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Page 15
of color against the wall, and their perfume, mixed with the sweeter, stronger scent of the lilies that edged the beds, came up to him on the soft, sun-warmed breeze of June. He was only six years older than Adam, but his face was graven with deep lines of worry, and his eyes, golden in laughter or rage or passion, were dull mud-brown.
"What can I say?" he replied to Adam's prodding. "The king has broken that oath and others, yes. . . . But he is no John, Adam. There is no evil in Henry. He wishes to be loved. He desires to do good"
Simon made a strangled, furious sound and Geoffrey's eyes moved to him.
"I cannot blame you for your anger," Geoffrey admitted, "but what can I do? There is a close blood tie between ushe is my cousinand he has cherished me and mine. William and Ian are in his household, and he is as kind and indulgent to my sons as a fond uncle. Can I turn on him like a mangy cur and bite the hand that has fed me?"
"And what will you do when he bites you?" Simon challenged. "Has he not turned on those closest to him already? Did he not call Hubert de Burgh 'father' on one day and imprison him in chains in a deep vault the next?"
"Henry will not turn on Geoffrey." Ian's voice, deep and slightly hoarse, came across to them from the entry-way.
Everyone tensed a trifle. Gilliane rose from the window seat opposite Geoffrey and drew Alinor forward to sit with her, while Geoffrey smiled a similar invitation to Ian. Now Ian looked around at the assembled faces. The profusion of black curls was gone and his olive skin was sagging somewhat over his jowls and throat, but the luminous dark eyes were as warm and bright as ever and the good bones beneath the aging flesh showed where Simon had inherited his looks.

 
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