The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean - Страница 20

He had inherited none of his father’s attributes, except his quick temper. Henry smiled to remember how he and Rufus when they were boys had thrown dirty water down from a balcony onto Robert and his friends and how Robert had been so incensed that he was ready to kill them and might well have done so if their father had not intervened. If he had harmed them he would never have forgiven himself. That was Robert’s nature. He acted without thinking and then had to suffer remorse. He was unlike either of his brothers—most of all Henry.

Henry was too clever not to know himself, and that he was the most fitted to rule of all his brothers. His father had sensed that, for on his death bed he had shown a certain satisfaction in the belief that in the end both England and Normandy would come to Henry. He knew that Henry, cool and calculating, with a scholar’s understanding and a lawyer’s astuteness, would hold together the family’s possessions with greater skill than either of his elder brothers.

But the waiting was long. Rufus was in good health. It was true that when he was enraged his face grew scarlet and the veins knotted at his temples and Henry had seen men drop dead when thus affected. But hot temper was no sure sign that death was imminent. Rufus merely had their father’s temper, and his avariciousness, his skill—or some of it—in battle, his courage and determination to hold on to what he had. But he lacked the Conqueror’s love of detail, his meticulous attention to the seemingly small matters which were in fact the foundations on which his rule was built; he lacked the passion for good rule and for justice.

All his sons, except perhaps one, thought Henry, lacked the essential qualities which had built William the Conqueror’s domain and made him the greatest man of the age.

And now was the time for Henry to take over—now while Robert was in the Holy Land and Normandy was in pawn, now while the English were dissatisfied with Rufus, now while Anselm had been dismissed and was fulminating about the manner in which the King of England lived, while the names Sodom and Gomorrah were mentioned and the court of the English King was likened to those cities.

Yes, now was the time for Henry to take over the realm, but between him and the throne stood Rufus.

He thought a little of the virginal Princess to whom he had talked of marriage. She was in love with him already. She would be submissive. He liked a little spirit in his women; on the other hand variety was always enticing; and marriage would be a new adventure.

He would ride now over the border to Wales and visit Nesta; he had need of her company; he would like to see their son too. He would talk to her of the country’s growing dissatisfaction with Rufus. They might be able to plan together. But Nesta was a wise woman; she would know that if he married it might be necessary to terminate their relationship. Although he could continue with his causal sexual encounters he could scarcely live as openly as he had been doing with Nesta. As yet though he need not consider that but could give himself up to the satisfaction of Nesta’s bed and counsel.

There was always a welcome for Henry at the castle of Rhys ap Tewdur. Rhys, who was King of Deheubarth, was glad to be on such good terms with the brother of the English King. He felt this gave him an added protection, for his little realm was in constant danger of attack.

Henry was the lover of his daughter, the voluptuous Nesta, and Henry was going to be King of England in due course. Rufus, by his very nature, would as certainly as Edward the Confessor beget no children. So in due course it seemed likely that Henry would be King.

Henry rode into the courtyard where he was received with deference by the grooms and very soon the news of his arrival was spread throughout the castle. Rhys came down to welcome him and it was not long before Nesta arrived.

He stared at her with pleasure. She was a goodly sight. No matter what she wore she was beautiful in an entirely sexual manner. There was about Nesta an eternal air of promise. No

matter how intimate a man became with her—and he could be very intimate indeed—there was always about Nesta a suggestion of as yet unexplored experiences, of sensations not yet probed. Moreover each lover was made to feel that there had never been and never could be any like him. This was the secret of her great fascination. No man could look on Nesta and not feel flattered by her.

Rhys said: ‘This is a happy day.’ And Henry had seized Nesta in a hungry embrace which indicated that he wished an early retirement to the bedchamber.

Nesta smiled in her lazy manner, implying that she was not averse to such a suggestion, and under the admiring gaze of Rhys and Gwladys her mother, who was a pale shadow of her daughter, they retired at once to Nesta’s chamber.

Temporarily satisfied, Henry lay on the bed and watched Nesta indolently lolling beside him, her magnificent hair seductively arranged to half-conceal her body.

She smiled at him, taking in his attractions, and if the greatest of these was perhaps the crown which could one day adorn his luxuriant black locks he was comely enough; a good and practised lover, she had long decided, and one of her best.

‘What brings you to Deheubarth?’ she asked him idly.

‘What a question. Have I not told you with considerable eloquence?’

‘There are women in England.’

‘But Nesta is in Wales.’

She was satisfied with the reply for she knew that although he took women wherever he fancied them, and he fancied frequently, he could never have had such a mistress as she was.

‘I notice though,’ she said, ‘that you are thoughtful. You brood. What schemes are in your head?’

‘The usual thoughts are there,’ he said. ‘My brother lives too long.’

‘He has strange habits.’

‘Ranulf Flambard is still his shadow. He dotes on the fellow. The people hate Flambard as much as they hate Rufus.’

‘You think that they would like Henry and his favourite Nesta better?’

‘You are a thousand times more beautiful than Flambard and the people understand a mistress. They like not Rufus’s way of life.’

‘They fear him though.’

‘As subjects should fear their kings. My father taught them and us that.’

‘And so my Henry grows impatient, but impatience alone will not solve his problems.’

Henry spread his hands helplessly. ‘What can I do but wait?’

She laughed at him. ‘Waiting was never a trick of yours.’

‘In love, nay.’

‘They say waiting too long quenches desire.’

‘I have waited long for the crown and my desire for it grows each day.’

‘And if it came to you what of me?’

‘You would come to Winchester or Westminster to be with me constantly.’

‘They would expect you to marry.’

He looked at her covertly. ‘Rufus has not.’

‘Nay, and look at him! His brother is ready to murder him for the crown. His son if he had one might have waited in a decorous manner.’

‘My ancestors favoured their children by their mistresses. My father himself was a bastard.’

‘But you and your brothers were born in respectable wedlock, and I doubt not the Conqueror’s example will be followed in this matter as in everything else.’

‘If I were King I should follow my father’s rules only where it seemed wise to do so.’

‘What of our little Robert?’

‘How is the boy?’

‘Eager for a glimpse of his father.’

‘Then I must needs make much of him.’

‘There is time after you have made much of his mother.’

‘Why, Nesta,’ he said, ‘you grow more desirable every time I see you.’

‘My fascination is not the only thing that grows.’ She patted her body. ‘Soon your seed will be grown so big it will be apparent to all who behold me.’

‘Mine!’

‘Whose else? I reckon I am four months with child. Which means it happened during your last visit. That is a long time to stay away from me, Henry.’