The Queen's Pawn

by Christy English

  The maid set it on the table, no doubt thinking that it was for me.

  “Thank you, Maude,” I said.

  She colored visibly, grateful that I remembered her name.

  I had dressed carefully that morning in my royal blue gown, one of the first gowns Henry had given me. I wore my father’s rosary at my waist, the gold and pearls set against the indigo silk. I wore no veil, for Henry liked to see my curls uncovered when we were alone. If I was successful, we would soon be alone, though it was the middle of the day.

  “Well, Marie Helene. May the Holy Mother bless us.”

  “Amen.”

  Marie Helene crossed herself. Only then did she see what I was about. She knew me well by now, and knew that I would not allow her to walk with me. This day would be yet another move on my chessboard. Today, Henry would stand with me or cast me off when he heard of the child I would bear. I took up the tray, and Marie Helene opened the outer door for me. She did not follow, and I went on alone.

  Henry’s men-at-arms knew me at once, and bowed, each taken with the light as it fell on my chestnut curls. I smiled at them.

  “Brian. Fitzwilliam. May I see the king?”

  They stared at me, as if in a stupor. I had not come to the king unannounced since the day I first had him.

  “I have brought him this good bread,” I said. “It is fresh from the bakehouse. I fear that the day runs on, and His Majesty does not eat.”

  This concern struck both of them dumb. Never, in any time or place, would Eleanor have shown such solicitude, or such womanly grace. I knew this and smiled, even as they opened the door for me.

  Henry was surrounded by his ministers. I had not yet been introduced to any of them, but to a man they bowed to me as if I were queen already

  Henry crossed the room to me, taking the tray from my hands.

  “Alais, what is this feast? Did you bake this bread yourself?”

  His men laughed, as he meant them to. He looked down at me, and I could see love in his eyes in spite of the dismissal in his tone.

  “No, Your Majesty I simply sent to the kitchens for it. But I learned to bake in the nunnery. If you would have me bake bread for you with my own hands, it would please me above all things.”

  The men stopped laughing, struck dumb as the men-at-arms had been. No doubt they had never seen a princess of the royal blood humble herself. Certainly Eleanor would never have done so.

  A man-at-arms came forward and took the tray from Henry’s hands. The king made one gesture, and moving as one, all his ministers and men-at-arms left us alone. As they went, they bowed first to the king, and then to me. I noticed that the bows they offered were almost equally deep. Henry noticed as well, and he quirked a brow at me.

  “So, Alais, what are you playing at?”

  “Nothing, my lord. I wanted only to feed you, and to have a moment alone.”

  I pressed myself against him, and his arms came around me. He had taught me well, for my kiss took his mind from his men, from the bread on his table, from everything but the touch of my body against his. I kissed him until his eyes were drowsy Before he could draw me with him into his bedroom beyond, I said, “My lord king, I have news.”

  Hope began to dawn behind his eyes. I watched as he fought it, for hope was a luxury he no longer allowed himself. Until now. I would give it back to him.

  “I am with child.”

  Henry searched my eyes to see if I was lying, if this might be some trick, some ploy, as it could have been from Eleanor. I stood under his gaze, my eyes on his. He remembered then who I was, and what I meant to him.

  He swept me up and cradled me, clutching me close as he sat down on his favorite chair. The cushions were plump to support his back, which pained him now and then, though no one but me and his page knew it. I kissed his cheek. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of tears.

  “A son,” he said. “A son for England.”

  “God willing,” I said.

  “Amen.”

  It was the first time I ever heard Henry utter a prayer, and the last. My own relief washed over me, like a tide that would never go out. He would claim this child, and me. I was one step closer to the throne.

  He held me close, and I pressed a kiss to his temple. His hand rested on my still-flat belly. We sat together in silence, both filled with the unexpected hope of a new beginning, the beginning that our unborn son might bring.

  Through the marriage he might make with me, through this unborn child in my belly, Henry hoped to capture his youth once more. Like all older men who sought a younger wife, he wanted to pretend that the choices he had made in his life were not binding, that there was still time left to him to make things right. He might truly cheat death, make me his wife, and begin again, as if the world were new, all rancor with Eleanor and her sons a distant memory

  We stayed together all afternoon, and that time alone was like a blessed season. Neither doubt nor fear entered my mind as I sat alone with Henry that day.

  Henry sent word that his ministers need not wait on him until the morrow. He ate the bread and cheese I brought, then sat munching an apple as I sipped gingerly at my favorite wine. During my pregnancy I was nauseous for half the day, but as the afternoon began to turn toward evening, my stomach settled, and I was myself once more.

  “There is word from the pope, Alais.”

  “Will he support us, Henry?”

  I sat once more on his lap, his hand caressing my hair. “He does not say.”

  My fear of Henry’s oath breaking did not rise to taunt me as I sat wrapped safe in his arms. I tilted my head to look at him, and Henry pressed a kiss to my lips. “His Holiness waits to see which way the wind blows. Eleanor is powerful, and until a few months ago held the Aquitaine in her own right. His Holiness does not want to make an enemy of her and, through her, my son.”

  “Richard?”

  I spoke the name without thinking, and Henry’s back stiffened. I ignored my own pain at the thought of Richard. It was a wound that still bled in me. I kept my voice light as I kissed Henry, caressing his hair. “My lord, the Prince Richard is surely too devout to question the decisions of the pope.”

  Henry’s lips quirked in mirth, but he did not laugh at me. “Surely.”

  “Write to him again, my lord. His Holiness will want to keep the peace in these lands, as we do. He will support you.”

  “Us, Alais. He will support us.”

  “To support you is to support me, Henry I will be your wife. We will be one flesh before God. I am yours, for the rest of my life.”

  He kissed me and lifted me in his arms. I savored the taste of him as I savored little else in those first early days of my pregnancy

  Henry carried me into the room where he slept, and pressed me back onto the softness of his bed. Henry brought me to ecstasy with his strong, wide hands.

  We took pleasure in each other until after the sun had set. We were late coming to the great hall that night for the evening feast, but it did not matter. For he was king.

  The autumn came on and my belly grew, rounding nicely though the rest of my body stayed slender. I displayed my belly even before it had grown much, proud of the heir I carried, one more son to shore up Henry’s power.

  Even the sight of me did not give Eleanor pause. She raised her goblet to me from the other end of the high table. I did not see her alone, then or ever, and we did not speak of it. She was kind enough to send fresh pears to my rooms when they came in from Anjou. They were one of the few foods I could eat in the mornings without being sick.

  She did not act from kindness alone. Eleanor meant to remind me of how far her arm reached, and of how much her spies knew of the intimacies of my life, but I was still touched. I stayed in a haze of goodwill regarding her until eels were served at dinner the next night, and I had to leave the hall or vomit in front of all the court.

  I caught Eleanor’s eye as I ran from the hall in disgrace, and I saw how she smiled to her lady Amaria at my exp
ense. The eels had been brought to table by Eleanor’s steward in honor of my pregnancy and my roiling belly.

  My temper flared, and as my women attended me over my silver bowl, I quipped, “The Lady Eleanor will no doubt retire soon to her nunnery. Her womb is dried up, and can no longer serve the king. Perhaps her prayers will aid the kingdom where her womb cannot.”

  The ladies who attended me laughed appreciatively, but I saw a look pass between them that said perhaps King Henry had too many sons already. I bent over the bowl, retching again. When I raised my head once more, the look between them had fled. Marie Helene frowned at me, the only woman among my ladies who would dare to show disapproval.

  Eleanor’s spies no doubt numbered among the women who served in my rooms, for the next day Richard came to me alone.

  I was shocked to see him there, standing in my rooms as if he belonged in them. My ladies tittered behind their hands, all young women just up from the country, eager to serve at court and to make good marriages. They had been sent to serve the queen, but now attended me.

  I raised one hand, as I had always seen Eleanor do, and those ladies withdrew. Marie Helene stayed for propriety’s sake, though I knew that Richard would not touch me. Our old friendship, our old affinity and affection, born from loneliness and the joy of finding more in each other than duty, all that was gone. Even now, months since we had broken with each other, the sight of him pained me. I grieved over all we had lost. In spite of my own disloyalty, I was furious that he had tossed our love away for a moment of pleasure with Margaret.

  I breathed deep, my hand on my rounded belly. I had made my choice, and now I must live with it.

  “Richard, you are welcome here. May I offer you wine?”

  My betrothed looked at me as if he did not know me. I was dressed from head to toe in my new silk finery. Henry had more elaborate taste in clothes than Eleanor, at least for his mistresses, for I wore cloth of gold almost every day now, with gilt trim and sable. I kept my habit of wearing a simple veil held in place by Eleanor’s gold filet. The fleurs-de-Iys of my father’s house pressed into my brow, reminding me always of who I was and why I walked the path I had chosen.

  Richard took in the sight of me, and bowed low, almost as low as he bowed to his mother. I could see even then that he was angry, and I waited for him to speak.

  “You spoke ill of my mother, and all the world heard you. You spoke of her dried-up womb with contempt. She has borne the king many sons, and healthy daughters. To speak so of her is a disgrace, both to the king and to you.”

  I felt shame rising to engulf my face in fire. I swallowed tears. His face softened, but he did not speak to comfort me. I regained control of myself, the easy tears of pregnancy banished behind my eyes. I placed my goblet down.

  “Richard, I spoke harshly of the queen to the women in my own rooms. No doubt word of my folly spread, and tales are being carried of me that are worse than the truth that spawned them.”

  “The queen has heard what you said. It grieves her.”

  My heart contracted as I thought of Eleanor, the only mother I had ever known, and of all I had brought her to. She had not backed down; not for one moment had she considered becoming a nun, as any other woman would have done in her place. I admired her strength, and the strength she had fostered in me. But I would make this alliance for France, to save my own life, and the life of my unborn child. I would not back down and go into disgrace. Henry would be mine, as would her crown.

  Whatever I was, whatever I would become, Eleanor had made me. She had shown me the way to my own strength. Without her, I never would have begun to know myself.

  “Richard, please tell the queen that I am sorry. I spoke out of turn, in a fit of retching.”

  Richard’s blue eyes sharpened on my face. “You call her the queen, even as you seek her throne?”

  Henry had warned me of such slips. So far, I had made them only with him, when we were alone. Now I had called Eleanor queen in front of her favorite son. I knew she would hear of it.

  I did not flinch from the accusation in his eyes. I had betrayed Eleanor, but she had betrayed me first.

  “I would not have thought you capable of such duplicity,” he said.

  I laid my hand on my belly, and my child gave me strength. I fought not just for myself now but for him.

  “I have never lied, nor will I. But know this, Richard: I will be queen in these lands. I wish it. Your father wishes it. In time you will come to see it as I do.”

  “I will not.”

  We stood, caught in the eyes of the other, until he blinked, and looked away

  I thought he would leave then, but he had one more question for me. “How could you be so faithless?” he asked me. “How could you leave me for him?”

  I knew I could not explain all his mother had done to force my hand, all the deceit that lay between myself and the queen. I could not tell him of the letter she had given over to his father to save him, nor of the fact Richard and I were both pawns on her chessboard until I struck out on my own, for myself. I knew he would never believe me.

  “You were unfaithful first.”

  I watched my barb hit home. His face grew pale and his blue eyes reflected the truth that he could not deny what I said. I saw that he had never before considered that just as he had expected fidelity from me, so I had wanted it from him.

  Even then, he did not leave me. He raised his eyes to mine once more, and this time, I saw his pain, bereft of all anger and hatred, bereft of all but sorrow. I saw in his eyes the words that he had spoken as we stood alone in the kitchen garden, words that even now hung between us. I had closed my heart to them, and to him; I had told myself that I had forgotten. But standing there, facing him, alone but for Marie Helene, those words came back to me.

  “I will serve you for the rest of my life,” he had said.

  I saw now that such a vow was folly. No man could be held to such an oath. But when Richard spoke those words, my heart had believed him. My heart believed him still, even now, after all I had done. I had closed the door of my heart to him, turned my back on the love we shared, out of revenge, and spite, lust for his father, and my own ambition. I had turned my back on him for what I thought was forever. But I saw, as he stood there with his heart in his eyes, that I loved him still, just as he loved me.

  Even with the pain of this new knowledge on my heart, I would turn away from his love once more. Whatever my fears, whatever my folly I had joined with Henry for good or ill. I could not now turn back.

  Richard did not speak again, for he had seen the pain in my eyes, the pain that matched his own. There was nothing left to say. He left me standing alone with only Marie Helene to attend me. She came to my side and took my hand.

  My women came back into the room, bringing lutes and tabors with them, that they might make music to pass the afternoon, as they might once have done in Eleanor’s rooms.

  Marie Helene brought Bijou to me, so that I could sit with my little dog and hear the music. I had no heart to sing myself, for I could not find my voice, but my women sang for me.

  Chapter 27

  ELEANOR: A MOMENT OF TRUCE

  Windsor Castle

  October 1172

  I sat alone in blessed silence. I was supposed to be at prayer, but unlike Alais, I had no god to pray to. I had just heard from my spy network that Henry had word from the pope. His Holiness was cautious, nothing like the man who had set me free from Louis. This pope would wait, and bide his time, to see which way the wind blew, before he moved against me.

  The pope no doubt knew, as I did, that though Henry had sworn to go on Crusade, he would never stir from his own borders to begin a foreign war, especially a war of someone else’s devising. It served no purpose but to waste money, and Henry had the business of the kingdom to consume him; that, and keeping his sons at bay.

  Richard was another matter altogether. I knew it was the secret wish of his heart to go on Crusade for the Church, to raise the banne
r of Christ once more over the city of Jerusalem. No doubt the pope had heard this, too. From all accounts, his spy network was almost as good as mine.

  So His Holiness would not move against me, or my son. All I needed to do was bide my time, and wait for Henry to tire of her.

  I crossed my solar to my window, where the breeze and sun touched my face. It was almost winter, but still I kept my windows unshuttered. I loved the feel of the wind, and kept them open as long as I could, mewed up as I was in my husband’s keep. I could not go far, either in hunting or in merriment. I had to keep my eye always on Henry, to see what move he might make next.

  I did not think on Alais. I missed her as I missed nothing and no one else, but I kept my mind from her, except when she was before me. Like the pope, I would bide my time there as well. Before long, an opportunity would present itself, and I would bring her back to me.

  Richard barged in without knocking, the only man alive who would have dared. He crossed the room to me, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild. For one horrible moment, I thought something might have happened to Henry, or to Alais.

  I was wrong.

  “Mother, he will discard her.”

  “Richard.”

  I raised one hand, and Amaria drew the door closed behind my son. She raised an eyebrow, and I shook my head at her, telling her that there was nothing truly to worry about, reminding her that Richard was emotional, especially where Alais was concerned. His news had to do with Alais, the only subject that could upset him during those dark days.

  “Richard, what ails you?”

  “Alais, Mother. She is bearing the king’s bastard, and he will toss her aside as he has all the others. What will she do then? Who will protect her, when I cannot?”

  I waited, but the old jealousy did not rise as it once would have done.

  “Hear me, Richard. When Henry casts Alais aside, as indeed he must, I will care for her.”

  “She will be disgraced before all of Europe. Her life will be over.”