The Queen's Pawn

by Christy English

  Chapter 19

  ELEANOR: THE KING’S HEALTH

  Windsor Castle

  July 1172

  I sat in royal splendor at table with all the great lords of the kingdom arrayed about me like stars. Some sat at the high table with me, but many seats stood vacant: my son’s, which would not be filled that day, and also Alais’ chair, and the king’s.

  I called for my wine, because my steward had not brought it as he always did. There was some tumult among the house servants; it seemed my silver ewer had been mislaid, so that my wine was brought to me in a vessel of gold.

  I raised one hand, and had my steward taste my wine there in front of me. When he did not fall retching, I let him pour it into the golden goblet that stood by It was good to drink from gold, better than silver, except that I had not called for it, which meant that someone else had.

  I drank my wine, but the food sat untouched on the trencher before me. All the hall waited, as I did, for the king to come in and begin the feast. No one would eat a grape or a morsel of squab until the king had come and seated himself among us, and raised the first bite to his own lips.

  There was laughter in the hall that night, but to my court-trained ears, the sound was false, and rang with fear. I wondered if they feared for Richard still, for another confrontation between the king and my son. Richard was tucked safe away, half a day’s ride from court. He would stay there until I called for him. I had yet to make his peace with the king.

  So something else kept the courtiers on edge. The Earl of Hertford raised his glass to me in salute, but would not meet my eyes. One of my own ladies laughed behind her hand. It was then that I began to know that whatever these people feared had something to do with me.

  I felt but did not see the eyes of the lower tables raised to me. They stared at me, and whispered, but whenever I turned my head their way, as if to ask one of my ladies a question, the courtiers at the lower tables shifted their gaze from mine, as if I might read their lips, or their thoughts.

  Henry’s castellan came to me, his piggy eyes averted out of fear. This man hated me, as so many of Henry’s men did, especially the men who lived at Windsor. He thought me a whore and worse, no doubt, though I had never cuckolded Henry in all the years we had been married. I knew my husband. It would not have been worth my life to defy him in that way; Henry would not have killed me outright, but he would have locked me away if I had ever betrayed him.

  This man was a fool, and hated me for no other reason than that I had held the king’s ear for years longer than anyone else ever had. His eyes shifted away from mine, and I knew that he hated me still.

  Henry’s castellan bowed low to me, as if he respected me. I saw then his fear of me was real, and I leaned back on the cushions of my chair, smiling. Whatever was going on, it must be good news indeed to make this man bow so low.

  “Your Grace,” he said, his voice not even stumbling over my title, as if he honored me. “The king is not coming to the hall this night.”

  I held myself very still. My smile did not fade. “Indeed. Did His Majesty send word telling us why?”

  He flushed, the pale skin of his sweaty face turning red with the effort not to breathe in my presence. He bowed again, very low. “No, Your Grace. I believe the king is taken ill.”

  “But you are not certain.”

  “No, Your Grace. I am not.”

  I raised one hand, and he withdrew, still bowing, backing away from me as if I were a lion that might maul him if he turned his back on me.

  I caught Marie Helene’s eye. She was sitting next to Alais’ empty chair. I heard a muffled laugh from the end of the high table, and something in its tone touched my heart with cold.

  I called Marie Helene to me. She came at once, her eyes averted, as everyone’s eyes were averted from mine that night. Whatever news was being bandied about the court regarding my husband, everyone had heard already. Everyone but me.

  She sat beside me when I gave her leave, in the chair that would have been Richard’s had he been there. Still, she would not meet my eyes. I touched her hand, once, very briefly Surprised, her blue eyes met mine.

  “You served me, Marie Helene, for years before you served Alais. Is this not so?”

  “It is, Your Grace. I serve you still.”

  “Indeed. But you serve her first.”

  This time her blue gaze did not drop from mine. “Yes, Your Majesty. I serve the Princess Alais.”

  I sighed, and sat back once more against my cushions, lifting my cup of gold, taking a sip of my newly watered wine.

  “That is fitting,” I said. “I would ask you a question, Marie Helene. I could ask it of another woman, to win her loyalty, to flatter her, so that in days to come she may sit close and flatter me. Or I could ask one of my spies, who serve me for gold, and for fear, and they would tell me. But I would rather ask you. Do you know why that is?”

  “Because I do not lie?” she asked.

  In spite of all the years she had lived in my court, she was still naive, as Alais was. She still believed in honor and in duty. No doubt, she even kept her given word.

  I sipped my wine in its golden goblet, and wondered where my silver one had been taken, and to whom. My spies would tell me that before the meal was done, but for now, I spoke to Marie Helene, the woman to whom I had given my daughter’s keeping.

  “Marie Helene, I ask you because you love me. Am I wrong in saying that?”

  I saw the pain on her face, the pain of divided loyalty. She knew, no doubt, as all the court did, that Alais and I had quarreled over Richard. Being close to Alais, she no doubt knew more than most. She met my eyes. I saw that, in spite of her other loyalties, she would not lie to me.

  “You are not wrong, Your Majesty. I love you, as all men do.”

  I waved her attempt at flattery away. “We need not trouble ourselves with niceties, Marie Helene. I want only the truth. Will you give it?”

  “If it lies in my power, Your Grace.”

  “Very well. Tell me what the court is whispering. Tell me, where is the king?”

  She did not look away, though I knew she wanted to. She was honest, as Alais was honest, which was why I left her to serve my daughter without asking her to spy for me. I had plenty of spies, and Alais had needed a friend. She had found one in Marie Helene.

  “Your Grace, it is news that will be hard to hear.”

  I laughed, setting my wine cup down. “I have lived many years in this court, Marie. Let me be the judge of what is hard.”

  I leaned close, as if to kiss her cheek, offering my wine cup, that she might sip from it. “Tell me,” I said. “I would know it. And I would hear it from you.”

  “The king stays in his rooms abovestairs,” she said.

  “Yes, all the world knows that. But what do they whisper? No one wants to tell me, but I will know it.”

  Marie Helene swallowed her fear, and a sip of my favorite wine. I watched the movement of her elegant throat, the swanlike grace with which she set my cup down again without offering it to me. She met my eyes, and spoke the truth that no one else, even my paid spies, had the courage to tell me.

  “The king is in his rooms. The Princess Alais is with him.”

  She spoke low, so that no one else might hear. I looked around my husband’s court, an easy smile on my face. I did not feel the pain at once. I have heard it said that mortal wounds are not felt at first. Only later, after the blade is drawn out, does one feel the pain. The blade was still in me, and deep. I did not yet draw it out.

  I needed to know only one thing more.

  “Did the king call her to him?”

  “No, Your Grace. The princess went to him herself.”

  I laughed then, so that all the court could hear me. I took a ring from my finger and pressed it into her palm. “I thank you, Marie Helene, for bringing me news that no man in my employ was brave enough to carry. Sit here at my side, drink my wine, and eat my food. We will make merry in the king’s absence.�
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  Louis’ emerald set in gold sparkled in her palm. For half a moment I thought that she would not accept it, that she might actually set my favor aside. But of course, she did not. Whomever she served and whomever she loved best, she also loved and served me. I was queen.

  I stood and raised one hand. All the hall fell silent at once. I knew then that our talk had not gone unnoticed; even now spies moved among the courtiers, giving out word that I knew of my husband’s infidelity, and Alais’ betrayal.

  “Lords and ladies, gentlefolk all, welcome to my husband’s hall.”

  They cheered me, as if I had announced a tournament. I heard in their voices the relief of sheep that sought a shepherd, the bleating of sheep that needed to hide from the wolf. Tonight they would find that safe haven in me.

  “Word has been sent me that the king has taken ill.”

  Their cheers were silenced. A cup was dropped somewhere by some ham-fisted servant girl, and the sound echoed in the stone hall like the toll of a bell.

  “We must all pray for the king’s swift recovery. Please know that the Princess Alais, lately come from France, ministers to our lord at his bedside. Let us drink to her, and to his health, that what she brings our king may succor him, and raise him up once more.”

  There was another silence, as they took in my words, and their double meaning. A thunder of cheers greeted me, and almost salved the pain of my daughter’s treachery. They called my name first, and hailed me as their queen. Remembering themselves, they called on Henry, as if he were a god that might strike them down if they did not.

  They laughed, too, beneath their cheering, but none of them was laughing at me. I called for wine from my own private barrels to be sent around the hall. I had never shown this favor in Henry’s hall before, and it raised yet another cheer, this one in my honor.

  “So, let us make merry and drink deep, all the while keeping our lord the king in our prayers. Long live the king!”

  I raised my own goblet as I said this, and everyone rose around me, one great sea of courtiers, called to attention by me.

  “Long live the king!”

  They cheered once more as my dancers came into the hall. Amaria could read my looks even from a distance, and she had sent for Bertrand and my musicians, as well as for my lesser ladies, the ones who danced with my waiting women for my pleasure in my own rooms. My musicians struck up a light and rousing tune as my ladies danced among the tables, and came to stand below the dais, bowing low to me.

  I raised my hand once more, that the hall might see where this bounty of music and merriment came from. Amaria was at my elbow then with a sack of English coin, which I cast down among them. They danced across a shower of gleaming gold.

  Henry was tightfisted and paid his musicians and dancers after the feast, and in silver. I paid mine in gold where all could see my largesse. They remembered then how rich the Aquitaine was, and that I still held it, no matter who sat as duke in Poitiers.

  Amaria met my eyes once more, and at her bidding, favored ladies and gentlemen rose from the ranks of the lower tables to sit with me at Henry’s board. No one took the king’s place, of course, but the rest of the table was filled to overflowing with laughter and merriment, rich food and fine wines. A great peacock was displayed in the center of the table in my honor, although it was a display that had been meant for the king.

  I took the court’s worship as my due, as indeed it was. They saw then, if they had ever doubted it, that no matter who Henry took as mistress, I was queen.

  Of Alais, I tried not to think. Marie Helene sat beside me, my ring gleaming bright on her finger, touching her hand with fire. I saw the pain in her face, and knew that she pitied me. To my surprise, I did not despise her for it. It was good that someone, somewhere, felt my pain that night, since I could not.

  I could only smile, and raise my glass, and eat more than my fill of succulent pork and fowl. I could only rise to my feet and dance every dance with every fine young man and gallant swain who asked me. And when it came time to hear the songs, I sat and listened to each one sung in my honor with a smile on my face, as if I could hear them.

  I shored up my power that night in Henry’s court. Indeed, I had not been so powerful among his ministers since his mother died, before Rosamund had ever shown her face. I drank my wine, and accepted tribute from Henry’s men, who bowed and kissed their hands to me. I knew that they would despise me on the morrow, for I was a woman cuckolded by her own daughter, in her own house. But tonight, they honored me.

  At court, it was always best to live each day as it came.

  Chapter 20

  ALAIS: THE KING’S MISTRESS

  Windsor Castle

  July 1172

  Henry woke first, but he did not leave me. When I turned over, and drew my hair from my eyes, I found myself cuddled close to him in my sleep, his eyes on me.

  I did not know that for the king to stay abed with me was a high honor. Any other woman would not have been allowed to sleep at the king’s side, but would have been sent away when he was done with her. We had broken new ground. Already, I was more than I had been.

  “Good morning, my lord,” I said, my voice sleepy, my eyes still heavy with dreams.

  Henry kissed me, his lips warm on mine. I felt his love for me behind them, and no trace of his lust, or mine. He kissed me, and I felt safe, safer than I had ever been. I knew that this safety was a slippery slope; I would have to tread carefully to stay in favor, move with care to stay in his good graces. But for that moment, and for as long as we were alone, I forgot all that. I would forget that he was king. He was the man I loved, the man I wanted; the man I finally had.

  “Good morning, Alais, Princess of France.”

  I kissed him back, my lips lingering over his. I wanted him to make love to me again, though he had kept me awake with love play into the early hours of the morning, his hands on my body, his body over mine.

  “In this room, I am no princess,” I said. “I am only yours.”

  Henry laughed and moved as if to draw back, but I clung to him, my hand running down his thigh, and he stayed.

  “You are always a princess, and I am always king.”

  “I know that, Henry. But here, behind the curtains of your bed, may we not be lovers, and nothing more?”

  “No. You know we cannot.”

  I drew back from him this time, for he would not join me in love play. I saw that if I was not careful, he would leave me, and deny that this night had ever happened. Then I would still be no one, with nothing, with nothing left to play for.

  So I used the weapon I always used with Henry when my wits and wiles failed: I spoke the truth.

  “Henry, I am a princess of France and you are King of England. We are bound by treaty to keep faith with my father, to keep the peace between our two countries, between the lands you and my father hold. I know this. Last night did not change it.”

  I raised myself so that I sat before him. He listened to me, and his eyes never left mine for an instant.

  “I have allied myself with you, now and always. I will live my life in your service, and in the service of France.”

  “And what of Eleanor?”

  He knew me already. This pain was the worst, the most hideous truth he could throw back at me. I did not lie to him, even then.

  “I love Eleanor. But I will serve you.”

  “From love?”

  I did not lower my eyes. “I do love you, Henry. But with or without love, I am yours, for the rest of my life.”

  “And your father‘s,” he said.

  “By serving you, and serving this treaty, I serve the throne of France.”

  “And if you must marry my son, next week or next year?”

  “I will do it if you command me.”

  “And for no other reason?”

  “For no other.”

  He kissed me then, pressing me back against the soft sheets of the royal bed. He moved over me, and came into me before I could
catch my breath. He rode me hard, and touched me deep, so that in moments I was gasping under him, filled with the pleasure that only he could give me.

  When his man came in with his breakfast, I saw that he had brought enough bread and honey for both of us. I drew a fur around my shoulders, and cut into a pear, slicing it up on a silver tray. I took a bite, then brought it to the king, and fed him from my own hand.

  “You must leave me, Alais. I have the work of the kingdom, and I must be about it.”

  I let the fur drape down past one shoulder, and offered him another bit of fruit. Henry laughed, and ate it, but I saw that he was not moved to change his mind.

  “I would rather stay here with you,” I said.

  “You cannot.”

  I set down the silver tray, and licked the juice of the pear from my fingers. I raised my fingers to his lips, as if to wipe pear juice away. I leaned up and kissed him, taking his tongue into my mouth like a wanton, like a whore, the way he had taught me to kiss him in the dark reaches of the night.

  “Henry, I would be alone with you.”

  His hands drew me close, clasping my hips so that I could feel the strength of his desire for me against my midriff. And I had thought him an old man almost in his dotage. My eyes had been opened. I was a woman in truth.

  “Give me today, Alais. Give me time, and we will be together.”

  “How long?” I asked him, my clever hand slipping between us to clasp his desire in my palm.

  He groaned and pressed himself to me, then withdrew at once, before either of us could take our pleasure again.

  “Give me a day, Alais. Tonight, in the hall, I will see you again.”

  “I will sit at your trencher,” I said. “I will eat from your plate, and drink wine from your goblet.”

  He pulled me close once more, as if he could not help himself, as if he would savor me, before he left to do his duty. “You will, Alais. You, and no other.”

  “All right, then. Until tonight.”

  I dropped my fur, and let him look at my naked body. Never before had I known the value of my beauty or my youth. In Henry’s bed, under his hands, I had learned what Eleanor, in all her years as my mistress, had never taught me.