. Her cheeks flaming, she turned back to the fire, wishing she could run from the room.

"He's an odious, precocious little prig, " she burst out later to Elen when she was at last back in her tent. She turned so that the woman could begin to unlace her gown. "Heaven help that poor child Isabella if they are to be wed. The boy needs a thrashing. "

"Hush!" Elen, frightened, glanced around. "You can't tell who might be listening out there, my lady. It would do no good to speak ill of the prince. No good at all. "

"Prince!" Matilda snorted, beginning to tug at the braid in her hair. "He behaves more like a stableboy, except that he knows nothing about horses. Nothing!"

"He rides very well though, so I've heard. " Elen gathered up the rich folds of material as her mistress stepped out of the dress. "He's as daring as any of his brothers, although they're so much older. "

"Daring may be. " Matilda was not to be placated. The hidden smiles of the men at the table still rankled, as did the look of amusement in the cold eyes of Henry himself. "He has no business to accuse me of riding a lame horse and making me look a fool in front of William and the king. " There was a suspicious prickling behind her eyes, and she rubbed them fretfully with the back of her hand. "It's humiliating. "

"Hush, my lady, he's only a boy. " Elen opened a coffer and rummaged through the contents, looking for a comb. "Forget it. Think about tomorrow instead, and the lovely ceremonies and the banquet