The Bastard King Read Online Free

air. Above the hall in her boudoir the Lady Arlette sat with her women. Her daughter Adeliz sat at her feet playing with her embroidery silks, and as the women talked they listened for the sounds of arrival.
    Now and then Arlette rose to go to the window cut in thethick stone walls, shading her eyes to look for the company of horsemen with Robert riding at the head of them. He would be eager, she knew, to be with her, to caress her, to swear his undying devotion which he had proved for the last six years: and his first words would be when he had done this: ‘And where is the boy?’
    She smiled and looked down at the courtyard now where he played with his companions – the sons of barons and counts whom Robert had decreed should be his companions. ‘For, my love,’ said Robert, ‘he must be brought up among men. He must quickly learn to leave the shelter of his mother’s skirts.’
    He had learned that already. She watched him strut below – a leader if ever there was one. His short green tunic which reached to his knees became him well. His neck was bare, as were his arms and legs. Looking down on that group of boys none would have had any doubt as to who was Robert’s son. They played with sticks which in their minds were swords and already they were taking lessons in the art of chivalry which must be mastered by all well-born boys.
    William was shouting: ‘You will follow me. Come. Thor ayde. Thor ayde.’
    Where did he learn such things? wondered Arlette. From the old women of the household who would never forget that they came from the land across the sea and would always sigh for the pine forests and the fiords.
    William had dropped his stick suddenly; he had had enough of fighting; he wished to hunt and he had his new falcon to try out.
    Should she call him? Should she say: ‘William, your father may be here at any moment. You will hear them riding into the courtyard. Go and change your tunic. Comb your hair. Let your father be proud of you when he comes’? Or should she let him be seen as he was, his eyes alight with the triumph of his mock battle or with his sparrow hawk and his dogs and horses?
    Robert did not want a boy in a clean tunic with his dark hair neatly combed; he wanted a son who would be a fighter, a leader. She knew that he intended that boy to follow him, to rule all Normandy when he was in his grave. It had been aprophecy – that dream of hers. The boy down there in the courtyard, in spite of the fact that he was Robert’s illegitimate son, was destined to rule Normandy.
    William was unaware of his mother’s scrutiny. He must make the most of his play hour. Soon old Mauger would be sending his man for him. He would be reminded as he had been a hundred times: ‘There are lessons to be learned from books, my young lord, as well as from games.’
    William disliked Uncle Mauger; there was something sly about him which he sensed and, even though he was supposed to revere him because he was an Archbishop and a learned man, he never could do so. He much preferred Osbern the Seneschal who could be stern too but in a manner which inspired respect; but he liked even better the company of Gallet the Fool. Gallet amused him; he was full of strange tricks. It was said that his brain was addled, but William was not so sure. He had a way with dogs and knew how to train a falcon. Surely such a man could not be a complete fool? He adored William too – another reason for his good sense; there was nothing the Fool liked better than to do some task for the little master, as he called him.
    Then there was his cousin Guy, who was being brought up with him, trained in the arts of chivalry, learning to sit his horse like a Norman, and to excel in the arts of war; and who must, much to his chagrin, share those tiresome hours in the schoolroom with sly Uncle Mauger, who was Guy’s uncle too.
    Guy gave himself airs now and then because he was