Isabeau, a Novel of Queen Isabella And Sir Roger Mortimer
“Between the encampment and the river lay a marshy plain where watchful ewes gathered with bucking spring lambs. At river’s edge, budding willows reflected golden in the silty, rain-gorged waters. A shepherd rose groggily from the sea of grass, yawning, while the wiry little gray dog at his knee pricked an ear and sniffed the air.
We walked along the river’s edge, the soggy ground of the floodplain making little sucking sounds around us like an infant at its mother’s breast, and talked of dearer... things: of my children, his betrothed Jeanne, and our long-ago childhoods. I felt at ease with Charles, but I also felt very much like a little girl under the reproachful eye of her father, always being corrected and guided.
“You know that Edward will never leave England?” I took a cup of wine a servant offered to me. A blanket was spread before us and cushions placed on it to sit upon. Servants brought forth supper in covered baskets: stuffed capons, white rolls with butter and an egg custard.MoreLess
We walked along the river’s edge, the soggy ground of the floodplain making little sucking sounds around us like an infant at its mother’s breast, and talked of dearer... things: of my children, his betrothed Jeanne, and our long-ago childhoods. I felt at ease with Charles, but I also felt very much like a little girl under the reproachful eye of her father, always being corrected and guided.
“You know that Edward will never leave England?” I took a cup of wine a servant offered to me. A blanket was spread before us and cushions placed on it to sit upon. Servants brought forth supper in covered baskets: stuffed capons, white rolls with butter and an egg custard.MoreLess
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