The Queen's Pawn

by Christy English

  “You fear for the land, Alais?”

  “No, my lord. For the people who live on it.”

  Henry did not speak for a time, but watched me as I ate. Since he had begun to eat, I could as well.

  I said a prayer as I ate, though I was outside of God’s grace, and unshriven for the sin of licentiousness. I prayed for the people under my father’s rule, that war would be kept from them, that our treaty would not come to nothing. I prayed that I was strong enough, as Eleanor had taught me to be, to hold Henry to it.

  “The queen causes strife among my sons.”

  I did not answer. Between Henry and Richard, there was a great deal of rancor that had not begun with me. There was also a struggle for supremacy between Henry and his eldest son. It had not occurred to me before, but now that Henry pointed it out, I wondered. Perhaps Eleanor had a hand in that, too.

  “She keeps Richard always in arms against me, fighting with me when he should be in the south, protecting our lands in France.”

  Henry watched me, but my face revealed nothing. I allowed him to see my intelligence so that he would know I was not too simple to understand him, but that I kept my own counsel. He smiled, pleased with my self-control.

  “I have it on good authority that not only did Eleanor watch while my eldest son and heir made an alliance with your father, but that she brokered the alliance herself.”

  A chill moved up my spine that had nothing to do with the afternoon breeze. Here was my chance. I would bide my time, and then I would take it.

  “My lord, surely you are wrong.”

  “One of the horrors of being king, Alais, is that I rarely am. Especially when it comes to seeing treachery”

  I crossed myself against the evil he spoke.

  Henry caught my hand, and held it in his. He looked at me, his gray eyes seeing me as if for the first time.

  “Trust me, Alais. Trust me to find a way to keep the peace.”

  “How, my lord?”

  “Let me think on it, and I will tell you.”

  I would let him think, and hope that he might draw his own conclusion without me having to lead him to it. I saw in that moment that Henry remembered the words he had spoken to me by the riverside, when he had placed that crown of flowers on my head. It was all I could do not to crow in triumph. We might yet make a new treaty, one that would hold as long as we both should live.

  After we finished our picnic and rode on, I knew that I had the strength to draw Henry where I wanted him to go, if he did not go there himself.

  Perhaps we were more alike than I knew, for as I brought my horse alongside his, Bijou in one arm, it seemed I saw my own thoughts in his eyes, mirrored back at me.

  But Henry did not talk politics with me again that afternoon. He was attentive, and always watching me. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, but he did not reach for me, and his eyes held a calculating look.

  We rode into the gates of his hunting lodge at Deptford before midafternoon. Henry himself helped me down before Sampson was led away.

  He did not leave me even then, but took me into his lodge himself, a rustic place even by English standards. I could see that Eleanor had no power here, if she had ever been here at all. That was why he had brought me.

  Henry kissed me and showed me the bed that I would sleep in. Some woman had been there before us, for the room was clean if very plain, and the tapestries on the wall had been beaten so that there was very little dust. I looked at the bed, and crossed the room to open a window, letting Bijou loose among the rushes. She loved playing in straw. Eleanor did not keep rushes on the floor in the private rooms at court, so it was a new treat for my little dog.

  Henry’s eyes were on me when I looked up from Bijou’s antics. I thought he might cross the room and take me against the windowsill; his eyes were so full of fire.

  He did not approach me, though. “I will send wine and refreshment to you, Alais. Don’t eat too much, for you and I will dine alone tonight.”

  “And where is your room, my lord? Will you send for me or must I come and find you?”

  The fire in his eyes warmed me where I stood. I felt my own lust rise unbidden. I had always thought of myself as a quiet, modest girl before I first met Henry. Eleanor had taught me my strength, but I was beginning to see that there was more to me than even she had dreamt of.

  “This is my room, Alais. You will share it with me.”

  Lust flamed in me when he said that, so that my legs weakened. I needed to sit down, but I stayed on my feet out of pride. I had not known what it was to want something as much as I wanted him.

  Henry seemed to see this in my face, for he groaned and backed away from me. “I must go, Alais, and arrange the hunt for the morrow, or neither of us will leave this room until past dawn.”

  I simply stared at him. “Come back soon,” I said.

  He laughed, but I could see that his hunger for me was rising. He left without another word. I stood, breathing as hard as if I had taken a flight of stairs. I needed to have my wits about me, to ask the king for the boon I craved, to lead Henry down the path that I would have him walk.

  I leaned my head against the stone casement of the window. I said a prayer, knowing that the Holy Mother would hear me, whether I was shriven or not. The cool stone soothed me like the touch of Her hand, until I was calm again. I played with Bijou on the floor as if I were a simple girl, a girl with no thought for tomorrow, an obedient woman who always did her duty. I was not the woman I had been raised to be.

  After an hour, I saw to it that the women of the house unpacked my trunk and hung up my clothes properly. There was no dressing room in those apartments, but there was a decent clothespress and the servants knew how to use it.

  This did not take long, for I had brought little. I wandered in the orchard near the house for a time, looking at the apples on the trees that had not yet turned ripe. Bijou loved being outside, so we spent a pleasant hour under the trees, catching the scent of rain that soon would fall.

  I returned to the king’s rooms before long, and ordered bathwater brought to me.

  I was still drying off when Henry came in, his movements quiet, as they always were. I knew that he was there only because the kitchen girl who helped me bathe stopped talking and knelt on the rushes by my bath.

  “You may leave us,” Henry said.

  The girl ran out without a backward glance, and my hip bath and ewer were left standing in the middle of the room. I sighed, for I had grown used to the peaceful running of Eleanor’s household.

  I was naked but for the sheet I was wrapped in, and Henry scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed.

  “I’m still wet,” I told him, my heart racing.

  He did not answer me, but laid me down across the wool coverlet. At least I did not have to fear we would ruin it. It was the last coherent thought I had before his lips found mine.

  After Henry brought me to the peak of pleasure, and followed me over the edge himself, we lay together, still tangled in my bath sheet.

  “I meant to tell you that dinner will be served in here,” he said.

  “You forgot to mention that, my lord.”

  He laughed and buried his face between my breasts. I stroked his hair, the strands of it soft between my fingers where the sun had lightened it.

  “They will bring us venison, and cheese,” he said, his voice muffled.

  I bent down and kissed his temple. He looked up at me and gave me the sweetest smile.

  “I’m glad that we’re here, Your Grace. I’m glad we’ve come.”

  He did not make a vulgar joke as I thought he might, but stared into my eyes. Henry ran his fingers over the curls that covered my forehead. He leaned up and kissed my cheek.

  “I am glad as well, Alais. We can be ourselves here, and have some peace.”

  He raised himself then, and I rose with him. I did not dress again, but only drew a shift on, so that he might still see my body in the firelight.

 
Even this distraction did not keep him from his evening meal. We sat alone, as he had promised. The cheese was soft and the deer meat well seasoned, just as he had said. I watched him, his eyes on me. I saw the wheels turning in his mind, and I knew it was time to speak, to take the next step on the road that had no turning.

  “Henry, do you truly want peace?”

  His eyes measured me, taking me in. He swallowed the last bite of bread, and looked at me without blinking. I could see nothing of his thoughts on his face.

  “I have given my life to spread the king’s peace. You know that, Alais.”

  “And I have given my life to keep the peace between England and France.”

  “Until two nights ago,” he said.

  “No, my lord. What I did two nights ago, I did for France, as well as for myself.”

  I rose from my chair and knelt beside him, the rushes on the stone floor catching on the hem of my shift. I ignored them, and the fact that they pricked my heels and ankles. I met Henry’s eyes, and he did not look away.

  “If Eleanor breaks the peace, if she causes strife between you and your sons, why not put her away?”

  Henry did not laugh at me as I had thought he might. His eyes did not leave mine. I knew then with complete certainty that he had been thinking along this line already. His idle statement by the riverside had not been mere fancy. I grew bolder.

  “As an abbess in a nunnery, Eleanor could do little to foment rebellion. In the cloister, she would see no one, hear nothing. Perhaps she might be at peace.”

  “There is peace only in the grave, Alais, and you know it.”

  I saw then that he was testing me, wondering if I would call for her death. The pain of that thought pierced me like a lance in my side. I almost could not breathe.

  “Dear God, Your Majesty. God forbid any harm should come to the queen.” I crossed myself, and prayed in truth, my hands clasped, though my rosary was far from me. I prayed for Eleanor’s safety with no thought for my own. I prayed that she would be safe always. No matter what came between us, I loved her and I always would.

  Henry saw my fear, and how deep it ran. He drew me onto his lap. He stroked my hair, and kissed me. “Alais, I would never harm Eleanor. You know that.”

  “I would never speak her name again,” I said. “I would go into a nunnery myself and never see the light of day before I would draw harm down on Eleanor’s head.”

  Henry stroked me, his hands on my body, but my lust did not rise, and his touch did not comfort me. “No, Alais, I will keep you by me a while longer.”

  I clutched him, and he held me, his hands gentle on my body and on my hair. He did not move to take me, and I felt my fear receding. All was not yet lost. I loved Eleanor, and I saw for the first time that Henry did, too. Perhaps we could speak together, and deal with one another, with this understanding between us.

  He kissed me, and I drew myself up, so that I might meet his eyes. I drew my fear back into my heart, for I was strong enough to bear it. Henry saw this, and smiled.

  “You will make fine sons, Alais,” he said.

  “God willing, Your Majesty, we will.”

  He stared at me, the smile fading from his face. His eyes were grave, but I saw at once that his thoughts had been tending this way, too. But he would not speak. He wanted to hear me give them voice.

  “Your Grace, I would be your wife. Set Eleanor aside, as she once set aside my father, and marry me.”

  Henry looked at me for a long moment, drinking in the truth from my eyes. He pushed my curls back from my face, where they had fallen when I knelt to pray. He pressed his hand against my cheek and held it there. His voice was soft when he answered me.

  “You have ambition, then?” he asked.

  I met his eyes. I did not look away, not at the fire or at the floor. I did not dissemble, nor did I lie, just as I had promised him the night he first met me. From me, he would always have the truth.

  “Only to serve you, my lord king. And our treaty. I wish to bind the peace for all time. I wish to serve you and this country, my father and France, all in one stroke. I would be your wife, obedient to your desires. I would keep my father in league with us, no matter what your sons wished to do in the future. I would stir up no trouble amongst your kin, but be a salve of peace over them.”

  “Your son would never sit on the throne of England.”

  “I know that. God preserve Henry and Richard, Geoffrey, and John into your old age, and beyond. Put our sons in the Church, or send them as diplomats to foreign courts, wherever you need them. I will raise them as I was raised, to serve my king. They will stand by you, Henry, as I do. As I always will. I swear it.”

  “And Eleanor would step aside? The most powerful woman in Europe would take the veil, and step down for you?”

  “No, my lord king. She would be moved aside to keep the peace. Eleanor loves this country, as you do. In the end, she will do what is best for the people.”

  Henry did not share my confidence. I took his hand in mine, and kissed it, looking once more into his eyes. “She will step down because you tell her to. You are king.”

  “I will send her to the abbey at Fontevrault. Even Eleanor will make little mischief there. I will set her aside, and we will have some peace.”

  Speaking these words, he kissed me, drawing me close, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, as if I were a feather on the wind. He laid me down on his bed, on the sheets that smelled of apple orchards and summer sun. He pressed me back onto those sheets and entered my body almost without preamble, as if to seal the pact between us.

  I gasped under him, the motion of his body washing over me as the waves of the sea. The pleasure took me, but did not swamp my reason. I kept my eyes on his, and he kept his on mine as his own pleasure took him, and cast him down once more. He clung to me, and I to him.

  “Alais, Princess of France, will you stand with me against all others?”

  “Henry of England, Normandy, and Anjou, I will stand with you, now and always, until I take my last breath on this earth.”

  He knew this was no idle oath. He knew it was not the aftermath of love play, nor the languor of love, that bade me speak. He saw the truth in my eyes, even as he stared down at me, and I saw the truth in his. Whatever else came after, on that day we pledged ourselves, one to the other. On that day, he became my husband in truth in my own mind, if nowhere else on earth.

  Chapter 23

  ELEANOR: ANOTHER LETTER

  Windsor Castle

  August 1172

  Once Alais and Henry had gone, I made no pretense of joy among my own women. I stared out my window, as if waiting for Alais to come back, knowing that she would not.

  They had been gone over two weeks already, and her absence in the palace and at table was like a hole in my heart. I spoke to no one about my own loss, for that was my concern. Richard still was brooding, more than I thought he might. Always before, at the first sign of betrayal, Richard cursed the offender, then forgot his existence. Alais, in all ways, was different.

  Though Henry had run amok with his newfound lust, I knew that in the end he would see reason, as he always did. Even now, I wondered what the fair Rosamund thought of her erstwhile lover. No doubt she looked on all Henry’s other doxies as simply the lusts of a vital man. I knew that she would hear of Alais, and I hoped the knowledge pained her.

  For if Rosamund was my opposite in temperament, as so many people said, Alais was almost my equal in strength. No other woman in all of Christendom could say the same. She was the woman I had raised her to be. Only Alais was lit with that inner fire that rode above my own heart. Only she reminded me of myself when I was young, when my father had the teaching of me.

  It was the loss of Alais that burned like acid on my skin, but I did not accept that loss. She was mine, and forever. An affair with my husband would not change that. I wondered how long it would be until she knew it.

  Richard came to me from the tiltyard, his face newly washed, his red gol
d hair a mane around his shoulders. My women preened for him; Angeline even fawned, dropping into a low curtsy, hoping that she might be called on to succor him in his time of distress. Margaret paled at the sight of him. As I watched, I saw no spark between them. Perhaps, in his grief, he had turned her away.

  “Richard,” I said. “How fare you?”

  “The same, Mother. I imagine I will be the same for a long time to come.”

  I raised one hand, and my women left us without a word. Richard saw Marie Helene among them, and stared. She averted her eyes, afraid to look at him. He watched Marie Helene until she left the room. Only then did he turn once more to me.

  “Do you want her?” I asked. “I could have her in your bed by sundown.”

  He stared at me, almost as if my words came to his ears in a language he did not know. Then the light of understanding came back into his eyes, and I wished my words back. His pain was not dimmed by my offer but sharpened.

  “No, Mother. Do not trouble yourself on my account.”

  I came to his side and pressed the softness of my palm against his cheek. “Richard, there is news.”

  “From Aquitaine?”

  “No. From Deptford.”

  He flinched at the word, and stiffened under my hand, controlling himself with difficulty. He did not step away from me.

  I moved across the room to allow him to gather his thoughts. On my table a letter lay, its seal broken.

  “My spies have brought a letter that was meant for His Holiness the pope.”

  “Who wrote it?” he asked.

  “Your father. The king.”

  I watched my son for some sign of spleen, for some sign that his wits were not about him, that his fury would overwhelm his common sense. After the first moment, when his fist clenched almost against his will, I did not see it.

  Richard met my eyes, ready to hear the rest, his legendary temper dormant beneath the cool blue of his eyes. He had heard me name his father without cursing. Now I could tell him the rest.

  “Henry has written to the pope to ask for his support in casting me aside. The king would like me to retire to the nunnery at Fontevrault. As the abbess, of course.”