Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,186
nothing regal about him. His expression was open, with a slight curve to his lips, and there was not an iota of tension in the language of his body or the set of his jaw.
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“Dear God, he looks like the Angevin but without the gilding,” William Martel muttered into his chest.
“He also resembles his grandsire, the empress’s father,” Will said. Despite Stephen’s remark, he did not think this young man was a fool at all. Indeed, he thought it might just be the other way around.
“Sire.” Henry went down on one knee to Stephen and bent his head. “My lord uncle,” he said in a light, adolescent voice.
Stephen cleared his throat. “Nephew,” he responded. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Henry gave them all a smile as bright as the sun. “I thought to pay my respects before I returned home,” he said. “I have only ever been told my mother’s side of matters and my uncle Robert’s, and I want to find out for myself.”
“Is that so?” Stephen said, but his lips were twitching.
Will was amused too, and taken aback at the youth’s daring in walking into the lion’s den. It was a rash move, but not without its merits. Will found himself approving of the youngster, even while he should have been appalled. It was good news that he was leaving, but the motive for being here, spoken with such an open, smiling countenance, was perhaps suspect.
“And what makes you think you will return home?” Stephen asked, but cleared a space at the trestle for Henry to sit. “Why should I not take you prisoner or dispose of you now that you have put yourself in my power?”
“Because I am your nephew and your guest and the rules of hospitality are sacred,” Henry said. “Because I have come under a flag of truce to talk.”
Stephen raised his eyebrows. “To talk about what?” Henry shrugged. “You have only heard rumours about me from my own side. Perhaps you want to find out about me too.
If I were you, I would.”
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“Perhaps Cricklade and Purton speak for themselves,” Stephen said mockingly.
“That was folly; I realise that now. I should not have attacked them.”
A servant arrived with food and drink for the “guest” and Henry set to with an adolescent’s hunger and a complete lack of self-consciousness.
“Is this to spite your mother?” Stephen asked. “Or perhaps to make her pay attention to you?”
“Not at all,” Henry said between rotations of his jaw. “She will be vexed when she hears about this, but I do my best to fulfil my duty towards her.” He paused and rested his knife against the side of his dish. “And anyway, she is right; I should leave England.”
ttt
Henry displayed no inclination to leave straight away, however.
Indeed, he settled his feet under Stephen’s table, making himself agreeable and amenable to all. He took part in the roistering of the court at night with a ribald, masculine sense of humour that everyone appreciated, including Stephen, who rose to the challenge. Henry undertook wrestling matches with the older squires and displayed tremendous aptitude and skill.
He conversed with the barons and chaplains, revealing the depth of his education and intelligence. He even proved an adept dancer.
Will wondered what Matilda had thought of his relaxed ways and mannerisms, the direct opposite of her stiff regard for propriety. Henry would sit on a stool, knees apart, cup dangling between them, and talk as easily to the pot boy as he did to the king. Henry had his own opinions but was eager to listen and learn, being deferential without ever losing face. And always the big smile and the constant energy. He sustained himself on very little sleep and wore everyone out. He would ride out for 462
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a day’s hunting and still be fresh at the end of it despite many rigorous hours in the saddle. Beside him, Stephen’s own swift energy appeared as a diminished trickle dwarfed by a strong silver waterfall.
On the third evening of his visit, Henry sat down in a window embrasure with Will to play chess. “How is my grandmother the queen?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“She is well,” Will replied, not seeing any need to discuss Adeliza’s fragile health.
“And all my little uncles and aunts?” Will grunted with amusement. “All are thriving,” he said.
“Your youngest uncle was born just a few weeks ago on the feast of