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Page 488
"Alinor," Simon groaned, "have you no morals at all?"
"What has that to do with morals? God knows I would not touch that piece of filth of my free will, but to gain his favor, such as it is, by paying a worthless tokenSimon, you know without the feeling the thing is worthless."
"I know," he agreed soberly. "It has been worthless to me all these years, until I had you. No more than pissing, it meanta little keener pleasure, that was all. But you credit John with too much. He would not favor you for yielding. He would spread the word abroad to take pleasure in the shame he brought to us both. Do not blame yourself for John's hatred. He has no good will to give to any man or woman. You cannot buy his love, for he is empty of love. He can be forced by fearand so we will force him. William will stand by me, and"
"And the Queen?"
Simon was silent, then sighed. "He is her son."
She could order John if she desired, Alinor thought, but she said nothing. Simon's devotion to the Queen was too long, too strong. He would make excuses for her; he would blind himself to what she did; he would never blame her.
They waited, but no army came the next week, nor the week after that. No army, no challenge, no demand. The fields lay bare and cold. The lookouts in the towers watched land and sea. Nothing came.
In the final week in January, at last Simon was summoned to the walls. Alinor seized a cloak and hurried to keep up with him as he strode through inner and outer baileys to the curtain walls. A troop was winding up the road, a troop, not an army, and at its head a great, white palfrey paced slowly. The color drained from Alinor's face. Her heart felt colder than her hands. Simon would defy John, but would he defy the Queen?

 
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