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Page 127
to speak of Isobel, saying that her modesty is causing her great grief. And by the by, I believe that is so. Why does William Marshal not dance with her and speak to her? She cannot, for shame, go to him."
"He cannot dance. He tries to speak, but no sooner does he say a few words than some gallant asks her to dance and carries her away."
"Well, what ails you? You dance beautifully. Can you not teach him?"
"William knows how to dance. He cannot."
It was Alinor's turn to look confused. "What do you mean, he knows how but cannot? Has he taken some vow not to dance?"
"Of course not. He was sore hurt in an accident on a ship. His ribs were crushed. He can hardly walk, not to speak of dancing."
"And he did not tell her?" Alinor squealed.
"Why should he tell Isobel? If she has a softness toward him, she would worry. If she has not, she would think him whining. In fact, he has told no one, except me, and makes his appearance in Court as usual because he prefers that his enemies do not know he is nearly helpless."
"Isobel will not spread the news, and I am not a gabblemonger. Now that I think it over, Simon, you are right. It is much better for me to tell her. And you, Simon, do not fear for me. You must tell the Queen, or I will be in sad trouble."
Alinor spent the next few hours in a dither of impatience, wondering whether Simon would see through her device, wondering whether at the last moment he would again begin to feel that it was wrong to bear tales. One bit of good came of Alinor's nervousness. Isobel of Clare, after watching her choose the wrong color thread, do the wrong stitch in the wrong place on the collar she was embroidering for Simon, and pick it all out blaspheming heartily under her breath, came over and asked if she could help.

 
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