Shari Anton - Lord Of The Manor

She hadn’t begged forgiveness, but the king seemed pleased with her flattery. How odd that she had Basil to thank for telling her of the king’s susceptibility.

“What petition?”

A bit more sure of how to go about asking favor from Henry, she chose her words with care.

“I seek a protector for Philip. I would have him raised in a noble house whose loyalty to the crown is unquestioned, that he might learn the ways of the court and earn his knighthood. Someday, God willing, Philip might then serve his king as a loyal and true subject.”

“Ah, but will he, Sire?” came a male voice. “Basil’s tainted blood flows in the boy, and surely blood will tell.”

Lucinda glanced in the speaker’s direction. A raven-haired man broke through the crowd. Immediately behind him strode Richard. Beyond all reason, she wanted to reach out to Richard, to give him some explanation of her actions on the road. To him she would have apologized for what he and his family had suffered at Basil’s hand.

The raven-haired speaker was likely Stephen of Wilmont, the youngest of the three brothers. Now, not only must she convince the king of her plan’s validity, but do so over Wilmont’s objection.

“We do not recall asking your opinion,” the king admonished Stephen.

Stephen bowed to Henry. “I beg your indulgence if I overstep, Sire, but I feel obligated to speak out. Wilmont endured much due to Basil’s treachery. Richard is fortunate to have survived Basil’s attempt to do murder. And even now, three years after their kidnapping, Gerard’s wife and son suffer nightmares of their mistreatment at Basil’s hands. Surely, Sire, you can understand my concern.”

What kidnapping? What other horrors had Basil inflicted on those of Wilmont which she knew nothing about? What obscenities had he committed upon an innocent woman he deemed an enemy?

Was Stephen right? Would blood tell? Would Philip grow up to be just like his father, viciously cruel, simply because Basil had fathered him?

She refused to believe it.

“Majesty,” she said, drawing the king’s attention. “I know that those of Wilmont have sound reasons to hate Basil. Philip, however, was but three summers old when his father died, too young for Basil to have had a lasting influence on the boy. And my son also carries my blood, both noble and untainted. Would not the proper counsel of a stalwart protector prove the stronger influence on how Philip grows to manhood? Majesty,” she continued, hating the plea in her voice but unable to help it, “must the sins of the father be held against the son?”

“Trust a woman to think so unsoundly,” Stephen said. “Bad seed is bad seed, passed through the male line. Sire, if you will allow, I will arrange for Basil’s widow and son to sail to Normandy. If she has not the coin to pay, I will.”

Lucinda strongly objected. “If I return to my family, my father will send Philip to Basil’s family to be raised. Philip will but learn the same lessons as Basil learned, those of cruelty and deceit. Majesty, I beg you not to sentence my son to the fate of his father.”

“My offer stands, Sire,” Stephen said.

Silence reigned. Henry hadn’t said a word during her argument with Stephen. She had no idea to which side he leaned. The king looked hard at Stephen and Richard, then turned to Lucinda.

“If our memory serves us,” the king said, “we recall that Basil had lands in Normandy, which should rightfully now belong to your son. Who would now control those lands?”

“I assume Basil’s cousin, George.”

“Ah…another noble of questionable loyalty and judgment. You did well to keep the boy from his influence.” The king shifted on his throne. “So whoever we name protector must have the means to fight George, if necessary, to collect the rents due from the boy’s lands, and thus the protector’s reward for accepting Philip until the boy is of age.”

She nodded, her hopes for a favorable judgment rising. The king seemed to understand her position and was leaning in her favor.

“We know of several men capable,” the king continued. “Our concern is that given the added wealth, those men might also challenge Wilmont for control of Basil’s former English lands, on the child’s behalf. We want peace among our nobles, not petty wars. To our mind, the perfect protector would be Gerard of Wilmont.”

The king couldn’t give Philip over to Gerard of Wilmont! Before she could protest, Stephen spoke.

“Sire,” he said softly. “’Twould be most unfair to inflict the boy on Gerard’s family. Have they not suffered enough at the hands of Northbryre?”

The king leaned forward. “Who better to ensure that no war is waged against Wilmont than those of Wilmont? Frankly, Stephen, our next choice would be to give the pair to you! We will not, however, because you would likely abandon them.”

The pair? Merciful heaven. The king meant to make both her and her son wards of Wilmont.

“Majesty,” she said, “would you deliver us into the hands of a man whose hatred for Basil runs so very deep?”

“You brought your petition before us, Lucinda, and will now trust us to do what is best for not only you and your son, but for the kingdom.”

Henry then turned to Richard. “You and this boy are both the victims of Basil’s treachery. Through no fault of yours, you nearly lost your life. Through no fault of his, Philip is deprived of a great portion of his inheritance and is in need of guidance. He requires a protector, Richard. What say you?”

Richard stood as impenetrable and cold-faced as a stone wall. Richard, the bastard of Wilmont. She could think of few men less suitable—except Gerard.

“Sire,” Richard said, his tone even, “I would suggest that you do the child a disservice, not because I am of Wilmont, but because of my mixed heritage and bastard birth.”

The king frowned. “Come now, Richard. Surely you do not imply that a man of bastard birth is less worthy. Look to my own offspring. Do you deem them inferior due to their birth?”

“Of course not, Sire. Although I am sure that when the lady requested a protector, she had in mind a man of at least equal rank and birth as her son, if not higher.”

The king stood, a sure sign that his patience was at an end. “The fate of this child rests with your decision, Richard of Wilmont. Either the boy and mother go with you, or they go to Gerard. I will have your answer in the morn.” He turned to Kester. “Dismiss the other petitioners until after nooning on the morrow.”

With a sweep of his royal robe, King Henry left the hall.

In complete shock, Lucinda voiced her thought aloud. “There must be another solution.”

“Aye, there must,” Richard said, his fists clenched at his sides, disdain etched onto his face. “When you return to the abbey, you might pray that we find one before morn!”

“I am sorry, Richard,” Stephen apologized again, as he had all during the long walk from the hall up to Wilmont’s chambers in the palace. As well he should apologize. If only Stephen had kept his peace, and not drawn the king’s attention to them…Now they were in a sorry mess.

The long walk had shaved the sharpness from Richard’s anger, but it hadn’t yet cooled completely. He poured himself a goblet of wine and sank down in a chair.

“Stop apologizing for getting us into this fix and think of how to get us out,” he told Stephen. “There must be some way to convince Henry of the folly he commits.”

Richard glanced about the sitting room of Wilmont’s chambers, remembering the turmoil during the last time he’d occupied these palace rooms. So much had happened in the three years since. They had thought themselves done with Basil and his ilk. Now the widow and boy were throwing his life into upheaval once more—as if Basil were reaching back from the grave to do further mischief.