Ranulf had been listening in a stony silence, but at that, he took a warning step toward Gilbert, dark eyes blazing. “Watch what you say! I mean to make her my wife!”
Gilbert started to rise, then slumped down again on the coffer. This was even worse than he’d expected. “You cannot be serious,” he said, but with no conviction. “Ranulf, have you lost what wits you have left? The girl has a husband!”
“Not for long,” Ranulf shot back triumphantly. “Annora may have been locked into a loveless marriage, but I have the key to set her free: our prior plight troth.”
Now that his first flash of anger was over, he was glad that Gilbert had guessed the truth. Having a trustworthy confidant was a luxury he’d not expected, and he gave his friend a discreetly edited account of his reunion with Annora, confided their hopes, and dwelled at length upon all the tomorrows they would share, time enough to recompense them for these lost years, a lifetime in which to wed and love and beget children and pledge fealty to his sister the queen. Gilbert listened and feared for them both. But he kept his qualms to himself, for he knew Ranulf would not have heeded them.
Night had claimed Geoffrey of Anjou’s capital city of Angers, and the castle was asleep. Sometime after midnight, Henry sat up suddenly in bed, jolted awake by a remembered sin. Papa’s dagger! He’d been playing with it all day, but he’d not gotten his father’s permission, and then he’d gone off to bed and forgotten to sneak it back where it belonged. Instead he’d left it in a window seat of the great hall, where it was sure to be found in the morning by one of the servants. And his wooden sword was down there, too, so all would know he was the culprit.
He was already in disgrace, all because of that fight he’d had with his brother Geoffrey. He still did not think it had been his fault. Geoffrey had deserved his nosebleed for the way he’d been badgering Will. Will could not help being scared of the dark; he was only four. From the superior vantage point of his seven years, that seemed very young to Henry, and he felt protective of his baby brother. When Will had begun to wake up screaming in the night, their father had given his consent for a small candle to be kept lit. That made sense to Henry, but Geoffrey could not resist teasing Will about his fears, and eventually he threatened once too often to snuff out the candle so Will could be carried off by the werewolves waiting in the dark. Henry wasn’t at all sorry for hitting Geoffrey; that memory was still very satisfying. But he could not be caught in another misdeed so soon after their squabble, not after he’d promised to be good.
Well, there was no help for it, he’d have to go get the dagger. Taking care not to disturb his brothers, he edged out of bed, fumbling about in the dark until he found his tunic. It took him longer to locate his shoes, but it was October and the stone stairs were too cold for bare feet. Both of his dogs were awake by now, eager to join in the fun. He was sorry he had to shut them up in the bedchamber, but dyrehunds always seemed to bark at just the wrong time.
Henry was not afraid of the dark, not really. Anyone would be nervous creeping down a winding stairwell blacker than any cave. He kept on going, and sighed softly when he reached the great hall, for it was dark, too, but there were people here, sleeping on pallets and benches and blankets. Much to his relief, the dagger was still in the window seat, half hidden by a cushion. Now if he could just get it back to Papa’s bedchamber without getting caught…To his surprise, he was beginning to enjoy himself, for this midnight quest was an adventure, with suspense and risk and even a worthy prize, a crusader’s dagger with a ruby hilt.
Hoping that the hinges wouldn’t squeak, he slowly pushed open the door of his father’s bedchamber. A reassuring sound met his ears, the snoring of his father’s squires. The hearth had burned low, the firelight dying down to a feeble glow. His father’s favorite wolfhound, a massive beast the size of a pony, raised her head, then tipped her tail in drowsy greeting. Leaving the door ajar, Henry moved toward the coffer at the foot of the bed. He was cautiously lifting the lid when his father’s voice suddenly cut through the darkness: “Just what are you looking for?”
Henry froze, shock robbing him of all speech. Before he could stammer out a response, a woman’s voice came floating from the bed. “I do believe I’ve found it, my lord. I was but browsing. Now, though, I think I’d like to buy!”
Henry was stunned and, for a too-brief moment, joyful. Almost at once, though, he realized his mistake, one foolish enough to make him blush. How could he have thought Mama had come home? If she were back, all would know it. Crouching down behind the coffer, he tried to make sense of this. Why was a strange woman in Papa’s bed? She was speaking again, an unfamiliar voice, sounding young and eager to please. Papa was laughing at what she’d said. Henry didn’t like it, not at all, that Papa should be laughing in bed with this unknown woman. He wanted to go away, to forget what he’d heard. But he was trapped, unable to move until they went back to sleep. And to his horror, he now heard his father say, “Fetch me that wine cup on the table, Nan.”
The bed curtains parted and a woman’s tousled head poked through. She had tumbled masses of unruly flaxen curls, and Henry could not help thinking of his mother’s glossy, neat braids, black as a raven’s wing. Having assured herself that the squires slept, the girl swung her legs onto the floor, scampered over to the table, and snatched up a goblet. Henry had a lively curiosity about women’s bodies. Not only were they formed differently than males, but people acted as if there was something sinful about female nakedness, and he still remembered a puzzling sermon he’d heard that summer, in which the priest had railed about daughters of Eve and whores of Babylon and Satan’s lures. Now, though, he averted his eyes, did not look up until the woman had climbed back into bed.
“Good lass. You cannot imagine how pleasant it is to have a biddable bedmate for a change.”
The girl giggled. “Your lady wife would not have fetched you wine?”
“Not unless she’d poisoned it beforehand.”
Another giggle. “Surely she could not be as bad as all that? I have to admit, though, that I was right glad when she left. She could stab someone with her eyes, God’s Truth! Do you think, my lord, that she will be gone long?”
“If God is merciful,” Geoffrey said wryly. “No, you need not fret about my she-wolf of a wife, Nan. She’s like to be bogged down in that English quagmire for years, and even if she does manage to defeat Stephen, her victory might not be worth much after she and Stephen get done with their crown-clipping.”
“I…I do not understand.”
“You do know about coin-clipping?”
“Is that not what the Jews do?”
“Not just the Jews, anyone with a sharp eye for turning a profit. They file the edges off the coin, and melt the clippings down to make a counterfeit coin. Anyone caught clipping coins in my domains does not live to regret it. But just as the clipped coins are worth less, so is a tarnished crown. For proof of that, we need look no further than the double-dealing by Hugh Bigod and Robert Fitz Hubert. Think you that either one would have dared to defy the old king like that? When pigs fly!”
The first name was vaguely familiar to Nan, the second name not at all. “This Hugh Bigod…was he not the king’s man?”
“More than that, lass. He perjured himself to God and the Archbishop of Canterbury, claiming that Maude’s father had repudiated her upon his deathbed. But he came to feel cheated, for he believed Stephen owed him more than he’d gotten, and this past June he rebelled. Stephen swooped down on him and seized one of Bigod’s castles, but freed Bigod to wreak more mischief if he chose. He did, and rebelled again in August. This time Stephen decided to buy his loyalty. Can there be a better reason for rebelling?”
Raising his voice, Geoffrey launched without warning into a mimicry of a peddler’s spiel. “Are you discontented with your lot in life? Has your barony begun to seem paltry and insignificant? Do you yearn for your own deer park, wine from Cyprus, oranges from Spain? Well, then, do not delay. Defy the king, gain yourself estates, castles, mayhap an earldom!”
Nan joined in his laughter, even though the humor eluded her. She laughed at all of Geoffrey’s jokes, whether she understood them or not. “What of the other man, this Fitz…Herbert?”
“Fitz Hubert. He was one of Stephen’s Flemish hirelings, mayhap the worst of a bad lot. Last October he turned on Stephen and seized Malmesbury Castle. Stephen snatched it back, but-surprise of surprises-he then agreed to let Fitz Hubert go. It seems he was a kinsman of William de Ypres, and he prevailed upon Stephen to show his cousin some undeserved mercy.”
“Was that the end of it?”
“Of course not. Fitz Hubert promptly hied off to Maude at Bristol. But he soon saw he could do better on his
