Lady of Hay Barbara Erskine (reading books for 7 year olds TXT) 📖

the table. "It was never meant to be. " Tearing her eyes away from his face, she looked back at the candle, concentrating on the white heat at the center of the flame.

"It was meant to be, Jo. " His words floated almost silently into her consciousness. "You are fighting your destiny, don't you see?"

She didn't answer. Unblinking, she went on staring at the flame. The silence stretched between them.

"What are you seeing, Jo?" Nick's voice came to her at last from a great distance. "Perhaps it's John. Why don't you spare a few dreams from Richard de Clare and think about Prince John.... "

The outer bailey of Winchester Castle, below the squat tower of the new cathedral, was busy with horses and grooms. Beside Matilda, William pulled up his horse and threw his leg stiffly over the pommel. It would be good to have a few days' rest before going on to Bramber, where the old baron, his father, had at long last died.

"Whose men are those?" he inquired curtly, seeing some of the crowd without livery as his page ran to help him.

"Prince John's, my lord, " the boy whispered hoarsely. "The king's son has come to hunt the New Forest. "

William snorted. "That young hound. It's time he went to hunt himself some bigger game in France. " He gave his arm to his wife and led her toward the hall. "But if it's to mean some good hunting in the king's forest, then I'll forgive him his presence here. " And, chuckling, he went to greet his host.

Prince John had grown considerably since his betrothal three years before. He was still stocky and short for his age, but his face had fined down, losing the puppy fat that had marred his features, and his hair was the red-gold of his father's. He seemed pleased to see the newcomers at the evening meal in the great hall that night.

"Sir William, it's good to have you here, " he exclaimed, leaning across his neighbor and gazing intently into the older man's face. "I trust you are fully recovered from your wounds? That was a sorry business, when the men of Gwent attacked Dingestow and killed Poer. " He smiled grimly. "God rot them! You were lucky to escape.

"You will join us, I hope, for the hunt tomorrow? Then we'll have the chance to see your prowess. " He selected a piece of meat from the plate and chewed it thoughtfully, the rings on his fingers winking in the candlelight. Beyond her husband, who seemed flattered by the boy's attention, Matilda could see little of the prince, and she sat back, not wanting to attract his attention. Her memories of him were not particularly pleasant. She had often thought of young Isabella as she heard of the king's youngest son traveling around England, enjoying himself in one great castle after another, sometimes in the company of Ranulf Glanville, who was acting as his tutor, sometimes with only his attendants and his favored groom, William Franceis. Her husband, who had met him often, liked the boy and spoke well of his promise, but she could not help thinking of the heart-rending scenes before the betrothal ceremony had taken place. She knew the child was safe at home in Cardiff, still with her mother, but the poignancy of the memory had been aggravated by the rumor that had reached her at Hay that the Earl of Clare was negotiating to marry Isabella's elder sister, Amicia. Desperately she tried to dismiss the thought of Richard from her mind, and, pushing aside her dish, she concentrated on the activity in the center of the smoky hall below the dais, where a singer with a harp was being ushered forward to entertain the guests. Her vow to think no more of Richard had been often and badly broken, but somehow through the years she had avoided seeing him alone.

The glittering crowd of nobles and their attendants gathered outside the castle at sunup the next morning. The air was full of excitement shared by the nervously curveting horses and the barking hounds. Matilda reined in her black mare tightly; the horse was already frothing at the mouth, her hooves beating rhythmically on the slippery cobblestones.

Prince John, dressed splendidly in brocade trimmed with ermine, was mounted on a tall raw-boned chestnut stallion two hands too high for him, but he reined it in savagely as it plunged beside the other horses. Already William was there beside the prince, and she saw John turn and grin at her husband and shout some good-humored jest when he was not preoccupied with staying on his horse. It seemed the boy had taken a fancy to William, and she saw scowls among the prince's friends as de Braose took the coveted position at John's side.

Then they were off, horses, hounds, riders, and foot followers pounding out of the gates and across the bare ground to the west of the town that separated the castle from the outskirts of the forest. The pace increased to a gallop. Matilda bent low over the mare's neck, excited at the prospect of the chase, intent on keeping up with the leaders as they plunged into the cool leafiness of the trees. Almost at once the hounds found a scent and their excited yelping turned to a full-throated roar. The huntsmen picked up the notes on their horns and the horsemen thundered after them down the grassy ride.

It was the first day of the season and they killed plentifully before turning their tired horses at last for home. The main party of riders split up into small groups as they walked back through the leafy glades dappled with the evening sunlight. Matilda was exhausted, and she had allowed her mare to drop behind the others a little and pick her own way quietly over the soft paths between the trees, when there was a thunder of hooves behind her. As she turned to draw