The Queen's Pawn (34 page)

“I love you,” I whispered, so that only he could hear me.

 

In the next week, my courses were late. I waited until I was sure before I planned my next move on the chessboard my birth had set me on.

I took no one into my counsel now, not even Marie Helene. She knew, as I did, that my body was changing, but instead of filling her with triumph as it did me, my pregnancy filled her only with fear. She watched me constantly, as if I might shatter. I allowed her to bring me mulled wine and warm furs, though it was not October yet. I accepted her solicitation but did not tell her of my thoughts.

On the day I planned to go to Henry with the news, I watched Bijou play on the new silk bedding. I caressed my dog, but she ran from me, happy to frolic under the sheets, trying to draw me beneath the bedclothes in some strange game of chase.

I met Marie Helene’s eyes, and caught her staring at me. “My lady, you must tell the king.”

“I know, Marie Helene. I will.”

A woman came in from the kitchens then, bearing a tray with fresh bread so hot I could see the steam still rising from it. With it, she brought a crock of fresh-churned butter, late apples, and a hunk of English cheddar. The scent of that good bread turned my stomach, but I had a will of iron. The nausea passed.

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 expense. 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.