Dragon's Lair Read Free

but God's Truth, I was never so greensick as when I was carrying John."
    Claudine's eyelashes flickered, no more than that. But she could not keep the blood from rising in her face and throat. Watching as her pallor was submerged in a flood of color, Eleanor smiled slyly. This was new, like an involuntary twitch or a hiccup, this sudden discomfort whenever John's name was mentioned. Not for the first time, Eleanor wondered who had truly fathered Claudine's child. Was it Justin de Quincy as she claimed? Or was it John?
    "I think it is time," she said, "for you to withdraw to the nunnery at Godstow."
    Claudine nodded reluctantly. This was the plan, with cover stories fabricated for the court and her family back in Aquitaine. She should have gone a fortnight ago, but she'd found excuses to delay, dreading the loneliness and seclusion and boredom of the coming months, "I suppose so," she admitted, sounding so forlorn that Eleanor experienced an involuntary pang of empathy; she knew better than most the onus of confinement. It was true that this confinement was by choice and temporary, but Eleanor could not help identifying with Claudine's aversion to the religious life. There had been times in her past when she'd feared being shut up in some remote, obscure convent for the rest of her days, forgotten by all but her gaolers and God.
    "I will speak with Sir Nicholas this eve," she said briskly, determined not to soften toward this foolhardy, unhappy girl. "The arrangements have all been made. It remains only for you to settle in at Godstow."
    "Sir Nicholas de Mydden?" Claudine echoed in dismay. "But Justin was to escort me to the nunnery."
    "Justin cannot -"
    "Madame, he promised me!" Claudine was so flustered that she did not even realize she'd interrupted the queen. Lowering her voice hastily lest they attract attention, she said coaxingly, "Surely you understand why I would prefer Justin's company, Your Grace. I know I can trust him. And... and he wants to accompany me. This child is his, after all."
    Eleanor looked into Claudine's flushed, distraught face, striving for patience. "Well, this is one promise Justin cannot keep. He is away from the court, and I know not when he will return. As for Nicholas, he is no gossipmonger." Unable to resist adding, "Those in my service know the value I place upon loyalty."
    Claudine's lashes fluttered down again, veiling her eyes. After a moment, she said meekly, "Forgive my boldness, madame. It was hot my intent to argue with you. If you have confidence in Sir Nicholas's discretion, then so do I. But could I not wait till week's end? Mayhap Justin will be back by then."
    She took Eleanor's shrug for assent and fell in step beside the queen as they cut across the grassy mead. "I did not even know Justin was gone, for he did not bid me farewell."
    She sounded both plaintive and aggrieved, and Eleanor found herself thinking that Justin might be fortunate that he was not considered a suitable husband for this pampered young kinswoman of hers. It would be no easy task, keeping Claudine de Loudun content.
    "Madame... it is not my intent to pry," Claudine said, with such pious prevarication that Eleanor rolled her eyes skyward. "Whatever Justin's mission for you may be, it is not for me to question it. I would ask this, though. Can you at least tell me if he is in any danger?"
    Eleanor paused, considering. Her first impulse was to give the girl the reassurance she sought. But the truth was that whenever her son John was involved, there was bound to be danger.
    ~*~
    It was a spare turnout for a hanging. Usually the citizens of Winchester thronged to the gallows out on Andover Road, eager to watch as a felon paid the ultimate price for his earthly sins. Luke de Marston, the under-sheriff of Hampshire, could remember hangings that rivaled the St Giles Fair, with venders hawking meat pies and children getting underfoot and cutpurses on the prowl for unwary victims. But the doomed soul being dragged