The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd

encountered concerned her native land. Several times, when they learned that she had come from Normandy, people had remarked: ‘Ah, I dare say we shall all be under one king again soon.’ She had known that when Duke Robert of Normandy had gone on crusade three years before, he had raised the money for the expedition by a huge loan from his brother Rufus, offering Normandy itself as security. What she had not realized, but everyone in Winchester knew, was that Rufus hadn’t the slightest intention of seeing his brother return to his duchy. ‘If he isn’t killed on crusade,’ he had apparently told his friends gleefully, ‘he’ll come back penniless. He’ll never be able to repay. Then I’ll get Normandy and be as great a man as my father the Conqueror was.’
    ‘He’s probably right,’ the widow told Adela, ‘but there is a danger. Some of Robert’s friends tried to kill Rufus a few years ago. Some of the Clares, actually. Mind you, they’re all afraid of Rufus. But you never know …’
    ‘What about the third brother, young Henry?’ Adela ventured. ‘He’s got nothing to rule.’
    ‘That’s true. You may see him, by the way. He comes through here from time to time.’ Her friend considered for a few moments. ‘I think he’s probably clever,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t think he’d take sides with either brother because you only get caught in the middle. I think he keeps his head down and gives no trouble. That’s probably the wisest thing to do. Don’t you think?’
    Whenever there was any entertaining to be done in Winchester – if a party of knights came through, or some royal official and his retinue were to be given a feast by the keeper of the treasury – the widow and Adela were sure to be of the company. Within a few weeks she had met a dozen eligible young fellows who, if they were not necessarily interested themselves, might mention her to others.
    It was at one of these feasts that she met Sir Fulk.
    He was a middle-aged man, but quite agreeable. She was sorry to hear that he had just lost his fourth wife – he did not seem to say quite how. He had estates in Normandy and in Hampshire, quite near Winchester. He thought he had once met her father. She could not help wishing that, with his little moustache and round face, he did not remind her so much of Walter, but she tried to put the thought from her. He spoke affectionately of all his wives.

‘All my wives’, he told her kindly, ‘have been very amiable, very docile. I’ve been very fortunate. The second’, he added by way of encouragement, ‘looked like you.’
    ‘You mean to marry again, Sir Fulk?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You are not looking for an heiress?’
    ‘Not at all,’ he assured her. ‘I’m all right as I am. Not ambitious. And you know’ – he said this with a sincerity which was obviously meant to touch her – ‘the trouble with these heiresses is that they often have rather a high idea of the importance of their own opinions.’
    ‘They should be guided.’
    ‘Quite.’
    When they left the feast, her hostess was briefly delayed, but as soon as she joined Adela she told her: ‘You have made a conquest.’
    ‘Sir Fulk?’
    ‘He says he has received encouragement.’
    ‘He’s the most plodding man I ever met in my life.’
    ‘Perhaps, but he’s sound. He’ll give you no trouble.’
    ‘But I’ll give him trouble,’ Adela cried.
    ‘You mustn’t. Control yourself. At least get safely married first.’
    ‘But’, Adela said in exasperation, ‘he looks just like Walter!’
    Her companion took a little breath and gave her a tiny glance, which Adela failed to see. ‘Your cousin is not so bad looking.’
    ‘He is to me.’
    ‘You mean to refuse Sir Fulk if he asks for your hand? Your family could insist. Walter, that is.’
    ‘Oh, just tell him my true nature and he’ll go away at once.’
    ‘I’m afraid you’re being foolish.’
    ‘You don’t sympathize?’
    ‘I didn’t say