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seed grains. Better Sybelle than I. I would rather eat chestnuts by the fire in winter than manchet bread, if to get the bread I must labor all the rest of the year harder than the serfs." |
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"I understand power," Rhiannon replied, "but it seems a high price to pay for it." |
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Simon shrugged. "Not to them. You may not believe it, but Sybelle takes pleasure in counting bushels of oats and barley and accounting this year against last year. It is only that you and I are different." |
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That was true, and it made him that much more precious. Rhiannon felt as if her whole being were a naked heart and that a pinprick on Simon would stab her so deeply that she would bleed to death. Terrified, she tried to withdraw into herself, to build a shell of uncaring, but Simon was the greatest hindrance. He seemed to have taken warning from what she said in Oxford about stroking and hinting of love; instead he was open-heartedly ready to be friends again, to laugh together over their bond of sympathy in their mutual lack of possessiveness. |
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Simon's nature was optimistic. He saw in the events of the next few days the culmination, both personal and political, that he desired: Henry's vassals would withdraw from him, the king would attack Pembroke with largely mercenary troops, Llewelyn would join Pembroke, and their forces would triumph. In any case, he saw that the council could not last long, which meant he would soon be free to take Rhiannon home. He told himself that, either on the way or once he had her in Wales, he would win her back. |
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Simon's first expectation seemed in a fair way to be satisfied. Henry used the urgent necessity of settling with his barons as an excuse to avoid further discussion of the violation of sanctuary. This did not rid him of the bishops, but it disclosed Roger of London's delicate perception of the rights and powers of the Church. Where he had demanded with burning eyes |
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