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and he had believed it. After all there must have been some truth in what they suggested. Old Hubert had been hounded from his posts, his life placed in danger, and Henry himself had come near to killing him with his sword on one occasion. Something he regretted later for he was not by nature a violent man. But what he could not bear – and it had been so particularly at that time – was anyone to suggest that he was young, inexperienced and incapable of making decisions. He had had to endure too much of that when he was very young, surrounded as he had been by advisers who fancied themselves so wise.
    But now Hubert was taken back into favour. His lands and honours were restored to him; and to show his contrition Henry tried to behave towards him as though that terrible time when he had been hounded from sanctuary and come very near to violent death had never taken place.
    Hubert arrived and came straight to the King’s apartment.
    Poor Hubert, he had aged considerably. He had lost that buoyancy which had been a characteristic of his; his brow had become very furrowed and his skin had lost its freshness. Moreover there was a look of furtiveness in his eyes as though he were watchful and would never trust those about him again.
    This was understandable. He might so easily have ended up a prisoner in the Tower of London to emerge only to suffer the traitor’s death. It had happened swiftly and suddenly and in Hubert’s mind without reason. He would never rid himself of the fear that it could come again.
    ‘Ah, Hubert.’ The King held out his hand and smiled warmly.
    Hubert took it and bowing low, kissed it. So he was safe for today, he thought with relief. The King was concerned but Hubert was not to be held responsible for what was troubling him. Hubert softened a little. Henry was not to be blamed entirely. He had been led away by malicious men who had been determined to destroy Hubert de Burgh, a man whose possessions and standing with the King they envied. But that was in the past. By great good fortune from Hubert’s point of view, Edmund the sainted Archbishop of Canterbury had deplored the influence Hubert’s arch enemy, Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, was gaining over the King. He had not been alone in this and backed by powerful barons the Archbishop had threatened the King with excommunication if he did not dismiss the Bishop.
    Henry, whose religious instincts were strong, had been impressed by the saintliness of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and in due course dismissed Peter des Roches. Thus the way had been paved for Hubert’s return to favour.
    But there must be tensions between them which could never be overcome. Hubert could not forget that the King had turned against him and only extreme good luck had prevented his enemies from destroying him; Henry would always remember the rumours he had heard of Hubert. They would never again entirely trust each other.
    Peter des Roches had left England taking with him much of his wealth which he had placed at the service of the Pope who was engaged in war with the Romans. But his memory lingered on and the harm he had done to Hubert would never completely be eliminated.
    All this they both remembered as they faced each other.
    ‘The messengers are long in returning from Ponthieu,’ said Henry.
    ‘My lord, there is much for them to settle. When they return the contracts will have been agreed and your bride will be making her preparation to come to England.’
    ‘I trust she is as comely as we have heard, Hubert.’
    ‘She is young and I doubt not that she is also comely.’
    ‘This time,’ said Henry, ‘I shall make sure that nothing prevents my marriage.’
    ‘I see no reason, my lord, why it should.’
    For a moment Henry regarded the Justiciar through half-closed eyes. Was it true or malicious talk that Hubert had been responsible for stopping the negotiations for those other matches? No, he did not believe Hubert would behave so. Moreover, what