He caught Dienwald and threw his arms around his neck and kissed him on each cheek.
Philippa shuddered at the sight.
Crooky came out of the Great Hall, observed the spectacle, and shouted to the blue sky,
My poor master is now under the king’s
thumb
He wants to weep but his brain’s gone numb
He’s wed to a princess and will never be free
But he can’t do a thing but accept it and be
—the king’s proud son-in-law.
Philippa turned on the fool, cuffed him with all her strength, and watched him flail to keep his balance, then roll down the steps of the Great Hall, yelling loudly, “Kilt by a princess! The good king save me!”
21
Dienwald froze to the spot. Lord Henry had grabbed him firmly and was weeping copiously on his neck, kissing his ear, squeezing him so tightly Dienwald feared his ribs would crack, so great was Lord Henry’s relief. “You’re a fine, honorable lad, my lord. I knew it all the time, but I was just concerned and . . . well . . . Aye, ’tis God who has saved me and given me his blessing! I shall never again question the heavenly course of things, even though the course be a maze of blind turns.”
Dienwald suffered Lord Henry for another moment, his mind still confused, when he looked up and saw Philippa cuff Crooky and send the fool flying. He grinned, then felt his face stiffen.
He pushed Lord Henry away. “Get thee gone, my lord! Take your daughter with you! I want her not. Just look at her—she even abuses my servants!”
“But, my precious boy, my dearest lord, wait! She’s most desirable as a wife, Dienwald, she’s quite comely—”
“Ha! Comely be damned! She’s the king’s daughter—that’s her claim to comeliness!”
“Nay, not all of it. ‘Twas I who raised her, I through my clerks and priests who taught her all she knows—and I saw to her lessons and to her prayers . . .”
“That certainly adds to her value.” Dienwald didn’t say another word. He just shook his head and broke into a run toward the St. Erth stables. Philippa walked slowly to where her father stood, looking in incredulous dismay after her retreating new husband.
“What ails him, Philippa? He’s been given the earth and all its bounty. His father-in-law is the King of England! Oh, and you are comely, doubt it not, Philippa, truly. It matters not that you haven’t the golden Plantagenet hair.” Lord Henry looked upon his former daughter. “I don’t understand him. He howls like a wounded hound and slinks off to hide. He acts as though he were to be hunted down and slain.”
Philippa merely shook her head. She wasn’t capable of more. Tears clogged her throat, and she swallowed.
Edmund tugged on her sleeve. “Are you truly the king’s daughter?”
“It appears that I am.”
Edmund fell silent, simply peering up at her, as if to observe some magical change in her.
“What, Edmund, you hate me too?”
“Don’t be stupid, Philippa.” Edmund stared after his father. “Father’s always boasted that his life was his own, you see. He’s told me many times, since I was a very little boy, to be what I chose to be, not what someone else chose for me. He said that life was too rife with chance, too uncertain in measuring out its punishments and rewards, to be what someone else wished. He said he wanted no overlord, no authority to hold sway over him and to keep and hold what was his.”
“Aye, I can hear him saying that. It’s true, you know. It’s what he believes, it’s what he is.” Philippa turned back to Lord Henry. “I wondered why I was so tall. The king is very tall, I hear. Is he not called Longshanks?”
Lord Henry nodded. “Listen to me, girl. I did my best by you.”
“I know it well, and I thank you. It could not have been easy for Lady Maude. She always hated me, but she tried to hide it.” At least in the beginning she’d tried.
Lord Henry tried his best to dissuade Philippa from this conclusion, but it was lame going, for Lady Maude had always resented the king’s bastard being foisted upon her household. He stopped, unequal to the task.
Philippa looked thoughtful and said, “My hair—’tis not Plantagenet gold, as you just said, but streaked and common.”