Free The Bastard King by Jean Plaidy

something terrible had happened.
    â€˜I have ill news for you,’ said Henry gently.
    â€˜Is it my father, Sire?’
    The King nodded.
    â€˜He is ill?’
    â€˜He is dead, William.’
    â€˜Dead. My father dead?’
    â€˜He died as a Christian.’
    â€˜But he is too young to die.’
    â€˜Death comes at all times and your father courted it.’
    William could not listen to what the King was saying; he could only think of his father – gay and magnificently dressed, coming into the hall, sitting at the head of the table, walking with his arm through that of his mother. And now he was dead.
    â€˜My mother?’ he asked.
    â€˜She is to marry as your father wished. He even chose the man for her.’
    â€˜I must go to her.’
    â€˜Nay, William, you must stay here.’
    â€˜She will need me.’
    The King laid a hand on William’s shoulder. ‘This is a shock for you. Go to your chamber, rest awhile and pray to God for His help, for you will need it now more than you ever did. Just stay with your grief and do not make plans yet. What is to be will be. Let it take its course.’
    William followed the King’s advice. He lay on his bed and thought of what this would mean. One idea struck him. He was in truth the Duke of Normandy now and a Duke’s place was with his people. Had his father not said he must grow up quickly? Had he had some premonition of what was to happen to him?
    The French Court was in mourning for the Duke ofNormandy. Those who tried to comfort William told him that at least his father had not died with all his sins upon him. He had actually been engaged on a holy pilgrimage when death had overtaken him.
    It was a small comfort, but William wanted the old days which he now realized he would never know again. He wanted to feel that excitement he had experienced when his father had come home and he had some tale to tell him of a newly acquired skill.
    His mother. He thought of her often. He remembered how much more beautiful she was when his father came home, how her eyes would shine; and when he was away how she would go to the turret and shade her eyes as she looked for his return.
    He learned what had happened to his father, how he had travelled through Provence and Lombardy to Rome where he had been so well received by the Pope; how he had discarded the brown sacking garment of the pilgrim for one worthy of his rank; how richly garbed he had ridden on a mule which was shod with gold; how when it shed a shoe the gold was left on the road and the mule re-shod in the same precious metal. No one could have been in any doubt that this exalted pilgrim was indeed Robert the Magnificent.
    When the Emperor of Constantinople had received him, and in the reception hall of his palace there were no chairs, the Duke had spread his rich cloak on the floor and sat on it, commanding his followers to do likewise with theirs. When they departed they left their cloaks on the floor to show that they could not demean themselves by picking them up, for costly as they might appear to others in their own eyes they were trifles.
    Such extravagance delighted the poor who seized on everything that was cast off by the rich and extravagant Duke.
    When he had reached the Holy Land Robert had taken a sickness and was too feeble to be able to walk, so that a litter must be devised and four of the natives were engaged to carry it. Being met by a party of Norman pilgrims who stopped to parley with him, he was asked: ‘What shall we tell your people when we return to Normandy?’
    â€˜Tell them,’ answered the Duke, ‘that you see their master being carried to Paradise by four devils.’
    This had amused the pilgrims and they had returned to Normandy delighted to have news to impart of the Duke who they said had won the respect and awe of everyone by his magnificence and generosity. Because it was necessary to pay in gold to be allowed to enter Jerusalem