Alan knelt gracefully, and kissed the King’s hand.
“Your Majesty is the kindest man alive,” he said. “It is no wonder that your very name is beloved.”
Henry pulled him up.
“Have done!” he said. “Malvallet and you shall be under Simon. Thus ye shall not be separated, and thus shall I know that my warden hath under him two men who will serve him faithfully, obeying his least command. I may march then upon Rouen with a quiet mind. Thank me not. If it please you, it doth also please me, save that I must lose my three Graces for a while.”
“I cannot thank you, sir,” Alan said fervently. “No words of mine could express what I do feel.”
Henry laughed.
“I am glad of it,” he said, and waved him away.
Ten days later Simon rode into Bayeux, the men of Beauvallet and some of Montlice behind him. As he came through the streets he was lustily cheered, and when he raised his hand in stiff salute, the cheers redoubled, and flowers were flung down before him, and caps tossed high in the air. So he came to Henry’s quarters, and straightway went to where Alan lodged.
Alan sprang up as he entered, and clasped his hands for a long minute.
“My Simon!”
Simon smiled, and his fingers gripped Alan’s. Then he released the slim hands in his.
“All is well with thee?”
“Very well. And with thee?” Alan asked affectionately.
“Gloucester carried all before him. Ye did hear that St. Lo fell to Hungerford?”
“Ay. Gloucester sent word. Domfront holds firm against Warwick still.”
“So I thought. But Domfront will fall before Cherbourg hath lost one stone from its walls. What doth the King want of me?”
“He told thee not?”
“Nay. His dispatch was as short as he says mine are wont to be.” Simon drew it from the leathern pouch at his belt, smiling. “ ‘To our well-beloved servant, Simon of Beauvallet: It is our pleasure that you make all haste to join us here in our town of Bayeux, bringing with you the men of Beauvallet and Montlice. Henry R.’ There is more, written on the back. ‘And thus have I my revenge on thee, my Soldier. Have I stirred thy curiosity?’ ”
Alan laughed.
“Well? Hath he done so?”
Simon shrugged.
“I suppose I am to join Clarence. All ways are one to me. Alan, what ails the troops? As I rode hither they did cheer me as though I had accomplished some great emprise. What means it?”
“The King will tell thee,” Alan answered. “Hast thou had word from Geoffrey?”
“Ay. Belrémy is at peace. The—the Lady Margaret did banish her cousin for seeking to slay me.” His eyes gleamed suddenly.
“So I did hear. What does that betoken, think you?”
Simon did not answer.
“The Lady Margaret’s hate is not so strong, perchance,” Alan said gently.
“She hates me not. I’ll go change my raiment before I see the King.” He went out heavily.
Just before supper a page came to him, to command his attendance on the King. He went at once, and entering the audience chamber, found Henry seated on a dais, with his Council about him.
Simon paused on the threshold, and shot a quick look round. Then he went forward, and bowed low to Henry.
“Your lordship sent for me, sir?”
“Ay.” Henry held out his hand. “I have work for thee, Simon.”
Simon kissed his hand and released it.
“That is good news, sire.”
“Arduous work, my Soldier,” Henry warned him.
“I desire naught better, sir.”
“Give me the order, Philip,” Henry said to Philip Morgan, standing beside him.
Morgan placed a long scroll in his hand, which Henry gave to Simon.
“Thou wert appointed to this office three days since, Simon, by vote of Council and my will.”
Simon looked round again, slightly frowning. Then he bent his head over the parchment, and began to read. In grandiose terms it gave him to understand that it was the King’s most gracious command that he be appointed Lieutenant and Warden of the Lands and Marches of Normandy,1 to maintain the peace in the Duchy, and to have control over the troops that should be left therein, while the King went on to Rouen. Further, that it was the King’s most gracious will that he should have under him the following knights: A list of names met Simon’s eye, the first two of which were Sir Geoffrey of Malvallet and Sir Alan of Montlice. There was much more besides, and at the bottom of the scroll was Henry’s seal and signature with the signatures of each one of his Council beneath.
Simon read on to the end. Then he looked up, straight into Henry’s eyes. A long breath he drew, and there was a wondering look on his face.
“Is this—indeed your Majesty’s pleasure?” he asked quietly.
Henry bowed his head.
“Sir—” Simon stopped, at a loss for words. “I—think I have done little to deserve this great honour.”
A low murmur of dissent came from the Council. Henry nodded towards Luttrell, who rose. One by one the Council filed out, so that Simon was left alone with the King.
“Thou canst not refuse the task,” Henry said, and came down from the dais. “It is sealed and done. A man must I leave behind me, so I leave thee.”
“Refuse!” Simon laughed shortly. “I cannot tell you, sir, what this means to me. If you do indeed think me worthy of this command, I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Henry laid a hand on his arm.
“Thank me not. I serve myself. One thing I would suggest to thee.”
“What is it, sir?”
“That ye dispose your lieutenants how ye will, but that you yourself make some central spot your headquarters. Belrémy seems a right good town, and one that is large and of important standing. Get thee to it, my Soldier.”
Simon looked sharply round at him, and his eyes narrowed.
“This is Alan’s doing,” he said.
Henry shook his head.
“Nay, nay, fear not that I seek to favour thee, thou proud lord! It is my will. Further it is my will that ye espouse the Lady
