Isabelle sat down beside him, plumped a fleece-filled cushion at her back and looked at him expectantly. Baldwin de Béthune, Count of Aumale, was William's closest friend and currently with the King. Even when William was absent from the court, such contacts kept him well informed. Whatever the news was, it had certainly put a burr in her husband's breeches.
"The Count of Mortain is under suspicion of conspiracy and Richard's in a quarrelsome mood. I tell you, Isabelle, sometimes I want to knock their heads together until their brains run out of their ears—not that it would make any difference except to my own satisfaction."
"What do you mean, under suspicion?"
He eyed her sombrely. "Philip of France claims to have letters implicating John in treason. John's supposed to have asked for Philip's aid in mounting a rebellion against Richard—who is not best pleased."
"It was only a matter of time," she said.
His nostrils flared. "Why is everyone prepared to believe the worst of John and not allow that he might just have learned his lesson and matured?"
"So you don't believe it is true?" She managed to school her voice to calm enquiry, avoiding the flat note that usually entered it when they spoke of Richard's brother.
"Of course it isn't," he said impatiently. "Philip's as wily as a fox and false rumours like this are a fine way of creating discord. John might be devious and self-seeking, but he's not mad and he would have to be insane to go conniving with Philip. The last time he dabbled in conspiracy, Richard was locked up in a German prison. John won't risk anything with Richard close enough to breathe down his neck." He drank again, his movements swift with displeasure. "Whatever his flaws as a man, John has been a model of loyalty to Richard these past five years."
"So what will happen now?"
"It's already happening. John's gone off in a fury at being accused and God alone knows where."
"Perhaps to Paris," she said with pessimism. "Perhaps the King of France has succeeded anyway."
William shot her an irritated look. "I sincerely doubt he'd turn to Philip, but he might just be sufficiently annoyed to go and plot some mischief by way of revenge."
"Has Richard done anything about it?"
"Not yet, from what Baldwin says. He's decided John probably isn't guilty, but he's not entirely sure. Why would he leave court unless he had something to fear? If ever our sons start behaving like Richard and John, I will drown them, I swear I will." He heaved a deep sigh. "Richard is going on campaign in the Limousin to work off his anger and hunt for gold to fill his coffers. Some vassal of Aymer de Lusignan has dug up an ancient hoard on his lands and he's refusing to give it up." He picked up one of Mahelt's poupées, the one of himself as a warrior in the green and yellow surcoat, and eyed it thoughtfully. "Richard needs funds and the idea of a spring campaign to make the sap rise appeals to him."
Isabelle's stomach lurched. "You are not going with him?"
"No, I'm still due to sit on the Bench of Justices with Hubert Walter at Vaudreuil. De Braose, de Burgh, and Mercadier are attending on Richard. He says John can wait until his return… I'm not sure he can, but it's a brew for Richard's cup, not mine." He put aside the poupée in the surcoat and picked up the one of himself in court garb of red twill embroidered with silver thread. "Jesu, another tunic," he said with a shake of his head, making it clear which of the two figures he would rather be. "I am in danger of becoming a fop."
Isabelle's heart lightened with relief that King Richard was not summoning him on yet another campaign. "Sybilla made it for her. She's so quick and skilled with a needle that it takes her no time." She lowered her voice and added, "Sybilla thinks she may be with child."
"So that's what you were gossiping about when I came in?"
She smiled demurely. "More or less."
He grunted with amusement. "Lady Elizabeth has a loud voice," he said. "It is good news for them. Jean will be pleased." He rose to his feet and stretched. Isabelle was glad to see the tension had gone out of him; glad too that he had come to her to ease and share his burden. Not all marriages were thus.
"I suppose if I am leaving for Vaudreuil on the morrow I had better find my two eldest sons. I promised them a jousting lesson." A regretful expression crossed his face. "It doesn't seem a moment since I was their age and my father was teaching me my sword strokes at the pell."
"While doubtless your mother looked on with her heart in her mouth."