Free Roselynde by Roberta Gellis Page B

to obey me and how well they did."
    "Alinor!" Sir Andre thundered.
    "Oh, be at peace," she snapped. "I told you I
intend no dishonesty."
    "Then answer me. What do you intend? What are you
about?"
    "Think!" Alinor raised her own voice. "You yourself
told me Sir Simon has long experience with dishonesty. If my people, open and
trusting as they are, spoke all the truth—would he believe it? Would he not
double and triple the truth, being so sure that all lie to him? I would not bid
them lie. God forbid he should find out a servant of mine in a lie that I
ordered him to tell. But also God forbid that three times the worth be wrung
from my lands."
    The choleric color receded from Sir Andre's face, but he shook his
head. What Alinor said was true. Had he known her just a little while less, he
would have accepted her explanation. However, Sir Andre had had two years of
watching her mind unfold and come to grips with the complex facets of her
situation as her grandfather weakened and then died and left her to grapple
with life alone. There would be more to her actions than appeared or than she
would tell. He took a deep breath and braced his shoulders. His sons and daughters
were settled in life, largely through the generosity of Lord Rannulf. His wife
Mary was dead. His lord was dead. There was no one left but Alinor. As best he
could, he would shield her from, or share with her, the ax-blow of punishment.

CHAPTER 5
    There was, however, not the slightest indication at dinner that
day of any war of retribution to come. Alinor and Sir Simon were both at their
best. Whatever surprise or concern had rendered Simon so abstracted was gone.
He was attentive to Alinor's lightest question, answering courteously at first
and then, spurred by her interest and the bright intelligence of her eyes,
speaking more seriously of serious matters.
    To Sir Andre's relief, Alinor was neither pert nor pertinacious,
both of which she could be at her worst. Although there was no faintest shade
of simpering, her attentiveness was flattering and her comments and questions
showed her capacity for comprehending and absorbing what she was told. More,
she showed her good manners by including her vassals in the talk. A girl trying
to flatter an influential guest might well concentrate upon him to the
exclusion of men she could command. Instead, she drew them into the
conversation so that their specialized knowledge of their own areas added to
Simon's more general information.
    "And do you think the Lord Richard is one who will hold Hugh
Bigod to his fealty?" Sir John asked with some concern.
    His lands, although in Essex, abutted upon certain of the Earl of
Norfolk's domains. Until Henry II had brought Bigod to heel with a mixture of
force, bribery, and guile, that fierce magnate had been the scourge of the
east. Latterly, he had been content to use the King's authority. With the
advent of the war between Henry and his sons, Bigod had shown some signs of stirring,
but he had not broken the peace.
    "I wish 1 knew the answer to that," Simon replied.
"I know that Lord Richard is one of the finest soldiers in the world. I
know, too, he can charm the birds out of the trees—when he will take the
trouble. But with his heart set on this Crusade, whether he will trouble about
aught in this land, I do not know." Unconsciously Simon flexed his arms as
if preparing for action. "Does Bigod covet the honor of Mersea?"
    "Is there anything Hugh Bigod does not covet?" Alinor
asked, half smiling but with serious eyes. "He does not specially look to
Mersea. He knew my grandfather well, and toward the end of my grandfather's
life they grew to be good friends."
    "I trusted enough to that to come in full force to my lady's
aid," Sir John said, "but I do not think Norfolk's memory is overly
long, and it might seem to him my lady's dower is great enough without
Mersea."
    "Certainly," Simon agreed, frowning, "it would be
unwise to extend an invitation to him by your overlong