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gan to laugh wryly. Here he was hiding in the stable to escape telling Alinor what he had done. Of course he could say with perfect truth that he had been ordered to accompany Richard by the Queen. A great hero am I, he thought, hiding from one woman behind the skirts of another. That was just a thought to cover his real fear. Simon did not care for Alinor's rages; he only feared her tears. |
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Cowardice, Simon discovered, breeds a lively stealth of mind. Alinor was a very well-trained young woman, and her public manners were irreproachable. In public she would neither rage nor weep. Then he must tell her after dinner, during the dancing or entertainment that would follow. There were no moonlit gardens at this season of the year to lead him into and, by the time they could be private, say, the next morning, the obvious good that could come from his arrangements would have made Alinor reasonable. Relief flooded Simon at this solution to his problem and he spent the time until he needed to change into more elaborate robes for dinner in planning just what he would say. |
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Naturally enough, because Simon had given so much thought to the matter, the anxiety, the hiding, the planning were all totally unnecessary. He could have told Alinor in one flat sentence rather than in the carefully designed phrases he had used. As he spoke, he saw that she was prepared for his news. She showed no sign of holding back either rage or tears. Certainly Alinor was not overjoyed at the idea of their renewed separation but, as she told him, it was not imminent. The Queen intended to accompany the King-at least as far as Chinon in Poitou. Simon's expression brought a burst of laughter from her. |
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"My lord, my lord," she murmured, "it is fortunate I am a trusting woman. For another man such a face could mean only that love was looking elsewhere." |
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"I could wish heartily that it was," Simon groaned. |
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