Roselynde Read online

  Roselynde

  Roberta Gellis

  Roselynde Chronicles, Book One

  Blush: This is a suggestive romance (loves scenes are not graphic).

  Alinor Devaux is beautiful and very rich. She is also an orphan, but her grandparents had not left her defenseless. She has been trained to manage her estates and to rule her vassals. But then the old king dies and Alinor becomes the ward of Richard Coeur de Lion. Alinor knows that her safety and the well-being of her precious lands rest on her ability to make her warden, Sir Simon Lemagne, her willing slave.

  Sir Simon has known many women, but never one like Alinor. He is an easy victim. But Alinor tumbles into love. Soon Sir Simon is the only man she will take as a husband. But Simon is no suitable match—he is poor and has no political power. The king would make no profit by permitting Simon to marry Alinor. In their struggle to be united despite the obstacles in their path, Lady Alinor and Sir Simon are swept from the Royal Court in England into King Richard’s Crusade, through the king’s conquest of Cyprus and into the Holy Land. They endure bloody battles and heartrending separations before Simon convinces King Richard to allow their love fruition in marriage.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Roselynde

  ISBN 9781419931536

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Roselynde Copyright © 1978, 2011 Roberta Gellis

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication January 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Roselynde

  Roberta Gellis

  Author’s Note

  To the reader who is familiar with the medieval period, the character of Lady Alinor may seem unrealistic. However, there were strong women in medieval times. The most notable example is Queen Alinor herself, also a character in this book, who was so powerful a woman that her husband’s only recourse after he failed to control her by the usual means was to imprison her in England, hundreds of miles and a sea away from her own vassals. There was that Hadwissa, of whom Roger of Wendover says distastefully, “she lacked only the virile parts to be a man,” and there was Nicolaa de la Hay, who was Sheriff of Lincoln and, when the castle of which she was castellan was attacked, “proposing to herself nothing effeminate, defended the castle like a man,” according to Richard of Devizes. There was also Blanche of Champagne, who conducted an invading army into Lorraine in 1218 to protect the interests of her young son. Others, less high in the social scale, also existed—women who ran their own businesses and were free members of the early Guilds, but a list would be tedious. Thus, Alinor, although fictional, has adequate historical precedents for her character and behavior. Certainly, she was not the common run of woman, but neither is she an anachronism.

  Also fictional are Simon Lemagne and his squire Ian de Vipont, the keep and town of Roselynde, and all of Alinor’s vassals, castellans, and servants. The other characters and all incidents of national importance, such as the movements of Queen Alinor and King Richard, are historical and are depicted not as modern historians see and interpret them but as they appeared to chroniclers who lived and wrote at the end of the twelfth century. The principal sources are Roger of Wendover’s Flowers of History, Richard of Devizes’s Deeds of King Richard the First, King of England, and Geoffrey of Vinsauf’s Itinerary of Richard I and Others, to the Holy Land. The reader is urged to remember that scientific and historical accuracy were not matters of great moment in the twelfth century. Chroniclers were violently partisan and did not even attempt to be objective; indeed, they would have been horrified at the notion of writing ill of their heroes and good of their enemies. Thus, the fact that modern scholarship has determined that William Longchamp was, aside from his unfortunate appearance and manner, a good and efficient chancellor, is not reflected in this book. By and large, Longchamp was hated by his contemporaries (at least in England); thus, he appears here as a villain.

  It is also modern scholarship that has torn the clouds of glory away from Richard Coeur de Lion and has pointed out that he was a very bad king who neglected and impoverished his nation. Some modern writers have even pointed out that, rather than a larger-than-life hero, Richard was a petulant, infantile braggard. Neither view is really accurate, of course, but in medieval terms the former is closer to true than the latter. In spite of all Richard’s faults—the ungovernable Angevin temper, the vindictiveness that seldom forgave and never forgot, the desire to be praised and glorified, the prodigality that robbed others to make generous gestures, the disinclination to work at being a king—Richard was very nearly the beau ideal of the medieval man.

  No one expected a king to be mild; at least, the only relatively mild-tempered king after the Conquest in England had been Stephen whose reign (see The Sword and the Swan) produced chaos and total disaster. Richard’s other “faults” were not faults in his own time, particularly since his vindictiveness (which might have been so classed) was based on violation of what he believed was the “code of honor” and rarely on personal matters. (Men who offended Richard personally rarely lived long enough to suffer prolonged animosity. If he did not kill them out of hand in a fit of rage, they were challenged to combat and killed.) Most important, however, was Richard’s own prowess and ability in war.

  Far from regarding war as the ultimate horror, as we do today, the medieval upper classes regarded it as a noble enterprise, the single fitting “work” for a nobleman. Richard was preeminent in war, very nearly invincible personally and a really remarkable tactician (when regarded from the point of view of his own time, of course). Partly the latter was owing to the former. Richard’s outstanding courage and daring inspired such enthusiasm and devotion in the men who served under him that they would follow him anywhere and became nearly invincible themselves. The descriptions of the battles Richard fought are all historical and come from Geoffrey de Vinsauf. Since Geoffrey accompanied Richard throughout the Crusade, his account is that of an eyewitness and may be trusted—except possibly for body count (in which we are not overly trustworthy ourselves) and the usual reservations about medieval chroniclers.

  Then there is the vexed question of Richard’s homosexuality. Considering the atmosphere in which he was raised and the proclivity of his father and brothers not only for producing bastards but for acknowledging them openly, supporting and educating them with pride, and pushing their interests, it is unlikely that Richard would have concealed any children he fathered out of shame. Yet, although he was more than thirty when he married, there were none. (There is a claim, after Richard’s death, of an illegitimate son, but no evidence that Richard acknowledged the child during his
lifetime.) This might have been owing to sterility or simply to continence—but it is significant that Richard was not lauded for sexual abstinence. Whereas his father’s and brothers’ exploits were recorded with pride or blame (depending on the attitude of the recorder), nothing is said about Richard’s.

  Further, just about Christmas time, while in Sicily on his way to the Holy Land, Richard convened a group of venerable and devout bishops and confessed, in abject penitence, a shameful lust. This confession seems to have distressed the bishops greatly. I find it difficult to believe that, knowing the Angevins as they did, the bishops would have been distressed (or even much surprised) to learn that Richard had a Turkish harem in keeping. I find it equally hard to believe that Richard would have bothered to convene a group to confess such a thing. Only those sins of the flesh regarded as “unnatural” could produce other than automatic penance and absolution. The medieval age deplored the weaknesses of the flesh but was not in the least horrified by them.

  On the other hand, there were no male favorites around Richard, neither pretty boys nor dominating men such as troubled the Court of Edward II. Richard did have close male friends. Many were above suspicion; a few may well have been sexual partners. None, however, ever dominated Richard. Thus, the strongest probability is that, although Richard preferred men, he simply was not much interested in sex. Something had to give to make room for the passionate concentration on personal prowess in arms and war in general; apparently it was the sexual drive that was sublimated. From what we know of him, this was also true of Alexander of Macedon.

  An effort has been made to avoid anachronisms in thought, behavior, and physical matters such as clothing and lodging. However, at the distance in time we are from the happenings in this book, accuracy is difficult or impossible. Sources for manners and customs disagree, largely because medieval people were not troubled by anachronism. Manuscript illustrations, paintings, and statues reflect the style at the time of production rather than the style at the time the subject(s) lived. For example, Dux bellorum Artorious (King Arthur) is usually depicted in fifteenth century armor, although the tales were mostly written in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and the legends go back to the sixth.

  Certain anachronisms, however, have been used deliberately for convenience. The word English is used in a sense that would have horrified Richard’s noblemen. At the time, English was a derogatory word; the English were a subject people. Therefore, there were no English “lords” or “barons” or “vassals.” They were, of course, Normans, Poitevins, Angevins, and so on—and that is how they regarded themselves. To call these people what they called themselves, however, would confuse the special political problems of those men whose major estates lay in England and who spent most of their time in that country. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of calling these people “English.”

  In addition, the choice of spelling for names has been arbitrary because there were no rules for spelling at the time, and transliteration from a native language to the Latin in which the chronicles or grants were written further changed spellings. For example, the name spelled Llewelyn in this book is spelled Leolin, Liolen, Llywelyn, and so on, in various sources. However, if any reader is puzzled as to who is meant or by any other matter or should find inaccuracies he/she would like to draw to my attention, I would be grateful for questions and suggestions.

  R. G.

  1977

  List of Characters for Roselynde

  The characters are listed in order of appearance, not in order of importance.

  Lady Alinor Devaux—a wealthy heiress; sixteen years old (well past marriageable age), as willful as she is beautiful.

  Sir Andre Fortesque—chief of Lady Alinor’s vassals.

  Alinor of Aquitaine—Dowager Queen of England; a powerful, autocratic, brilliant woman.

  Sir John d’Alberin—another vassal of the Lady Alinor.

  Sir Simon Lemagne—the queen’s vassal; completely devoted to her until he met Lady Alinor.

  Gertrude—Lady Alinor’s maid.

  Brother Philip—Lady Alinor’s chaplain and the castle scribe.

  Lady Grisel—wife of the castellan of Kingsclere Keep.

  Ian de Vipont—Sir Simon’s squire.

  Isobel of Clare—Countess of Pembroke and Strigul; a ward of the king who is to be given in marriage.

  Isobel of Gloucester—Countess of Gloucester; another ward of the king affianced to Prince John, the king’s brother.

  Sir William Marshal—Lord Marshal of England; Sir Simon’s closest friend.

  Roger Bigod, Milo de Bohun—Suitors drawn by Lady Alinor’s wealth (and a little by her beauty), who intend to have her estates by hook or by crook.

  Beorn Fisherman—Lady Alinor’s master-at-arms; a devoted retainer.

  King Richard I—called Richard, Coeur de Lion, newly King of England; about to set out on a Crusade instead of taking care of his inheritance.

  Prince John—Richard’s youngest brother; hopeful of profiting from Richard’s absence.

  Lord Llewelyn—grandson of Owain Gwynedd, Prince of Wales. (Not Richard’s son, but a Welsh prince.)

  William Longchamp—Bishop of Ely, Chancellor and Chief Justiciar of England; a favorite of King Richard, corrupt and power-hungry, reputed to be a homosexual.

  Princess Berengaria—the lady Richard finally married, with disastrous effects on both of them.

  Lady Joanna—widow of the King of Sicily, King Richard’s sister; accompanied Berengaria and Richard on the Crusade.

  Robert of Leicester—Earl of Leicester; one of the gentlemen who fought in the Holy Land with King Richard.

  Guy de Lusignan—deposed King of Jerusalem.

  Sir Giles—Castellan of Iford Keep; one of Lady Alinor’s men.

  Chapter One

  Lady Alinor, heiress of the honors of Roselynde, Mersea, Kingsclere, Iford, and enough other estates to make her one of the wealthiest prizes in England, leaned forward to stroke the neck of her sidling and curveting mount. The gesture did not calm the mare. Dawn continued to dance, and Alinor had to curb the desire to shriek at her. Since the animal was merely reacting to Alinor’s own concealed fear, that would have set the fat in the fire—a not uncommon result of first impulses with Alinor. Controlling herself, she added a soothing murmur to her patting.

  Above her own murmur, Alinor could hear a tuneless whistling. It was a sound to which she was well accustomed, yet it set her teeth on edge. When Sir Andre Fortesque, the chief of her vassals, whistled between his teeth like that, he was worried. And he has not even criticized my handling of Dawn, Alinor thought, her throat tightening with fear. Then why did he not permit me to close my keeps and fight?

  But Alinor knew the answer to that. Sir Andre had been quick enough to call up the other vassals to defend his lady against all threats from her neighbors or any other magnate who wished to snap such a tasty (and wealthy) tidbit into marriage. He had fought endless skirmishes and two minor wars in her defense over the past year. This was different. This was a matter of the king’s writ—or, at least, the queen’s writ. Lord Richard, soon to be crowned King of England, was still busy in Normandy, but his mighty mother, the legendary Alinor of Aquitaine, was ruling as Regent in his stead.

  The dowager queen had been sixteen years in restrictive custody for raising revolution against her husband King Henry, but she had not lost contact with any event of note that took place in England or France. The death of Alinor’s grandfather, Lord Rannulf, which left an unmarried sixteen-year-old girl as heiress, had certainly not escaped her notice. One of the earliest writs that went out as she gathered the threads of government into her capable hands had gone to Alinor. And now, on her way from Winchester to London, the queen was riding some fifty miles out of her way to settle Alinor’s affairs.

  It was not a mark of royal affection for which Alinor was grateful, but she was resigned. The important thing was to keep her estates intact, and defiance of a royal writ amounted to treason, for which c
rime her estates and those of the vassals who supported her, would be forfeit. If only Alinor had been able to marry while the old king and his sons had been locked in their death struggle. There had been plenty of offers—from penniless younger sons, with nothing but smooth tongues and a desire to eat Alinor’s substance, to ancient magnates, with a brood of starveling young ones to divide Alinor’s land among. Unfortunately not one of the smooth-tongued and beautiful youngsters was capable of holding her vassals together in Alinor’s judgment and the older men were not capable of holding her.

  Alinor had judged each offer on its merits, and she knew she had judged fairly because her opinion had been freely confirmed by Sir Andre and Sir John d’Alberin, who held the honor of Mersea for her. Now, of course, it was too late. She would be a royal ward, and the queen or king would choose a husband for her. Alinor’s soft lips firmed and her expressive eyes sparkled. Unless they chose wisely, she would be a widow almost before she was a wife.

  The mare was quieter now. Alinor’s lips curved a trifle. It was silly to be so nervous. Sir Andre and Sir John loved her dearly. Although they would curb the foolish impulses her youth bred, they would not permit her to be ill-used—even by a queen. The faint smile faded. That very fact placed a heavy obligation upon her. Alinor knew she would need to be clever and very circumspect, indeed, to get her own way and not bring harm upon her loyal vassals.

  A flicker of movement drew her eye. From the rise of ground upon which Alinor’s troop waited, the trail snaked downward. Alinor strained her eyes and in a moment, swallowed. The flicker had resolved itself into flashes of sunlight from the armor of a troop larger than her own coming toward them at a brisk pace. Sir Andre’s whistling stopped abruptly. A sharp word brought his men to full alert. Almost certainly the oncoming group was the queen’s cortege, but it was not impossible that a desperate last attempt by a neighboring baron might be made to capture so rich a prize before it fell into royal hands.