The Autumn Throne (33 page)

The scribe bowed and set about the task. From the table at her side, Alienor picked up a small drawstring bag made from purple silk and tipped out the silver seal matrix it
contained. She had commissioned it on the day she left Sarum and it depicted her wearing her three-pointed crown, a sceptre in her right hand and an orb in her left, topped with a cross and a dove – although in her private thoughts it was a gyrfalcon too. The wording around the outside of the seal proclaimed her title ‘By the Grace of God’. Never before had that accolade adorned her seals, although Henry had used it on his. The phrase added authority to her letters and gave her a pleasurable frisson of power.

Once all had been delegated and each person knew his or her tasks, she withdrew to her chamber and had her ladies dress her in formal robes of silk and brocade, stitched with gold beads and pearls. Belbel had been earning her keep hand over fist during recent weeks, and seamstresses had been employed to make new garments fit not only for a queen, but for one who needed to travel far and wide conducting the business of the realm. There were clothes for great occasions, and then there were those that had to be practical for riding whatever the weather but still create a spectacle.

She had come across one of Henry’s better cloaks in a coffer at Winchester – deep forest-green wool lined with squirrel furs and trimmed with red and gilt braid. There had still been a faint aroma of Henry in its folds, and it had struck a soft place in her heart and made her a little tearful. She had had it carefully brushed before being placed in a chest with scented herbs to repel moths.

Richard’s herald arrived, bearing the news that his lord was at Winchester’s gates and would imminently arrive at the castle. Alienor thanked him, summoned her ladies, smoothed her gown a final time, and set out to greet him. Her son, her king.

Isabelle de Clare, William Marshal’s bride of a month, was a golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty, as tall as Alienor herself. She was respectful but not sumbissive and possessed a natural confidence and poise. Indeed, for a young woman of eighteen at her first court gathering she was remarkably calm and
sensible. But then her father had been a courtly man who knew how to comport himself, and her mother was Irish royalty. Although her French held exotic cadences of Irish and Welsh, her voice was melodious and made a beautiful thing of the accent.

Alienor was pleased that Isabelle appeared highly satisfied with her marriage to William. His name came easily to her tongue, and colour heightened her cheeks when she spoke of him.

‘I have known William since he was little older than you are now and he is dear to me,’ Alienor said. ‘I could wish no better match for him than he has with you, and you have my blessing.’

‘Thank you, madam.’ Isabelle’s blush deepened. ‘I count myself fortunate to have been matched with a man of such courtesy and prowess who will care for me and for my lands.’

The reply, while courtly, was heartfelt. Standing beside her, included in the conversation, was Richenza. Her marriage negotiations had been reconvened and agreement had been reached that she would wed Geoffrey of Perche at Westminster during Richard’s coronation festivities. Geoffrey was tall, golden-haired and well-made, and Richenza was so consumed by excitement and tension at the thought of marrying him that she could barely stand still, although Isabelle de Clare’s serenity was a calming influence and Richenza was trying hard to contain herself because she wanted to be seen as a mature young woman, not a flighty girl. Geoffrey was William’s cousin and thus the young women would soon be kin by marriage.

Both William and Geoffrey were absent from the room. Alienor had noticed Isabelle and Richenza casting circumspect glances in search of their particular males. Richard too was missing.

‘Men!’ Alienor raised her eyes to heaven. ‘They accuse women of huddling in gossip groups, but they are the real culprits.’ Leaving Isabelle and Richenza, she went to find the absconders, and discovered them in the ante room that the scribes used for writing their letters where the light was good.

Richard was
studying some sketches and maps that had been unrolled across a trestle table and together with William Marshal, Geoffrey of Perche, Rotrou his father and a few others was discussing routes and objectives concerned with the forthcoming campaign in Outremer. The atmosphere was of camaraderie, of men engaged in business, and Alienor once more experienced the feeling of being an outsider.

‘So this is where you are, my lords,’ she said. ‘Shall I bring everyone to join you?’

She saw guilty looks dart, although not from Richard. He faced her, the clear autumn light burnishing his hair and beard like new copper. ‘I wanted to show these gentlemen the proposed route and take advice,’ he said.

‘And it could not wait?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Mama, this is important, not just a whim.’

More than being a king?
she wanted to ask, but at the same time she understood his need. Richard saw fighting for God as a hallowed extension of his kingship.

‘It is only for two years. I have every faith that those I leave behind will govern well.’

‘I have every faith too, but two years is long enough.’ Indeed too long.

‘To govern?’ Richard teased, since she was to oversee all.

‘To endure the absence of a beloved son,’ she answered sternly, ‘even if you are putting actions in the place of words and fulfilling your oath. Come, there are people still waiting to talk with you and you should not neglect them.’

Richard sighed and straightened his shoulders. ‘You are right, mother, of course.’ He smiled an apology. ‘I can finish this in a little while.’

The men left the room and Alienor paused to study the map that Richard had left out on the trestle, weighted down with stones. She was proud of him, but dreading the moment he left. Even with maps, people still got lost.

*  *  *

Later, when
everyone had departed to their lodgings, Alienor sat down to speak with Richard properly for the first time in two years. Her feet were propped comfortably on a footstool and a jug of spiced wine was set to hand with a platter of candied fruits. Musicians played instruments in the background, but too far removed from the conversation to hear what was said; everyone else had been dismissed.

‘John will meet us in London,’ Richard said. ‘His ship and entourage sailed to Dover. I wanted him to inspect the defences there for me and to make his presence known, but at my order, not his.’ He hesitated. ‘I suppose you heard he deserted our father when he knew there was no hope.’

‘Yes,’ Alienor said, ‘but I do not blame him.’

Richard grimaced. ‘He always thought ingratiating himself with Papa would reap benefits, especially after Geoffrey died, but when the likelihood of those benefits evaporated so did his loyalty. I know my little brother very well. He will take every opportunity to make mischief while I am gone but I do not fear for England and my domains with you at the helm, Mama. I know you are full capable of dealing with any crisis.’

Alienor raised her brows. ‘I will not deny that, but in God’s name do not go and get yourself killed, because I warn you now, I could not deal with that.’ She experienced a pang within her, a cramping of her loins and womb and heart.

‘God willing, you will not have to,’ he replied with the assurance of a man in his full young prime.

Alienor dismissed the musicians with thanks and a couple of coins. It was best that no one be a party to their discussion now. Ensuring the door was firmly latched behind them, she returned to her seat.

Richard eyed her with guarded amusement and refreshed his goblet. ‘A pity to dismiss them; I was enjoying the music and I am not sure I am going to like the next tune quite so much, even if I am interested to hear it. More wine?’

She held out her cup and he refilled it. ‘Alais,’ she said,
‘and the succession. It is neither fitting nor politically meet that you marry her.’

‘Unfortunately the King of France thinks it both.’ Richard screwed up his face. ‘It appears to be his life’s ambition to see me wed to his sister. He is entrenched and nothing will move him.’ Setting his cup aside, Richard gave her a direct stare. ‘What is the truth about Alais and my father? Was she his concubine? Has she borne him children in secret?’

Alienor’s mouth curled with distaste. ‘From those at court who make it their business to know such things I understand that your father behaved inappropriately towards her – but how far he went in his behaviour no one is certain and Alais refuses to say. Her women report she has suffered two very heavy bleeds on different occasions, which could either be the purging of excess humours or the miscarriage of an unquickened child.’

‘But grounds enough for annulment. Even if untrue, there will always be that taint attached to her.’

‘Indeed, and whatever the truth, her reputation, as you say, is tarnished. No son of mine will take for his bride his father’s leavings,’ Alienor said forcefully. ‘Furthermore, such signs of disturbed humours, whether caused by the loss of a child or the result of nature, do not bode well for her fruitfulness.’ She reached for her wine. ‘Philippe may be angry, but he cannot blame you when you have sound reason. You can negotiate to return her to him once you have settled terms that are mutually acceptable.’

‘That resolves the situation,’ Richard agreed, ‘but not in an honourable way even if it plays to our advantage. It will be unwise to tell Philippe at this stage. I will put him off until we return from Outremer.’

She leaned forward. ‘But if you are not to make Alais your bride, you must consider someone else because you have no heir of your body. You should set your mind to a beneficial alliance before you leave for Outremer.’

He drew back a little and set his jaw.

Alienor pressed
her point. ‘Philippe has already vouchsafed himself a son and for all I know will have a second child on the way before he departs. It behoves you to do the same.’

‘As it happens I do have some thoughts, Mama. I have not been idle even if you think my mind revolves around nothing but war.’

She raised her brows. ‘Who have you been considering?’

He left his chair to prowl the chamber and she clearly saw Henry’s restlessness in him. Crossing to the window embrasure he picked up his lute. The instrument went everywhere with him; he had owned it since being invested as Count of Poitou at fifteen, and often played music for his own pleasure and peace of mind. The troubadour blood of Alienor’s poet grandsire, William, the ninth duke of Aquitaine, ran strongly in Richard’s veins and the music was the other side of the soldier – the beauty and gentleness in his soul.

He adjusted the tuning and smoothed his long fingers over the curved belly of sycamore panels almost like a lover stroking his partner’s fertile womb. ‘I have a lady in mind.’ He coaxed the first notes from the instrument like drops of honey. ‘A princess of a warm southern kingdom who speaks a noble tongue.’ He gave his mother a teasing smile across the lute. ‘And who has a reputation for piety and wisdom.’

Alienor might have been shut away by Henry and kept from all sensitive information, but she was still aware of the wider connections. ‘That would be a princess who is cousin by marriage to your sister in Castile,’ she said.

‘And who has an able father and brother who are not going to Outremer and who can watch my back while I am gone. I won’t need to worry about encroachments from Toulouse. Philippe of France will be in Outremer too, so I can watch him myself.’ He coaxed a delicate tune from the lute, plangent and haunting. ‘I thought I would call this one “Berenguela”,’ he said with a mischievous smile.

‘I think it an excellent notion,’ she replied. ‘And the sooner the better. Have you made approaches on the matter?’

‘In general
terms and with a positive response, but now I have to build the fortress on the foundations.’

She frowned. ‘And little time to accomplish it.’

‘No.’ He picked out more notes. ‘I will send envoys to Pamplona while I continue to make ready to leave. Once the negotiations are concluded the marriage can take place even if it must happen in the winter camp at Messina.’ His gaze grew distant and she could tell he was dealing with logistics and tactics rather than dwelling on the fair graces of a future wife.

‘I love all of my grandchildren,’ she said softly, ‘but I desire to see your sons around my feet most of all before I die. I want to see you continue in them.’

‘That is in God’s hands, Mama, but as much as it is in my power, I will give them to you.’

His words warmed her heart but filled her with anxiety too, because so much in practical terms had to be accomplished in order for that to happen, not least a wedding, and she was wary of the fickle hand of fate.

Alienor stood on the battlements of Marlborough Castle, taking a brief respite from the noisy festivities in the hall and enjoying the cooling breeze that had arrived with the onset of dusk.

All the matters of the realm were being settled in preparation for Richard’s coronation in two weeks’ time and that involved several appointments and marriages, including Richenza’s to Geoffrey of Perche.

When Henry had been crowned, there had not been such a level of activity – or perhaps she had not noticed because she had been heavily pregnant and only involved on the periphery, whereas now she was almost joint head of state and every one of Richard’s decisions was filtered through her opinion.

‘Mama?’

She turned to face John as he sauntered over to join her. He had matured into a handsome man, not particularly tall but well-proportioned and with an aura of dangerous charm. His expression
was permanently inscrutable and he was always scheming, but it was up to others to guess at what.

He too had been celebrating his nuptials for he had wed heiress Hawise of Gloucester to whom he had been betrothed for several years. The match gave him land and influence but he had no affinity for the young woman, nor she for him; it was a business matter and they would continue to live their lives apart. Indeed, they were related within the proscribed degree, and had been married without a dispensation, which meant there might yet be an annulment.