The Queen's Pawn

by Christy English

  He spoke to none of them, but dropped my hand as he led me to another door. This one opened onto a much larger courtyard. I could see the buttery in the distance, and somewhere I heard a wheel turning, drawing water from a well.

  Richard bowed to me in the middle of a simples garden that was not much larger than the one at the abbey. Winchester was a royal palace, as well as the bishop’s seat, but it was not as large as my father’s palace in Paris. No one else was in the garden, though I could hear women working in the kitchen not far away.

  “I will leave you here,” he said, his face closed to me. The easiness between us had fled. We had started gossip by walking in public un-escorted, and he did not like it. For me, he had broken every rule of the honor we had both been raised to. Behind his displeasure at the talk we had started, I saw in his eyes that he wanted us to build our own alliance, a love born from our common loneliness. Richard hoped that we might make our own rules, and be a haven for each other.

  “I must thank you.” I touched his arm. “I would not have found this place without you.”

  His face softened, and the shutters fell from his eyes. Before he could speak again, Marie Helene found me, her wimple askew where she had drawn it on by herself.

  “Your Highness, where have you been?” she asked. “When you did not come back, I was worried, my lady.”

  “You see, my lord,” I said. “She is my friend who fears for me, so much that she would scold me in front of my betrothed.”

  “It is a good friend who will scold you, though you are a princess. Keep her by you always, for friends like that are rare.”

  We stood looking at each other, Marie Helene forgotten until she cleared her throat.

  Richard bowed to us, and we curtsied. “I hope to see you again,” he said to me, lowering his voice slightly, as if to give us privacy that we no longer had.

  “I fear you will have to, my lord.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed. “Yes. Well, it is a charge I would not turn from.”

  “Nor I.”

  Marie Helene stiffened, but neither of us heeded her.

  As we stood together, Richard’s page came running to us. He bowed first to me, then knelt to Richard on the damp ground. Richard smiled, his face softening still further at the sight of the boy. He touched the crown of the boy’s head, and the page rose to his feet.

  “My lord prince, the queen calls for you to go on a hunt.”

  The child invoked Eleanor as if she were a pagan goddess come down to earth. I hid my smile. I had always loved her. My awe had been married to my love. With others, she was always above them, beyond their reach.

  Richard turned to me. “Shall we ride out, my lady?”

  I had never been on horseback in my life. I ate meat, but never had I seen it dressed or killed. But I would not let them leave me behind.

  “I would love to, my lord prince.”

  We left the garden then, trailing behind Richard’s page, who ran ahead like the child he still was. I remembered to take up herbs for Marie Helene, and when I returned to my rooms to dress in a new gown that the seamstress now had ready for me, I found steaming water waiting, so that I might brew Marie Helene’s tea. No doubt Richard had spoken to someone, and had seen it done, before I could ring the bell myself. His kindness touched me, as had the deep blue of his eyes.

  I dressed in royal blue, and wrapped a new leather belt around my waist. I would ride out on horseback for the first time in my life, with Richard beside me.

  Chapter 6

  ELEANOR: A BALANCE OF POWER

  Winchester Castle

  May 1172

  “Your Majesty,” my spy said. “There is news.”

  I suppressed my smile, for he would not have sought me out otherwise. My women were already dismissed. I raised a bell to call Richard’s page to me, that he might deliver a message of my own. I lowered my hand, and the bell stayed silent on its stand.

  My man knew better than to keep me waiting.

  “Your Majesty, the prince has been seen in the rose garden.”

  Why this was deemed important by the network of men I kept was beyond me. I held my patience, and waited to see if this was a fool’s errand, or if something was afoot.

  “The princess is with him,” he said.

  I did not respond, but took this information in. I remembered how Richard and Alais had watched each other the night before, how he had sung to her in front of the court, as he once would have done for me. It was as if my son had never seen a woman before, as if his other lovers had never existed for him. I, of course, knew better.

  When I did not speak, my man’s voice went on, low in my ear. “He was with the Princess Alais, Your Majesty. And in the kitchen garden, too.”

  I laughed out loud at that, the thought of my son following a skirt into the bowels of the servants’ quarters. My man looked shocked at my levity, and I calmed myself. Fools very seldom laugh, and they seldom tolerate laughter in others. I did not pay this man for his mind, but for his information.

  “I thank you,” I said.

  He blushed, and lowered his head almost to the floor in supplication. I never offered thanks to my men, only gold. He knew then how valuable his information was to me, or at least, how valuable I meant it to seem.

  I raised one hand and rang my bell. Amaria came forward at once from a hidden door, where I had kept her waiting once my other women had gone. She knelt to me, too, and offered her hand. I took it, as a sign of favor, before I spoke. “Pay this man in gold, double the usual fee. Then send Richard’s page to me.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty”

  Amaria bowed, and took my man out of the solar the way she had come. I had not long to wait, for Richard’s page came almost at once, as if I had spirited him there myself. I was gratified to see that my network was quick as well as silent. Soon I would need to call my women back to sit with me; I had been alone too long already.

  When Richard’s page came in, he found me kneeling at the window, as I had seen Alais do in her own rooms. I knew the picture was a pretty one, my slender figure in cloth of gold, kneeling before God in the sunlight. The boy did not have to know that the gold beads in my hand were not a rosary but a necklace that Raymond, my old lover, had given me, many years ago.

  I finished the semblance of my prayers while Richard’s boy waited for me. I crossed myself as he watched, his breath bated. I knew beyond a doubt that he was taking in all he saw, to report to Richard.

  I rose then, and turned to him almost as if I had not known he was there, as if I had not called him myself. The boy was too young to see through this obvious subterfuge. He was barely ten summers old, the down on his cheek not yet replaced by whiskers. The boy’s eyes shone still with worship, the innocent worship that only a child can harbor.

  I raised my hand, and he took it, kneeling before me. “I would call your lord to a hunt this afternoon, if he is willing.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He did not move, as anyone else would have done. He did not hear the dismissal in my tone, so I was forced to repeat it.

  “I would hunt with my falcon,” I said. “Ask him to bring his hawk.”

  “Your Majesty, I will.”

  The boy spoke as if it were a solemn vow he was taking, as if he were swearing an oath, not to deliver a message, but to protect me for the rest of his life. I saw at once that he would remember this day, and these moments alone with me, on into his old age, if he was so lucky as to have one. Were he to stay in my son’s service, no doubt he would die in battle, as so many men did, praising my son’s name. Richard inspired the men he led with his prowess on the field. By me, men were simply inspired, as if their god had spoken to them through the glint of my green eyes.

  He left me then, and my women returned. I did not fasten Raymond’s beads at my waist, as I once would have done, but handed them off to Amaria. She palmed them without question, and hid them in her skirts, as I stepped forward and called my wome
n to take up their tapestry once more.

  I heard from three more sources that Richard had helped Alais find the kitchen garden. He was with her there when his boy found them together and brought my message, offering to take them on a hunt. Alais agreed at once, though I knew she had never been hunting before.

  We set out, just as the afternoon sun was beginning to make its way in the west. It was a terrible time to go hunting, as Richard knew full well. He did not contradict me, but helped me mount my horse himself.

  Alais did not turn a hair when he offered to lift her onto her own. I knew she had never ridden before, but she watched how I held the reins for only a moment before he raised her into her saddle. The skirts of her new gown got in her way, and Richard turned his back as she and her lady-in-waiting set them to rights once more.

  I sat my horse, as still as stone, and smiled at her. If I had thought to catch her at a disadvantage, I did not. Alais met my eyes over Richard’s head, her laughter barely suppressed for his sake.

  I raised one hand and we rode out together. I let the children lead. I watched them, their heads together, as Richard pointed out first one thing and then another along our path. Winchester is lovely in the spring, and there was much beauty to see, though I saw none of it. Instead, I looked only on my son and his betrothed, the daughter I had raised to become a woman like me.

  Her dark hair glinted with auburn in the dying sun, and Richard’s fiery mane shone. I listened to my daughter’s low voice as she drew my son ever closer into her web.

  Jealousy ate at my stomach, and threatened to gnaw on my spleen. I did not fight it, but watched my own emotions, as I did all my weaknesses. They would remain my secret, as long as I did not act on them.

  To see my son favor Alais tore at my heart, but I knew that he loved me still, and always would. As we rode, I wondered whether I could let their betrothal continue. They were marrying, not for Henry’s power and wealth, but for mine.

  With Richard duke in the Aquitaine and count in the Vexin, I stood to control key parts of the Continent. Those holdings would shore up my power, no matter what else Henry thought to do in the future. Though I had lost Henry’s ear years ago, I still had Richard’s. As I watched him speak to Alais, leaning close to take in the scent of her hair, I wondered how long past their marriage I could hold him.

  Richard’s squire rode beside him with his hawk. As I watched, Richard turned to take his hawk onto his arm. He offered the bird to Alais so that she might caress his feathers.

  My daughter did not shrink from that bird of prey, but touched him gently, lovingly, as she might someday touch my son. I had taught her nothing of the love that sprang up between a woman and the man who wooed her. Perhaps I would not have to. Richard seemed determined to teach her himself.

  As I retrieved my own bird from my man, Alais laughed, her soft voice rising, its low cadence making Richard draw near, and heed her. I had not taught her to do that, either.

  Richard set his hawk free, and I did the same with my falcon. Our birds of prey rose into the darkening sky, their eyes sharp, settling almost at once on their quarry.

  They brought down two doves. Alais made not a sound, but when our birds struck, she paled. Richard did not notice, but raised an arm so that his hawk could return to him. The bird landed on his arm as it dropped the wounded dove into Richard’s outstretched hand.

  The squire took the hawk from Richard then, and my son cut into the dove’s flesh. He offered his hawk the heart of its prey, even as it still lay beating.

  Alais grew even paler. I knew she would not swoon, because she was strong, but I took hold of her arm just the same. I moved my horse close beside her. “Daughter,” I said, “that is enough hunting for one day. Come away from here. My groom will take my falcon, and its prey with it.”

  The relief on her face was clear to me, as it would have been to no one else. She might hide her thoughts from my women and from Richard, who even in that moment praised his hawk’s prowess. From me, she could hide nothing. She turned to me in her distress as she always had, as if I was her only refuge in the world. As indeed I was.

  Alais had been schooled by Louis in obedience and silent stoicism, but I had raised her to love me. When she turned her face to me, away from that dove’s death, I saw that I need not fear the love blooming between Richard and the princess.

  I would stay my hand. Let them marry, once Henry had blessed them. Let them love each other. Pray God they would be happy longer than Henry and I had been.

  Richard loved her well, but she loved me more than any man. Between the two of us, we would hold Richard in our sway. I would have the power I craved in the Aquitaine and in the Vexin. I would take one more step on the path that had no turning. If it ever came to a contest between Richard and myself, Alais would choose me.

  I saw in her eyes, as I drew her horse away from Richard’s bloody kill, that she would love me for the rest of her life, more than any other.

  Chapter 7

  ALAIS: A ROSE WITHOUT THORNS

  Winchester Castle

  May 1172

  The sable Eleanor had given me was warm around my shoulders, but I could still feel the cool of the evening where it came in at the window. I drew the queen’s fur close over my shift and went to look down into the garden where I had first seen Richard alone. The darkness below was deep; only the scent of roses drifted up to me. From somewhere in the keep, I could hear laughter at the feast.

  “My lady, come away from the window.”

  Marie Helene heated mulled wine for me in a bronze goblet. I drank it, but it did not warm me. I saw once more the gray dove in Richard’s hand, and the glint of his knife.

  Marie Helene had listened to my story of the hunt, but said nothing. Now we stood alone in silence as the feast went on below. Eleanor had brought me back to my rooms herself, and left me there, saying that I need not dine in the hall that night.

  Indeed, it would have been too much for me to sit among her courtiers with Richard on one side of me, the knife he had used on that bird fastened at his wrist. I had never seen an animal killed before, though I had eaten meat all my life.

  I told myself that I was simply being squeamish, that my delicate folly was not worthy of a princess of France. Still, my mind would not let go of the sight of that gray dove; over and over again it bled to death on Richard’s glove, while Richard’s bird of prey ate its warm heart.

  I set the bronze goblet down, and reached for my prayer beads. Though I prayed to the Holy Mother, She had not taken the sight of that bird’s death from my mind. It lingered, so that I wondered if that creature’s death contained a message for me, one that I must heed.

  “Marie Helene, the prince hunts often, does he not?”

  “Yes, my lady. As does the queen.”

  I sat on one of my room’s chairs, its curving arms and soft cushions supporting me as my mother might have done, had she lived; as Eleanor did with her very presence, when we were alone.

  “I saw that dove in my lord’s hands, small and helpless, and I thought, dear God, will they deal so with me? Am I the dove, and they the hunter?”

  Marie Helene sat down close beside me. She did not turn from me, nor did she speak. She took my hand in her own.

  I expected her to tell me that my mind had taken on a morbid fancy. Convent-bred, I was simply not used to such sights, and to the actions of a man, a real man, such as my betrothed. But she said none of these things.

  “The Lord Richard hunts for sport, as does the queen.” She leaned close to me, and whispered so that the walls with their many ears would not hear. “But know this, my lady. Never has the Lord Richard looked on a woman as he has looked on you. He honors you, as he has honored no one else.”

  Her words rang in my ears, and the silence that followed seemed to smother them. I held them close to my heart, for they held my own hope. I prayed to the Virgin, and this time found a touch of peace, Her hand on mine, just as Marie Helene’s was.

  Once mo
re, I heard from afar the laughter in the great hall. Eleanor expected me to face what came, and so I would. I would put my trust in her, and in my husband-to-be, and in God, who had led me to this place for the good of France.

  I woke the next morning to sunlight falling on my bed from the windows over the rose garden. The servants came in to light the braziers as I reclined on my pillows. It was cool and damp in the castle at Winchester, and braziers were always lit to ward off the chill.

  My fears of the night before had faded with my sleep, but the taste of them lingered. I washed that tang away with watered wine, and stood still as Marie Helene dressed me in fine blue silk. A gift, as all things were, from the queen.

  A summons came early from Eleanor. I knew that Richard was leaving that morning for the Aquitaine. She called me to her, that I might see him once more.

  In the antechamber of the queen’s solar, three stone walls were warmed by tapestries. The fourth was dominated by windows.

  These were not narrow windows that would be shuttered against the cold come winter. They stretched to the ceiling and were covered over with glass, so that the sunlight shone through in wavy patterns.

  Instead of walking into the solar to see the queen, I stopped at the windows, and reached out to touch them. The glass was warm under my hand.

  I heard the lady with me draw in her breath. I knew then that he was there.

  I turned to smile at Richard, and bowed low to him. He did the same to me, then stood looking at me from the doorway of his mother’s solar.

  He was dressed for the road, with a breastplate of worked steel, and chain mail beneath that. His hair fell to his shoulders in waves of reddish bronze. His large hands were covered in heavy leather gloves that made them look that much larger.

  Richard held a rose between the first fingers of his right hand. He held it carefully, delicately, as if he was afraid to crush it, as if he did not know his own strength.