The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [161]
I understood their reasons. Their loyalty to me was forgotten in the contemplation of the reward they would surely receive from Henry for my capture.
Their numbers were greater than ours and they were armed. And so I was led away into captivity.
Once more I came face to face with Henry. I was his prisoner now but if he expected me to humble myself before him he was mistaken.
He regarded me sardonically.
“So,” he said, “your attempt to escape has failed.”
“Because of traitors,” I said.
“Traitors to you, friends to me. I shall reward them well for their services, particularly as they are those whom you regard as your subjects.”
“Well,” I said, “what do you propose?”
“To finish with the trouble you have been causing me ever since I set eyes on you.”
“What is it to be then?”
“You will see. I give the orders, you know.”
“When did you not? Though they have not always been obeyed.”
“Do not bandy words with me.”
“I do not give a thought to you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You she-devil,” he said. “You witch.”
“I thought you were the one who was descended from witches.”
“You would be wise not to provoke me.”
“I care not what you do to me.”
“You are a traitor. Do you know what happens to traitors?”
“You were false to me . . . always, even in the early days of our marriage. Are you still as lecherous as ever? Don’t answer. I am not in the least interested.”
“You turned our sons against me.”
“I believe I have told you before that you turned them against yourself.”
“You incited them to take up arms against me.”
“They did not need to be incited. They hate you, Henry. Why do you think they do?”
“Because their mother turned them against me.”
“You insist on that old theme. What are you going to do with me? Kill me? Would you marry Rosamund? It would be scarcely fitting.”
“Be silent,” he said. “Remember you are my prisoner.”
“I ask you, what are you going to do with me?”
“You will discover in time.”
“And now?”
I could see that he was working himself up into one of his rages. I wanted to goad him, to see him roll on the floor, biting the rushes. It would give me some comfort.
He might have sensed this, for there was no rage. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed, his lips curled: “I am going to have you taken away.”
“Where?”
“I shall decide. It will be somewhere strong. You will be well guarded.”
“So you fear me?”
“It is you who should fear me.”
His voice was cold with hatred. I remembered how he had hated Becket, and yet there had been love in that hate. Were his feelings for me like that? I wondered if he ever thought of the passion there had once been between us.
He turned abruptly away and left me.
Later that day I was taken away. They did not tell me where I was going. I did not recognize the fortress when I reached it, and nobody would answer my questions.
And there I was incarcerated—the King’s prisoner.
The Passing of Kings
IT IS HARD TO think now of that dreary time. I lived through it only because of Hope. I told myself it could not last. He could not keep me thus forever. At first I thought he planned to kill me, but later I guessed he did not want my death on his conscience as Becket’s was. I was not ill treated, and after the first weeks I ceased to think of assassins who would come in the night and put an end to my life; I no longer wondered if every sip of liquid, every mouthful of food, would poison me.
He did not intend me to die. I had to live, deprived of everything I enjoyed. I have no doubt that he derived some joy from that.
Winter was with us. It was cold in my fortress but I had fur rugs to keep me warm. I was given food. But everything else I was deprived of. He just wanted to keep me alive, so that I suffered in my misery.
There was no news. My guards were silent. They had been ordered to tell me nothing, and they obeyed their orders.
How long? I used to ask myself. How long shall I be incarcerated here? It could be for years. What was he doing now? He had subdued his enemies, I was sure. What of my children?