“I dress myself out of my own coin, not my lord’s.” William’s tone was gritty with anger. “The only gifts of clothes I receive from him are the usual ones at Michaelmas and Christmas. The rest I earn myself on the tourney field.”
“I didn’t…”
“When I was de Tancarville’s knight I had to sell my cloak to make ends meet. I swore that I would never be in that position again, and I’ve worked at what I do best to keep that oath. Yes, I accept largesse from my lord, but I earn my keep; I’m no squanderer of his coin.” William swallowed and made a conscious effort to relax his clenched fists. He knew that when he had time to think at leisure rather than reacting to the moment, he would find much of what John was saying to him made sense.
“Then you should make it clear to the King, for he thinks that the money from his son’s coffers is all draining into yours. His health’s been poor and his temper as sour as verjuice since he lost Rosamund de Clifford.”
“I will not go justifying my expenditure to ward off petty gossip,” William said curtly. “Either the King knows my nature by now or he doesn’t. If he hadn’t trusted me, he would never have appointed me to the Young King’s household in the first place.”
“That was Queen Eleanor’s doing. He sees you as much her man as you are the Young King’s or his—and that’s true, isn’t it?” John spread his hands. “All I am saying is that you have made enemies as well as friends and you would be foolish not to heed what is being said about you.”
William paced to the end of the room and stared at the intricate stitchwork on the wall hanging. “The Young King is only staying with his father until Easter,” he said. “In truth I will be glad to return to Normandy and follow the tourneys. At least there I can meet my opponents helm to helm instead of fighting a murk of words.”
“You cannot do that for ever,” John said.
“No, but it suffices for now.” William turned to face his brother’s anxiety and censure. “I can look after myself,” he said. “I’ve survived the mêlée of court intrigue thus far.”
“You’ve been lucky,” John muttered darkly.
The conversation was curtailed by the arrival of Ancel who had been absent on administrative duties in Wantage. “It’s good to see you!” The young man strode up to William and embraced him with vigour. “We keep hearing of your tourney wins across the Narrow Sea, don’t we, John?”
Expression pained, John made a non-committal sound. Oblivious, Ancel continued: “Was it true that your helmet got stuck and you had to have a blacksmith prise it off?”
William chuckled. “Yes, that’s true. And when he did, I found a squire and two knights belonging to the Count of Champagne waiting to present me with a fresh pike!”
“I wish I could have been there! Is it also true about you and that herald of Philip of Flanders?”
“That depends,” William said cautiously.
“That he made up a song on the tourney field with the chorus ‘Marshal, give me a horse’ and that you jumped on your stallion, knocked some poor competitor off his destrier, and brought the horse to the herald.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true as well.” William rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to be embarrassed.
Ancel looked at William with shining eyes. “Do you think there’d be room for me in the Young King’s mesnie?”
John spluttered. William continued to rub the back of his neck. “As it happens, there might be,” he said thoughtfully. “One of the Normans has recently come into an inheritance and left the mesnie, so we’re a knight short.” He looked at Ancel, whose tail would have been wagging his rump off had he been a dog. “Don’t hope too hard,” he warned. “You’ll need to earn your place. It’ll be on merit alone and there will be fierce competition. Even if you are my brother, I cannot afford to carry dead weight.”
“You haven’t seen me fight. I’ll earn my place and more.” Ancel’s complexion was flushed and his breathing swift.
John heaved a sigh and threw up his hands. “I will say no more. There’s no point in shouting at the deaf.” He turned to Ancel. “I knew you’d go. You’ve been like a fledged swallow clinging to the eaves for far too long. But don’t blame me if you fly too close to the sun and singe your wings.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.” William gave his youngest brother a friendly cuff.
“That doesn’t reassure me,” John growled.
“I thought you were going to say no more?”
“I’m not. Just don’t provoke me. One of us needs the sense he was born with.”
“And the other two already have it.” William ducked as Ancel responded to the cuff by launching at him and for a moment they indulged in a bout of play-wrestling that left John shaking his head in despair and exasperation. However, despite the provocation, he managed to keep his mouth shut, even when his son ran into the room, stared at his uncles in astonishment, and then joined in with a howl of glee. Alais began laughing. John looked at her, then at the brawl. “You are all mad,” he said.
William returned to court by way of Salisbury and Queen Eleanor. Ancel was incandescent with excitement as they rode over the bridge and into the courtyard. William kept a straight face but inside he was chuckling, for Ancel, at six and twenty, was behaving like a green squire in his first year of service. At that age, William had already seen epic battle, had been a hostage, a courtier, and given charge of the military training of the heir to England and Normandy. “Remember to treat the Queen as if she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and you will not go far wrong,” William told his brother as they dismounted before the hall of whitewashed stone. He allowed himself a grin as the grooms took the horses away to the stables. “Don’t worry, the Queen is indeed one of the most beautiful women in the world. Age may have creased her loveliness, but it hasn’t withered it. You won’t have to lie.”
The brothers entered the great hall and William saw that as well as Eleanor’s usher and the watchful guards whose task it was to make sure that the Queen’s captivity remained just that, there were other servants whose faces were familiar. A swift enquiry brought forth the detail that, yes, the Young Queen was visiting her mother-by-marriage and she and Eleanor were closeted together in the royal apartments.
William was pleased. “Auspicious,” he said. “It is not every day that you get two queens for the price of one.” Ancel nervously plucked a lingering dog hair from his best tunic of dark red wool. “There is no need to fuss,” William said as he noticed the gesture. “They are both used to King Henry looking like a peasant. You’re presentable, and that’s enough.”
They waited in the hall while the usher sent a servant to inform the women of their arrival. William went among the men he knew, talking to them, picking up the new threads of court gossip. There was nothing about himself and no sign of an atmosphere, he was pleased to note. The act of leaving court to spend time with his family had obviously removed his own particular cooking pot from the fire—for the moment at least. He introduced Ancel to some of the men and then made his way over to Baldwin de Béthune.
