Free Mary Gillgannon by The Leopard

courtyard abustle with activity. It appeared the King was preparing to depart on a hunt. There were valets busily polishing hunting spears, horns and other implements of the chase, grooms leading magnificently caparisoned chargers and palfreys, falconers seated on the stone benches allowing their hooded falcons to bask in the sun’s rays, and huntsmen leashing in shaggy wolfhounds, slender coursing dogs and wiry vulperets.
    Astra gaped at the splendid confusion, feeling like more of a backwards country girl than ever. Despite the fine horse she rode, she was sweaty and disheveled, and her bliaut was coated with a layer of dust.
    They left their horses at the palace stables and set off on foot toward the part of the palace that housed the Queen’s chambers. Foot-sore and weary, Astra lagged behind. By the time she caught up with Marguerite and Lord Fitz Hugh, she could hear shouting.
    “What do you mean there is no room?” Marguerite’s father bellowed at a put-upon-looking royal official. “I have brought my daughter to wait upon the Queen. She must stay at the palace.”
    “I’m sorry,” the small man said. His fingers plucked nervously at his soiled crimson tunic. “Many of the Queen’s relatives are visiting London, and she insists they be housed at Westminster. There is very little space left.”
    “This is outrageous! I sent word of my arrival weeks ago. I have a good mind to take this to the King himself.” Lord Fitz Hugh started to brush by the man.
    “Wait!” the clerk begged. “There must be something left, perhaps a small chamber. Please stay here while I inquire.”
    As soon as the man left, Marguerite leaned close to her father and grumbled, “The Queen’s relatives—they are not even English. How dare Henry allow them to take precedence over his own nobles?” Lord Fitz Hugh nodded, while Astra stared, amazed that anyone would dare to criticize the King of England.
    In time, the man returned and informed Lord Fitz Hugh that sleeping chambers had been found. Fitz Hugh thanked him heartily, and a servant came to lead them into the palace. They were escorted down a narrow, moldy hall to a small corner room. It contained little more than an unlit brazier, some cupboards, a curtained bed and a smaller pallet on the floor. The servant departed to fetch them water. Astra sank down gratefully on the bed and began to remove her soiled linen headdress.
    “I suppose it will do,” Marguerite groused. She glanced around the tiny room critically. “Last time we were in London, we had much finer accommodations.” She made a sour face. “It seems the steward spoke the truth. The better rooms are all taken up by the Queen’s relatives. They have descended upon London like a plague of locusts, and neither of the royal couple will turn even one away.”
    “Surely it is normal for the King and Queen to want their family around them,” Astra ventured.
    Marguerite raised her eyebrows. “There are many who feel that positions of power and influence should go to Englishmen instead of greedy foreigners. It is one of the reasons King Henry is in trouble with his barons.”
    “In trouble?” Astra asked in surprise.
    Even though they were alone, Marguerite lowered her voice as she answered. “There are those who talk of dealing with Henry as they did King John at Runnymede. They say Henry should be forced to abide by the Magna Charta as his father was compelled to promise.”
    Astra felt a tightness in her chest. “Forced? Do you mean there will be war?”
    Marguerite shrugged. “If it happens, it will be a long time coming. The barons are too busy squabbling among themselves to unite for a common cause. Still, it is true Henry is not a popular king, and Queen Eleanor is liked even less.”
    Astra felt her stomach grow tight with dread. Her father had lost nearly everything during the intrigue of King John’s reign, and she had determined some time ago that she would have nothing to do with politics. Now she