He watched her for a few seconds before she was aware of him – in his mind stripping her of her garments and assessing her possibilities as a bedfellow. She would not be a mild woman – not like his poor Hadwisa. He was heartily sick of that one and he was going to get rid of her. He had determined on that. Why not? Her lands were safe in his keeping and he had made no secret of the fact that that was all his marriage was about. She had no children – he had decided that he would avoid that complication so that when the moment came to cast her off there would be no question of the issue of the so-called marriage. He laughed to consider how the Church had been against it and how with Richard’s connivance he had flouted the Church. The Gloucester inheritance had been worth a certain inconvenience for the addition of that to his possessions had made him one of the richest men in England. But there was a blood-bond between them. They were related through his great-grandfather Henry I who was Hadwisa’s great-grandfather too – in her case her royal blood came down through the bar sinister, but blood was blood all the same and that old fool the Archbishop of Canterbury had ranted about consanguinity. He had not cared; being rather glad, for he saw from the first that Hadwisa would not interest him except through her possessions.

So he had no need to worry about Hadwisa. When the moment arrived she would be discarded like some old garment one gave to a servant when one had no further use for it.

An idea had been forming in his mind for some time. What if he married Constance? Then if Arthur were his stepson as well as his nephew the boy would be completely in his power. Of one thing he was certain, if the opportunity should arise and Richard die without heirs he was not going to be cheated by Arthur.

Constance turned, startled when he came up behind her – rather silently for the pleasure of seeing her momentarily off her guard. She was indeed a good-looking woman and being rather tall she gave the impression of looking down on him. He would soon stop her giving that impression if he married her.

‘How beautiful you are, Constance,’ he said. ‘I always said my brother Geoffrey was the most fortunate of us all in his marriage.’

‘You are very kind,’ she said coolly. Her eyes were wary; she was like a tigress who suspects some attack on her cubs. Not without reason too.

‘Ah,’ he went on, ‘it is good for families to be together. Not always possible with those of our rank, but rest assured, Constance, that I intend to seek every opportunity of being with my delightful sister-in-law. It does me good to see my niece and my nephew. I say, what a charmer Eleanor is becoming. And Arthur! How proud you must be of the boy.’

‘I am well content with my children,’ she answered.

‘And may I say what good work you have done with Arthur.’

‘You may indeed say it, but whether I can claim the credit is another matter. You know he has spent much time at the Court of the King of France.’

‘And a thorough little Frenchman that old scoundrel has tried to make of him.’

‘I have reason to be grateful to the King of France,’ she answered shortly. ‘I can’t agree that he is old or a scoundrel.’

‘You are a stickler for accuracy, my dear sister-in-law. Philip is certainly not so aged, but wily you must admit.’

‘As becomes such a ruler,’ she answered.

‘My brother, the King of England, has reason to distrust him.’

Her lips curled. ‘One hears that there was once such a great friendship between them that men marvelled.’

John came closer to her, leering slightly. ‘Ah, that friendship. Our brother – yours in law, mine in blood – is a man of many parts.’

‘It would seem so.’

‘He has not been over-good to you, my dear Constance.’

‘One learns to be wary.’

‘You and I have a great deal in common,’ said John.

‘Is that so?’

‘Indeed yes – both having been married … after a fashion … and not married, one might say.’

She raised her eyebrows and studied him coolly.

He went on: ‘You know I went through a form of ceremony with Hadwisa of Gloucester. It was what my brother wished. He had just taken the throne and he thought her lands would be a way of providing for his young brother without making demands on his purse.’

‘Had you no wish for the match?’

‘You should see Hadwisa.’

‘I gather you are not pleased with your wife.’

‘Shall I say that she is as different from you as one woman could be from another.’

‘That would tell me little.’

‘Except that you being so attractive, she would necessarily be the opposite.’

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

He went on: ‘It was sad for you, dear Constance, when Geoffrey died so unexpectedly. Who would have believed it possible when he was playing in a joust?’

‘Those jousts were too realistic. They were more like actual battles than a game.’

‘’Twas so and Geoffrey loved them. And he left you with Eleanor but a baby, and Arthur on the way.’

‘My children have always been a great comfort to me.’

‘And an anxiety. Admit it.’

‘When great inheritances are entailed that is inevitable.’

‘’Tis sad for women. More so than for men. I know how you suffered through Ranulf de Blundevill.’

He saw the expression flit across her face – one of hatred and revulsion; and it titillated his senses to think of this fine woman forced to marry a man she hated. He wondered what had taken place between them and thought of himself with Hadwisa in the first days of their marriage when he had struck terror into his poor shrinking bride and had thus obtained the only pleasure he ever had from her.

How different from Hadwisa was Constance. On the death of Geoffrey she had been forced into the marriage by her father-in-law Henry, the King at that time; but she had no intention of submitting to such indignity as Ranulf would have forced on her. She had run away from him and returned to Brittany where the people rallied round her and showed their intention to protect her from a man she hated; as for the King of England, he was at that time too busily engaged elsewhere to enforce his will.

She was a strong woman, Constance. She had ruled Arthur’s duchy for four years with great strength of purpose and during that time she had endeared the Bretons to her to such an extent that they were ready to defend her and their heir from all invaders.

‘I’ve always admired you, Constance,’ said John. ‘I was so pleased when I heard you had escaped from that beast Ranulf. But you do not regard him as a husband, do you? That is how it is with me. You see we are in like case.’

‘I doubt Hadwisa ever caused you the anxiety the Earl of Chester caused me.’

‘I have the advantage of being a man, dear sister. You are a woman and women need men – good men – to look after them.’

‘Some of us are not so ill-equipped that we cannot look after ourselves.’

‘And you are one of those rare women. Ah, Constance, how I rejoice that we are good friends. Do you?’

‘In a world fraught with dangers it is always good to have friends.’

She hoped that she did not betray the fear which had come to her. What was John implying? Why had he come here? Could it really be that Richard was considering making a match between them?

Horrifying thought. This monster – for she knew he was that – wasted his time exchanging fair words with her. There was not one of her advisers who had not been on the alert from the moment he had arrived at her court. She had ordered that Arthur was to be watched and that if it were possible he was never to be left alone with his uncle. If anything happened to Arthur while John was near, John would immediately be suspected and that would not help him. But how could she be sure how foolish John would be? He was not noted for his wisdom.

It was certainly not inconceivable that Richard and his advisers might have some idea of a marriage between her and John since there was a question as to who – John or Arthur – was the rightful heir to the throne. Such a marriage could mean that John might rule until Arthur was of age or on John’s becoming a kind of regent.

Never, she thought. I would not trust my son in his hands … not for a moment.

That she was married to Ranulf de Blundevill, Earl of Chester, and John to Hadwisa of Gloucester would be no impediment. Those marriages could be set aside without a great deal of trouble. Marry John! He would be a thousand times worse than Ranulf. Besides, there was Guy. Her expression softened as she thought of her lover. He might see her from one of the castle windows and if he did he would come to rescue her from her odious brother-in-law. They had talked of the Prince only last night and Guy had said he was in Brittany for no good and that they must take double care of Arthur.

She turned away from John, murmuring that she must leave him now, but when she walked towards the castle he was beside her. She went quickly to her apartments and there she asked one of her trusted women to bring Guy de Thouars to her. When he came and they were alone she embraced him.

‘Oh, Guy,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid … afraid for Arthur.’

‘Arthur is well cared for, my love, while we are here.’

‘There is something in John’s mind. I can see it. He came to me in the gardens. He has some plot brewing.’

‘We must be careful of him, and we are. We knew that from the start.’

‘I see him watching Arthur.’

‘Oh yes, he does not forget that Arthur has a greater claim to the throne of England than he has.’

‘That’s what terrifies me.’ She leaned her head against him and he rested his lips on her hair. ‘This is peace,’ she murmured. ‘Peace for just a few minutes.’