Chapter 38 #2
It was her question more than anything else that reassured William about Isabelle.
As she said, the birth had mauled her, but not enough to quench her inquisitive mind.
The baby was all right too. Unlike Marguerite’s child, who had barely had the strength to draw breath, this particular scrap of humanity was bawling like a young bull.
“Yes,” he said and finally found his smile.
“And you’ll enjoy hearing it when you’re ready. ”
It was the next morning before William settled down to telling Isabelle what had happened.
The midwives had insisted that she was left in peace to eat, drink, and sleep and William had bedded down in the main hall with his men rather than disturb her again.
Armed now with a breakfast of bread, cheese, and cider, he sat on the edge of their bed.
The baby, having guzzled like a toper at Isabelle’s breast, was sleeping against her arm, a look of concentration on his little face.
It was almost as if every aspect of his tiny existence had to be met with full dedication.
Changing his swaddling was not going to be an enviable task.
“Longchamp,” William said as he broke bread and handed her a piece, “has been banished from England…but the manner of his going took even the most hardbitten of us by surprise.” He grinned broadly.
“You know that he’s been as slippery as an eel—avoiding our demands that he face us and answer the accusations against him?
When we finally brought him to bay at the Tower of London and he found he couldn’t wriggle off the hook, he gave his own brothers as hostages and promised to yield us his castles and authority.
He swore also not to leave England until those castles had been taken into the possession of our castellans. ” William paused for effect.
“Obviously he broke his promise,” Isabelle said.
William nodded. “He handed over the keys of the Tower and was escorted to Dover, which he’d been allowed to keep under his jurisdiction.
He was still under oath not to leave England because he hadn’t handed over his other castles to the justiciars’ officials, but he decided to try and escape to Normandy anyway.
He sent his servants to find a boat and disguised himself as a woman in a green dress and hood. ”
Isabelle almost choked on her bread. “No!” The image of William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely and King Richard’s chancellor, robed in feminine apparel was a boggling image to conjure.
“It gets better!” William laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself at Longchamp’s expense.
“Whilst ‘my lady’ was waiting by the shore for his servants to return, a fisherman mistook him for one of the town whores touting for custom and received the shock of his life when he groped between his ‘sweetheart’s’ legs. So did Longchamp, I hazard.”
Isabelle gave a yelp of laughter and then wished she hadn’t as her tender muscles cramped. “Jesu, Jesu!” she gasped, pressing her hand across her belly.
“Christ knows, that fisherman must have been desperate or short-sighted!” William guffawed.
“He was beaten off by Longchamp’s servants, but then some women tried to speak to him and when he couldn’t answer their questions because he spoke no English, they pulled off his hood and the game was up.
” William knuckled his eyes and strove for sobriety, but after relating such a farce it was difficult.
“They turned on him then, spitting on him and stoning him with shingle from the beach. He was rescued by a couple of serjeants in the town, but locked in a cellar since they couldn’t trust him not to escape.
He’s been released and sent on his way now that his castles are in our hands, but he has been made a complete laughing stock and of his own doing.
It is no more than he justly deserves, but I cannot help feeling sorry for him. ”
Isabelle didn’t feel compassion for the odious William Longchamp; only relief that he was no longer an imminent threat. “And what about Prince John?” she asked. “I suppose he is like a dog with two tails now?”
William cut a chunk of cheese. “Yes,” he said wryly.
“The Prince is indeed delighted with the way matters have turned in his favour. He has been acknowledged Richard’s heir and the chief thorn in his side has been ridiculed and thrown out of England.
Not that he has a free rein. We’ll be watching him.
Richard is still the King, and John ignores that at his peril.
” He twitched his shoulders. “Still, at least for now there is peace.” He finished his cider and wiped his mouth.
“There’s good news for my brother too. He’s been appointed sheriff of Sussex to replace the loss of his position at York. ”
“Is that a good thing?” Isabelle asked. She settled herself more comfortably against the feather bolsters and stifled a yawn.
“Better for him than York was. It’s closer to his heartlands and the office better suits his talents. He’s pleased, and I’m pleased for him.”
She knew that it was the closest he would come to saying that his brother’s capabilities were limited. “So am I.” She couldn’t prevent the next yawn. Her eyelids were beginning to feel like lead weights.
Immediately contrite, he leaned forward to kiss her and rose to his feet. “I’ve tired you out,” he said. “I’ll return later.”
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Not too much later,” she said. “I need to sleep, but I’d rather talk, and I know you’ll have to leave soon.”
“Not for a few days at least,” he said. “I’m in safe harbour and a captain doesn’t put out to chancy seas again without repairing his ship.”