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Page 109
fairer girl, whose large eyes looked fearful and haunted. "How then am I supposed to communicate my commands to my vassals?"
"Do you command them?" Isobel of Clare, Countess of Pembroke and Strigul, asked in a sad, slightly breathless voice.
Piqued by the titter the darker Isobel uttered, Alinor replied before she thought. "Of course I command them," she said tartly. "A fine state I should be in if they did not obey me." She could not, however, help an honest chuckle. "Sometimes there are high words between Sir Andre and myself, but most of the time, I win."
"Perhaps that is why we are not supposed to send out messages," Isobel of Gloucester retorted with a rather gloating satisfaction at relaying bad news.
For one moment Alinor's eyes looked almost as haunted as those of Isobel of Clare. She could feel a prison closing around her in spite of all her care. Then the memory of Simon's big body in its elegant if subdued gray surcoat and his hard, honest face freed her from fear. "Oh dear," she sighed, "yes, I understand that. There is nothing in this message to which the Queen could object, only to say we are safe arrivedSir Andre does worry soand to tell him to send me a chest of cloth to be made into new gowns. I am sadly behind the fashion." She turned again to the page. "Guillaume, do you know Sir Simon Lemagne? No? Well, it does not matter. I am sure you know William Marshal."
Isobel of Clare made a strangled sound. Alinor looked around at her. The girl had a hand at her throat and her face was suffused with a deep blush. In common politeness Alinor restored her attention to the page to give Isobel time to recover, but something twisted inside her breast. Was this the model of womanliness in Simon's mind when he scolded her for her unmaidenly ways?

 
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