“The duke got a message from his father. He has been ordered to surrender Aquitaine at once to its rightful ruler, the Duchess Eleanor, and if he balks, the old king threatens to send her into Poitou with an army, ravaging the land with fire and sword until he yields up the duchy to her.”
They stared at him, dumbstruck. Andre was the first one to recover, lashing out bitterly against Richard’s father, declaring that Henry Fitz Empress was truly the spawn of Satan. Rico was loath to say so aloud, for the same blood flowed in their veins, but he found himself in hearty agreement with Andre’s emotional outburst. The old king was too clever by half, for how could Richard take up arms against his mother?
“How…how did the duke react?” he asked, and Mercadier’s shoulders twitched in a half shrug.
“His face flamed, then he went white as chalk, and withdrew to his own chamber. It was his seneschal who sent me to find you, saying ‘Go fetch his cousins,’ hoping you two might be able to help. How, I do not know,” Mercadier said candidly.
Rico and Andre did not know either. But they had to try, and when Mercadier turned to go, they were about to follow when a groan drew their attention back to the wounded bandit. Blood was soaking his tunic, and Rico flinched when he realized that it was coming from the man’s groin. Sweet Jesus, no wonder the poor sod shrieked like a gutted weasel. “What about him?”
Mercadier glanced back over his shoulder. “Leave him. If he’s lucky, his friends might come back for him. If not, there are plenty of stray dogs roaming the town, on the lookout for a meal.”
That was not an image the young knights cared to dwell upon for long, and they hastened to catch up with Mercadier, leaving the outlaw sprawled in the ancient arena where so many others had fought and died.
There were only a few times when Eleanor’s anger with Henry had burned so hotly that it had been indistinguishable from hatred. There was the afternoon she’d stood in the great hall at Limoges Castle and watched as the Count of Toulouse did homage to Hal. There were days of despairing rage in the early months of her captivity and the Michaelmas eve when he’d demanded that Richard yield Aquitaine to John. But this latest clash of wills was different. Nothing he’d ever done was as demeaning and unfair as this-using her as a weapon against her own son. Never had she felt as helpless as she had on that night at Bayeux, listening in stunned silence as he told her what he meant to do, utterly oblivious to the damage that might be done to her relationship with Richard. No, she could forgive him for making her his prisoner, but never his pawn.
Once she’d calmed down, though, she could see that there actually might be some benefits to his scheme. This was proof that he’d abandoned any hope of replacing Richard with John, for he knew she’d never agree to disinherit Richard. Richard would still be the heir to the duchy. Moreover, the transfer of authority would not be as hollow as Henry undoubtedly hoped. She had no illusions, knew he’d never trust her with real power. But the acknowledgment of her suzerainty was significant in and of itself. By recognizing her legal rights, he was bringing her from the shadows back into the light, restoring her identity in the eyes of the world. He’d not find it so easy to make her disappear again. And after eleven years of invisibility, she was eager for any taste of freedom, however circumscribed it might be.
The Duchess of Aquitaine had resources that a disgraced wife did not. She would be better able to protect herself, for she was a vassal of the French king. Most important of all, she’d be able to protect Richard’s inheritance. As long as she drew breath, his succession was assured. And since she was sure her husband had considered that, too, she could only conclude it did not matter to him, further proof that he now knew he’d never coax or bully Richard into submission. It was enough for him to have the semblance of victory, to appear to have prevailed over his rebellious son. And if this man seemed utterly unlike the one she’d married, there was no surprise in that realization and only a little regret.
Her greatest fear was that Richard would not understand, that he’d be too outraged to see this Devil’s deal was not such a one-sided bargain after all. What if he defied his father? If it came to war? If he blamed her, too, if he saw her as Harry’s accomplice? In the days that followed, she told herself repeatedly that she was being foolish, that Richard knew she’d never put her own interests above his. But the truth was that she could not be sure. She’d been separated from her sons for so long, just as they came to manhood. She loved Richard dearly. But how well did she really know him?
Although it would have given Eleanor little consolation, Henry shared her unease as they awaited Richard’s response. He thought he’d come up with a face-saving solution to an increasingly dangerous problem. He could not allow Richard to defy him so openly; no king could. By offering Richard a way to back down while still salvaging his pride, Henry hoped to resolve the impasse and restore peace to his family and realm. But he’d been bluffing, for he never had any intention of sending an army into Aquitaine. As a father, he found that prospect abhorrent, and as a king, sheer lunacy. So as time passed without word from Richard, he found himself confronting an unpleasant truth. Bluffing was an invaluable part of a ruler’s arsenal, an integral aspect of statecraft, with one great flaw. If the bluff failed, what then?
Richard gave no advance warning, arrived in Rouen with a large retinue of knights and clerics. He shared his brother Hal’s sense of drama, and as he rode through the streets of the Norman city, people turned out in large numbers to watch, enjoying the visual spectacle that royalty was expected to provide; it was a source of disappointment to many that their duke had so little taste for pageantry and pomp. As they cheered his son-so handsome and splendidly attired, mounted on a magnificent white stallion-they agreed that Duke Richard was a worthy successor to his brother of blessed memory, the young king laid to rest in their great cathedral.
In addition to Richard’s own imposing entourage, the king’s court was filled to capacity with highborn visitors and vassals, so hundreds of avid eyes were upon him as he strode into the castle’s great hall and approached his parents upon the dais. “My lord king,” he said with flawless formality, kneeling gracefully before Henry, his respectful demeanor that of subject to sovereign. Having greeted his father, he turned then to acknowledge his mother, bending over her hand with a courtly flourish. “Madame, it is my privilege to return the governance of Aquitaine to your capable hands.”
The curious spectators realized with disappointment that courtesy could be used as effectively as any shield of wood and leather, for none could tell what thoughts lay behind those inscrutable blue-grey eyes, not even the two people who’d given him life.
The table that evening was laden with venison from Henry’s latest hunt, but Eleanor had no appetite and merely toyed with her food. Afterward she found no opportunity to speak privately with her son and retired to her own chamber in a foul mood. She was too tense to sleep and was still up and dressed several hours later when a knock sounded at the door. She nodded for Amaria to open it, assuming it would be Henry coming to discuss their son’s submission. But it was Richard.
“Did your father’s spies see you come here?”
He shrugged. “It hardly matters now, does it?” he said and reached out, enfolding her in a heartfelt hug. Eleanor’s eyes misted and she blinked rapidly, not wanting him to see. Amaria had retreated to a far corner of the chamber and picked up some sewing, doing what she could to make herself as unobtrusive as possible. But she needn’t have worried, for they’d already forgotten her presence.
“I was concerned,” Eleanor admitted, “that you might be angry with me, too, thinking that I’d benefited at your expense.”
Richard’s surprise was obvious. “Why, Maman? You were given no more choice in this than I was.”
“No, I was not. But I knew how difficult this would be for you and-”
“And you were probably scared to death that I was going to act like a damned fool and doom us all,” he said with a fleeting smile. “I
cannot say I was not tempted, but…well, here I am.”
“And thank God for it,” she said fervently. “Come sit down, Richard. We have much to talk about.” Once they were seated, she reached over and laid her hand on his. “I know this is not what you want to do, but at least now you need not fear losing Aquitaine. By coming up with this scheme, your father is conceding defeat, admitting that he could not compel you to abdicate.”
Richard tilted his head, looking at her in bemusement. Did she truly think he needed to have this pointed out? He almost reminded her that he was not the fool his brother had been. He did not, though, for even if he did not understand her grieving for Hal, he did respect it. “To give the Devil his due,” he said, “Papa did come up with the only way to pry me loose from Aquitaine. He knew I would never deny your claim to the duchy.”
He paused. “But this time he has been too clever for his own good, Maman. The old fox has finally outfoxed himself. He will have to grant you more liberty now, can no longer keep you sequestered in some remote stronghold out of sight and mind. I’ll not deny that it is not easy for me, either to turn over the governance of the duchy or to let the world think he has won. But it will be a comfort to know that you are restored to your rightful place. And he is in for a rude surprise if he thinks he is going to get another tamed dog for his kennel. I will never follow in Hal’s footsteps, never.”
“I know,” she said. “An argument can be made that Hal choked to death because he was kept on such a tight chain. But not only are you a very different man than your brother, your circumstances are different, too.” She leaned forward, eager to explain why he need not fear Hal’s fate, but he gave her no chance.
“I am looking forward to seeing his face when I tell him what I intend to do. He thinks I shall be dancing attendance upon him as Hal did. But if I am not to govern Aquitaine, then I am free to follow my heart. I am going to take the cross and do what Papa would not, answer Patriarch Heraclius’s plea and lead my men to fight for the defense of the Holy Land.”
Richard grinned, very pleased with himself for having found a way to honor his mother, thwart his father, and serve God, while having a grand adventure at the same time. Eleanor did not return his smile, though. She was regarding him gravely. “I fear that would be a great mistake, Richard.”
“Why? What could be more important than securing the Kingdom of Jerusalem?”
“Securing the Kingdom of England. I know you want Aquitaine. But you want the crown, too, do you not?”
“Of course I do. It is my birthright now that Hal is dead. Why would taking the cross put it at risk?”
“Because your father will not want you to take the cross, no more than he wanted John to do so. He will forbid you to do it and will be outraged and distraught if you defy him in this. You will be giving him an entirely new grievance. He might even be dismayed enough to reconsider the succession, especially if you are not here to defend yourself.”
Richard was frowning. “I know he has been favoring Geoffrey shamelessly of late, his way of reminding me that I am not an only child and nothing is writ in stone. I just took it as one of his usual threats, nothing more than that. You truly think…?”
“I did not at first. Now…now I am not so sure. Geoffrey’s governance of Normandy was cut short by your raids into Brittany, but Harry was pleased with the way he dealt with the Norman barons and clerics and he is equally pleased with the news coming out of Brittany.”
“Why? What is Geoffrey up to now?”
“He and Constance just presided over an assize in Rennes, summoning the Breton lords to discuss the laws of inheritance in the duchy. They have made a compact in which all agree to pass their lands on to their eldest sons. Harry was quite impressed by reports of this assize, saying Geoffrey has shown considerable political skill in winning over perpetual rebels like Raoul de Fougeres. They no longer view him as Constance’s alien husband, the Angevin intruder forced upon them by their enemy, the English king. He’s succeeded in earning their respect and their trust, no small feat considering the contentious nature of the Bretons. And I regret to say that your father has compared Geoffrey’s assize to your own attempts to introduce the law of primogeniture, which resulted in a rebellion by the lords of Angouleme-”
“That is not fair! Primogeniture was already the custom in Brittany, so Geoffrey had an easier road to travel than I did.”
“Be that as it may, your father likes what he has seen of your brother’s rule in Brittany and he is troubled by the constant turmoil and antagonism between you and your vassals.”
“I still say he gave Geoffrey power in Normandy to punish me, knowing how little I’d like it. You know how he is, Maman. Nothing is ever straightforward with him; the man has more coils than any serpent.”
“And is he giving Geoffrey the county of Nantes just to vex you, too?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Geoffrey is getting Nantes?” When she nodded, he lapsed into silence for some moments. Eleanor was content to wait, wanting him to draw his own conclusions. “Would he truly do that?” he asked at last. “Would he dare to disregard the laws of primogeniture and pass over me in favor of my younger brother?”
“Would he dare? Oh, yes. Would he actually do it? That I do not know,” she conceded, “but you ignore the possibility at your peril.” Her hand closed on his again. “The crown is yours by right now that Hal is dead. But only you can decide if the price is too high, Richard. You will still have Aquitaine, come what may. If you can be content with that, then take the cross and leave for the Holy Land. But if you want to be king, then it would be wiser to remain here and fight for it.”
He rose abruptly and began to pace. “I do want the crown. But I do not know if I could endure the humiliating apprenticeship Papa put Hal through. If he expects me to be at his beck and call like a pet spaniel…” He shook his head, turning back to face her. “I cannot do that, Maman.”
“I do not think you will have to, dearest. Hal, may God assoil him, had no lands of his own, but you will still have Aquitaine. All will know this ‘restoration’ changes nothing in truth. You are still the heir to the duchy, and men will continue to come to you with petitions and appeals. In fact,” she said, with a wry smile, “the poor souls wanting to have rights recognized will likely need to get charters from all three of us-you, me, and Harry-to make sure there are no ambiguities or uncertainties. And when rebellion breaks out again in Aquitaine, Harry will have to rely upon you to restore order in the duchy. He no longer has the boundless energy that he once had, for his youth is long gone and his health is not as robust as it used to be. You’ll be the one he turns to for support-unless you are away in the Holy Land.”
“And then it would be Geoffrey.” He said no more after that, soon excused himself without telling her what he meant to do. There was no need, for she already knew.
It was a good summer for Henry, for his domains were at peace and there was finally harmony at home, too. Richard treated him with deference, giving him no further reason for complaint. Now that he’d reconciled with his son, his anger with Eleanor soon cooled and he found himself enjoying her pleasure in her new status. She’d had her own household for a few years now, but she wasted no time in bringing her trusted clerk Jordan back into her service, and she bestowed lavish gifts upon favorite abbeys like Fontevrault, upon Tilda and Richenza, the loyal Amaria, her daughters in Castile and Sicily, and her new grandchild; Constance had given birth to another girl on the nativity of St John the Baptist, christened Matilda in honor of Geoffrey’s sister and his formidable grandmother, the empress.
Henry shared Eleanor’s joy in the birth of their granddaughter; the news helped him through a difficult time-the second anniversary of Hal’s death. So, too, did the safe return of William Marshal from his pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Henry found he took surprising comfort in Will’s presence. He knew Will was a man of honor, a valuable addition to the royal household, but what mattered more to him was Will’s link to his son.
For the first time in a long while, he could look upon his family with contentment. John was finally established in his own lands, and the new Pope had given permission to have him crowned as King of Ireland. Tilda and Heinrich were making ready to return to Saxony, grateful that he’d been able to end their exile. Richenza would soon be Scotland’s queen. All in all, Henry thought the future looked brighter than it had in years.
But with the coming of autumn, these prospects dimmed. The Pope refused to grant the dispensation for Richenza’s marriage to the Scots king, much to the girl’s disappointment. Tilda and Heinrich had already departed, and Henry was glad that Eleanor was there to comfort Richenza, for he’d never been good at drying female tears. Then Henry fell seriously ill, and for more than a month, he found himself confined to Belvoir Castle, too weak to attend the truce conference he’d just brokered between the French king and the Count of Flanders.
Worst of all, the reports from Ireland were uniformly dismal. John’s first taste of independence and authority had proven to be an unmitigated disaster. His companions, many of them younger sons, too, offended the Irish chieftains by mocking their dress, their customs, even their long beards. Instead of curbing such bad behavior, John had encouraged it. Having his own funds at long last, he’d spent money recklessly, squandering it on wine, entertainment, gambling, and frivolous whims. When he could no longer pay his routiers, they resorted to plunder and eventually deserted to the Irish. In just nine months John had managed to greatly diminish the long-standing hostility between the native Irish and the Anglo-Norman settlers, uniting them in their outrage with his inept rule. Very disappointed in his favorite son’s first foray into manhood, Henry had finally been forced to recall him.
Henry passed a relatively quiet Christmas at Domfront, with only Richard, Eleanor, and Richenza, for John had just gotten back to England and Geoffrey and Constance remained in Brittany.
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