Harlot Queen

waiting for the wine to do its work. For all their will to repentance she had not forgotten her slyness nor he his delight in wine.
The wine easing his strict discipline he said, ‘The thing I speak of must never pass your lips. It could bring great trouble upon the land; and most of all upon the King… my son.’ And upon those last words his lips trembled. ‘It could be death to him; or to me. For myself I care little; any time is not too soon. But for him I care very much. And for the country still more. That it should be torn by war again—God forbid! Yet it would be so. There are always those to take one side or another; two Kings at one time cannot be.’
‘No word shall pass my lips. As I hope for the mercy of God, I swear it!

sabella passed through the Queen’s apartments into her closet. In the anteroom her ladies, sitting over their work, rose to their curtsey. As she passed, the Queen noted without surprise—she had grown used to such slights—the jewel in Eleanor Despenser’s coif. It had been her own; part of her father’s wedding-gift. The King had

Might not the sharpness of her wits turn about to wound the man that trusted her? It was a matter to require thought. But for all that he smiled and kissed her hand and vowed himself to her service.
And she? Could she trust him? His wits were not sharp nor was he honest; but what he lacked in both he made up in pride. Flatter his pride—the sure way to manage him!