Windsor Castle September 1172 “How like you my son?” The king was baiting me as he had at dinner, purposefully naming Richard to me, under the auspices of John. It had been a long meal, and painful. Now I saw that Henry meant to sound out my loyalty as if he doubted me. I, too, had begun to doubt him. I had returned to find Eleanor still at Windsor, and not on her way to Fontevrault as Henry had promised. Henry had not yet sent her away, as he had sworn to me he would. Whatever else was true, I did not now think to allow Henry to bait me further. Marie Helene saw that I wanted her gone. She curtsied first to the king, and then to me, taking Bijou into her arms and leaving us alone. “John is very pleasant, my lord. I cannot decide who he takes after, you or the queen.” “You still call her the queen, do you?” “She is still queen, my lord. She still wears your crown. She sits at your table and drinks your wine and raises her glass to you. She has not yet been thrown down.” “Eleanor sits at my table and drinks my wine because I will it, and for no other reason. In time, she will go to Fontevrault, and take up the veil there, just as I have told you she would.” “When, Your Majesty? For there cannot be two queens in this keep.” “No,” he answered. “There cannot.” I heard the suggestion behind his words, that if he was to change his mind, to turn from me even now, letters to the pope or no, I would be cast aside with nothing but my shame. I tasted fear, but swallowed it whole. I kept my face blank, my eyes serene, as both my father and Eleanor had taught me. I smiled at Henry; he saw no hint of my fear as I drew the laces of my gown between my fingers. I had become adept at dressing and undressing myself at Deptford. Tonight I did it slowly, knowing that Henry savored the sight of my clothes falling off me as he savored little else. But tonight, though I watched the lust rise in his eyes, he would not be distracted. “Eleanor is not the queen, Alais. I made her queen, and now I withdraw that privilege from her. I give it to you.” My gown slipped down my shoulders, onto the stone floor. I stepped out of it, leaving the beautiful gold silk where it lay. I drew my hair down over one breast, laying my silk veil on the table next to the wine that Marie Helene had left for us. I still wore my fine linen shift, but it was very thin. I made sure to stand between the king and a brazier, so that he could see the shadow of my body in the firelight. Henry stared at me, but he did not move to touch me. I poured wine into the same golden goblet Eleanor had drunk from that afternoon. I offered the wine to Henry first, but when he did not take it, I drank it myself. “You have changed, Alais,” he said. ‘No doubt, my lord. Loving you has changed me, and for the better.“ “But Richard ...” I raised one hand, as I never would have done anywhere else, at any other time, to silence him. I would let him win that night regarding Eleanor, for I had no choice. But I would not stand by while he named his son to me. I had lost Richard, and the loss pained me. As much as I had gained from Henry, as much as I stood to win, I loved Richard, and my pain over his infidelity burned in my breast, right above my heart. My own disloyalty had not lifted that burden from me. Revenge was not the tonic I had hoped it would be. “My lord, your sons are well and good. In time, they will learn to serve you better. But in these rooms, I do not want to hear of them. I would rather hear of you.” Henry’s eyes narrowed. I stepped forward, and stood close to him, so that I could feel the heat of his body through his gown. “John is charming, Henry But he is not you. No one is like you. No one will ever be like you.” “Because I am king,” he said, his eyes drawn to the outline of my lips. I pressed myself to him, my hands running up his back, until my arms were wrapped around his neck. I watched as he felt the softness of my body, how I yielded to him here, as everywhere, as Eleanor did not. Just before his eyes caught fire, just before he took my lips with his, I said, “Because you are Henry.” We went on that way for a month, Eleanor keeping state at the lower end of the king’s table in the great hall, making each feast merrier than the last, the merriment more forced as each day passed. Henry stayed in thrall to me and to my young body, as I stayed in thrall to him. We heard nothing from the pope. Though we had not yet expected to, Henry grew more restless, so that I had to work harder to tame him, and to draw him down onto his bed with me. I kept my own fears hidden, even from myself. My memory of my father’s words about Henry and the oaths he would not keep came back to me, when I was alone in the dark. But in daylight, and while I slept by Henry’s side, I kept these fears locked in my heart, out of sight. I did all I could not to think on them, but they plagued me, as did my father’s warning. Henry was a hard man with a quick temper, but he rarely spoke a harsh word to me. He enjoyed watching me in the firelight at night, as I drew a brush through my long dark hair. He loved to watch me play with Bijou, and ride Sampson farther and faster than I ever had. My time with him taught me not to fear horses, so that Sampson became too sedate a mount for me, and Henry gave me another. Henry and I went on a hunt two months into our love affair, and though I had no falcon of my own, I did not shrink from Henry’s hawk as I had from Richard’s. Henry cut a piece of dove for his hawk to feed on, a reward for bringing the bird down. I watched without flinching as Henry fed the hawk the bloody bit of flesh, fresh from the kill. He must have heard the story of my other hunt—whether from Eleanor or Richard, I did not know. Or perhaps he had made it his business to know all he could about me, and about my time with Eleanor, before he had come to court and seen me for himself. Henry eyed me over the sleek head of his hawk, the great bird hooded once more before it could turn its eye on me. Henry watched me for a long moment without speaking as I reached out and caressed the hawk gently, one more reward for its faithful service. “You do not like a hunt, Alais. Or so I had been told.” I smiled at him, my face open as if my heart were light, except for my eyes. “So it was, Your Grace. I did not savor watching a smaller bird killed.” “And yet that is the way of the world, Alais.” “I know.” I met his eyes. “I have become more of a falcon myself, Your Grace. I do not feed on others. But neither do I stand still and let others feed on me.” He laughed then, handing his hawk to his squire, who took the bird and withdrew, his eyes cast down, as if he could hear nothing of our speech. I had gotten used to being listened to at every moment. Only between the curtains of his bed or mine were we truly free of others. I accepted that as a necessity, for he was king. “You have changed, Alais,” he said. “I have, Your Grace. I have come to know myself.” Henry drew his horse beside mine and led me beneath a willow tree down by the river, where the water still ran clear and cool, even in the unseasonable warmth of that September. He came off his horse and handed the reins to a groom, taking me from my horse as well. He did not speak a word, but his men seemed to know him, as I did, for they did not follow us. Henry brought me into a copse of willow trees, where the spongy ground near the river was fragrant with clover, and a hint of honeysuckle, though those flowers had long since fallen. Henry threw his cloak on the ground and drew me to him without speaking, his hands ranging over me as they did when we were alone in his room, the door shut behind us. I pressed myself against him, reveling in the hard contours of his body, for he was fit for a man almost forty, his hair as thick as it had ever been, his hands as strong. Those hands cupped me, and drew me hard against him, so that I could feel his desire through the thickness of his gown. “My lord king, it seems you have something for me.” He laughed low, his lips trailing from my cheek to my throat, and down onto my breasts through the soft silk of my gray gown. He drew me down, and mounted me, until we were joined as one, our clothes pushed aside but not drawn off, his breath hot on my cheek and in my hair. He brought me to the peak of pleasure as he always did, but for some reason, that day, the pleasure made me sad. Before long, winter would come, and time would continue to slide away from us, as the river made its way inexorably to the sea. I felt my mortality for the first time with Henry beside me, his passion spent, breathing gently into my hair. “I love you, Alais.” It was the first time he spoke those words to me, though I had seen his love for me in his eyes since the night he first had me. I kissed him, savoring the taste of him, not wanting the moment to end. Like all things, this spell, too, would be broken. For that moment, I cast aside all thought of the future, all thought of Eleanor. I would sit on her throne, wearing her heavy golden crown, doling out death and judgment at Henry’s side, as I must if I was to be queen. I pushed away all thought of Richard, and my childhood hopes. I kissed Henry until I could think of nothing but him. “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. “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.