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562 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 3, 2005
"Fight for your lord, fight for his honour, but never forget that you were fighting for yourself too."The Greatest Knight is one of the best historical fiction books I’ve ever read. After reading about Eleanor of Aquitaine in the more recent Elizabeth Chadwick’s The Summer Queen, I felt like going back not only to revisit the older Eleanor, but also to meet such a perfect hero.
“I hope to make a good match, madam… I may not look like a bargain at the moment, but rest and polish will rectify some of the damage…”
Eleanor expression softened. “I do believe you are smitten.” She teased.
William chuckled. “That would not be difficult, madam. The girl is eighteen years old and beautiful. What will she think of a grizzled old warhorse like me is another matter.”
Eleanor laughed. “Either you are shamelessly angling for praise or you not see yourself as women do.” She reached a beringed hand to touch the sides of the face: “You wear more years than I first took you into my service, but you were still a boy then, and time has wrought experience, not lines. Isabelle de Clare will have no cause to complain of this match.” …
“I trust you still have your singing voice?” Eleanor enquired.
He gave her a puzzled look. “I do not know, madam. It has been so long since there has been anything to sing about, and I have been too busy.”
“If you are to take a bride, I suggest you find it again.” Eleanor’s smile wavered. “Neither of my husbands could sing. Who knows what might have been different if either of them had bothered to learn?” She let out a shaky breath and looked down at her hands. “You may find it strange,” she said, “but even after what has happened, I mourn for Henry. There was a time when it was very sweet between us. Even all the bitterness that came afterwards cannot alter those memories. And he gave me children… He said that they were all mine except for John, but he was wrong. Even John belongs to me… He didn’t trust me. Every minute of every day I was watched, if not by his guards then by his spies.” She sighed and made a weary gesture. “William, if you are going to love your wife, and have her love you, then take some advice from one who has lived with it and without it and knows its price and value.”
“Madam?”
“Isabelle de Clare is an heiress. Remember that the lands you rule are hers and that she might desire to have a say in what you do with them. Take her with you when you can and your deputy when you cannot, and never give her cause to resent you, because she will have the raise of your sons and daughters.”
“I will do my best,” he said.
“You may think me an interfering old woman, but I have your interest at heart since I took you into my service.”
William watched the toddler struggle out of his mother’s arms and, squealing with joy, make a beeline for her pet mouser. The sleek tabby cat sprang from floor to sideboard and, curling its paws into its chest, regarded the infant disdainfully out of slanting golden eyes, the tip of its tail twitching. The squeals became less delighted. The infant reached upwards, fat fists opening and closing. “Cat,” he shouted. “Cat, cat, cat!”
Richard rode straight-backed and with a natural, supple grace, one hand at the reins, the other down by his side. William adjusted the stirrup leathers, which had been strapped to suit Longchamp’s much shorter legs, and brought the chestnut alongside Richard’s stallion. They rode away from the abbey in silence, the hooves making a hollow thud on the dry ground and raising a powder of pale dust
William clattered into the courtyard at Longueville at a gallop, flung down from his sweating courser while still reining the beast back, and strode into the keep. There was something so close to frenzy in his gait that the servants eyed him askance. Ignoring them, he ran up the twisting stairs, almost losing his footing but refusing to slow
Everyone knew that; everyone was prepared until it happened to them.
"What will you do now?” he asked. She gave a forlorn shrug.
“Return to my family…serve them by making another match and hope that it is a good one.” The grief and regret twisted a little tighter inside him.
“I hope so too, my lady,” he said.
which tells more of Marshal's married life and his struggles with King John.