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perform some
feat of arms, and it was with this expectation that he had pledged himself to
do the king’s will so eagerly and without reservation.
    “Now I have heard,” Henry continued, “through a trusty
clerk, that a vassal of my brother’s—no great man but only the holder of two
keeps, albeit one sits on the Thames and the other commands a road of great
importance—is the man who has poisoned Richard’s mind against me.”
    “Is it likely that so insignificant a person could influence
the earl of Cornwall?” Raymond asked stiffly, liking the turn of conversation
less and less.
    “I would not have thought so myself,” Henry agreed, “but
after the clerk named him I remembered that in the last years of my father’s
reign, during the troubles, and after, when Louis was in the land, this man’s
father, a friend of de Burgh, was castellan of Wallingford and had Richard in
keeping quite often. The vassal, William of Marlowe by name, is of the same age
or perhaps a year or two older than my brother. They must have been, from time
to time, playmates. Moreover, Richard mentioned to me that this William was
squire to Rannulf of Chester.”
    “That is a high lord for a squire of so little note.”
    Raymond was growing less happy by the moment. Rannulf of
Chester had been known throughout Europe as a man of the highest character,
just, merciful, unwavering in his faith, fearless in advice, fine of purpose.
Could a boy trained by the late earl of Chester grow up into a man who would
maliciously seed discord in the royal family?
    “That is true,” Henry agreed, “but I believe he was taken
because my brother begged for his company. After the country was at peace and
Chester was not every day in the forefront of battle, he was my brother’s
guardian.”
    Henry was a very self-centered person. Except for his wife,
he rarely noticed what other people felt. This was not owing to coldness or
indifference. Henry was a warm-hearted, loving man. It was merely that he was king,
had been king since he was twelve years of age. By and large, people tried to
echo and mirror the king’s feelings and, if they felt differently, kept it to
themselves. His guardians, of course, should have molded him better, but they
were more concerned to teach the young king politics than to give him
understanding of individual feelings. Thus, Henry did not notice the
reservation in Raymond’s manner and voice.
    “Then the earl of Cornwall and Sir William are longtime
companions,” Raymond pointed out, trying to make the king see that the evil
influence would have to be much older than a few years. The king’s expression
clearly showed he had not taken the point, and Raymond went on. “I cannot see,
sire, what so small a man could gain from such a thing. And surely, he must
risk all by speaking ill of you to the earl of Cornwall. It is well known, even
in my land so far from here, that the earl of Cornwall is most true and loving
to you.”
    “Yet it was not always so.” Henry’s face darkened
alarmingly. “When Richard Marshal raised rebellion against me thirteen years
ago, my brother was very near to joining him.”
    The king, Raymond realized, feeling a little cold, carried
grudges a long time. “That must have been a false tale told you by an enemy,”
he protested.
    “Richard told me so himself, to my face,” Henry snapped
pettishly. “And only six years ago, when I gave my sister to the earl of
Leicester—both of them came weeping to me and begging my help, for they were
mad for love and had long tried to vanquish the feeling and could not—Richard
spoke to me most foul in full council.”
    “Surely you cannot doubt your brother’s love,” Raymond
breathed. “He has proved it again and again.”
    What had he made himself agree to? he wondered. Was this
uncle, praised to the skies by his young wife, some kind of monster who
intended to destroy his own brother?
    But Henry’s face had cleared. “No,” he agreed, smiling,