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Page 135
Alinor to the Queen. Walking in the walled garden, deep in the scent of lilies, which he still associated with Alinor, he had told her what he thought of her. That time they had not quarreled. While he raged, Alinor had seized one of his balled fists and kissed the clenched fingers. Like a man palsied, Simon's voice had checked midword.
"I will serve the Queen honestly and faithfully, Simon. I will not betray her to anyone by word or deedonly to save you or myself, and I think I need not fear that, for she loves us both and will strive only to help us. I will not even betray to you what she intends toward William Marshal, for good or ill."
That was a beautiful touch, Alinor thought, seeing the trouble lessen in Simon's eyes. It was perfectly safe too because Isobel had asked her questions and had some most satisfactory answers from William. Isobel would manage very well on her own, Alinor realized. She was not nearly so timid or helpless as she looked when she had a clear object to strive toward. Isobel would not openly contest the Queen's will, but she was rapidly making it impossible for anyone to believe she would marry any man except William Marshal unless she were dragged unconscious to the altar. Each night, Isobel stood beside her chosen spouse. If the Queen told her to dance with another, she obeyed; as soon as the dance was over, she hurried back to William.
A week passed. In the middle of the second week of Alinor's service, the Queen informed her eldest daughter in a private postscript that they would move on August 8 to Winchester where they would await the daily expected arrival of Lord Richard. Alinor nearly choked on holding her tongue for the next two days, not only because this was far more interesting news than salacious gossip but also because she knew the Queen's habit of announcing moves only hours before leaving and letting everyone scramble to get ready.

 
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