Rhiannon Read Online Free PDF Page B

had been wrong to oppose attending the
council. Really, there was no other way to determine who pulled the strings
causing this unhappy dance. He found, however, when he and Sybelle joined the
larger group, that they were discussing a danger he had never considered. The
council might be a trap for those who opposed the king’s—or Winchester’s—will.
Since there were many ways to spring such a trap, the family’s forces were
divided. Alinor, Joanna, and Gilliane would remain in Roselynde to rally their
husbands’ vassals should the need arise. Sybelle alone would accompany the men
of the family to run Alinor’s house on the northwest bank of the Thames and see
to their comfort.
     
    They had barely settled into the house on the ninth of July
when Walter de Clare rode in. He had had a man watching to notify him of
Geoffrey’s arrival, and it was clear that he was surprised to see the male
contingent in full force. He was even more surprised to see Sybelle, and after
his first sensation of pleasure, he was not pleased.
    “I do not know whether it is wise for you to be here, any of
you—except Lord Geoffrey,” Walter said, “and especially not you, Lady Sybelle.”
    Sybelle started to ask why not her especially, but her
father gestured abruptly for her to be silent and she acquiesced, realizing
this was no time to discuss the right of a woman to share her menfolk’s danger.
    “What do you mean?” Ian asked. “We were summoned to the
council for July eleventh. Is it not to be?”
    “Most likely not,” Walter replied. “Had you not heard that
nearly all the lords have refused to come unless Henry dismisses the Bishop of
Winchester and Peter of Rivaulx?”
    “Again?” Geoffrey asked. “But this was the same message they
sent on the Feast of Saint John, when they refused to come to Oxford. All that
happened was that the king grew so furious he was about to issue a decree
compelling attendance and cry outlawry on those who failed to comply. Who is
here?”
    “Cornwall, Norfolk, Ferrars… It is said Pembroke is on his
way.”
    “Fools!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “If they are to be declared
outlaw, at least they should have their say for it. Henry will—”
    “I told you I should have sent word to my vassals to shut
themselves into their keeps,” Adam growled.
    “Gilliane will see to it if it is necessary,” Sybelle
soothed.
    Walter looked at the most attractive woman he knew as if she
had sprouted a second head, then glanced at Adam to see whether he would laugh
at the joke. Adam, however, merely nodded acknowledgment. He knew Gilliane
would do what was necessary. His statement had been a mark of irritation, not
an expression of a real anxiety. Before Walter could remark on so startling an
idea, he was diverted by Ian.
    “Men do vent their rage when they can,” Ian remarked. “Thus,
if they have not come, it is fear, not rage, that restrains them. I have heard
the lesser men say that there is a plan to seize those without strong
overlords, to disseisin them, and to send Poitevins or other foreigners to take
their lands.”
    “That is ridiculous,” Geoffrey said.
    Walter nodded. “Cornwall and Ferrars are worried, but not
about such a thing as that. They talk to Henry and he wavers toward giving
assurances that he will proceed only according to strict law. Then the Bishop
of Winchester gets at him and tells him that he will be a laughingstock,
forever shamed as a weakling, if he yields. But there is this shadow of a
substance to the fear you mentioned, Lord Ian. Isabella tells me that there are
foreigners in court—men with considerable retinues, although what they live on
is a puzzle—and they flatter Henry and tell him that they would not so defy him
if they were his vassals.”
    “This is madness,” Ian sighed. “Henry is behaving like a
child—”
    “Which is not exactly unusual,” Sybelle snapped, thrusting a
goblet of wine into Walter’s hand.
    Walter was so surprised by her