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grouped at the ends of the room where the fires roared. Those who passed turned politely away and did not linger. At the moment, no one was near. |
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''He will not marry her," Alinor said very softly, but not in a whisper. She had learned early, when she was a naughty little girl planning mischief, that whispers carried far and wide. Even if a hearer could not make out the words, the sibilant hiss betrayed that secrets were being told. "Messengers have already gone to Sancho of Navarre. Berengaria is the King's choice." |
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"I wrote the letter. Simon, part of the Queen's rage is that Longchamp has tampered with her people. I am not sure how she came to know of it, but she has her ways. I write letters now that I wish I did not write. Let us not speak of this here. But I cannot understand Lady Alais. Why does she not protest her treatment. Even if she were guilty, she would do better to put a bold face on it. Yet she was happy to be left in Rouen. No, not happyrelieved." |
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Simon looked fondly at Alinor's animated face, her eyes sparkling with readiness for combat. Could she have instilled some of her spirit, perhaps Alais would have married Richard. God works in mysterious ways, Simon thought. For Isobel of Clare, it was a mercy that Alinor meddled. For Alais of France, it was probably far better that she remain in her luxurious confinement. And for me? he wondered. |
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"Likely she was relieved," he said, and smiled at the disbelief in Alinor's face. "My lady, you can brook no restraint, but think of a pet bird long caged. Sometimes it will not even come out when the cage is opened, and, if it does, often it dies of fright. Alais has her life. It is smooth and pleasant. She has neither worry nor fear. She does not need to please anyone but herself." |
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"No worry? What of her lands and her people so long in the hands of strangers? If I" |
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