Falconer and the Death of Kings Read Online Free PDF Page B

Acre. It had begun at the banquet laid on by Charles of Anjou in Sicily.
    After sampling some of the crane bird meat suggested by his wife, Edward had turned to her and whispered in her delicate ear.
    ‘Why do we have to sit with this man? He was diverted by a mere storm from continuing the Crusade after Louis’ death. He left me to campaign on my own.’
    Eleanor stroked his hand.
    ‘You should feel sorry for him. Look at his wife.’
    She inclined her head to Charles’s rather plump and sour-faced spouse, who was sitting further down the table. Edward laughed.
    ‘You are right. But, if I had a wife like that, I would not have hurried back from combat so quickly.’
    Eleanor joined in his laughter, rousing the curiosity of Charles, who sat the other side of Edward.
    ‘What amuses you, Edward?’
    Edward grinned mischievously.
    ‘I was reminding Eleanor of her prompt action when the Assassin stabbed me in Acre. She did not hesitate to lay her pretty lips on the wounds and suck the poison from me.’
    He looked at the smiling face of his wife, admiring the full red lips to which he referred. She, meanwhile, put on a solemn look. In fact, she had been carried weeping from the room when she saw him covered in blood after the attack, the wounds already beginning to turn black with poison. But Edward was into his stride, and embellished the story, which later was to precede them across Europe.
    ‘Yes, she sucked it from my many wounds, and spat it on the floor, not caring for her own safety. Would you not like your wife to have done similar?’
    Charles looked down the table at his wife’s thin lips, topped with the suspicion of a moustache. He smiled wanly and turned back to his other guests. Edward cheerfully shovelled more crane meat into his mouth.
    The next time he heard the story retold had been in Burgundy. The Count of Châlons had challenged him to a tourney while he was still in Italy. As a responsible king and crusader, he should have declined. As a man still in his prime, and mindful of the burden he was facing back in England, he accepted. Making sure he called many barons and earls to be at his side when he reached Châlons, he was ready. It had been just as well. There had been a feast the night before the tourney at which the count asked if it was true what he had heard about the attempt on Edward’s life.
    ‘And what was that?’ asked Edward with a faint smile on his lips.
    ‘That your wife struck the assailant down with the tripod stand of a table.’
    Edward maintained a straight face at the obvious and extreme exaggeration of the story he himself had begun. The very thought that the slender Eleanor could have lifted the heavy metal tripod off the ground at all was to him ridiculous. But he was happy to allow the myth to grow.
    ‘Oh, indeed. She may appear a small and weak woman, but childbearing has strengthened her beyond imagination. She lifted the tripod and brained the man.’
    The count’s eyes widened, and he looked at Eleanor with fresh admiration. Soon Edward could see that the story was being repeated along the table among the count’s guests. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his ankle, and he turned to look at his wife.
    ‘My dear, why did you kick me?’
    Eleanor made a moue with her lips.
    ‘Because you are beginning to make me sound like a muscly Amazon from the legends.’
    Edward leaned towards her.
    ‘That is because you are a legend, my dear. And don’t forget the tales say the Amazons bared their breasts in battle.’
    He felt the sharp pain in his ankle again.
    The next day the count had singled him out during the fray and had tried to drag him from his horse. The fighting, which was supposed to have been a display of chivalry, became serious. It was only the fact that Edward had his barons by his side in numbers that had saved the day. Edward miraculously escaped with hardly a scratch.
    Now, in Paris, he began to wonder if there had been a more sinister motive to the affray.