The Winter Crown (42 page)

‘With my life, madam, I swear.’

‘I know you mean that with more than words.’ She removed a ring from her middle finger and put it in his hand together with a pouch of silver for expenses on the journey. ‘I want you to report back to me on what you see and hear at Montmirail. I am not asking you to be my spy; but I want you to observe and garner impressions – and I wish to know how my sons comport themselves.’

A look of keen understanding crossed his face. ‘I shall be glad to serve you, madam.’

‘I leave it to your discretion.’

William knelt to her again, and left the room, his step smooth and confident.

Alienor resumed her seat before the fire and gazed into the red heat. She had spent Christmas in Poitiers while Henry had celebrated the feast at Argentan. Another Christmas apart, further widening the gap between them, and she had been perfectly content to let it be so. Presiding over her own court she had enjoyed the company and the merriment, the games, the songs, the camaraderie of a gathering where the Normans, Angevins and English were the outsiders.

She had not missed Henry, and the only minor cloud in her sky was that although she was Queen of England, Duchess of Normandy, Countess of Anjou, all those titles had an empty ring when Henry had marginalised her in Aquitaine. She was not invited to this conference at Montmirail, but her sons were. Harry was to do homage to Louis for Normandy and France, and Geoffrey would do the same to his father for Brittany. Richard would kneel to Louis for Aquitaine and be betrothed to his daughter Alais. Alienor’s gorge rose whenever she thought of that particular term of the treaty; she remained determined it would never come to marriage.

Richard arrived to bid her farewell, his eyes bright with anticipation. He was dressed for the journey in a heavy cloak lined with squirrel fur, and a hat of blue wool, the brow-band embroidered with golden lions and eagles. A tooled belt with a fine new dagger girded his waist.

‘Comport yourself as a prince of Aquitaine, and the son of a king,’ she said. Her heart overflowed. ‘I want to hear well of you when you return to Poitiers.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Richard said with short patience. ‘I know my part.’

Embracing him, she felt his recoil; he thought she was making a fuss, and he was too manly now for that.

Her pride tinged with the sadness of watching her chick prepare to leave the nest, she came to the courtyard to see him off and give him into William Marshal’s care. The latter had donned his hauberk and surcoat under his cloak and had buckled on his sword ready for business. In public now, Richard knelt to Alienor and she took his hands between hers and gave him the kiss of peace in the manner of a lord to a vassal.

She watched him ride out with his entourage, the knights glittering in their hauberks as if encased in frost, the banners fluttering red and gold, and the line of attendants and soldiers clouded in a vapour of misty breath. When the road was finally empty, Alienor returned to her fire and her younger children, Alie, Joanna and John. But she did not intend to be idle, or to mope. Even in the dead of winter she had plans afoot for spring.

A month later the weather was still cold, but with a scent in the air suggestive of winter’s end and of life stirring in seed and root, in den and barnyard. Alienor had been poring over plans for a new great hall in the palace complex, a space fine and beautiful to reflect the power and grace of the Duchess of Aquitaine. And large enough to encompass the dealings of the court, and provide room for banquets and gatherings. She especially wanted it to outshine the great hall at Westminster. The masons were due to arrive next week, and she was eager for work to begin.

She studied her youngest son, who sat on a fleece rug near her feet, making marks on a slate with a piece of mason’s chalk as he chattered to himself. For a two-year-old he had an extensive vocabulary. What inheritance Henry would provide for this last son when the lands had already been parcelled out to the older siblings she did not know – unless it be a bishop’s mitre or somewhere far-flung such as Ireland or Jerusalem.

He glanced up, saw her watching, and immediately covered his work from her view. A secretive child was John, his ways so different from the open boldness of his older brothers.

Her chamberlain arrived and stooped to murmur that the party from Argentan had returned, bringing Harry with them. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm, and apprehension mingled with pleasure as she bade her sons be brought to her chamber.

They arrived, tired from their ride, but still full of themselves. Alienor received a shock when she set eyes on Harry, because he was taller than she was and by a full head. A line of light bronze hair fuzzed his top lip. His skin wore an oily bloom and a few blemishes, but his eyes were every shade of blue from sky to sea, and he had become handsome in the way a grown male was handsome. She could see Henry in him, clearly, but, oh, she could see herself too, and his smile was beautiful.

‘Mama.’ He knelt to her. His voice had changed too, no longer a boy’s.

‘Who is this man that calls me mother?’ she asked with a breathless laugh, on the verge of tears.

Harry’s complexion reddened. ‘A future king, Mama,’ he said with pride. ‘Papa says that after my next year day he is going to have me anointed and declared king at his side.’

Behind him, Richard slouched as if bored, but his face was taut with irritation. Richard was big and strong for his age, but Harry’s growth spurt had given him the advantage, and the added promise of kingship was not sitting well with Richard’s notions of dominance. Geoffrey merely looked speculative.

‘So then my father will be the “old” king and I will be the “new one”,’ Harry said with a slight smirk.

‘Do not let him hear you say that,’ Alienor said but had to stop herself from smiling.

‘Oh, but I did, and he laughed,’ Harry said with a grin. ‘And then he had to prove he was still the strongest by beating me at arm wrestling. Of course I let him win.’

Alienor shook her head. That was typical; men and their constant attempts to dominate each other and everyone else. If Henry had laughed, it would have been more like a snarl.

She wanted to smooth the scowl from Richard’s face, but the resentment in him was too strong for such a gesture to be of any use. Better to let the brothers relax with food, wine and comfort, and then tend to their self-esteem.

Later, that evening, when her young men had retired, Alienor sent for William Marshal and bade him make his report. He had exchanged his mail for a warm tunic of rust-red wool and, with his gilded belt and gold rings on his fingers, was every inch the courtier.

Alienor gestured him to sit with her at the fireside. ‘I have heard all about Argentan from my sons and advisers,’ she said, ‘but now I will have your impressions.’

‘Madam.’ William’s dark gaze met hers. ‘Your sons comported themselves as princes and were a credit to you. I heard many comments upon their nobility and fine looks.’

‘I would expect that.’ Her acknowledgement was tinged with impatience. ‘Even were it not true, men would still spout such compliments within hearing.’

‘Indeed, madam. The lords of Blois were not overjoyed to witness the betrothal of my lord Richard to the Princess Alais, but there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Both Kings were very satisfied with the situation.’

As they would be, she thought with contempt. ‘And Alais?’

‘She is a pretty child,’ William said, ‘and so quiet her presence was barely remarked upon. Her conduct was modest and appropriate.’

A mouse then, and malleable, but not what she wanted for Richard.

‘The homage-taking went smoothly also.’

‘What are you not telling me?’ She studied his face. ‘I asked you for honesty, yet I feel you are withholding things from me.’

William shook his head. ‘I have left nothing out, madam. There is little enough to tell. Your sons comported themselves well in public and you would have been proud of them.’

‘And out of public?’

He gave a rueful shrug. ‘I used to fight with my brothers all the time when we were boys, but we were – and still are – united for the good of our family. You expect spirited horses to pull on the reins. Whatever quarrels there were, were of the usual kind and not worth reporting.’

She pursed her lips. ‘My sons told me that the King’s reconciliation with the Archbishop of Canterbury was not a success?’

‘No, madam.’ William looked pensive. ‘Everyone thought that the quarrel would be resolved at last. The Archbishop had sworn to make his peace with the King, but when it came to taking the oath, he baulked and said he would serve the King in everything “saving the honour of God”.’

Alienor clucked her tongue, irritated at the folly of men who refused to compromise.

‘The Archbishop left Argentan with King Louis but without his approval or favour. Everyone’s patience is at an end.’

‘It should never have come to this,’ she said. Becket was a millstone round their necks. She supposed he thought he would be needed when it came to crowning Harry, and was expecting to win in the end. Little did he understand his opposition.

‘Was Rosamund de Clifford with the King?’

A flush crept up William’s throat.

‘It is not something I would ask my sons, but I will know both the official business and the gossip of the court.’

‘Yes, madam, the lady was there,’ William replied with obvious discomfort. ‘I did not see her; she was kept in seclusion, but she had a tent near the King’s.’

So, the great affair was still continuing, and his mistress had been present at this prestigious gathering while she, Queen of England, Duchess of Normandy and Countess of Anjou, mother of the sons swearing allegiance, was left in the cold. What kind of example did that set? What did it say of a man that he left his queen at home and brought his whore?

After William had gone, Alienor sat by the fire and quietly took herself to task. What did matter in all this was that she was Duchess of Aquitaine in her own right, not Henry’s. What did matter was that her sons would rule over a glittering empire, and they were her flesh and blood as much if not more than Henry’s. And when she thought like that, he could not touch her whatever he did.

Henry came south to Poitou and once more turned his attention to dealing with insurgents. With brutal determination he brought the Counts of Angoulême and La Marche to heel, and continued to pursue other pockets of rebellion.

One warm spring morning in April, Alienor watched William Marshal teaching her sons and the youths of the household how to spar on horseback using swords and clubs. William had a way with the youngsters and they were all enjoying themselves and learning at the same time. He was what they aspired to be; they all wanted to achieve his level of prowess and skill; to make something difficult look as easy and casual as he did. A simple flick of the wrist, a particular twist on the rein. Richard in particular was very driven, but trying too hard and making mistakes.

Henry’s new deputy, William de Tancarville, joined her to watch. He was in Poitiers for a couple of days, replenishing supplies while waiting for Henry to return from his latest expedition to the hinterland.

‘You cannot take the boy out of the man,’ he said with a chuckle as they watched William fighting off three at once and laughing.

‘I think that is part of his success,’ she said. ‘But there is more to him than that.’ She gave him an interrogative look. ‘You trained him, did you not?’

He folded his arms. ‘Yes, and it wasn’t always easy. Like all young lads he had to be licked into shape. He’d had an excellent grounding from his father, but he needed honing and maturity.’ De Tancarville grinned. ‘My men used to tell me that any man who took him on as a hearth knight was a fool because William would eat him out of house and home to no good return. I lost count of the times we had to kick him out of bed or haul him away from the kitchen door.’ He watched William teaching the youths how to make a particular sword-blow on a difficult turn. ‘It wasn’t that he was lazy; more that he picked things up so quickly that he easily grew bored. In truth I never had a squire who learned as fast as he did and knew how to deal the blows after a single demonstration. He was often picked on because of his skill, but it never soured his good nature. I told those who said he would come to nothing that one day they would eat their words, and I was right.’

‘But even so, you did not keep him as a hearth knight after his training?’

De Tancarville shook his head. ‘Even I can only keep so many young knights in my entourage and he had a sponsor in Patrick, God rest his soul. I knew William would make his way in the world.’

‘Perhaps he is destined for greater things yet,’ she said, and turned at a shout from the gate. Henry was back. Her stomach churned with conflicting emotions: anticipation, trepidation, defensiveness and anger. What she desired to feel was indifference, but the more she tried, the more elusive it became, rather like her sons’ efforts to manage the moves William Marshal was demonstrating with such ease.

Tired and dusty, Henry eased himself into the warm bath that Alienor had organised in his chamber. A narrow board was spread across the middle of the tub on which servants had set out platters of bread and chicken. He looked well for he was lean and tough from days spent in the saddle, and his freckled skin wore a pale golden glow. Once she would have shared the tub with him and they would have enjoyed an intimate meal of laughter and conversation, followed by delicious lovemaking. Such closeness was now a thing of the past, like a song which she remembered the tune of but when she tried to sing it she couldn’t. However, she brought him soft white soap of Castile, scented with oil of roses, and a fresh jug of hot water.

‘Now you have quelled the worst of the rebellion,’ she said, ‘I think I should go on progress and show my face to the people so that they see me as well as your iron fist. I shall bring Richard with me and give him a prominent place at my side, so that they may know my heir. He is ready, I think.’

Henry gestured assent. ‘As you wish; just don’t get ambushed again.’