Royal Dynasty: Fire Song Part 15

Edward blinked. He had expected to put Aubery on the defensive. "Are you telling me you believe you do not deserve the honor done you?" he snapped, bristling with adolescent aggression. "Then why did you accept?"

Aubery laughed. "Partly because it is not wise to try to disabuse a king of a notion he has taken, but mostly because it was a task I knew I could do well, probably better than any man coming directly from England. I now have some knowledge of Gascony, and Lord Raymond d'Aix, who is my father-by-marriage, can supply any information in which I am wanting. It was my pleasure and my duty to do all in my power to serve my prince and my queen."

Rather against his will, Edward was impressed. He was mostly aware of Sir Aubery's easy self-confidence, which somehow gave him a feeling of confidence in himself also. Although Edward had not yet learned the difference between Aubery's directness and the way many covered with exaggerated respect the hidden contempt of a grown man for a boy, Edward knew that he felt comfortable with Aubery. At the same time he was annoyed by the lack of deference in Aubery's manner. There was nothing of the courtier in him. No courtier would have made that remark about disabusing a king of a notion.

Edward was torn between attraction, irritation, hurt pride that his mother would connive with his father behind his back, and a reluctant loyalty to the man he had chosen to head the forty knights serving as their bodyguard. He knew his mother had not approved Sir Savin of Radanage, and he had been sure Aubery's appointment by his father had been prearranged to frustrate his will. He was not completely satisfied with Sir Savin himself any longer, but the man had been recommended as an accredited champion on the tourney field. Edward felt his mother did not understand the need for a powerful fighter as leader. To her the results of the celebratory tourney were unimportant, but Edward felt a major defeat would reflect unfavorably upon the prowess of the English as a whole.

"That is all very well," Edward said to Aubery, "but you were appointed as my champion also. There are many who know Gascony, but I have no desire to see the arms of England shamed."

"Neither do I," Aubery replied, meeting the prince's challenging look squarely. "If you have with you a man who can beat me on the tourney field, I will gladly yield my place."

"Those are high words, Sir Aubery," Edward snapped. "Will you repeat them to Sir Savin of Radanage?"

"Who?" Aubery asked, his face darkening.

The name brought the man to Aubery's mind's eye, and rage came with the image because there was nothing in Savin's looks-no more than there had been in his own father's-to betray his inner evil. Savin only looked a proper man, shorter than Aubery but broader and stronger, with rather mild features. He had lost most of an ear in some battle, so he said, but Aubery wondered if it could have been clipped for some felony, which gave an odd, lopsided look to his head. Nonetheless, his snub nose and small, pursed lips gave him a rather guileless expression, guileless until one looked carefully into the dull, mud-colored eyes and understood what was there.

The prince repeated himself with the embellishment of a few pithy remarks about the difference between courtiers' manners and ability in arms. Aubery heard, but at the time he made no sense of what Edward was saying, because his mind was too busy. His first impulse was to ask with horror who had recommended to the prince a man so unfit for his company, a greedy, dishonorable man who thought it clever to seize a helpless child's property. He bit back the words because he remembered that it had been through the king's half brother, Guy de Lusignan, that the wards.h.i.+p of Harold of Herron had been granted to Savin, regardless of the boy's desire to go to his uncle and the testimony of Aubery and others that Savin was not a fit guardian for the boy or his lands.

In desperation, not desiring Savin on his doorstep, for Herron was less than two miles from Ilmer, Aubery had brought the case to Richard of Cornwall, who arranged to have the wards.h.i.+p revoked before irreparable damage was done to Harold or his property. At the time, Guy de Lusignan seemed to be indifferent since he had kept the bribe Savin had paid him to get the wards.h.i.+p. Still, Aubery knew that Lusignan did not like to be bested by Cornwall in any contest for Henry's favor. Aubery preferred, unless it were forced upon him, not to stir Guy's memory of even so small a defeat. And, although Guy was in Gascony and could not have recommended Savin personally, it might have been some friend or hanger-on of his who presented the man to Edward. There was also the problem of proving what he said about Savin was true.

Under the present circ.u.mstances Aubery decided not to dig up the past. Instead, he smiled grimly and said, "I will not step aside for Sir Savin. Ask him, my lord, if he wishes to contest against me for the honor."

"That is a round answer," Edward said, again stirred by reluctant admiration. "You sound as if you know Sir Savin."

"I do. He is a neighbor. Radanage is not so far from my own keep at Ilmer."

"Then you have seen him fight and think yourself the better?" Edward asked on a challenging note.

"I have met him on the field and been proven the better," Aubery replied flatly.

He did not say how near a thing that battle had been, that he had been so hurt and exhausted he could not summon strength for one last hard blow to finish the work and had accepted the yielding of a man he would rather have killed. He had been fortunate to escape uncrippled and with his life. On the other hand, four years had pa.s.sed since then. Aubery knew himself to be stronger and more experienced, while Sir Savin, more than ten years his senior, was four years older and pa.s.sing his prime.

Aubery did not fear a meeting. He was sure this time he would kill the man and rid his neighborhood of a dangerous pest. He also knew that four years would not have reduced Sir Savin's powers by much. He would pay a high price for his victory. Thus, he was not disappointed when Sir Savin did not choose to pick up the gauntlet he had thrown down, on the grounds that it would be disrespectful to challenge the king's will. For a few days Aubery hoped that Savin would retreat altogether and go back to England, but Aubery knew he had not done that, because his name was not stricken from the roll of knights. At least he was staying out of the way. Had Aubery been less distracted, he would have realized this was out of character for Savin, but Aubery's unaccustomed role of courtier was taking all his attention.

It was easy enough for Savin to avoid Aubery in the huge army of knights, priests, merchants, pet.i.tioners n.o.ble and common, and servants of every degree from high-bred ladies-in-waiting and elegant courtiers to laundry maids, cooks' helpers, and collectors of night soil who now swarmed around the royal quarters. Still, the glimpses Savin caught of Aubery increased his hatred manyfold, for he imagined himself in Aubery's place, mingling with the great and probably gaining lands and money by discreet hints and suggestions to the king and queen. But Savin was intensely practical. Hatred would not have kept him in Gascony. He did not retreat because he felt he still retained the prince's favor and was reasonably sure that as long as he kept that, any accident to Aubery would restore Savin to his position.

A strong satisfaction upheld this belief. Savin was certain he had turned against Aubery the statement that Aubery had been proven the better knight on the field. When Edward repeated it, Savin had managed to laugh, although his throat was bitter with bile. "Well, well," he had said indulgently, shrugging a little as if Edward should have understood without explanation, "if he wishes to say he bested me, let him. It was no quarrel I'outrance. I already had many tourney prizes, and he was...what, twenty, twenty-one? He had hardly won his spurs. He fought well-yes, but he would not yield no matter how often I beat him down. Was I to kill a boy for nothing?"

The statement did not fit very well with others that Savin had made to the prince, but this did not trouble him. Although his manner was deeply respectful, inwardly Savin was contemptuous of Edward's youth and inexperience. He put down the slightest uneasiness in the prince's att.i.tude to an admiration the heir to the throne felt it unfitting to show.

This was not all self-delusion. Edward did admire Sir Savin's ability in arms, which Savin had been at pains to demonstrate while they were in England. He enjoyed listening to Savin's stories of tournaments and war, although he did suspect that here and there Savin had painted his accounts in slightly brighter colors than actually existed. Still, Savin had the prizes to support his claims, and none of the other knights contested his orders. However, Edward noticed that they did not contest Aubery's orders either, and most of them smiled more and talked more freely to Aubery. But this p.r.i.c.ked Edward's pride, too. He did not relish the knowledge that the men preferred his father's choice to his. He told himself they were only b.u.t.tering up the king's new favorite, which reinforced Edward's loyalty to Savin.

It was not all Edward's fault. If Aubery had paid him more attention, he could have rid himself of Savin by drawing Edward's favor to himself. Had Aubery been less harried, he would gladly have applied himself to weaning Edward away from Savin, but Henry, having found a willing horse, was using it. The king wished to take his wife and son on a tour of his newly pacified province, which was reasonable, because it would relieve some of the burden of supporting the royal entourage from Bordeaux and Henry's own purse. However, it was necessary to make elaborate security arrangements when a king visited men who had been his enemies only a few months earlier, and Henry sent Aubery to make the arrangements.

The royal party moved slowly from place to place all through July and August, coming to rest in Bayonne at the beginning of September. Then it took several weeks simply to organize the cortege that would continue on to Castile with Edward and his mother, to gather the wains and the draft animals to draw them, to arrange for provisioning, and to negotiate safe pa.s.sage through the small domains that divided Gascony from Castile and Navarre.

Aubery thanked G.o.d that he was not responsible for that. He found it enough to be required to arrange for guarding his royal charges and the many chests of rich clothing and jewels. Some of these were the property of Edward and Eleanor, some belonged to the n.o.blemen and n.o.blewomen accompanying the prince and queen, many, however, were destined as gifts for Alfonso, little Eleanor, and the princ.i.p.al ministers, churchmen, and n.o.bles of the court of Castile.

Indeed, Aubery was so busy that Sir Savin faded to a dark spot in the back of his mind, recalled as an additional specific source of uneasiness only when Edward, who took an active interest in all military arrangements, including those as simple as guarding a baggage train, mentioned the man. In the weeks while they were in Bayonne the prince talked of Savin frequently, almost as if he were challenging Aubery to protest against his keeping such company.

But in those early days while Aubery was trying to determine the actual limits of his responsibility and his power within the contradictory orders and advice he was receiving from the king, the queen, the n.o.blemen, the prelates of the Church who were escorting Edward and Eleanor, and the clerks who had made most of the arrangements, he would not have cared if Edward were keeping company with the devil. In fact, he would have been delighted if the prince, the king, the queen, and the entire party had all been s.n.a.t.c.hed up by the prince of h.e.l.l.

It was Fenice who was the greatest help. She was not involved in any way in either the diplomatic or physical plans for the journey, but she did have the queen's ear. Having welcomed her warmly for her father's sake, Eleanor soon became very fond of Fenice for her own. All the queen's ladies were in theory honored to perform any service for her, no matter how menial. In practice Eleanor had to be careful what she asked of them. Most regarded their own breeding as equal to hers, and sometimes they could trace their lineage back to greater kings than she. There were strains and jealousies, too, not only for her own favor but owing to their husbands' or fathers' relations.h.i.+ps with the king.

Fenice was apart from all this. Her family was the same as the queen's, although she would never have made that claim. Her husband was no great lord seeking still more power. Indeed, Fenice knew Aubery's greatest desire was to escape what was being thrust at him. Moreover, Fenice was accustomed to service, to running errands for Lady Alys, to instructing the common maidservants. She did not feel that such duties were demeaning to her, and her grat.i.tude for the kindness and affection with which she was treated, together with her guilt for the way she believed Eleanor was being deceived, made her serve with a lighthearted eagerness that lifted the queen's own spirits.

Best of all, Fenice would not quarrel with the other women. She did not cavil at the lowest seat nor at being placed farthest from the queen at formal presentations. She was quite willing to serve the other ladies as she served the queen if she had no other duties. There had been some hard feelings when Fenice was first presented and identified as the queen's kinswoman, but the feeling slowly dissipated as even the most jealous of Eleanor's women accepted that Fenice asked for nothing and truly did not desire anything more than she had.

Thus, when Fenice looked downcast, Eleanor did not try to look the other way, fearing a spate of hurt pride or petty spite. She asked at once what was troubling her niece and was told simply and directly of Aubery's problems. The queen did not make light of them, understanding that the responsibility was heavy and more than Aubery was accustomed to bearing, but she was able to offer sure advice on those to whom Aubery must listen closely and those who should be thanked heartily and ignored. In addition, Eleanor had a word with this one and that, including the king, and with sweet smiles, puzzled frowns, and gentle, chiding laughter, she managed so that the pressures on Aubery decreased.

When they finally left Bayonne, she spoke to Aubery herself, a.s.suring him that the final authority was hers and that he would not be judged on others' complaints but on how the journey progressed. That day the a.s.surance did not provide him with much comfort because, in fact, there was little progress, owing to general confusion about duties, a sudden rainstorm, several attacks of hysteria about indispensable items that had been left behind when the possessions of the queen's cortege had been separated from those of the king's, and innumerable other causes. However, John Mansel, who had joined them in Bayonne, bringing with him the final itinerary of the party, was well accustomed to royal journeys. Thus, the first stop was no more than seven miles from their point of departure.

Mansel, despite the large quant.i.ty of extra baggage he brought, was a most welcome addition to the party as far as Aubery was concerned. Although many hated the king's favorite clerk-and he had certainly collected an unusual number of priestly benefices, to which he paid no more attention than that necessary to ensure that the t.i.thes reached his purse-he was calm and extremely efficient. It was not surprising that he was one of the king's most trusted agents, and there were few willing to cross him. Since Aubery was his choice, Mansel was prepared to support his decisions.

Between the queen's marks of trust and Mansel's, the small sullennesses, acts of petty spite and pa.s.sive resistance which marked any man's attempts to organize others, abated. The normal effect of familiarity with expected tasks also helped, and within a week of leaving Bayonne, Aubery found he was no longer beset with questions and complaints every minute of the day.

Now when Edward approached, he was able to greet the prince with a smile and was very willing to discuss the arrangements he had made and why he had made them. The knights in his charge took different positions with reference to the cortege when traveling across open, flat land, wooded or hilly areas. There were special horn calls for particular formations in case a narrow winding track should hide one portion of the party from the remainder, or should trees or hills distort voice commands. Aubery explained to Edward everything he had done and planned, unconsciously imitating the way Hereford had explained such matters to him. When they talked of such things, the prince did not mention Sir Savin.

The cortege did move more quickly as the party gained experience in working with one another, but with stopping for formal entertainments and the deteriorating condition of the roads as the autumn rains began, it was October before they came to the border of Castile. Twice during the journey suspicious groups had been sighted, but Aubery's defense was ready so swiftly and they were so formidable a party that the threats-if they had been threats-dispersed without attack.

The prince was very disappointed, but the responsible members of the party understood and showered compliments on Aubery. Nonetheless, he was the happiest person in the world when the banners and ranked knights of the King of Castile came into sight. It was still his duty to see that no casual theft diminished the possessions of any member of the party, but responsibility for resistance to attack, either to steal or to take hostages for ransom, had pa.s.sed out of his hands.

Sir Savin was also gravely disappointed at the lameness of their pa.s.sage through territories where he had hoped one of Alfonso's or Henry's enemies would try to take advantage of the possibility of seizing Edward and Eleanor. He had intended to use the confusion that would ensue to strike at Aubery if he could find an opportunity of doing so undetected. The meeting with the King of Castile ended that hope, but Savin had not given up. There was still the tournament to celebrate Edward's knighting.

Actually, Savin was no longer so sure that he would be appointed in Aubery's place by Edward's favor. The frequency with which the prince sought his company had diminished steadily, but still, Savin was certain there was no one else in the company of knights capable of acting as the prince's champion. If he could only arrange to have Aubery killed or disabled before the tournament or even early in the jousting, he could offer himself as subst.i.tute. However, he realized that his opportunities for damaging Aubery before the tournament would be few. Aubery disliked and distrusted him intensely, so Aubery was wary of him. There was no way Savin could change that, nor in this foreign country could he find companions with whom he could set up an ambush.

As they moved toward Burgos where Alfonso had decreed that the celebrations of Edward's knighting and marriage would be held, Savin devised and abandoned one plan after another. Little as he liked the notion, he finally decided it would be necessary for him to make the attack during the tourney itself. It would not be difficult, he thought, to arrange that Aubery's lance be faulty. In a formal jousting to celebrate a happy occasion, there would be no special care taken. No one would fear treachery, for there was little to be won or lost.

And if that did not succeed, Savin thought, he would hold himself back during the melee and challenge Aubery openly late in the game, averring some insult in Aubery's treatment of him. The prince already knew Aubery had an animosity toward him, and he could say he had not presented his challenge earlier so as not to weaken Edward's champion. The battle would seem to be even. Savin knew ways of making his armor look as if he had been fighting all morning instead of being fresh.

Savin realized that killing Aubery at that time might not win back the prince's favor, but he liked the idea of ridding himself of Aubery in a place far from England. That in itself would be worthwhile, freeing Sir Savin's neighborhood of its strongest protector. His one concern was that the challenge might be forbidden by the queen, but then fate played into Sir Savin's hands. In his desire to prevent any rivalry of Castilian against English knights from marring this happy occasion, King Alfonso decreed that both parties contending in the melee must be made up of equal numbers of his and Edward's men.

Chapter Twenty.

In Burgos, the party rested for several days while final preparations for Edward's knighting were completed. By then Aubery was beginning to sleep through the night again. He had become so accustomed to leaping out of bed three and four times to a.s.sure himself that the guards he had stationed to protect his royal charges were alert and where they were supposed to be that he had continued to start awake during the night, even after the responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders.

To his delight, he and Fenice had been housed outside Alfonso's palace in the house of a rich wool merchant. Mansel had offered him a choice of the lodging he had taken or a decent bed in the hall, where he himself was placed. With so many royal persons, high n.o.bles, and mighty prelates present, the clerk had said wryly, those who only did the work must take what they could get. Aubery had replied that he was overjoyed to be at a distance from the court, even if it meant riding back and forth, sometimes in the dark, but afterward he regretted he had been so hasty in his decision.

It would mean that Fenice might have to rise well before dawn to be with the queen at her waking, and court life did not seem to agree with Fenice any more than it did with him. She had been very sharp-tempered during their journey, nagging at him about trivialities and answering him so pertly when he was already boiling with suppressed rage from lack of sleep and tension that he had lost his own temper and they had quarreled bitterly several times. She had always seen that she had been wrong and begged his pardon, but Aubery wished he had referred the question of lodging to her. He did not want to listen to recriminations about his heartlessness.

No quarrel erupted, at least not on the subject of their lodging. Fenice smiled sweetly and said, "Whatever is most comfortable to you, my lord, will please me very well."

Whereupon Aubery raised his brows and remarked with a touch of bitterness, "This is a new tune you are singing. A week ago I could not please you no matter what I did."

Fenice c.o.c.ked her head, her brilliant eyes studying his expression. Then she smiled again. "My dear lord," she said softly, "you always please me. I would not have you think that anything you do is not good in my eyes, but it is better for you to be angry at me for a seeming crossness than that you say harsh words to others."

For a moment Aubery was silent, absorbing what she had said. Then he growled, "Do you mean that you quarreled with me apurpose? When I was already half distracted with my own troubles?"

"But did you not feel better thereafter?" Fenice asked anxiously.

"Better?" Aubery bellowed. "How could a quarrel make me feel better?"

"You did not quarrel with anyone else," Fenice said in a small voice.

"Of course not," Aubery snapped. "I had not strength to expend on..." His voice faded as he considered what he was saying in the light of Fenice's first remark, and then he began to chuckle. "Alys! By G.o.d's head, that is all Alys. She taught you that, did she not?"

Fenice nodded nervously. "Lady Alys says a man must spit out the bile that forms in him from evil happenings, and it is a wife's duty-just as in the giving of a bitter draught to quell a fever-to bring up that bile."

One part of Aubery was angry. No one likes to be manipulated, even for his own good, and Aubery had more pride than most, which he needed as a bulwark against his fear of contamination by his father's foulness. On the other hand, Fenice's simple confession amused him and guaranteed she was not practiced in the art. He was also rather pleased to learn that his wife's disposition was not going to degenerate further and further into waspishness on prolonged contact, which he had begun to fear.

All he said was, "Lady Alys is Lady Alys, and you are you. Her ways with her husband are not suitable to me, that is why we did not marry. I prefer a milder wife. Let me manage my own bile, lest more than angry words strike you."

"Yes, my lord," Fenice said meekly, lowering her eyes. And after a minute pause she added, "If you please, I will order our servants to sort out our baggage so that it can be moved to our lodging."

Aubery nodded acquiescence, but he was not really satisfied. Although Fenice was loving, obedient, and eager to please-except, he thought wryly, when she was deliberately inciting him into a rage-she was no longer meek. He reconsidered that as he watched her walk away and realized that Fenice had never been meek. Fearful yes, but when she was not among people who frightened her, she was not meek.

The idea of her tearfulness of the n.o.bility reminded Aubery of some secret he suspected she was hiding from him. He was annoyed with himself for thinking of it. He had not done so for months, the irritation of being excluded from his wife's confidence fading with his own increasing occupation and with the disappearance of the haunted look in Fenice's eyes.

Unfortunately, Fenice's growing a.s.surance also irritated Aubery. He knew it had been Fenice's appeal to the queen that had produced an easing of the enormous strain imposed on him in Bayonne. At the time he had been grateful, although he could not bring himself to thank Fenice for her intervention. But at the time he would also have been grateful for a fatal illness, and now when he thought back on it, his pride was hurt. In Aubery's opinion, a man should not depend on his wife except for those things that were women's responsibilities.

A woman's duties were to bear children, cook, weave, sew, and nurse the sick. A man defended and oversaw his land, gave justice among his own people, and supported his overlord, who in turn supported the king with advice in government or force in arms. Aubery felt the intermingling of the duties to be wrong, although he knew of exceptional cases in which women ruled both wisely and well, like the late Queen Blanche of France, who had even taken up arms to defend her young son's kingdom. His own mother, he knew, was playing a man's role on her husband's properties-and, in fact, on his own-while he and William were away.

Nor was Aubery such a fool that he did not recognize the part women played in politics. Men struggled by good means and ill to get their wives appointed as ladies to the queen because it was well known that Eleanor had a strong influence on her husband. A woman who was beloved of the queen could do her husband much good. But this knowledge only served to irritate Aubery all the more because it showed his discomfort to be unreasonable, and a man does not like to know he is being unreasonable.

Fortunately, before Aubery could work himself into a really bad temper, he saw Fenice returning. She had understood without his telling that she must deal with him differently than Lady Alys dealt with Raymond. Fenice knew Aubery wished to cherish gentleness and innocence, and she was content, for those states were natural to her. Nonetheless, she could and would step outside her nature and take any action necessary to help or protect her husband. But because she also knew such actions would hurt and anger him, she was willing to let him think her more nave than she was.

It could do no harm, she told herself. Once they were safe in England, there would be no more court appearances. In the simple life she would lead in Marlowe and Ilmer, there would be no need for any action outside her woman's sphere. She longed for that, for the peaceful daily round of familiar tasks.

Fenice sighed, then smiled as she saw Aubery waiting, although he was scowling. She had news that would lighten his displeasure. Their baggage was being loaded, but far better than that, she had been given leave from service except for formal occasions for the time they would be in Burgos.

"There are so many Castilian maidens who desire the honor, the queen told me, that they are treading on each other in her apartment," Fenice said, chuckling.

"But why?" Aubery asked.

"Some, I suspect, would like to accompany little Eleanor to England and feel that Alfonso would not deny a request by the queen."

As they rode toward their lodgings, Aubery worked off his bad temper, and he was in the proper humor to admire the rooms that had been made ready for them in the merchant's house. He was pleased, also, that the merchant spoke only halting French and his wife none at all, as this would mean there could not be much intimacy and that the lack of anything beyond formal courtesy could not give offense.

As Aubery had very little to do himself until the day of the knighting, aside from arranging for guarding the display of the prince's arms and clothing, he and Fenice spent the next two days riding about Burgos. He found her as good a companion as any man of his acquaintance and far more amusing, for Fenice was alive, awake, and interested in everything. What was more, she asked a spate of questions, unashamed of confessing ignorance as a man might be.

Several times she made Aubery nervous, for she was as tireless, inquisitive, and physically fearless as a boy, clambering around to peer into the large commercial wool-processing vats and examining far too closely the scaffolding upon which the stonemasons were at work in building the great cathedral of Burgos. She would have climbed that, too, Aubery suspected, if he had not forbidden it beforehand.

Best of all, she confirmed the pleasant conclusion he had come to the previous day that she was not growing sated with his company. For the first year of their marriage, they had actually spent only a few weeks together at a time, being separated for months between those periods. Since he had returned from making the arrangements for the royal party's tour of Gascony in July, though, they had been together at least some portion of every day. It was not surprising that Aubery had wondered if the growing sharpness of Fenice's temper during their journey was a result of an increasing boredom or distaste for her marriage.

Her confession of having angered him for his own sake made that unlikely, but his doubts were completely removed that night. They had returned at dusk to their lodging and taken a more lavish than usual evening meal alone together. Afterward, Fenice sang for half an hour, love songs for his ears only. At last they had gone to bed. Completely relaxed for the first time in months and knowing that there was no reason for either of them to be up and doing before dawn, Aubery had taken a long, long time about his loving.

Fenice had writhed and pleaded under his teasing hands and lips, nearly weeping with excitement, but when they lay at last quiet and replete, she sighed, "Oh, thank you, Aubery. I am so glad you are not tired of me."

"Tired of you?" he repeated, startled at the coincidence of their thoughts. "Why should you say that?"

"You were..." Fenice hesitated, seeking the right words. "For these past two months I felt that perhaps you did not wish to waste time in love play with me."

Aubery laughed. "That is never a waste of time. You silly goose, how could I do more than satisfy my most urgent need when I expected to be summoned to some duty at any moment? Do you not remember how often I was called from our bed? It was nothing to do with you. Simply, I did not wish to be caught half done." He was quiet a moment, then turned his head and kissed her temple. "Did I leave you behind?"

"Sometimes," she admitted.

There was another short silence during which a notion occurred to Aubery that made him laugh again. "So perhaps it was not all for my own good that you found fault with me?" he teased.

Fenice heard in the tone of his voice the answer he wanted. "Perhaps," she agreed, hiding her face in his shoulder.

Aubery tightened his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, which was all he could reach. He said no more, but there was a vast content in his sigh, and Fenice floated softly down into sleep, totally happy.

They had another peaceful day, their only connection with the court being the visit they made to the great hall of the palace to see Edward's robes and armor. The jewels and clothing were his parents' gifts, only symbols, of course, of the greater gifts of lands that would support the prince and his wife, but they were lavish symbols. The s.h.i.+rt was the finest silk of the purest white. The tunic, silk also, of a rich blue, embroidered in threads of gold and set with gems, the gown all of royal purple velvet, lined and trimmed in ermine and equally embroidered and be-gemmed. There was the small prince's crown, and chains of gold and rings-a blazing collection from the royal treasure to uphold Edward's honor.

On another table lay Alfonso's gifts, a hauberk, helm, and sword of the finest Castilian steel, well known as the best and most costly in the world. It was as true as Damascus steel and not defiled by Saracen manufacture, though the methods of tempering had doubtless come from the Moors. Against the table leaned the s.h.i.+eld that Edward had brought from England, its three leopards courant brilliant gold against the bright red background, an equally brilliant blue label with five points across the top of the s.h.i.+eld marked it as that of the eldest son.

But that night when Fenice pressed herself to her husband's side, he kissed her chastely on the brow and put her away. "Do me the kindness of turning your back to me, Fenice," he said. "I suppose I should not have spent myself last night either, for I will need all my strength the day after tomorrow. But you are very lovely and very hard to resist."

"Turn my back?" she echoed.

"Yes, and move away, I beg you. Have you forgot that I will be Edward's champion in the joust? And I will stand watch with him, or at least visit him during his vigil, so I will get little sleep tomorrow night." He chuckled gently. "One must make some sacrifices in the royal service."

Fenice smiled dutifully and did as she was told, but she was disturbed. She was troubled by Aubery's remark that he would need all his strength. Until then, she had believed that being the prince's champion was a ceremonial position, that Aubery would carry a sword or ride in procession with Edward's arms. Among the women, the talk had all been of the feasts and dancing and the clothes they would wear. When they spoke of the great tourney, it was in terms of the favors they would give, and that the prizes, no matter who won them, would doubtless go to the princess Eleanor. Innocently, Fenice had not thought of how the prizes were to be won. Now she was worried.

Fortunately, there was nothing to increase her anxiety the following day. Aubery answered her questions in the lightest of humors while they broke their fast, seeming far more concerned that she would do something dangerous while he was occupied with the prince's preparations than with any threat to himself. Since a tourney was not war, Fenice was deceived. Smiling, she promised to do nothing more perilous than visiting the markets of Burgos, accompanied by her maid and a manservant. Aubery kissed her fondly and offered her money. This she refused, asking with laughing indignation whether her husband thought her a wastrel and explaining that she had by her a good part of the coin Sir William had given her as a wedding gift plus the first half of her yearly allowance.

Even when she attended the queen for the feast that afternoon, nothing was said that could worry her. Eleanor talked only about the forms for the ceremony and the seating places for her women, which was reasonable, for she did not wish to give offense to either the English or Castilian ladies. The activities that would follow Edward's knighting ceremony were not mentioned, and in consequence began to seem insignificant. In addition, Fenice's immediate business was to see that the queen, the other English ladies who demanded her service, and she herself were properly dressed and bedecked. It was virtually impossible to be fearful amid the laughter and excited chatter of the women. Then the feast itself lasted almost until the light failed, interspersed with the singing and playing of jongleurs, the j.a.ping of the fools, and the fantastic performances of the acrobats.

Aubery was in the best of humors and ate most heartily of everything presented. He drank less wine than usual, but that seemed normal to Fenice. He expected to need to be awake most of the night, and wine made a man sleepy. Actually, Fenice was enjoying the feast as much as anyone. But as the prince rose to be escorted to his ceremonial bath, Aubery got up also and followed him.

For a moment Fenice felt lost. How was she to get back to their lodging alone? Aubery seemed to have forgotten her. Would their servant come to seek her? As her eyes began to range the tables looking for a face familiar enough to ask the favor of arranging her horse to be brought and escorting her, a page plucked at her sleeve and bid her come to the queen.

"You will not wish to be alone in your lodgings tonight," Eleanor said kindly, "and you will want to be in the lodges early, I know. You may join the ladies in my chamber tonight. I will send to your lodgings for the gown you will need." Then she smiled. "It is too bad that Sir Aubery cannot carry your favor, but I am sure you will be thrilled with his victories nonetheless."

Victories? To win a victory, one must fight. Fenice uttered an automatic murmur of thanks and sank into a curtsy that hid her face. The queen smiled again and turned her head to attend to a remark made by Edmund de Lacy, and Fenice slipped away. Servants were lighting torches to be placed in the wall brackets, others with long rods bearing a tallow candle were lighting the tapers set ready in the huge chandeliers suspended from the beams. Clearly the feasting would go on for some time.

Fenice looked at the tables, at the men and women still drinking and making merry, and at the antics of fools and acrobats. Tears and terror rose in her throat. She could not bear it. She knew where the queen's chambers were. They would be empty, except perhaps for a few maidservants. No one would notice she had not returned to her place, indeed, the couples on either side of where she had been sitting had already taken up most of the s.p.a.ce.

Suddenly, Fenice was cold. There would be a fire in the queen's chamber. She hurried toward peace and warmth, her feet finding the way while the queen's words repeated themselves in her head. At first she was so frightened she could hardly make sense of them, but eventually she understood that Aubery was going to fight, and she was expected to watch him and enjoy herself.

By the time that was clear, she found she was beside the hearth with a delicate silk veil in her hands. There was a tear in it, and on a small table near her lay several fine needles and thin silk thread. She must have spoken to the maids and they appealed to her to mend the veil and she agreed. Fenice threaded the needle, made a tiny double st.i.tch to hold the thread, and took an even more minute st.i.tch on the other side of the rent. With the familiar activity, the drumming of her heart began to ease, and she heard the soft purring hum of the fire song she always loved. Instinctively, she turned her head to it, but she did not see the low, dancing flames. She saw instead the queen's smile, the expectation of pleasure in her expression. Eleanor was not cruel. Could she have spoken as she did and smiled as she did if Aubery was really to be in great danger?