The Lion of Justice by Jean Plaidy

ancestors are mocking you. Go. I cannot bear the sight of you.’
    Edith went to her cell; she lay on the floor and trembled. Hideous images came in and out of her mind. ‘Oh God,’ she prayed, ‘save me.’
    It seemed that God answered her prayers in a most dramatic manner.
    The Abbess sent for her. Rarely had Edith seen her aunt in such a pleasant mood.
    â€˜God has decided to be merciful,’ she said.
    â€˜How so?’ asked Edith eagerly.
    â€˜Alan of Bretagne, celebrating his success in getting the King’s approval, drank himself to a stupor. When he stood up, God struck him down. That lustful body is now being consumed by the fires of hell.’
    A horrible image, but how could she help but be grateful for her escape!
    â€˜Come,’ said the Abbess, ‘kneel with me now and give thanks to God.’
    But there was still the further problem. Aunt Christina was wrong if she thought the way was clear. Because one terror had been removed it did not mean that the other alternative did not remain.
    I will not become a nun, vowed Edith.
    It would begin again, the persecutions, the taunts, the persuasions. But she would be firm. She had never given her word.
    Did God in truth mean that he had determined she should become the future Abbess? Had he removed Alan de Bretagne in such a dramatic way as a sign?
    She did not know, but the fact that she was saved from Alan did not mean that she loved the black Benedictine robe any the more.
    The Abbess declared she had a further revelation of God’s approval.
    She was to be appointed to the Abbey of Wilton as its Abbess.
    This delighted her. It was Wilton Abbey over which a member of the Atheling family had always presided.
    She was to be its Abbess and she was determined to train Edith to follow in her footsteps.
    The young Athelings could now return to their brother’s court in Scotland. Only Edith and Mary, she insisted, must remain behind.

The Vices of the King’s Court
    THE KING WAS in his bedchamber with several of his friends. They were laughing together at Robert, a very special favourite of the King, who had come to show the new fashion he had created in shoes. Robert pranced round the room in hisextraordinary footgear and coming to the King, bowed in an exaggerated fashion.
    â€˜Get up, you fool,’ cried the King.
    â€˜But like you not my feet now, sir King?’
    â€˜They become you well, Robert. You must see that I have the like.’
    Robert sat on the floor and drawing off his shoe presented it to the King.
    â€˜The long points are stuffed with tow, my lord, and corned up like a ram’s horn.’
    â€˜I never saw the like,’ laughed Rufus, giving Robert an affectionate push which sent him sprawling across the floor. ‘Get up. Horned One. Get up, Cornard.’
    â€˜An’ you wish it,’ answered Robert. ‘But I see my lord likes well my shoes.’
    â€˜I like it well. What say you?’ he demanded of the company.
    â€˜My lord, we like well Robert Cornard’s horned shoes.’
    â€˜Then Cornard he shall be named from henceforth. Come sit beside me, my Cornard, and tell me what adventures have been yours in the court today?’
    â€˜Such as would make a bishop blush, lord.’
    â€˜He is a shameful one, this Robert Cornard,’ said the King. ‘But a pretty fellow albeit.’
    â€˜And always thinking of new fashions to amuse my King. Look, like you well my curls, lord?’
    Rufus pulled Robert’s hair affectionately. It was long and had been curled with hot irons and parted in the centre, falling about his face.
    He looked more like a woman than a man. He was scented and his robes swept the floor as he walked, or rather minced, about the chamber. He had a bad reputation, for it was said that he was an adept at many evil practices known to men of his kind. The King was amused by him and although he was not the friend Ranulf was, Rufus never