Free The Rebel Princess by Judith Koll Healey Page A

me.
    “William.” I pulled away, annoyed. He had never been so free in front of the youth before. “Francis is here.”
    “Ah, Princesse, no more pretense. I have told our young Francis we will be married, as soon as this business in the south is finished. He has given us his blessing.” And the grand master of the Templars in all of England winked over my shoulder at the young knight as he released me. Francis had a droll expression on his face, as if he were caught enjoying a bawdy play in the town square. I thought again of Chinon and had to smile myself.
    “Enough, from both of you,” I said, with all the firmness I could muster. “Out now, I say. My maids will help me prepare for the festivities. I’ll see you in the Great Hall.” And so saying, I threw open the oak doors. A page appeared and I motioned for my maids, who clustered at the end of the long corridor, where they dallied pleasantly with William’s men.
    “Your Grace,” Francis suddenly said, stopping in front of me as William was hustling him out the door. “I beg leave to escort you to the banquet tonight. I would have you meet my friend Geoffrey of Exeter, who has been traveling with us. We were knighted together.”
    “I would be delighted, Sir Francis. Give me only a short time to prepare myself and return then with young Sir Geoffrey.”
    “Good plan,” William said, clapping his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “He shall enjoy a cup of ale in my chambers, tell three tall tales of his valour on the field to his friend, and return here in the space of an hour.”
    Mignonne and two of the younger maids slipped into the room and crossed behind the two men, swinging their small hips. William glimpsed them over his shoulder and turned back to me smiling. Suddenly he performed an exaggerated, sweeping bow to me, assuming a propriety that was almost comical given the bantering that had preceded it. Francis, flashing me a grin, followed his master’s movements exactly. And I, shaking my head at their nonsense, was left to doff my gown and immerse myself once more in the bathwater, now tepid and somewhat clouded with sweet-smelling soap.

.5.
    P ARIS
The Great Hall
    I chose the new white wool for the formal dinner, with the scarlet slashes in the long sleeves, and the tapered skirt with the elegant train. I counted myself lucky that my dressmaker had harried me into several new garments during the previous long winter. My interest was not usually lodged in paints and pots and gowns, but I was moved this evening to make my toilettage carefully, and not only for William.
    I wanted to impress our guests while I was assessing them. They must see me as a person of power, not dismiss me as a decoration of this court, a useless royal, female bauble. I wanted them to consider what it might cost them to cross me. After I had taken their measure, I could better form my plan to block their every wish.
    These thoughts raced through my mind as Mignonne finished braiding and wrapping myhair. She held the mirror up and rouged my cheeks and lips to my satisfaction, her own full lips dancing as she fought the urge to tease. I had not been so careful making my toilettage since William had last been to court and we both knew it.
    “Do not dare to say what you are thinking.” I rose and turned toward her, tapping her shoulder with my mother’s pleated, hand-painted fan. Mignonne had been my maid for some years now, and there was much familiarity between us. “I have more in mind than just Lord William. I want to make an impression on the king’s important visitors, as well. They must see me as a princesse royale if I am to have any weight in the coming discussions.”
    A smart knock on the door with a sword handle interrupted us. I threw a light fur over my shoulders against the damp autumn night air, and opened the door. There stood young Francis, splendid in a cape of deepest sea blue over a matching tunic. His hair was swept back and he had found the