Royal Dynasty: Fire Song Part 17

Fenice stood and stared. Even through her fear she recognized that this answer was far more likely than that a Bearnese agent should choose so devious and uncertain a method of political action. "You must be right," she breathed, her eyes wide with realization and relief. She no longer was afraid that hordes of Bearn's a.s.sa.s.sins would converge on Aubery. "He was your enemy beforehand, and then, to his mind, you stole the honor of champion from him. But why now? He had over a month on the journey to attack you."

Aubery shook his head. "When we were all of one party and all knew each other-except for the Gascon servants-his guilt would have been too plain. No other had any quarrel with me, and the prince knew we were...unfriends. Savin might have tried to kill me by some secret, treacherous device had we been attacked, but we were not."

"Well, then," Fenice said, coming close again with confidence to pull off Aubery's arming tunic, "you have only to tell the prince, and-"

"Good G.o.d, no!" Aubery exclaimed. "For once, Sir Savin has done much good. Whether or not Alfonso believes Edward's accusation against Bearn, he will have to act as if it were true and renounce Bearn's fealty." Aubery's eyes glowed with enthusiasm. "Oh, that was a clever stroke by the prince, as young as he is to have seen a chance so quickly and used it so adroitly. He will make a fine king." He laughed. "No, you may be sure I will do nothing to spoil that. On the way home, I will mention the possibility of Savin's guilt, but after all, Fenice, I have no proof."

"But he will fight in the melee tomorrow and do you a mischief," Fenice insisted, trying not to let her voice quaver.

"No," Aubery replied carelessly, stretching and smiling. "There has been too much talk about the attempt on me among the English knights, and to hurt me or kill me now would serve no purpose, even to Savin. If I had gone down on the first pa.s.s, I suppose he expected Edward to appoint him in my place. As it is, he will take no chances."

"Then what will you do?" Fenice asked tightly.

"By your leave, I will sleep until it is time for me to dress for dinner," Aubery teased, then his voice softened. "Come, Fenice, I know my business. I promise you I am in no danger."

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Had Fenice been less in love, she could have accepted Aubery's word. She did believe he knew his business, but her feeling that the perfection of happiness her husband brought her was so precious that it was bound to be s.n.a.t.c.hed from her would not let her rest. Once the bed was warmed and Aubery in it, he dropped instantly asleep. Fenice laid out his clothing for the feast and then hers and finally sat down by the fire to sew. Unfortunately, that task left her mind free to worry, and she recalled Sir William talking of how wild and heedless Aubery was concerning his own safety.

That fear sparked others, in particular the fear that Aubery, the soul of honor himself, would not be able to grasp all the devices of a treacherous person. Writhing under the lash of imagined horrors, Fenice uncovered an escape route. It was Alfonso who must not hear of Aubery's suspicions, not the queen and prince. Perhaps a reason could be devised to send Sir Savin away or to curb him somehow so that the King of Castile would not connect Savin with the danger to Aubery.

Fenice put down her sewing and looked toward the bed. She did not have much time, and she was aware that Aubery would be furious if he discovered her interference. Still, she hesitated only a second. As when she had deliberately provoked him to rage to release his tension, his anger had no power to stop her if she dared it for his good. What could he do, after all? Beat her? A beating would be a cheap price to pay for Aubery's safety.

Because Fenice had never before asked for the special privilege of speaking privately with the queen and because she was very sure Fenice would not be presenting some petty spite, Eleanor came out of her inner chamber, where she had been discussing serious matters with her uncle, Archbishop Boniface, to discover what Fenice wanted. As briefly and calmly as possible, Fenice told her tale, stressing Aubery's admiration for the prince's clever move and his recognition that it was of the first importance that no doubt be cast on Edward's suggestion.

"Aubery forbade me to speak to anyone of this," she admitted, tears filling her eyes. "He says Sir Savin can do him no harm, that he is strong and will be watchful, but...but I am afraid. Can nothing be done to protect my husband, madam?"

"You were very wise to come to me, my dear," Eleanor said. "It is utterly ridiculous for Sir Aubery to conceal his suspicions from Edward and me. However, men are very strange creatures. Now, do not fret yourself anymore. If Sir Aubery sees your eyes all red, he will not be pleased. I promise you, no harm will come to your man."

This, of course, was rather more than even a queen should have promised, since a melee is no gentle sport, and short of forbidding him to take part-which she could not do-Eleanor had no way of controlling Aubery's own daring. In a sense, Fenice knew that, but the rise and fall of spirit mostly does not hang on reason, and Fenice was comforted. She was able to wake Aubery to dress with a sunny smile and enjoyed herself greatly at the feast, where much was made of her husband.

The next morning she was nervous, but when she joined the queen to accompany her to where they would watch the battle, Eleanor drew her close and whispered in her ear that Sir Savin had left before dawn that morning for Gascony with an important message for King Henry, in fact, the story of Edward's suspicion of Bearn's attempt to destroy the alliance between Castile and England.

"From there," Eleanor said, "Savin will be sent back to England. I gave as an excuse that his influence on Edward was unsavory. I could do no more, Fenice. No doubt Sir Aubery is right, I never did like that Sir Savin, but to punish him, there must be proof."

"You are most kind, most gracious," Fenice whispered back. "I am sure he will not trouble Aubery in England," she added, though her conviction was largely based on the insubstantial feeling that nothing bad could happen in what she thought of as her own Promised Land.

Eleanor did not contradict her, and she had better reasons for it. She knew of Aubery's connection with Sir William and also with Richard of Cornwall. Although she and her brother-by-marriage did not always see eye to eye, she knew Richard to be a steadfast friend. He would defend Sir William's stepson, and Eleanor believed Savin would fear Richard's power and hesitate to make any move against Aubery.

Fenice was shocked by the violence of the melee. It was, indeed, a battle as ferocious as any in a war and fought with unblunted weapons. However, as with the jousting, she was caught up in the excitement of the encounter. Moreover, most of the time she could not pinpoint Aubery in the violent swirl of action, and when, now and again, she did catch sight of him, he always seemed to be unhurt and pressing his opponent hard. Thus, the apprehension she felt diminished as it was by the a.s.surance of Sir Savin's absence and much diluted by pride and excitement, became little more than an extra thrill as the day wore on.

Of course, Fenice thought her husband the finest and bravest knight on the field, but she was not alone in this opinion. The marshals of the battle concurred. Aubery's party were the victors, and he again took the major prize. And, although he was not completely unscathed, his wounds were minor, bruises and pressure cuts, and Fenice was so happy in his success and also-although she did not say the second reason aloud-that the tournament was over, that she even made small jests when she salved his hurts.

They had been invited by de Lacy himself to spend a second night in his quarters, and again Aubery accepted gratefully because he was stiff and sore. Since his part in the festivities was now over, the next day he and Fenice moved back into the wool merchant's house, and were glad of it. They found it very pleasant to have some hours of real privacy, even though it meant riding back and forth.

Had they not been quartered in the town, neither would have had any peace. Now that the preparations for the wedding were in full swing, those ladies unfortunate enough to be lodged near the queen were forever being called out to fetch and carry gifts and favors, write notes, mend and examine clothing-a thousand details that occurred to Eleanor at all hours. Fenice, whom Eleanor trusted and knew to be handy, biddable, and intelligent, would scarcely have had a moment to call her own.

Aubery, too, was glad of the distance between him and the prince. With Sir Savin gone, Edward no longer needed to feel any guilt in showing his preference for Aubery's company and summoned him whenever he had a free hour. Since the prince was eager to hear about the campaigns in which Aubery had served and Aubery felt strongly that a future ruler was never too young to learn why some military actions were successes and others disasters, Aubery was glad to talk to him. Nonetheless, he did not fancy being kept hanging about the prince's antechamber all evening every evening because Edward hoped he would find time for conversation.

The one task that remained to Aubery was a.s.signing knights to cooperate with Alfonso's men to guard the increasing acc.u.mulation of wedding gifts and the display of treasures that Edward and Eleanor would shower on their guests. He had more than enough men for this simple business and thus was rather surprised when Edward looked at him most significantly as he told Aubery he had taken the liberty of sending off one of the knights as a messenger to report on Bearn's attempt, here Edward stared at Aubery most deliberately again, to shame the English champion. After an odd pause, the prince added that he did not think Aubery would miss the knight.

Aubery had a.s.sured him that one man more or less could not matter and pa.s.sed on to another subject hastily, wondering if all the significant glances were supposed to induce him to say that the prince had a right to do anything he liked. It was the last thing Aubery intended to say. For one thing, he did not believe it was true, and for another he felt that Edward was already too imperious for his own good. Aubery noticed that the prince looked surprised at the change of subject but pretended he had not, and a moment later Edward smiled at him when there was no reason in what was being said for a smile. Aubery a.s.sumed that the prince had accepted his silent, implied rebuke in a most proper spirit and put the matter out of his mind.

Another week pa.s.sed while the agreements and treaties between England and Castile were written out in proper form on clean parchments and sealed with gold seals. Then the wedding itself took place. Aubery and Fenice attended, but only as unimportant members of the English party. They were not, of course, invited to the bedding ceremony and did not regret it. In this case, they knew it would be a rather dull and formal occasion. The usual bawdy innuendo and jesting would not be permitted. There would be only a formal examination and acknowledgment that neither party was unacceptable owing to physical deformity. The groom and his child bride would be put together naked in the bed, Edward would touch little Eleanor's thigh with his own, and then he would return to his own rooms.

On the day of the wedding, King Henry held a special feast to celebrate the union of his son and Princess Eleanor of Castile. When his wife and son had left Gascony, the exact date had not been settled. At that time, it was not known just how long the journey would take, and even after the queen and prince were in Burgos, an auspicious day for the wedding had to be chosen by the court astrologers. The king was thus doubly delighted when Sir Savin had arrived two days before, bringing not only the very pleasant news of the accusation against Gaston de Bearn, but the date of the wedding.

According to custom, the bringer of good news is rewarded-Eleanor had forgotten that in her eagerness to get rid of Sir Savin-yet the letter carried a warning against the bearer, urging Henry to be rid of him because he was a bad influence on Prince Edward. But if that was so, why not dismiss him herself? And why entrust message of some importance to a man she felt must be kept away from their son? The answer came to Henry almost as soon as the questions rose in his mind. This Savin must be a favorite of Edward's, he thought, smiling. He knew how headstrong his son was. Eleanor was being clever. Had she expressed her disapproval or sent the man away, Edward would have clung even tighter to him.

But it went against Henry's grain to be ungracious to a man who had just brought him so much pleasure. He wanted to be expansive and generous and to ask questions about Burgos and the entertainment Alfonso was providing, not to hand over a ring or a coin and tell Savin he was no longer needed or wanted. Then it occurred to him to wonder in what way Savin was a bad influence. Henry often disagreed with his wife about what was good for Edward. Savin was a strong man with no signs on him of an overindulgence in wine or food. A gambler? Women?

"You have brought good news," Henry said, for Sir Savin was beginning to look worried.

Savin had been first frightened and then furious when the queen summoned him, frightened because his guilty conscience made him fear Aubery had accused him of changing the lance, although he had been certain Aubery was too stupidly honorable to try to place the blame on him when he had no proof. Then, when the queen merely ordered him to carry a letter to the king, Savin became furious at the loss of the opportunity to destroy his enemy. However, he had not protested at the task Eleanor set him. When she handed him the letter, her face was hard as stone, and he had known all along that she did not like him.

He could not understand why he had been chosen as messenger, concluding at last that the news he carried was very bad-although what it could be he could not imagine-and the queen hoped the king would take out his fury at the news on the bearer. The silence and the way the king stared at him after he read the letter seemed to confirm Savin's fear, although Henry had not looked angry, had even smiled while he was reading.

Savin heaved a sigh of relief at Henry's words and said, quite naturally, "I am glad of that."

Henry, of course, took that to mean Savin was glad for the king's sake, and smiled again. "Who recommended you for service with the prince?" he asked.

"Lord Guy de Lusignan, my lord king," Savin replied.

Henry's smile turned wry. He believed that he had discovered why Eleanor wanted to be rid of Savin. She was ridiculously jealous of Henry's half brothers and would naturally wish to separate anyone a.s.sociated with them from her son. Henry felt a wave of angry resentment. Everyone was against his womb siblings, but he would not abandon them-no, nor would he dismiss in disgrace a man they recommended just because his wife wished to turn Edward against his own half uncles.

"You are welcome to me," Henry said. "But I would not wish to hold you in Gascony to your detriment. Do you wish now to return to England, or would you like to rejoin the prince?"

"If it please you, my lord," Savin said eagerly, seeing the chance for new opportunities to ingratiate himself with men of power and possibly to rid himself of Aubery, "I would like to stay."

Henry nodded, feeling quite uplifted at having saved an innocent man from unreasonable spite. "Pay your respects to Lord Guy," he urged, "and tell him that I would be pleased if he would take you into his household so that you will not be put to the expense of maintaining yourself while you wait for Prince Edward's return."

Sir Savin thanked the king fulsomely, but actually he did not intend to approach Edward unless the prince sent for him, at least, not until Aubery was dead. He had been aware of Edward's s.h.i.+fting favor and knew that it would be firmly fixed on Aubery after the remarkable feat of strength and skill with which Aubery had saved himself in the joust. Besides, it was a nuisance to make himself agreeable to a silly boy. At present the king's half brothers had more power and influence, and if he could really make himself known to them, Savin thought, he would be better off than a hanger-on of the prince.

The recommendation to Edward as champion had not come directly from Lord Guy, despite Savin's implication that it had, but had been made in Guy's name by his steward as a recompense for the wards.h.i.+p of Harold of Herron. Savin had paid a handsome bribe for that wards.h.i.+p, and it had been reft from him by Aubery through the influence of Richard of Cornwall. Perhaps Lord Guy felt he owed Savin nothing. He could say the wards.h.i.+p had been obtained for Savin, as promised, and Savin had lost it. Keeping what had been bestowed was Savin's own problem. Still, Lord Guy would not refuse him a place in the household when it was the king who made the suggestion.

On November 1, Alfonso issued the solemn charter forever renouncing all claims to Gascony. Moreover, in the settlement the King of Castile renounced the fealty of Gaston de Bearn, although the English plenipotentiaries agreed on Henry's part to deal indulgently with Gaston and his Gascon allies. The vague promise was a salve to Alfonso's conscience and committed Henry to nothing. It might have been said that a king who kept a rebel count chained to a log for more than ten years was being merciful in not executing him. However, Alfonso was not much concerned. Henry was not likely to be able to lay hands on Gaston unless he offered the Viscount of Bearn attractive terms.

By the time the charter was issued, Aubery had little time to consider the terms or to wonder how much influence the prince's ploy actually had in Alfonso's abandonment of Bearn. In fact, shortly after the wedding itself, he had begun to work on organizing the homeward-bound cortege. This time Aubery did not find the task so onerous. He had behind him the experience of the outward journey. He knew his men and they knew him, and there were few clerks or n.o.blemen who felt obliged to make themselves important by instructing him in his duty. Left to do his work on his own, except for Mansel's secretary, who was sensible and efficient and did not need to show himself off as a wonder because his master knew already what he was worth, Aubery had few difficulties in making his preparations.

Getting under way was another matter entirely. No amount of preparation could eliminate the confusion and disorder created by those who forgot things, who objected to their means of transport or their place in the cortege, or who discovered myriad reasons to change every arrangement. All feared to be caught by the worst of the winter weather, which was fast approaching, and all were really eager to return home. As a result, they progressed somewhat faster than they had on the outward journey.

The first part of the trip they were accompanied by a Castilian guard of honor, but the evening after Alfonso's men left them, Edward sent for Aubery and thanked him for his great discretion in keeping Sir Savin's enmity to him a secret.

"I am sure," the prince said, "that the King of Castile understood he could not continue to support Bearn and his pretensions once he revoked all claim to Gascony. However, the possibility that the attempt to sow disaffection between England and Castile was Bearn's doing provided an excellent excuse. And I understand that you could not be certain and did not wish to accuse without proof. Still, you might have mentioned to me that the matter between you and Sir Savin was more serious than a simple pa.s.sage at arms."

Aubery looked slightly stunned. "It did not seem important," he replied. "It would have been stupid for Savin to make any other move against me, and even if he did, I did not fear him. But...but how did you learn of my suspicion?"

The prince laughed. "Lady Fenice was more fearful for your safety than you were."

"Fenice asked you to protect me from Savin?" Aubery asked in a choked voice.

Suddenly Edward looked conscience-stricken. His mother had told him Fenice had said Aubery had forbidden her to speak of the possibility that it was Savin who had changed the lances. Edward had a.s.sumed that was because Aubery did not want to divert attention from Edward's accusation against Bearn. Now he realized there were ramifications other than political involved. He had made it sound as if Lady Fenice thought her husband was a fool and a weakling.

"No!" Edward exclaimed. "Of course not. She spoke to my mother. She was only frightened and wished to confide in another woman. It was my mother who conceived of the notion of sending Sir Savin away as a messenger. You must not blame your wife. Women do not understand the differences in ability in arms. We know you are a better man than Savin, but women seem to think..."

"I see," Aubery said, his lips thin, his eyes blazing with anger. "Now I understand why you spoke so oddly of the knight who was sent away as messenger. But surely you should have told my wife, or did you think I, too, was trembling with terror of that-"

"No, by G.o.d's head, no!" For once, Edward looked completely embarra.s.sed and as awkward as any fifteen-year-old. "I meant no harm. I said I knew you were the better man. I only wished to thank you for upholding me. Do not be so angry."

Seeing the boy was near tears, Aubery controlled himself. "Forgive me," he said, forcing a smile. "It is not you with whom I am angry."

"Oh, please do not punish Lady Fenice," Edward cried. "My mother bade me most straitly to speak of this to no one, but-but I did not think that meant you." He threw out his hands in a gesture of appeal. "Now I see it meant you most particularly and I should have known because my mother would realize I would not speak of it to anyone else. Please do not betray me."

Aubery's smile grew more natural. In some things the prince was so old-headed, he was certainly more understanding of the feelings of the English barony than Henry, and he was quick to see a political advantage. But about other subjects he was still a boy, and a boy in fear of his mother.

"No, I will not," Aubery promised. "You are right. It was only a woman's foolishness, and no harm can come of it."

Actually, when Aubery thought it out later, he saw that ridding the group of Sir Savin was an excellent idea. The man had no sense of honor or honesty and had the temper of a wild boar. Whether or not Savin had meant to engage him during the melee, there was always the chance Savin's growing rage would have boiled over and caused trouble on the homeward journey. Still, he was furious with Fenice for going to the queen after he had specifically bade her not to do so. Under that soft outward manner she was entirely too much like Alys. Had he wanted a woman to rule him, he could have had Alys herself.

However, having promised Edward not to betray him, Aubery had sense enough to realize he must avoid his wife while his temper was so strongly aroused. He went off to the men's quarters, where he received a warm, if jocular, welcome. Giving as good as he got as far as the jests went, Aubery settled into one of the groups rolling three dice in "the game of G.o.d", as it was blasphemously called, partly because it was a game of pure chance and partly because it was so frequently and so vociferously d.a.m.ned by the Church. Nonetheless, the jokes, which had made him aware for the first time that he had spent far more of his off-duty hours with his wife than most men would, increased his resentment toward Fenice.

Fortunately, he enjoyed the play and the companionable drinking among the men very much and came away in the late hours of the night with small winnings. The combination did much to soothe him. He was drunk, too, and Aubery was an extremely merry, loving drunk. The alcohol blurred his burden, relieving him of the constant, secret fear that his nature really resembled his father's and if he did not watch himself carefully, he would do something foul. Thus, when he finally arrived at his chamber he was no longer in a mood to chastise Fenice.

Had Aubery returned angry and resentful after so unusual an absence, Fenice would have been greatly distressed. It had been so long since the tourney that her part in Sir Savin's departure would never have occurred to her as the source of her husband's irritation. She would have thought Aubery was tiring of her. As he arrived with several other equally drunken gentlemen, all singing l.u.s.tily, she thought nothing of his late return, laughingly applauded their somewhat off-key chorus when it was over, and swiftly drew her husband in before they could begin again.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

The next morning, Aubery had concerns other than Edward's revelation to occupy his mind. Safe conducts had, of course, been arranged for the pa.s.sage of their party through the small independent territories between Castile and Gascony. However, there was always the chance of treachery or of some outlaw action, particularly by Gaston de Bearn, whose agents in Castile must have informed him of the agreements that withdrew Alfonso's protection. Could Bearn take the royal party hostage, he would be able to dictate any terms he liked to King Henry.

No attempt was made on the party because the king was waiting for them on the border. But Aubery had not known that and was fully occupied with various precautions against attack. Each day his anger at Fenice's action diminished, but another small core of dissatisfaction formed beside the one, concerning the secret he knew she was keeping from him.

Aubery was even more overjoyed to see King Henry than he had been to see King Alfonso. He rode up to Mansel before the parties had come together and begged the clerk to arrange with the king that he be relieved of his duty. Mansel looked at him oddly.

"Do you not wish to speak to the king yourself? You could claim a handsome reward, for you have done well in all things. The queen and prince and I myself will speak for you."

Aubery bit his lip, knowing that Mansel, who was one of the greatest pluralists of the age in England, would think him a weak fool for saying he was content with what he had and desired only to be free of the burdens, including that of his own company, the king had laid on him. But Aubery suddenly realized that he could turn Mansel's slightly contemptuous question against him and accomplish something that would greatly please his stepfather.

"I hoped you would ask for me," Aubery said smoothly, "as you have the most frequent intercourse with the king and are able most easily to seize the most favorable moment."

Mansel's lips twisted wryly, but his expression was no longer contemptuous. "There is more to you than I thought, Sir Aubery," he remarked dryly. "However, since I was so foolish as to extend my neck, it is reasonable the blow should fall on it. Only let me warn you, do not ask too much."

Aubery smiled. "Since I have chosen you for intermediary, I must allow you to be the judge of whether I ask too much. What I desire is the right for my stepfather, Sir William of Marlowe, to purchase back from the king the keep of Bix and its lands. My stepfather ceded it to the king in exchange for Gascon lands to serve as dowry for my stepsister."

"But how will this benefit you?" Mansel asked in a most puzzled voice.

"It is rather roundabout but will benefit me more than a court appointment, for which I am most unfit. Lady Alys d'Aix is Sir William's only heir of the body. For reasons too numerous to tell you, she does not desire her father's property in England for herself or her children. Thus, Sir William has arranged to settle by will all his lands upon either my wife or myself."

"I am growing less and less sure that you are unfit for a court appointment," Mansel said sardonically.

Aubery shrugged. "Then let us say that I have little taste for a courtier's life and also that my wife's relations.h.i.+p to the queen, which has been useful to everyone in Castile and Gascony, will in England prove a source of jealousy and hard feeling. We would do better to live quietly on our lands and make an occasional visit to court."

Now the glance Mansel cast Aubery was rather admiring and thoughtful. "I will do what I can," he said, and then added cautiously, "If Bix is not too great a holding, I believe you may account the matter settled."

"It is about twenty marks a year," Aubery told him.

Late in the evening Aubery's talk with Mansel bore its first fruit. Aubery received a letter of thanks and praise and, equally satisfactory, permission to go where he desired at any time. A second parchment officially releasing Fenice from her duty to the queen accompanied this, together with a note from Eleanor herself full of affection and regret for losing Fenice's company but making clear that she understood, was not angry, and hoped most sincerely to see Fenice again when they were both in England.

Aubery presented the latter of the two letters to Fenice without comment, wondering how she would react. She had seemed so much at ease in the company of the queen and her ladies of late that he felt some doubt whether she would be willing to come down from the exalted heights on which she had been living to a more everyday existence. On the contrary, Fenice was so relieved, so clearly overjoyed, to be freed from her duty to the queen that Aubery was startled.

"Do you dislike the queen?" he asked when she released his lips after kissing him in wild abandon to express her joy and her grat.i.tude.

"No, I love her," Fenice exclaimed, still laughing with happiness and beginning to whirl around the room with her arms outspread.

It was a spontaneous demonstration to express the sudden lightening of her spirit at the removal of a burden of secret fear she had hardly been aware of bearing until it was gone. Aubery watched her, also laughing at her effervescence but somewhat disturbed. If she had been acting a part of ease and contentment all these months, she was a performer of such skill that every emotion she displayed must be suspect. If she had not been acting, then this display of joy must be false, but that made her no less skillful as an actress.

"Were the queen's ladies unkind to you?" he persisted.

"No, not at all," Fenice caroled merrily.

Aubery caught her as she was about to spin past him. The chamber was not large, and she was within his reach. She did not resist his hold, twirling about and again throwing her arms around his neck. He dodged her kiss, pulled her arms down, and held her a little away.

"Then why are you cavorting about like a mad clown?" he insisted.

"I-I am glad to be finished with fetching and carrying and always being on best behavior," Fenice replied, but her voice was no longer merry. The questions had revealed to her the real source of her happiness, and she blushed deeply, aware that her answer was the least part of the truth, although it was not a lie.

The blush and the hesitation after so strong a show of relief reminded Aubery of Fenice's original reluctance to serve the queen and, by natural extension, of the private fear she would not confide to him. He released her and turned away, saying sharply, "You will be glad to see Alys again, will you not?"

Fenice sensed his anger but not its source. She had been sure he was happy to be free of the king's service, so he could not be angry because she was not echoing his mood. Perhaps she had gone too far in expressing her joy and seemed to criticize his forcing her to become one of the queen's ladies. But she was not certain that was what had annoyed him, and she was afraid to say anything definite lest she make his mood worse.

"Of course," she replied neutrally. "I am always happy to be with Lady Alys, but if you wish to go straight to England or-or anywhere else, I will be glad also. My place is with you, and there I am content."

Aubery turned back to her and, seeing the anxiety on her face, called himself a fool. Everything Fenice did, even those things she should not have done, like going to the queen to complain about Savin, was what she believed was for his good. Perhaps Alys was right. Perhaps she did love him. She had tried to stop him from fighting in the tourney. Silly as that was, it was something a woman in love might do. He reached out and touched her face.

"I have spoiled your joy. I am sorry. I thought perhaps you were really sorry to leave the excitement and elegance of the queen's service and only pretended to be glad."

"Oh, no!" Fenice exclaimed. "Truly, truly, I am happy to be free. And, you know, it is not exciting at all. It is really very dull. The ladies do nothing but gossip, embroider, sing, and play games."