The Lion Rampant by Blanche d'Alpuget

Author:Blanche d'Alpuget [d'Alpuget, Blanche]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical fiction
ISBN: 9780992527310
Publisher: Third Advent
Published: 2014-09-30T14:00:00+00:00

At Clifford Castle that night Douglas came to his chamber while he was still awake.

‘Why are you going to Wales, Henry – apart from the fact that you want to lie with the girl with green eyes?’

‘I need to subdue the Welsh princes or they’ll attack the border lands of England again and degrade my authority.’

The Highlander grunted. ‘I notice you’ve pardoned the young murderer.’

‘Richard? Murder, was it? Who?’

Douglas’ expression was truculent. ‘Lad, there’s things better not talked about. Don’t ask him. He won’t lie. But he won’t tell you, either. He doesn’t know their names. Except for one.’

In an even tone and ignoring the colour that suffused the Highlander’s cheeks, Henry repeated, ‘Whose name is that.’

‘You’re a fool to ask. But since you have I’ll tell you. Eustace. He poisoned Prince Eustace. So Henry, yes, you feel sick now, you want to vomit – in part you owe the throne to that vermin. Stephen’s reign collapsed the morning Eustace died.’

Henry snatched at a jug of cider standing on a table beside the bed. He downed two cups. ‘Who was the boy’s father?’

Douglas grinned. ‘Wondered when you’d ask me that. The youth believes he’s dead because the Church spread a rumour he’d committed suicide. His mother believed it and went mad. He was a bishop. He fled to the court of Red Beard when the charge of Druidism was made. He’s a brilliant man. Terrifies the Pope.’

‘Such a father helps explains Richard’s intelligence.’ Henry realised he was talking to calm himself.

‘Go to sleep, lad.’ The Highlander rolled on his side and gave a loud snore.

Henry was astonished at how deeply he slept that night. He awoke joyous. He felt cleansed of something. Rachel was with me again, he thought.

But inside the royal tent that night there was turmoil. Lying in the bathtub the Chancellor made a grab for Richard but his scribe braced his feet against the oak sheaves of its side and pushed himself backwards. ‘Suck it yourself,’ he said.

‘How dare you!’

‘His Highness knows I lamed his horse, but he believes it was an accident. I told him I was helping you dismount. Now I’ll confess to him you ordered me to do it because you feared the boar hunt.’

‘You ungrateful slut!’

Richard dressed and slipped from the tent, ran across the thick-dewed grass to the castle where a sleepy nightwatchman opened the door. ‘I wish to pray,’ he said. The man grunted and pointed the direction to the chapel. Candles burned inside. Richard walked past the font and hesitated, waiting until he sensed the place to speak to the Dark Lady. It was near a side wall. ‘Lady, I ask forgiveness,’ he said aloud.

Instantly, she appeared, her honey skin, her blue gown, her abundance of black hair. As he gazed at her with the inner sight he’d had since childhood he felt faint once more, but from love of her. ‘Gratitude fills my heart, Lady, and I know it’s thanks to you. The King has pardoned my many transgressions.’

Over her huge, soft eyes the lids lowered so she looked at him from slits.

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