For the King's Favor Read Online Free PDF Page A

a mingling of grey on blue, and they too reminded her of a north coast seashore. Perhaps that was where his essence came from, blown into Framlingham on the stormy night of his conception, for there was little of Hugh to see in him. She noted that he wore both sword and spurs and although his tunic and person were clean, an aroma of hot horse clung to him.
    “It has been too long,” she said, “far too long.” Reaching out to touch the side of his face she thought with regret of all the years that might have been and never were. Hugh had banned her from seeing Roger after the annulment and Walkelin had made it clear that Hugh of Norfolk’s spawn was not welcome at Greenwich. Hedingham, the abode of Juliana’s brother, Aubrey, Earl of Oxford, was neutral territory and a place where mother and son could meet on rare occasions like this.
    “Have you travelled far?” She signalled a loitering servant to bring wine and drew him to the window seat where she had been sewing.
    “From the King’s camp at Sileham.”
    “Ah.” She waited while the attendant fetched cups and a platter of spiced marrow tarts. “You are with the King then?”
    “Yes, madam.” He drank some wine and ate one of the tarts. She suspected that he was ravenous, although he was being politely restrained—unlike his father. Control, she thought. He had that from her…and his ability to be still in the storm. She had heard about his prowess at the battle of Fornham in the autumn. Aubrey said the victory had been overwhelming despite odds of four to one and that Roger had borne the banner of Saint Edmund into battle and fought out of his skin.
    “Your father…” She stopped herself with a sip of wine. There was no point in being corrosive; it was in the past and she would never vent her spleen on her son. She had heard that following the defeat at Fornham, Hugh had bought off the justiciar and paid a thousand marks to make a truce. Whatever his claims of persecution and impoverishment under King Henry’s rule, he remained one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. Being what he was, her former husband had used that truce to make his own pacts with the Flemish. More mercenaries had arrived, better trained this time, and he had taken them to Norwich and sacked the city. As usual, he had overreached himself and underestimated the King. She had daily cause to be glad her marriage to him had been annulled, even if she was no longer a countess. Let Gundreda have those gauds and suffer Hugh’s brutish demands. Her one regret was losing her child.
    “…has dug his own grave with his shovel of greed, and perhaps mine with it,” Roger said grimly. “He’s been commanded to submit to the King and he must because the rebellion has failed and there’s no one left to stand beside him.”
    Juliana knitted her brows. “Why do you say he has dug your grave too? Surely the way you have fought in the King’s service this past year will stand you in good credit?”
    “The surrender terms are punitive. My father’s treachery cancels out my loyal service to Henry. Burning Norwich was the final straw. The King won’t leave him the wherewithal to rebel again.”
    “And the terms are?” She looked at him over her cup, striving to appear detached and serene.
    “He is to send all of his mercenaries back to Flanders and he is to pay another fine—I don’t know how much, but it won’t be small…”
    She waited, knowing there was more because what he had said thus far was surmountable.
    “The King intends to raze Framlingham.”
    Juliana’s brows arched towards the fluted edge of her wimple. “What?”
    “All the defences are to be destroyed.” He gave her a sick look. “Henry’s employing the carpenters even now and he’s put the work into the hands of Ailnoth his senior engineer. Bungay’s threatened too, although Henry hasn’t decided yet. Certainly he’ll garrison it with his own men. He’s also going to withhold the third penny of the shire