CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

            “Athelfreda.” The name was spoken almost tonelessly, less a reflection of surprise or expectation than a descriptive account emanating from Court. The recipient of the address stared knowingly at its originator. This was the first time since she had returned to England that the young woman had cast eyes on her former lover, William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury.

            “My gracious Lord” responded Athelfreda “I had not expected to see you here. Have you come on the King’s business?”       

            “Ah yes my good half-brother” mused Longsword “I hope that I do not denote a tone of disapproval in your voice. My loyalty is firm now, I am resolved to fight by my King’s side. The earlier disaffection was not out of a lack of friendship.....”

            “Politics are strange indeed my Lord” half-smiled Athelfreda. “It is prudent that we poorer folk keep out of such matters.”

            “Fie, fie, lass!” roared Salisbury “You have about the sharpest brain in the Kingdom. This veiled deprecating sarcasm does not lie well with your beauteous charm.”

            “What, my Lord, are you courting me afresh? Do you want comfort and warmth to keep out the ensuing Winter ere Autumn has scarce passed us by.”

            “Athelfreda I would never force my attentions on you. I was, however, surprised that you have avoided me since your return. We had such good times before.”

            “Your good wife is a handsome woman, my Lord” simpered Athelfreda. “And surely there is many a lusty wench who would welcome the close embrace of old King Henry’s son.”

            “Nay lass you do me wrong. I am not so grasping as you suggest. I valued your friendship and your sharp intellectual gifts. There are no conditions to my affections. Come to me at your will. If not, it is no matter. I have heard tell of this converted renegade of yours. Let it never be said that Longsword was jealous in love. All good fortune to your association but if you ever stand in need here is your poor forlorn Salisbury. My hand of friendship is always yours ever if you do spurn my broken heart.”


            “Come, come William” laughed Athelfreda. “You have the resilience of a true Angevin, the Devil’s brood. I will bear that in mind, too true you were always good to me and I would ever wish to retain your friendship.”

            “Then enough of this” grinned Longsword “I will do what I can to help your new fancy this Rolf de Claimont, let us stay friends forever.”

            The two former boon companions clutched each other in an unspoken vow of spiritual fidelity. The old relationship was gone, but a newer, freer and somehow more vital and less hypocritical bonding was taking place.

            “And what are you doing here in Corfe Castle?” enquired Athelfreda.

            “I am paying a visit to my niece the Lady Eleanor” responded Longsword. “Her life has not been easy, and there have been some quite vivid low points. Nevertheless she has shown courage of an amazing quality. Would that some of my retainers had half her spirit. God what a gutsy lass she is. I feel for her because of the lack of status that she has had to endure. Myself I have particular sympathy being a by-blow of King Henry and the Fair Rosamund. Eleanor is different, she is King Hal’s legal grand-daughter. Some would say technically the Queen of England.”

            “Yes a good point” replied Athelfreda. “Still coeur-de-lion gave John his blessing on his death-bed. At that time Arthur, Eleanor’s brother might have inherited the crown. In any case the Marshall, full of years and sound common sense, came down firmly in favour of Lackland. Too many people did not want a youngster on the throne with a regency council squabbling for positions. Even if Eleanor had been directly in line and of an age when Richard died I’m sure the Marshall would have thought back to the days of Stephen and Matilda”

            “Yes indeed” mused Longsword “The Empress Maud did not win much support and King Stephen was a warrior, a military man of some consequence. Still she was a spiteful bitch by all accounts and that perverseness of nature went as much against her as her gender.”

            “Possibly” responded Athelfreda “Even so it’s a man’s world we live in. As long as your position in life is judged by how well you wield a sword, and, of course, which bed you were born in, then it will continue to be unfair.”
            “Deep philosophical words, my dear girl I don’t expect that you would want a detailed response from such as I. The reason that I get on so well with the King is that I am an uncomplicated sort of person, a good drinking companion, one to crack a yarn with and end laughing boisterously, fully sozzled and dead to the troubles of the World.”

            “You underestimate yourself, my Lord” smiled Athelfreda “You have a more incisive mind than you give yourself credit for.”

            “My Uncle is indeed a wily old warrior, or perhaps I should not refer to him as old.”

            Athelfreda glanced round to see the fierce dark-haired beauty, the high tempestuous cheek-bones, the retrousée nose, the full red lips and sparkling eyes of the Pearl of Brittany.

            “My Lady Eleanor I did not notice your entry.” The half Norman-half Saxon young woman curtsied low in recognition of the status of the Princess.

            “Oh tush Athelfreda we do not stand on ceremony here. This will be a jolly time, my good Uncle in attendance as well, what fun we will have.”

            “Indeed lass” laughed Longsword “It only needs your former squire de Buissant to be in attendance, or is it Savary de Mauléon, or indeed some other that you cherish these days.”

            Eleanor blushed deeply. “Oh come Uncle, you know me for a chaste maid, untutored and indeed a stranger to the joys of love!”

            “As you will have it, my Pearl” roared Longsword with gusto. “From what I have heard you are a chip off the old block, an Angevin to the core when it comes to the ways of the flesh.”

            “Quite, my dearest Uncle” responded Eleanor biting her top lip in mild irritation. “But what of this Civil War, how goes the fortunes of your brother the King?”

            “Well, dear niece. He relieved Lincoln and is now at Lynn. From what I am told they welcomed him there with open arms. Those hard-headed tradesmen and merchants know what is good for business. Whatever they may say about Johnny he is a fair King and rules with a strong hand.”


            “That’s the news I like to hear” responded the Pearl “Perhaps it is not too far distant when this land of ours is at peace once more. Prince Louis seems but a milk-sop to me, for all his so-called military prowess, he lacks inspiration. God, I pity his Queen, what a strait-laced fellow he is, he would bore me to death. The French are probably fed-up with the climate already and now they must realise what a bunch of lily-livered swine follow the rebel cause here in England.”

            “I hope that I was not considered lily-livered when I temporarily deserted the Royal cause?” questioned the Earl of Salisbury.

            “My good Uncle” smirked Eleanor “you have your faults like all of us but cowardice was never one of them. In any case you are once more in the fold of your friends.”

            “Good” replied Salisbury “Like you I hope to see a period of tranquillity. This England of ours needs another 15 to 20 years of firm rule with John in a position to consolidate his power and prepare the way for young Henry.”

            “Yes” mused Eleanor. “Young Henry, my dear sour-faced cousin. I doubt that he will have changed much in twenty years when he comes into his own. What a prospect that is. Alms giving, psalm singing, the end to all pleasures. It’s not that he has much kindness in his soul, give me a bawdy sinner with plenty of heart anytime.”

            “You do Henry some wrong, niece” interposed Longsword. “After all he is only a young lad.”

            “This reminds me of an earlier conversation” smiled the Pearl. “People do not change that often, the boy is very much father of the man.”

            “Well we will see, anyway this is rather premature we still have John to contend with as King. By no means can you describe him as weak and lack-lustre. Have confidence, lass, England is on the crest of a wave, the future is decidedly good.”

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