“Hugh de Burgh,” John slammed his chalice to a table, missed it, and it clattered to the floor. “I will punish that man, I swear on my father’s grave. He defies me, my old tutor. I will strip him of everything my father ever granted him and call it swift justice.”
John’s rage was up. If it became worse, he would throw himself down on the rushes in fits. It was important that he remain in control, important for his cause that he put on a strong appearance. No doubt nearly every man de Lara named would be in attendance at the feast tonight and they must see nothing other than a collected monarch. Sean glanced at Gerard, the great hairy beast of a man, and with a silent gesture sent him in search of the physic. He was well aware of the signs of impending convulsions.
The nobles sensed this as well. De Lara took a step towards the group and immediately the men moved to vacate the chamber. There was a feast awaiting and much plotting to attend to. They would leave de Lara to calm the king.
When the room was empty and John sat twitching in his chair, Sean took a moment to study the man. He was attempting to assess just how close he was to seizures.
“Sire,” he said quietly. “You needn’t worry over those who would oppose you. Your loyalists are just as strong. This is an old story and an old issue. We have dealt with worse. The monarchy will prevail, I assure you. It always has.”
“But the church stands against me,” John was salivating as he spoke. “Worcester, Coventry and Bath are in London, no doubt to assist the barons in plotting my downfall.”
“They are men of the church, sire. Perhaps they are merely in London on papal business.”
John grunted. “The church has ever been against me. And that nasty little business a few years ago…”
“Your excommunication was short-lived, sire.”
“But I had to prostitute myself and my country in order to please that bastard, our gracious, sympathetic and illustrious pope,” John’s rage was gaining again. “He damn near emptied our coffers with his demand for tribute. But it was of no avail. The man isstillagainst me.”
“Even if that is the case, sire, you count the bishops of York, Northumberland and Chester among your allies. They understand your vision for England and for her holdings.”
“Pah. They understand nothing but tribute and penance. I must pay for the sins of my father and those before him. That is the foundation of their hatred, you know. The sins of my entire family. ’Tis not just my political stance that has provoked the abhorrence of the church.”
He was speaking with the petulance of a child, exaggerated, with dribble flying from his lips. Sean knew that paroxysms were imminent. His next words were specifically designed.
“As you say, sire.”
“Of course I say. The church is full of idiots and mercenaries.”
“The church favors those who pay well for its loyalty, sire. And I have heard that Northumberland has been well-courted by William Marshall as of late.”
John’s eyes widened. “My brother’s chancellor? He lures my greatest supporter?”
“Money is sometimes greater than faith, my lord. Or the love of a king.”
John’s rage exploded and he was twitching on the rushes by the time the royal physic arrived.
CHAPTER TWO
“…Lo, there did I see my destiny when I gazed across the room on that fateful night….”
The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara
1206 – 1215 A.D.
“Did you everimagine what Adonis must look like?”
Alys was lying horizontal on the great bed that she shared with her sister. She was half-dressed for the evening meal, most of her time having been spent in the land of silly daydreams. Sheridan had been attempting to hurry her up for the better part of two hours. But Alys moved, as always, on her own time.
“No,” Sheridan was gazing into a polished bronze mirror that was strategically affixed to the chamber wall. “I have not imagined that. And you should not waste your time. You must finish dressing or I swear that I will leave without you. The bishop will be here at any moment.”
Alys turned to watch her sister as she pulled a bonecomb through her silky dark-blond tresses. Sheridan’s hair was thick and straight, while Alys had more natural curl than she could handle. Still, Sheridan was able to roll her hair with strips of cloth at night, resulting in cascades of curls for the following day. In a world where beauty was judged on natural attributes, Sheridan often felt inadequate as far as her hair was concerned. But she did possess the loveliness of face and figure so as not to feel completely unattractive.
Alys never thought her sister was unattractive. In fact, she was proud and jealous of her beauty at the same time. She finallydecided to push herself off the bed and go in search of her hose, which could take some time to locate. She was a messy girl and her clothes were generally strewn all over the room.
“Surely my savior has the face meant for Adonis, do not you think?” Alys bent over when she came across her shoe. “Did you not notice how handsome he was?”
Sheridan was in the process of pulling the front section of her hair back and securing it with an enormous comb in the shape of a butterfly. “I noticed how big he was, to be certain. The man was three times your size.”
