Free The Young Lion by Blanche d'Alpuget Page A

Matilda abandoned her claim to the throne. The Walters couldn’t go to the Matilda faction, they felt, so they did the next most honourable thing and went over to King David. When Edith and Sir William acquired property up here she discovered she needed a Gaelic interpreter. The priest brought young James. I heard him interpreting one day and asked if she’d loan him to me. He’s the most quick-witted child I’ve ever met. And he sings with a voice as clear as silver.’
    ‘What exactly made Sir William and Lady Walter abandon Stephen?’ Henry asked.
    Ranulf’s expression darkened. ‘Stephen promised William he’d make him an earl, and a son would get preferment in the Church. But you know, my dear Henry, how duplicitous he is. He’s ruined half of England with his double dealing.’
    You supported him for years, you thick-headed arsehole, Henry thought. Aloud he said, ‘It’s a tragedy. Only the French find it comic.’
    Ranulf gave a hearty laugh. ‘Oh, that’s a good one. I like that!’ The conversation reverted to warfare and James rode up beside them.
    ‘Is there anything I can do for you, sir?’ he asked Henry.
    Guillaume bent to his sculpted white ear and answered in Latin. ‘When we want you, we’ll call you. Meanwhile, piss off.’ He watched as the small ear turned red.
    ‘I do not understand your language, sir.’
    Your ear tells me otherwise, Guillaume thought. He repeated what he’d said in French, adding, ‘Understand that, you little swine?’

CHAPTER FOUR
    It was two days before they reached Carlisle. A cold wind blew across the plain around the castle as a post-rider galloped in with news of the imminent arrival of visitors from across the sea.
    King David had been monarch of Scotland for twenty-five years and always on excellent terms with the Lion. In those days there was no fight between England and the Scots; instead, as he’d remarked to his Seneschal, ‘We traded, we prospered, we learned from each other.’
    While David prepared himself to ride to the gate to welcome his young kinsman, he wondered if insolence were still Henry’s ruling passion. Everyone in Scotland – everyone in England, Ireland and Wales, maybe even in the Île de France – had heard the story. At Edinburgh’s fairs, players set up stages with Stephen on a throne. Young Henry enters and the King throws a cup of ale in his face. Then Henry slaps the King’s face with a salmon. The King falls off the throne. Henry gives an elegant bow, shows his leg to the ladies and, to raucous cheers from the audience, rides off with bags of gold.
    David knew that was not precisely how the event had occurred, but it was enough to make his nephew a hero among ordinary Scots.
    He waited at the gateway mounted on a horse caparisoned with St Andrew’s Cross. He had dressed in a deerskin riding cloak overa padded tunic of summer blue, the same colour as the background of the cross. Unicorns pranced on pennants that flew from the castle’s peak.
    Despite persistent, subtle questions to Earl Ranulf and others, Henry had no idea what his test for knighthood would be. As the broad, squat outline of Carlisle Castle came into view his apprehension began to rise. The bleakness of the day and the reputed hardness of the King he must impress heightened his nervousness. Outwardly, he was as calm as a pond on an autumn day.
    He caught sight of David, and leaped to the ground so as to approach on foot, his hands held ready to help the monarch dismount.
    ‘Greetings to you, sire, from Anjou, Maine and Normandy,’ he offered in Gaelic.
    David’s hard, shrewd features coloured at the courtesy. They have charm, these Anjevins. The same thought was in both minds: one day this man may be my enemy. I’ll treat him well.
    The King remarked, ‘Gaelic’s a difficult language. Your interpreter has tutored you well.’
    Henry gave a slight bow.
    He and Guillaume now loathed the boy, who over their days of travelling had disappeared at