Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,283

another man’s child? “I must sound like such a fool,” he mumbled, “whining about having a crown and a beautiful woman forced upon me. Thank you, Uncle, for hearing me out without laughing in my face.”

With that, he started to rise. Richard waved him down again. “We are not done yet, lad. I understand now why the prospect of a kingship brings you so little joy. So let’s talk about Isabella. Why are you so loath to wed her? Is it because of the baby? Do you fear you might not be able to care for another man’s son?”

Henri was grateful for Richard’s blunt speaking. “That is part of it, yes. But it is not just that. Conrad did not care that he had an unhappy, unwilling wife. I do. Mayhap it would not matter so much if we were back in Champagne, but here . . .”

“I thought you said you’d been assured she was willing to wed you?”

“What else are they going to say, Uncle? Tell me she has taken to her bed, weeping, cursing her lot in life? How can she be willing? Christ, this is the second time she’d be wed against her will! For all I know, she still loves Humphrey de Toron.”

“I find that highly unlikely,” Richard said, with unkind candor. “I take it, then, that you have not talked to Isabella yet?”

Henri looked somewhat embarrassed. “No, I insisted upon leaving straightaway, saying I could make no decision until I’d consulted with you. I suppose I should have gone to see her ere I left, but in truth, I did not want to face her. I did not know what to say. . . .”

Neither did Richard. “It seems to me,” he said after a long pause, “that she might well see you as a considerable improvement over Conrad. So . . . you’ve told me why you are reluctant. Tell me now why you would consent.”

“For the same reason you are still here in Outremer, Uncle, even though you now know your own kingdom is at great risk.”

After that, they lapsed into silence, each man preoccupied with thoughts that were none too pleasant. “I have not been much help, have I?” Richard said at last, and Henri gave him his first real smile.

“No, not much,” he agreed. “I do not suppose you’d be willing to forbid me . . . ?” It was a joke, but not entirely. “I am sorry, Henri,” Richard said, with a rueful smile of his own. “No one can make that decision for you.”

“I know. . . .” Henri leaned back so that he was cloaked in shadows. “But you do think I ought to accept it.”

“Yes,” Richard said, “I do.”

TWILIGHT IN THE HOLY LAND never lingered, offering a brief interlude between the dramatic acts put on by daylight and darkness. On this Monday in early May, it unobtrusively slipped onstage after a sunset that had been magnificent even by Outremer standards, spangling the cresting waves in crimson and gilding the occasional cloud in a crown of gold. Dusk soon muted those garish, resplendent colors, a soft lilac haze blurring the outlines of the shore. But by the time Henri’s galley was within sight of Tyre, the sky was shading from dark blue to ebony and he could hear the city’s churches ringing in Compline.

The iron chain had already been stretched across the harbor, but it was lowered with record haste as soon as the ship’s master identified his passengers. Some of Henri’s knights nudged one another and grinned, already anticipating the royal privileges that their lord would soon be enjoying. Others were subdued and silent, those already in mourning for their lost homeland. Henri meant to offer them all a choice, just as Richard had done, but he knew a strong sense of duty would compel many of them to stay with him. It was a two-edged sword, able to cut both ways—duty.

Morgan had joined him in the bow, and they watched together as a star streaked toward the distant horizon. “If you died tomorrow,” Morgan said in a low voice, “they would still find a husband for the Lady Isabella.”

“And I should be happy about that because . . . ?”

“I was just reminding you that being the ‘ideal choice’ and being the ‘only choice’ are not one and the same.”

“I know . . . but I cannot disappoint Richard and God, too. Mayhap one of them, but both?” Henri glanced at the Welshman, a smile