My heart leaped for once at the thought of Louis, as it had not since the first year of our aborted marriage. I had sent a letter by my favorite priest to Louis over a year before, broaching the subject of my eldest son. In that letter, I said nothing specific, only that I feared for young Henry’s soul, and prayed each day that he might be led by a good man to find strength in the Church.
Louis loved to hear lies from me, even now that he never saw my face. I had no doubt that he kept the letter I wrote to him, and wore it close to his heart, beneath his hair shirt. He had loved me when I was his wife, no matter how I humiliated him. He loved me still. I was not above using his love for me to shore up my power in Normandy
“It is nothing formal,” Clarissa said, laughing when Angeline noticed we had stepped aside. Clarissa twirled for me, as if to show off the dress my son had bought for her, a deep blue silk that cost as much as three hectares of land, and brought out the blue of her eyes.
I applauded her, as if we were only at some foolish game, but kept my applause quiet, so that Angeline and her sister would not draw near, bringing the others with them. As it was, we had little time, and I knew it.
Clarissa moved closer to me, taking the flower from my hand with a curtsy. “King Louis has begun sending young Henry prayer books, with political strategy in the bindings.”
I laughed a little at that, and rolled my eyes. Henry the Younger would do better to take his politics from me.
“There is talk that the Lord Henry might spend a week with the king in Rouen, so that they may speak of the Church, and its place in the life of a ruler”
“And my husband knows nothing of this?”
“Not yet. Not unless he has spies as good as I am.”
Clarissa smiled, and her eyes gleamed with the intelligence I hired her for. Of course, Henry’s spy network was just as good as mine, but as one of the pieces on my chessboard, Clarissa had no way of knowing this.
However, Clarissa had a good grasp of political strategy, and she knew as well as I did that any alliance between Louis and my son set a wedge between Henry and his heir, while enhancing my power. Henry had always had his namesake’s loyalty, but once Louis had our eldest’s ear, I would ask him to speak well of me. Before many months, if all went well, I would have power in Normandy through my eldest son, as well as in the Aquitaine and in the Vexin through Richard and Alais.
One more step on the road that had no turning. My sons began to line up, one by one, farther from their father, and a little closer to me.
Amaria called to me then, asking me to come to my ladies, where they clustered like a gaggle of geese. I moved toward them with Clarissa at my side. I could not speak to her long, for her status was not high enough to warrant it.
Once we joined my women, she left me at once with a curtsy, her look of blond innocence in place as if the intelligence behind her eyes had never been. Later, Amaria would slip her a purse of gold. What she spent it on, and how she kept it hidden from her husband, I did not ask. Such things were not my secrets to tell.
When my ladies and I returned to the castle, Richard was waiting for me. I did not bat an eye when I found him alone in my solar. Alais was entertaining the elderly ladies in her own room, and Richard would never go alone among my old women, not even for her, not on pain of death.
He looked like a great bear left adrift on an inland sea. I sent my women away, and held out my hands to him. Though he had defied me by returning too soon, I was overjoyed to see him.
“Mother, I could not leave you to him.”
He did not kneel, as he would have done had we not been alone. Richard kissed my cheek, and I took in the sun-warmed scent of his skin, and the beauty of his youth, like that of a young god. How such a creature had sprung from the last happy days of my marriage was beyond my comprehension.
“Leave me to whom, Richard?”
“My father. The king.”
My son’s face darkened when he spoke of Henry, as it had since he was a child. They had never embraced each other, not as Henry embraced the other boys. Richard held himself aloof; Richard had always been mine.
“Henry is still at Southampton, Richard.”
“No, Mother, he will be here by sunset.”
I wanted to ask the question: if such a thing was true, why had Richard not gone on to secure the Aquitaine, while I dealt with his father here? I knew his chivalry, and knew also that my words would wound him, so I said nothing. For Richard, as for Alais, I sometimes held my tongue.
“I could not leave you and Alais alone here to face him, after what I have done”
I did not point out to Richard that he had indeed done nothing yet. That he needed to go to Aquitaine to actually be invested as duke, and as such was still simply a prince. But he knew this already. I saw in his eyes that he had come back for Alais.
My pain pierced me like a well-honed dagger, sharp and true. I had not felt such pain since Henry first took the woman Rosamund as his mistress, so long ago. Richard thought me faint, and gripped my arm.
“Mother ...”
“I am all right.”
I took hold of myself, and smoothed all sign of distress from my face. My pain lay unheeded beneath my breast. “You must stay silent at the feast tonight, Richard. Leave your father to me.”
“Mother, I will. But I will defend you, if I must.”
I saw his love for me then. In spite of his newfound fascination with his betrothed, he loved me, too, just as he always had. I comforted myself with that knowledge. I even leaned my cheek against his shoulder for a moment, before I pulled away
“I thank you, Richard. You are my knight, as you have always been, as you will always be.”
He kissed my cheek first, and then bowed over my hand, as if swearing fealty. I looked down at his red gold hair, so much like Henry‘s, and knew that I would have to prepare myself for the night to come.
There were still hours of daylight left when I went to seek Alais. I found her, as I expected to, still reading to the old women of my court, all of whom looked at her as if she were the Second Coming of the Christ.
I dismissed them, and they moved quickly to do my bidding, as all my women knew to do. Alais came to me at once, and kissed me. She smelled of the rose water I had sent her the night before. She had bathed her hair in a touch of it, so that her curls smelled sweet.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“I did, Princess. Thank you.”
The last woman left us so that only Marie Helene remained. Alais raised one hand, and her woman withdrew as quietly as if she were still one of my own. I was impressed, but knew better than to say so.
Alais wrapped her arms around me without my leave, and drew me close, her sweet affection spilling over as it often did when we were alone. I had never been one to caress or fondle outside of love play, but I could never turn Alais or my son away. I kissed her hair, and she drew back, satisfied.
I knew that she could not stay in the palace or Richard might come seeking her. I would watch them, and try to keep them apart, unless I was in the room. My favorite son would cause enough trouble that night without being left to make mischief with his betrothed. With the news of the Aquitaine hovering between them, Richard would irritate Henry with his very presence, even if he never opened his mouth.
“You have been indoors too long, Alais. You must go out and get some fresh air. One of my younger ladies will take you for a walk by the river, and then to the stable to see some puppies, if you would like”
Her eyes lit up as with a sunrise. I remembered, for all her poise, how truly young she was, and how little joy her life had held, save in my presence.
“I would love that, Eleanor. Thank you.”
“Rest here, and Margaret will come for you by and by.”
“I will pray while I wait,” she said.
I thought at first she made a jest, but I remembered to whom I was speaking.
“I pray to be a good wife,”
she said. “I pray to the Virgin that I will make you proud of me.”
I felt tears rise to my eyes unbidden, and I drew her close so that she would not see them. This daughter of my heart spoke so openly when we were alone that it almost took my breath. Her sweet, undivided love made me wish that I had once had the luxury of loving as purely and as openly as she did. If I had, perhaps my life with Henry would have been altogether different.
“I am proud of you already, Alais. Never forget that, whatever comes.”
I drew back from her and saw tears in her eyes. Before I could chide her, she reached up with the kerchief I had given her, and wiped them away
I was sewing with my women when the king arrived at Windsor. Or rather, I sat idly by while they finished the tapestry for my father’s cathedral at Poitiers. It was all I could do not to go look for him myself, so impatient was I to make the next move on the chessboard that lay between myself and Henry.
Before the afternoon sun fell below the castle walls, I was pacing the floor like a tigress. My ladies watched me as I moved. No one spoke, but they all kept sewing the last flowers on the great tapestry.
I heard Henry before I saw him, before my spy came to tell me that he had arrived. Henry bellowed in the bailey for someone to take his horse. His voice echoed on the stone walls so that I heard it from my open window.
Amaria stopped reading aloud and my women stopped sewing. They all turned to look at me. “You may leave me,” I said. “I will see you all at the evening meal.”
They rose at once, leaving the tapestry unfinished on its frame. They all saw my face, and even Angeline knew better than to linger. Amaria stayed, for she knew that my order was not meant for her.
We left my solar through the secret door that led directly to my bedroom. There, Amaria helped me dress from head to toe in emerald silk, the gown Alais had worn before she had received her own dresses from my hand. Amaria dressed my hair carefully, then drew my wimple over it, leaving enough bronze along my cheek to show that the color had not faded with the years.
I had never used paint or powder, as the women did in the East, for I had never needed to. I gazed at my reflection in my bronze mirror. Though I had spent fifty years on this earth, my cheeks were smooth and lit with youth, as they had been the first day I ever saw Henry This was a trick of the light perhaps. I wondered if he might think my beauty a reflection of joy at seeing him again.
I smiled to myself in my gilded mirror. My own emerald eyes stared back at me, holding all my secrets.
I walked alone down into the main hall, and heard Henry shouting even before I stepped into the central corridor. I realized at once that he must have heard already of young Henry’s correspondence with Louis.
I stepped into the hall, and saw him there in the torchlight, for there were no windows in that hall, and no sunlight. The rushes had been recently changed, and the torches were fresh and did not smoke. As I looked at Henry in that feeble light, he reminded me of the way he had looked in his youth, when all the world lay at his feet, ready to be conquered, myself included.
“Ungrateful whelp! If the young master thinks I will sit idly by and do nothing while he takes tea with the King of France, he had bloody well think again. Christ’s wounds, have I even one son who will not vex me at every turn, who will not throw every gift I give him back in my face?”
I laughed, and Henry heard me. He turned to me, his face still puce with anger, and I saw that I had taken a chance, and had won. His anger receded as he looked at me, a great tide drawn back.
He was dressed for the road in some of the ugliest clothes I have ever seen. He thought nothing of them, for he knew his kingship came from more than silk and gold. They were merely the settings for his greatness, as he had always been quick to tell me.
Henry stared at me across that darkened room. His gray eyes took me in, as no other man’s had ever done. Even though it had been years since he had touched me, he still had the ability to steal my breath away.
Henry raised one hand, and his ministers left the hall, though no doubt they stayed close in the corridor outside, to hear what we might say. I crossed the room to him, but not too close, as if he were a lion that might maul me with one sweep of his arm.
For the first time in years, Henry smiled at me.
“Eleanor.”
He did not kiss me as he once would have done, but when I extended my hand, he came to me and took it, pressing it between both of his. He searched my face, as if to see what changes time had wrought. He saw my beauty, still untouched, and my strength, the strength that had always drawn him to me when we were alone.
“Henry,” I said. “You are a welcome sight.”
He did kiss me then. His lips lingered on mine for a moment, asking a question that I did not answer. When he drew back, all evidence of his anger had fled as if it had never been. He held my hand in his.
“You are still beautiful, wife. How is that possible?”
“Perhaps we are both the devil’s spawn, my lord, as all the legends say.”
He barked, his laughter echoing off the stone of that hall as his shouts had done only minutes before. He released my hand, but his eyes still held me. Just as he had once held power over me, I still held power over him.
“It is good to see you, Eleanor. I’d rather a woman I know than boys who won’t take gifts from my hand without biting me.”
“Which boy would that be, my liege?”
Henry’s eyes narrowed, but his smile did not falter. “Richard, for one. He has taken the Aquitaine, and at your request.”
“My lord king, the prince waits here on your pleasure. You will see him at the feast tonight.”
“Indeed.” Henry knew me well, and knew that my conciliatory tone did not change the fact that Richard would take the Aquitaine. It was clear from the look on Henry’s face that he did not know of my involvement in the alliance between Louis and Henry the Younger. I would make certain to keep it that way.
I knew of one more way I might amuse Henry, one small thing I might do to draw his anger away from Richard and young Henry Louis and his piety had long since been a joke between us. Even before we married, Louis’ goodness had been inexplicable to both of us. I thought of Louis’ daughter then, and how I had raised her to be a woman after my own heart, the kind of woman of beauty and intelligence who was rarely if ever seen in France. That I had worked such magic on our son’s betrothed might amuse Henry, as it amused me.
“My lord, you might take your ease before the dinner hour. Perhaps a walk to the inner stables would do you good. One of your hounds has whelped, and the puppies are not yet weaned.”
Henry laughed once more, and I was glad to see that I could still amuse him. “Indeed. It is kind of you to look after my bitches while I am away.”
I laughed, as he meant me to, for I had always taken his bastards into the royal nursery, and raised them well, as if they were my own children. All bastards but that woman Rosamund’s get, the woman who even now waited for him. As always, Henry and I did not speak of her.
“Richard’s betrothed walks in the stable,” I said, my voice smooth, as if Rosamund had never crossed my mind. “I thought I might tempt you to go and have a look at her.”
His eyes sharpened, and I saw that though he would never share my bed again, I might once more gain his ear. “Nothing will ever tempt me as you have, Eleanor.”
Henry took my hand in his, and raised it to his lips. He kissed not my fingers but my palm, the way he knew I loved. His breath was warm on my skin. His tongue flicked once, and I felt its touch like a sorcerer’s wand. All the while he stared up at me, into my eyes. Neither of us looked away.
I did not betray the fact that I felt his kiss in the deepest places of my body, places I no longer thought of, unless a particularly beautiful young man crossed my path. I never acted on such impulses; it would have been just the excuse Henry needed to lock me away for the rest of my life.
I did not turn from him, nor did I
give him any indication that his trick had moved me. After a long moment, he let my hand go. “I will view this French princess who has time to waste wandering among my horses.”
“I do not mean for you to devil the girl,” I said. “But no doubt, she will amuse you.”
“No doubt.” He stared at me, and once more I felt caught in the heat of his gaze. “Until tonight, then.”
“Until tonight.”
He moved to leave me, but stopped before he had taken three steps.
“Eleanor.”
“Yes?” Only through years of hard training did I keep my voice even, and my tone light.
“I am glad to be home.”
Henry meant not Windsor Castle, with its old drafty rooms and fires that smoked. He walked out of the hall to meet Alais, simply because I had asked him to.
Even now, with our happiness so many years behind us, when Henry spoke of home, he referred to me.
Chapter 9
ALAIS: A STABLE HAND
Windsor Castle
May 1172
The queen’s lady Margaret came for me as soon as Eleanor left. She was trailed by a hulking man who carried a great basket that held more food than an army could eat, much less two small women. Marie Helene stayed behind in the palace on business of her own, and I walked out with Margaret to picnic down by the riverbank.
We sat on a grassy knoll not far from the palace gates, where Margaret said we would be able to see the king when he rode past with his men. Margaret was a pretty girl just two years older than I, with soft blue eyes and blond hair that kept slipping down from beneath her wimple. She was too shy to take her wimple off and leave her hair to fall across her shoulders and down her back, though there was no one but myself and our guard to see. She kept pushing her fine blond hair back up, beneath her linen headdress.
As we ate our bread and cheese, I raised my face to the sky. Blue arched over our heads like the protective hand of God. Birds darted down from the trees by the roadside, searching for their own dinner in the grass.
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