Chapter 8 #2
William said nothing because there was no point.
Henry was too high on his pride to pay heed to other than his own desires.
Turning away, William studied the bolts of fabric, now tidied on the trestle, noting that the purple silk had been set to one side, together with some fine linen chansil and a glorious gold and blue wool brocade.
“You know what will please,” William murmured sardonically to the merchant.
FitzReinier shrugged. “My business would fail if I did not,” he said. “The Young King wanted to see my choicest wares and it is my place to satisfy his need, not pander to his clerks.”
William smiled. “Or perhaps to encourage his hunger.”
FitzReinier returned the smile and clicked his fingers at his assistant. “If you’re interested in silk but don’t have the means for purple, I have some remnants of green and yellow that would make a surcoat…at a very attractive price,” he added with delicate mischief.
A short while later, William stood on the dockside, marvelling at FitzReinier’s skill in persuading otherwise sane and sensible men to part with their silver.
He was now the owner of some green and yellow silk that he didn’t really need, not to mention several ells of red wool for a tunic.
He could hardly cavil at Prince Henry’s extravagance when he was incapable of controlling his own.
Irritated and slightly bemused by his own folly, he watched porters load the furniture of Prince Henry’s household on to the royal esnecca.
The vessel was sleek and narrow, built to knife through the water and carry her passengers at speed across the expanse of sea separating England from Normandy.
Brightly painted shields lined her strake and the leopards of Anjou fluttered from her mast. Men were busily erecting a deck shelter near her stern so that Marguerite and her ladies would have some protection from the flying spray and sharp sea wind.
The young royal couple was bound for the French court to visit Marguerite’s father, King Louis, and then for an Angevin family gathering at Chinon.
William strolled along the dockside, past the moored fishing vessels and two men mending nets by a brazier, their knuckles chapped and red with cold.
William’s new groom Rhys was standing with a group of soldiers, his bow stave horizontal across his shoulders and his arms propped over its length.
Beyond them, a rider and his attendants were picking their way along the crowded wharf.
William’s gaze narrowed. “John?” His stomach lurched as if he were already on board ship, his first thought being that something had happened at home to bring his brother chasing down to Southampton.
Ancel was with him too. His worry was compounded by John’s strained expression, and did not diminish even when his brother found a smile as he dismounted.
“I hoped I would catch you before you sailed,” John said as they clasped each other in a brief embrace.
“What’s your news?” William turned from John to greet Ancel.
The youth had grown again and his narrow frame was filling out with adult muscle.
He wore a sword at his hip too, which meant that he was now sufficiently accomplished to use one.
“It’s surely not just brotherly love that brings you to Southampton? ”
“That if you will,” John replied with bluff unease, “but business too.” A caustic note entered his voice. “I’m the King’s Marshal you know; I don’t spend all my time mouldering like a rustic. I’ve letters for the King to be taken on ship and matters to discuss with the constable.”
“Matters not for my ears?” Reassured that the news from home was plainly not that dire, and imparting it not John’s sole purpose for being in Southampton, William relaxed and found a mocking smile.
John chose not to return it, his own expression officious and fussy. “Not that you’ve an imprudent tongue, I know you better than that; but the King’s business is the King’s business.”
“And we’re both loyal to the last drop in the flagon,” William said.
“It’s cold here, and going to be even colder than a witch’s tit once at sea.
We can at least be warm while we talk.” He indicated the alehouse standing back from the dockside, lazy smoke twirling from its louvres.
“Unless you want to go straight to the castle?” His voice lacked enthusiasm.
He had come from there to escape the tense atmosphere and FitzReinier’s depredations on his purse.
John gave him a speculative glance. “No, the alehouse will do.”
The establishment was already busy with sailors and passengers waiting to embark and who, like William and his brothers, were here to warm and fortify themselves in the interim.
The brothers sat down at a trestle in a corner of the room and a woman brought them a pitcher of straw-coloured English wine, a basket of freshly baked bread, and another of raisin and chicken pasties.
William eyed the food, his stomach rumbling.
The pity was that anything he ate, he’d likely lose five miles out to sea.
He didn’t know which was worse, puking on an empty stomach or a full one.
John was staring at the food too, but as if he were faced by platters of logs and sawdust. Only Ancel set to with a will.
William took a swallow of the wine which was dry and tart, but not sour. John echoed him, and then looked across his cup. “You might as well know,” he said with a grimace, “Alais is with child.”
William stared at his brother for a long moment. “You couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” he said with quiet disgust.
John reddened. “It wasn’t like that.” He plucked a loaf out of the basket and set about reducing it to crumbs with vicious digs of his thumbnail.
“Then what was it like? I think you were just biding your time.”
“I didn’t come here for you to judge me. God knows, you’re no innocent yourself.”
“I don’t recall that I’ve ever seduced one of my mother’s ladies, or any young virgins of the chamber,” William retorted. He took one of the raisin and chicken pasties, deciding that he was going to eat and be damned.
“Christ!” John twisted the loaf in two. “I knew you’d react like a mealy-mouthed priest. I don’t know why I thought that you might understand.”
“I do understand,” William said acidly. “I saw it in your eyes when I returned from de Tancarville’s household, and again when we were in London for Prince Henry’s crowning. You have ruined her—unless of course you are going to offer her the position of Lady Marshal and ruin yourself instead.”
“I didn’t seduce her; she came to me of her own free will. It was mutual.”
“It’s true,” Ancel said between rotations of his jaw. “She did.” He poured more wine into his cup.
The red in John’s face darkened. “She wanted to learn to fly a hawk to the lure,” he said. “I offered to teach her, and whatever you might think of me, it started off as no more than that. I held back…I…”
“But she is with child.” William cocked a knowing eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like ‘holding back.’”
“I’m not made of stone,” John flared. “She’s a woman grown with a mind of her own.
Whatever you think, I didn’t drag her into the woods and commit rape.
” He pushed his hands through his hair. “Ach, done is done, and no going back. She will want for nothing and neither will our child. Christ, it happens all the time. Old King Henry begot two sons before he was wed. His grandsire had more than a score. If it hasn’t happened to you then you’ve been fortunate. Don’t tell me you live like a monk.”
William started on his second raisin pasty. “No, I’m careful,” he said between rotations of his jaw. “But then I’m in no position to support a wife or a mistress and raise children.”
“Yes, well, pulling out doesn’t always work.”
William swallowed. “I suppose Mother roasted you both over a slow fìre?” he said after a moment.
Ancel grinned. “She made hell seem cold by comparison,” he volunteered and received a hard nudge from John.
“She made her displeasure known,” John said stiffly, “but we have come to an understanding. Providing Alais and I are not brazen about our relationship, she is willing to accept it.”
“And when you take a wife?”
John sucked a hard breath over his teeth. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I just wanted to tell you that you are going to be an uncle and I hope you’ll wish us well and take an interest in the child.”
It would have been pitiless to continue pointing out the trials that John and Alais were going to face.
John must know them very well and, as John said, in truth, who was he to judge?
There but for the grace of God…Relaxing, William refilled his cup and raised it in toast. “I’ll be glad to do both,” he said.
“If you are pleased, then I am pleased for you too.”
John’s smile was as sour as sloes as he clinked his cup to William’s. “So you should be,” he said, “since it means that in law you will still be my heir.”