The Queen's Pawn

by Christy English

  I said nothing, but raised my glass once more to the princess and to my husband. She nodded to me, and I saw admiration for me dawn in her eyes, to live there with the anger that still controlled every move she made. As I watched, she made the mistake of looking at Richard. She saw the pain on his face, pain he did not know how to hide.

  I thought in that moment that she would collapse under the weight she had chosen to carry. I thought that she would weep and run from the hall, that she would throw herself down at his feet and beg his forgiveness. But she did none of these things.

  As I watched from the corner of my eye, Richard faced her and saw her pain. In my rooms he had been too blinded by anger to see it, to remember who she was, and who she had been to him. He saw it now. He clutched my hand under the table, this time drawing strength from me.

  He raised his glass, and did not look at her again, his back straight and his shoulders squared under the heap of bitterness and gall that she and his father had laid upon him. Beneath the table, he still held my hand, but his grip loosened, so that my blood could flow once more.

  Music began then, for last night I had started a new tradition of having music at dinner as the rest of the hall ate their meal.

  Henry noticed where his lover’s gaze was tending, but he did not rain fury down on her head. He only watched her, his gray eyes on her face, offering her a bit of venison, which she ate, no doubt without tasting it. When the bell for vespers chimed, she leaned close to him and asked him leave to go. Even carnal knowledge of Henry had not turned her from her father’s religion.

  Henry’s face darkened, but she did not notice, so sunk was she in her own misery. Henry kissed her, his hand gentle on her cheek as he let her go.

  Richard watched Alais leave the hall, but did not move from my side. Henry ate his dinner, but his appetite was gone. Only I would know that, though; of all the courtiers who ate in his hall, only I knew him.

  When the dancing began, Henry rose as if to join them. I stood, and Richard stood with me, ready as he always was to support me, whatever might come.

  Henry passed beside my chair and I spoke low to him, daring to make a move that I knew was foolhardy. But even I make mistakes; I made only one that night.

  “My lord king, will you join the dancing?”

  I all but asked him to partner me, there in front of the whole table. He knew what I was offering: an alliance with me and my son, no matter what harlot he chose to take to his bed. He could stand with me, and dance, as we had done the night when he gifted Richard with the Aquitaine.

  I could tell from the gray of his eyes that he was thinking of that night, too. For a moment’s breath, I thought I had him.

  Henry bowed to me most courteously, and kissed my hand. “My lady wife, I must be gone. I have pressing business elsewhere.”

  Henry left the hall, and all the court knew that he went to her.

  Richard took up my hand as soon as his father dropped it. The two men I had loved the most said not a word to each other, nor did they glance in the other’s direction. Once Henry stalked out of the hall after the prey that had lately slipped his nets, Richard led me onto the dance floor, smiling down at me.

  “Richard, you never smile unless you mean it,” I said. “Has your heart healed so quickly?”

  He moved with me in the dance, his smile in place, his eyes never leaving my face. “My heart will never heal, Mother. But do they need to know it?”

  The music of my laughter filled that stone hall, so that others joined in, though they did not know the joke. Indeed, there was nothing funny. I laughed so that I would not weep as I took my son’s hand and followed him in the intricacies of the dance.

  There would be more moves to make and more dance steps to plan for, before I gave Alais up. That night the whole hall knew I faced yet another challenge to my power with a glittering smile and light laughter. All in that hall knew, as I did, that whatever came before, in the end, I would win.

  Chapter 22

  ALAIS: TO BECOME QUEEN

  Windsor Castle

  July 1172

  I went to the chapel, which that night was empty. The Presence was lit on the altar and an old priest sat near, tending it. I knelt on the cold stone floor, doubling my skirt under me to protect my knees.

  I did not take the Mass, as I still had not been shriven. I could not confess, for I did not repent. So I set thoughts of myself and my sin aside, and prayed instead for Richard.

  I had wounded him, more deeply than I would have thought possible. As I knelt, my anger at him and his infidelity rose to choke me, until it threatened to block out everything else. Once more I saw the blue, beguiling eyes of Richard’s lover, the warm welcome on her face, her arms opening to draw my betrothed to her as Richard closed the curtain to the alcove behind them.

  I turned my eyes on the statue of the Mother by the altar, and reminded myself how She had seen worse things done, and She had forgiven them. This was cold comfort, and blasphemy, so I said a few beads of my father’s rosary, and crossed myself, praying both for France and for my own soul, that I might come to humility once more, that I might feel remorse for what I had done. I was far from remorseful, and I knew it. I was truly Eleanor’s daughter now.

  “Do you pray for Richard?”

  Henry’s voice drew me from my prayers, caressing me, bringing heat to my face and my loins as if he had touched me. I had not known it was possible to want a man as much as I wanted him. This must be what the Church preached against, this overwhelming lust that blocked out all reason and all prayer. Still, I did not repent.

  I stood and crossed myself, turning only then to meet the king’s eyes.

  “Well, do you?”

  “I do, my lord. And I pray for you. And for this kingdom.”

  “Do you regret what you have done?”

  I saw the danger in his eyes for the first time. I wondered if, even now, after acknowledging me before the entire court, Henry would turn from me, blighting all my hopes. I stepped toward him, watching his face. He did not back away from me, but he did not move to meet me, either.

  “I regret nothing, Henry. You know that.”

  “Do I? What I know is that as soon as I announce I am removing my royal presence and your lovely self from Windsor, you turn white like a milkmaid who had been tilted in a field, and you run to prayer for comfort. And I am not alone in seeing this. You ran from me in front of the entire court.”

  I heard his words unspoken: I had run from him in front of Eleanor and Richard. This was all he truly cared about. I cursed myself for a fool. I would have to remember to look to the king always, as I had once looked to Eleanor. I had no one now to guide me but myself. I would have to do better.

  “Henry, I am sorry”

  He raised one hand, as if to order me from him, but I did not stop. I moved toward him, until my breasts brushed against his chest, where his gown hid his body from me. I took in his scent, the sandalwood I loved, and his own scent under that, the scent of Henry, the most erotic scent I had ever bathed in.

  He saw the honest pleasure on my face; that was what moved him more than my contrite words. For he did not love me for my obedience, nor for my old shows of modesty He loved me for my fire, as Eleanor and Richard had loved me before him. But with him, my inner fire burned brightest. Only he knew how to stoke it, to make it burn.

  I thought we might leave together. Perhaps he knew a different way to his rooms, a secret passage from the chapel that would take us up some hidden stairs, back to his bed. But he would not wait.

  Henry drew me deeper into the gloom of the chapel, far from the altar, behind a choir screen. He pressed me back against the stone wall. I opened my mouth to protest, to ask him to take me to his bed, but I saw in his eyes that he would exact this price. If he was to let my desertion before the court pass, I would have to concede this.

  I asked forgiveness of the Holy Mother in silence, then raised my lips to his. Henry’s body blocked the chapel from my view
but for some feeble candlelight still visible at the altar. All I could see was that light, and him.

  Henry looked into my eyes. What he saw there must have satisfied him. I opened my mouth under his as he pressed me hard against the wall. The stone dug into my back as he raised me up. He hoisted my skirt, his hands under me. I reached down, but he wore no leggings, only a long gown, so he was ready for me, even as I caressed him.

  He groaned, low and long, in my ear, and I thought he might drop me, so great was his pleasure. I fastened my teeth on his ear, and he laughed under his breath.

  “You will be the death of me, Alais.”

  “God forbid, Your Grace.”

  He took me then, my back pressed to the wall, my legs wrapped around his hips. I was still sore, for I had been a virgin when he first touched me, but the pain was soon eclipsed by my own desire. I heard myself panting in his ear, and then I moaned his name.

  The pleasure came to me even as Henry groaned and lost himself in me. He clutched me close, and set me down, breathing hard, as I was. I forgot how much older he was than me. He had the strength of a lion still. Someday, God willing, we would make fine sons.

  This idle thought crossed my mind, and I let it go just as quickly I did not want to think of politics, or of tomorrow. I stood in my lover’s embrace, my skirt falling once more around my ankles.

  I pressed my lips to Henry’s throat. He laughed and leaned down to kiss me.

  “I believe I was angry at you,” he said.

  I laughed low, and kissed him back. “God forbid, my liege.”

  He looked down at me, and though his face was soft with love and spent desire, I saw his intelligence there shining back at me. I could not make such a mistake again. I would remember it.

  “Come to bed, Henry,” I said.

  He quirked an eyebrow at my presumption, but I pressed myself against him, and he did not contradict me. He drew me close, and led me out of that chapel by a back way. We made our way through a dark passage, until we emerged once more in Henry’s rooms from a secret door hidden behind a tapestry.

  I laughed. “Henry, is there no end to secrets in this keep?”

  He kissed me, but his gray eyes were solemn. “No, Alais. And you would do well to remember it.”

  I was sick of politics. I wanted him over me in bed with no thought for any other, with no thought for the morrow. I drew him down with me even before his chamberlain and page had fled, kissing him deeply. I pulled his gown off him so that his naked skin was against mine.

  I turned my mind from anything beyond the shadows of that bed. I took Henry in, body and soul, mouth and tongue and teeth, and banished all thoughts of Eleanor and Richard. Henry worked like a magic elixir over me. As long as the curtains of that bed were drawn, I could forget all else, even my own father, even that Henry was king.

  When we left for Deptford, I expected a litter to carry me. Sampson was brought to the courtyard instead, already saddled and waiting. Bijou peeked out from beneath my cloak, almost as if she was looking for Henry. I could feel her tail wagging against my side, and I wondered if I had been foolish to bring her.

  The king saw her, and laughed. “I am glad to see that you are loath to part from my gift, my lady. I will have to give you more, to see if you will bear them all with you wherever you go.”

  “The gift of your presence is enough for all of us, my lord king”

  I lowered my eyes as I said this, but not before I saw the approving looks from the men around us. Henry’s smile broadened, and he rode beside me as we left the castle keep.

  I waved to Marie Helene as I rode out, and saw her in conversation with a man-at-arms who was being left behind. I wondered if she might take a lover while I was gone. I thought to warn her from it, but we had gone too far, and already it was too late to turn back.

  Henry met my eyes. “Don’t fear for your gentlewoman. She will be safe in my court.”

  “Even without you near?” I asked, my voice pitched low so that no one else could hear.

  Henry’s open, sunny laugh warmed me. There was something charming about him always, a warmth that reached out to me all the days I knew him.

  “The king’s peace extends beyond my presence,” Henry said. “I have worked hard to secure it.”

  I thought of the stories I had heard of the time before his reign, when his mother and King Stephen had torn the country apart with their civil war. No woman was safe in the kingdom then; babes were spitted on pikes, and good English cities fell to English armies; war-lords ravaged the countryside without ceasing.

  That dark time was the very thing that my father had spent his life and mine to defend France from. Henry gave his own country a strong rule of law that was rarely if ever seen in Christendom. Henry had been strong enough to make the peace and to keep it.

  I wondered if his son young Henry would be as strong.

  That was a dangerous road to travel, for thoughts of any of his sons led to Richard. So I turned my eyes back to Henry where he rode beside me, slowing his horse and the horses of the entire company for my sake.

  “My father seeks to keep the peace in France, my lord.”

  “And is he successful?”

  “You would know that better than I, Your Grace.”

  “I think he does well, Alais. Better than one of his nature is wont to do, for he is not strong, but only good. A good man is usually not fit to be king.”

  “My father is,” I said, anger rising in me, filling my eyes with tears that I would not shed.

  Henry saw them, and he leaned over and took my hand. “As you say. Your father is a good man, and a good king.”

  I knew that Henry did not mean what he said, but I knew also that he did not mean to start a quarrel. I watched him, but his face betrayed nothing of his true thoughts. He might have contempt for my father, as the rest of Europe did, for a pious man and a cuckold, but he needed the alliance with France, as France needed the alliance with him. It was that alliance I had given my life for. It was that alliance I would serve, even now.

  As a concession to show that I did not hold his lies against him, I smiled at him, distracted from all else around me. Henry met my eyes, and I could see that he was as eager to be alone together as I was. Bijou chose that moment to try to leap from my arms to his and I had to grab her before she fell.

  “Lucky for your little dog, Princess, we have not far to ride.”

  “Lucky for me as well, my lord, for I feel the toll of riding horseback already.”

  Henry smiled at me, and I saw in his eyes that his thoughts tended back to my bed. “You will find, Alais, that you were born to be in the saddle.”

  I felt my face flush, but I did not look away from him. He had pitched his voice low, so that his men would not hear him. My lust rose, and I leaned closer to him, almost unseating myself from my horse. I did not care, though all the company watched us. I leaned as close to him as I dared, and he saw me do it. Henry drew his horse near mine and kissed me.

  We stopped along the roadside at a pavilion down by the river that some of his men had ridden ahead of us to set up. There was a table and two chairs, and a feast of cold meats and cheese, fruit, and wine. Henry brought me down off my horse himself, and kept my hand in his.

  “I am hungry, my lord. I am glad we stop to eat.”

  Henry smiled, for he knew I was not hungry for food. He hoped as well as I did that we might find a quiet glen somewhere, a place to lie down on soft grass, so that he might have me in the open air. This knowledge did not show in his face, but only in his eyes. His voice was bland when he spoke to me, conscious of the men who were present.

  “The young are always hungry. And there are always dispatches to be signed.”

  He helped me to my chair, and as he seated me, his hand lingered on my back, and caressed my rump. I laughed and he kissed me, before he sat down beside me.

  The royal clerk stepped forward, and before Henry broke his fast, he signed three scrolls in succession, reading t
hem all before he signed.

  I watched him without touching the food before me. I knew better than to eat without his permission.

  Bijou had no such scruples, and whined at my feet. I picked her up and stealthily fed her scraps of meat before setting her down once more. She wandered off into the tall grass, but always came back when I called her.

  I looked up to find myself alone with Henry, his clerk gone, the dispatches carried away by courier in their wooden box.

  Henry watched me as if he was thinking of something else. I wondered if he might take up a bit of bread, so that I, too, could eat.

  “Alais, do you despise me?”

  “What, my lord?”

  I kept my face smooth, as Eleanor had taught me. I leaned back in my chair, the soft river breeze on my face.

  “Tell me, Alais. I will not be angry. Do you mourn the loss of your good name? Your father’s honor?”

  The thought of my father was like poison in my blood, like a fire that burned behind my eyes, making tears come. I blinked so that they cleared away. My father would bless me when I accomplished what I had set out to do. I could not think of him until then.

  “No, my lord. I am not ashamed of us, or of anything we have done. What grieves me is the thought that war might come.”

  Henry raised a grape to his lips. “War troubles you? What does a pampered princess know of war?”

  I took a deep breath to keep my temper.

  “I know what my father taught me,” I said. “If our treaty is to fail, if there is war again in France, the land will be plunged into darkness.”

  Henry’s face grew grim. We had not spoken of the time before his reign, but the knowledge of it lay between us. He had been king for almost twenty years, and there were still parts of the realm that had not recovered from the fire of that civil war. There were villages razed to the ground that would never be peopled again. Every man, woman, and child in those villages had been killed by Stephen’s marauding armies. Even I, foreigner that I was, knew that.