Page 132 of The Favourite

Alisander looked up. “Like topazes?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He waved a hand. “Don’t regard it, pray continue. Tell me what my wife is up to.”

“Well,” Vawdrey said, “she seems hell-bent on garnering as much support for you as possible and is stirring up a veritable hornet’s nest in the process. To be perfectly honest with you, Bardulf, your wife is making things damnably difficult for me at the moment.”

Alisander felt a considerable lightening of his mood. “She is?”

“I had been hoping to keep this matter from the King as much as possible. I explained to him it was a mere formality, sticking you in here after the disgraceful treatment of our own ambassador in the Western Isles of late. I had rather thought that his grief-stricken state would aid in this endeavor, but no such luck.”

Alisander tipped his head to one side. “You reckoned without his current predilection for the Queen?” he guessed.

Vawdrey cleared his throat. “Quite so. Your wife was swift to inform Her Majesty, and the Queen is outraged that her countryman is currently ‘clapped in irons’ in Traitors Tower. She is buzzing in the King’s ear about it and Wymer does not want her to be furious; he wants her to be sympathetic and conciliatory and wholly concerned with soothing his own brow. In short, the King wants me to bring this matter to a swift and satisfactory conclusion. It is almost a pity; I have decided you must remain here until the end of the month.”

“Till the end of the month?” Alisander echoed quickly, looking up.

“I think, by then, your loyalty will be considered once more to be pristine and shining forth like a beacon of light.”

Alisander’s jaw tensed, but he did not disagree with this strategy. “How will you bear it?” he asked instead dryly. “The situation sounds so fraught with difficulties for you. Meanwhile, I am forced to sleep on a bed slung with ropes and forced to subsist on scraps and thin gruel!”

Oswald glanced speakingly at the tray next to the door which was littered with plates full of crumbs and an empty flask of wine. He made no comment. “I had a most uncomfortable interview with the Bishop of Badsbury yester’een,” he continued calmly. “He is also up in arms and demanding your release.”

“Old Carsdale?” Alisander said with surprise, thinking of that austere personage. “I have never noticed any partiality for my society on his part. Why, in heaven’s name?”

“The glaziers working on Kilnacre Abbey have downed tools in protest at your arrest,” Oswald explained wearily. “They are holding the famous east window to ransom in their workshop until your release. Perhaps you are unaware that the eastern window is considered the jewel of Kilnacre? Without it, the pilgrims will surely divert to St Frode’s, and the bishop will lose a good part of his income.”

“A bishop pleading my cause, no less,” Alisander mused. He placed a hand to his breast. “I might have known my precious Guild of Glaziers would rush to my defense. How touching.”

“You jest but they have caused chaos throughout Aphrany with demonstrations and petitions. Even the King has been forced to acknowledge your surprising popularity at large.” At Alisander’s skeptical look, he added, “The oriel window in his dressing room was put through by a stone, and we have been unable to get it replaced.”

“I hope the wind whistles past Wymer’s arse every time he pulls on his chauses,” Alisander replied callously.

Oswald Vawdrey laughed. “Your wife is also insisting on her right to visit with you here.”

Alisander sobered at once. “Absolutely not.”

Oswald Vawdrey did not speak for a moment. “You make things difficult for me, my friend,” he sighed.

“On the contrary, I have been a model prisoner.”

“Your wife has even visited with mine and set a flea in Fenella’s ear.”

“Ah, so now we have the truth of it. ‘Tis your wife that is making things uncomfortable for you, not mine.”

“She says keeping Jane from you is cruel, and I am not good at withstanding her,” Vawdrey warned him.

“If you permit Jane to come to this filthy place—” Alisander started direly.

“Filthy? No, really, Alisander, that is too much,” Oswald chided him. “Royalty has resided in this chamber with less complaint than you give!”

“My wife does not set foot in this accursed tower!” Alisander insisted.

“I will do my poor best,” Oswald promised. “If we could only make it last another three weeks, I feel sure that even your old friend Lemarchier’s heart would soften toward you.” Alisander winced. Another three weeks? Even the thought of two made him suffer to a ridiculous degree.

“But I do not know how long I can hold out against all their combined forces,” Oswald admitted wryly. “It seems like every woman at court is against me. Even my poor Bryce is complaining that the Queen’s ladies have taken to following him around telling him he ought to be ashamed of himself. He has been most upset by it. He dislikes the society of women at the best of times.”

“My heart bleeds for him,” Alisander retorted.