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true of her lands. Sir Simon Lemagne had been given a rich gift. He had no more to do than examine the account booksor, rather, Alinor thought a little contemptuously, have his clerks examine them for, surely, the great warrior could neither read nor write himself. Then his great labor would consist of opening the coffers and taking from them the King's share and his own. What right had he to speak coldly of her "affairs." |
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The Queen had not a thought to spare for Alinor or her feelings. Never in all the years that Simon had served her had he shown such resentment for a task laid upon him. And never, even when his temper had been aroused, had he failed to respond to her teasing. His ready sense of humor had always tickled him into compliance when he had been bested by her in a game of wits and set to doing something he really did not approve of. All in all, Simon had been acting very strangely since he had not promptly obeyed her on the road. |
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Of course, he might have changed over the years they had been apart. No, that was not true. There had been no sense of strangeness, no sense even of a break in their well-established relationship, from the moment he had entered the keep at Winchester with the glad news of her release. The Queen's eyes dropped to her hands and her gaze rested on the age-creased and mottled skin. By the name of God, she thought, he is no longer a young man. I think of him as a boy, because thus I knew him best when I was a young woman, but I am an old, old woman now, and Simon is a man, also growing old. |
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"Child," she said gently to Alinor, "will you see that a change of garments is laid ready for me? Something warm. These days I feel the cold as the evening draws on." |
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There was nothing Alinor could do but curtsy and leave. She knew, of course, that the Queen was sending her away so that she could talk Sir Simon around |
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