Elizabeth Chadwick Read Online Free PDF Page B

accusation is a lie, sire, and that he struck the first blow.” Fulke raised his hand to indicate his swollen nose and puffy eyes.
    John went from ashen to crimson. “You cheated and you were insolent,” he snarled.
    “I have never cheated in my life,” Fulke said hoarsely and brandished his shield. “My lord Prince talks of insolence, but what of insult!” He thrust the ruined surface toward Henry and the courtiers.
    “You tried to kill me!” John sputtered. “You threw me against the wall in a fit of rage!” His eyes darted around the circle of barons, seeking sympathy, and lit on Ranulf de Glanville. “You saw with your own eyes, my lord!”
    “I saw the aftermath,” de Glanville replied. “I doubt that whatever the provocation it was Fulke’s intention to kill you. He would be stupid to do so, and while he is often rash and hot-headed, he is no fool.”
    Fulke gave de Glanville a grateful look. “I hit out in self-defense,” he said, his shoulders heaving. “Lord John had already battered me with the chessboard and I had to stop him from doing it again.”
    “You stinking whoreson, that’s not—”
    “Hold your tongue!” Henry snapped, turning on John. “In truth I have never known you when you are not picking a quarrel over some imagined slight. If Fulke did any harm to you, then I suspect it is no more than you deserve. Come to me for justice, not favoritism.” He turned to the Justiciar. “Ranulf, see that my son receives a lesson in self-discipline. If the buckle end of a belt is involved, I will not be dismayed.”
    De Glanville raised one eyebrow, his composure unshaken. “Yes, sire.”
    John turned as white as a table napkin. “Papa, you would not.” His voice was torn between indignation and pleading.
    Henry took hold of John by the shoulders. “You are my youngest child.” His voice was almost weary now. “One day soon you must have lands settled upon you, but how can I give you the responsibilities of a ruler when you cannot even play a game of chess without squabbling?”
    John pulled away from his father. “Perhaps if I had the responsibility now, I would not need to squabble at chess,” he spat and, with a furious glare at Fulke that threatened retribution, stalked off in the direction of his chamber.
    Fulke looked at the floor, embarrassed, waiting for the King’s dismissal and perhaps a flogging of his own. In the aftermath of temper his legs felt weak and he was freshly aware of the pain in his face.
    Henry touched the damaged shield. “Take this to the armory and have it seen to,” he said. “Lord John’s privy purse will meet the cost.”
    “Thank you, sire, but I would rather pay for the mending myself.”
    “Have a care that your pride does not bring you down, Fulke FitzWarin,” he said quietly. “If it is the be-all, then it can become the end-all.”
    Fulke bowed and Henry moved on.
    De Glanville said, “I thought Lord Walter would have more sense than to let you wander about near the royal chamber.”
    “He did, sir, but I had to fetch my shield.”
    De Glanville looked suspicious. “He knows you are out then?”
    “He’s gone to the abbey,” Fulke answered, licking his lips. “With the Archdeacon of York.”
    “I see. In that case you had better hope that he is in a lenient mood when he returns.” The Justiciar flicked his hand in a gesture of dismissal.
    “Sir.” Fulke bowed and prepared to make his escape.
    “A word of warning, FitzWarin.”
    “Sir?” Fulke stopped and looked over his shoulder.
    “The King was right to warn you about pride. If I were you, I would tread very carefully. Prince John will bear you a grudge for today’s incident, and he has a very long memory.”
    Fulke hefted the ruined shield so that it protected his body from shoulder to shin. “So do I, sir,” he said.

3
    Lambourn Manor, January 1185
    Hawise FitzWarin opened bleary eyes on the morning—at least she assumed it was morning from the stealthy sounds