Free The Young Lion by Blanche d'Alpuget Page B

inconvenient moments, lost things, and when he slept at Henry’s feet, farted – deliberately, Henry believed. He had already whacked the boy across the ear for wandering off without permission.
    ‘I asked him to teach me a few sentences but my pronunciation, I fear …’ It was a prompt for David to tell him what his challenge would be, but the old man just nodded and gave his thin-lipped smile.
    That evening he held a banquet at which he and Henry formally and publicly exchanged gifts. Henry had brought the King apectoral crucifix of lapis lazuli. David gave Henry an eating knife with a handle of deer horn mounted on finely wrought silver. He invited him to eat from his own silver platter and, heads close together, got to the point immediately.
    ‘If God be with us, my forces and Ranulf’s will take the whole country north of Humber and Trent. But what after that? Stephen is still England’s King, and weak. The country is disintegrating. The English baronage – even families of the trading class – are setting up petty fiefdoms. Catastrophe for England, but catastrophe for Scotland too. The only beneficiaries are the French.’
    ‘Who support and finance Stephen. It’s in the French interest for England to bleed. To death, if possible,’ Henry answered. ‘They’re happy to spend gold on a war they want to last forever.’
    ‘Precisely.’ The King stared hard at Henry, who dropped his gaze to his lap. Will he tell me now, he wondered. But David said nothing.
    ‘What of Prince Eustace?’ Henry asked. ‘I met him once and thought him … unstable.’
    ‘“My father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions,”’ the King replied.
    As a youth David had been considered barbarous because he came from the Highlands. But while he was still young his family had sent him to the court of the Lion to be educated, and there he had not only smoothed the wildness of his nature, but had adopted genuine Christian piety. He could never entirely master his emotions, however. Furious embarrassment flooded his face.
    ‘Henry, in the past few days I’ve had intelligence that Stephen’s highest objective now is to kill you to ensure the succession. Eustace is like a mad dog whenever he hears your name.’
    ‘Mad dogs die horrible deaths.’ Henry grinned.
    ‘That’s the spirit, lad! But meanwhile, there are young ladies here who’d like to make your acquaintance. You must be thinking of taking a wife by now. War eats money. You’ll need a fat dowry.’
    ‘The richer the girl, the prettier she is.’
    David gave a tight laugh. ‘I like a young man with his head screwed on. I thought you might be a bit … flighty.’
    Henry looked into the wily face. ‘I was flighty, sire. I was an arrogant, ignorant, ill-mannered and foolish boy when I attacked southern England two years ago. I’ve regretted it, and learned much.’
    ‘Including humility, it seems.’ There was a long pause. As if in afterthought he added, ‘Monks and knights discover their authority in the practice of humility.’ At the word ‘knights’ Henry’s heart began to pound. David must have said something more about heiresses, he realised, because at least a dozen were in line waiting their turn to step forward.
    Some were plump, some skinny, some plain, a few lovely, none elegant, but all, judging from their gowns and their jewels, from wealthy families. Among them were merchants’ daughters who spoke no Latin and such ungrammatical French they were incomprehensible. Henry stumbled through conversations in English with them, trying especially hard with a girl of creamy complexion who giggled when he raised an eyebrow at her. He kissed her hand but had to grab her when she began to swoon. Three girls, flushed with the drama, shepherded her back to her seat.
    David watched from the corner of his eye. ‘They’re all falling in love with you,’ he said. ‘And your brother.’
    Guillaume, he’d noted, was the cynosure of