The Autumn Throne (25 page)

John returned the infant to Agatha. He considered going after Belle, seizing her in his arms and stealing her breath in violent kisses until he vanquished her, but that would be unwise with her husband and her parents at court. Her husband was an ageing man, grey above, probably limp as a dead eel below, but he was more wary of Hamelin, with good cause.

‘Not a word,’ he warned Agatha.

‘I know when to seal my lips, sire,’ she answered with dignity, ‘but as once your wet nurse, I venture to say you should be careful.’

‘I intend to,’ he replied. ‘Very careful indeed.’

‘Mama?’

Alienor looked up to watch her middle son cross her chamber, his chestnut and white spaniel Moysi trotting at his heels. The dog had been a wedding gift from Constance and accompanied him everywhere. He came to Alienor and kissed her cheek. His lips were as cold as stone and his cloak was starred with melting snowflakes. There was a loud flapping noise as the dog shook itself from its folded ears to feathery tail and almost fell off its paws.

‘The snow will be knee deep by morning,’ he said.

Alienor put down her sewing. She was warm by the fire, hot wine to hand and a fur-lined cloak draped over her waist and legs. Matilda sat at her side, working with a single needle on an elaborate pair of socks for her husband.

‘It will not please your father if he is unable to ride out to hunt,’ Alienor said. ‘I suppose everyone will have to stay within and argue instead.’

‘I suppose so,’ Geoffrey said wryly, ‘although as soon as it clears, I shall leave.’ He sat down beside his sister and held out his hands to the fire. ‘Constance writes that she is with child again and perhaps this time it will be a son.’

‘Indeed, that
is good news. I am pleased for you.’ Alienor embraced him.

Matilda hugged him too and went to pour wine so they could raise a toast.

Geoffrey took the cup, and after the salutation rested it on his knee and cleared his throat. ‘That is not the only news I received this morning.’

Immediately Alienor was on her guard. Henry had managed to patch up a truce between his sons, but it was more fragile than a spider’s web. He had promised to think more upon the matter of the inheritance and come to a better settlement for all. That for him was an enormous compromise, but Alienor knew his propensity for procrastination and going back on his word. So did his sons. There couldn’t be a better settlement for all, because whatever was given to one, the others would see as an unfair advantage or threat, and Henry would still play them off against one another.

‘Papa is sending me into Normandy to be his governor there, as soon as I may.’

‘Normandy?’ She narrowed her eyes. Geoffrey was now Richard’s heir, and his ambition had grown both with his change in status and with his fruitful marriage to Constance. He was the one begetting a new dynasty, and not of bastards. She suspected it was why he had agreed to invade Poitou with John when Henry had encouraged him to do so. There was only a year between him and Richard and the rivalry between them had intensified since Harry’s death. In giving Geoffrey Normandy to govern, Henry was sending out a warning to Richard, that the succession in Normandy and Anjou was not set in stone.

‘Well Richard is too busy with Poitou, and Papa knows I am competent and will do as he asks.’ He gave her a sidelong glance and dug his hands through the thick ruff of fur round the dog’s throat. ‘Richard will not be pleased, but he cannot sit on everything like a treasure chest.’

Alienor eyed him shrewdly. The defensive set of his shoulders told her he had not come to apologise or make amends
for the quarrels between him and Richard, but he did want her approval for this latest scheme.

‘You are grown men. You have the wits God gave you, but it is up to you to use them wisely. It would be better to make allies of your brothers and not allow your father to drive a wedge between you.’

‘No, Mama.’ He hesitated. ‘Will you give me your blessing?’

‘You are my son, of course I will. You will always have it, the same as any of my sons and daughters; I love you all dearly. All that I ask is that you consider well and do not squander the opportunities you have been given by God and the privilege of your birth.’

He gave her one of his steady, inscrutable looks. ‘No, Mama, I won’t.’

He knelt again, and she touched his hair tenderly. Perhaps it was not so foolish of Henry to give him Normandy, but it would cause tension, and she could only pray that her sons would not allow themselves to be manipulated by either their father or the wily Young King Philippe of France who was proving to be a player of skill and subterfuge. She could cajole, advise and chivvy all she chose, but ultimately the choice to listen was theirs.

It had snowed overnight and the drifts were deep, but the morning had dawned cold and bright. In the ward the children pelted each other with snowballs, building powdery white fortresses and yelling at the top of their lungs. Alienor and Matilda preferred to sit by the fire and sew but had barely established a rhythm of needlework and conversation when
Heinrich arrived from Winchester, his broad face scarlet with cold, his hands stiff inside his gloves from clutching the reins, and his whole demeanour one of excited enthusiasm that almost outdid the children clamouring around him like a pack of frantic small dogs.

His boots were dark at the toes from melting snow, and powdery circles decorated his cloak where his offspring had pelted him. Going straight to Matilda, he picked her up and swung her round.

‘Put me down!’ she cried, gasping and laughing at the same time. ‘What is this?’

His cold-reddened cheeks brightened further. ‘
Liebling
, I had to bring you this news myself. Your father’s envoys have returned from the papal court. The Emperor has agreed to a reconciliation. Come spring we can return home. Our exile is over!’ He spoke in French as a courtesy to Alienor, but his German accent was heavy and she could still barely understand him. However, his joy made the content evident.

Matilda’s eyes began to sparkle. ‘Praise be to God! I hoped and I prayed, but I was not certain it would happen.’ She kissed him soundly.

‘Your father is a miracle worker, that is for sure,’ Heinrich said. ‘It is his diplomacy that has triumphed.’ Belatedly he bowed to Alienor. ‘I am sorry for bursting in upon you, but the news means so much to me, and my family.’

Alienor smiled graciously. ‘And it’s understandable.’ If only Henry was half as skilled in diplomacy where his sons were concerned.

‘I am to escort you to Winchester,’ Heinrich said. ‘All of you, and a formal announcement will be made in full court.’ He waved his arm. ‘I could have entrusted a messenger, but I wanted to bring the news myself.’

Alienor embraced both of them warmly. ‘It is indeed wonderful news, but I am going to miss you,’ she said, and turned to Matilda. ‘If anything good has come out of your exile, it is the opportunity we have had to see each other again.’

In the
midst of her joy, tears brimmed in Matilda’s eyes. ‘Mama, I would bring you back with me if I could.’

‘I know you would, but it cannot be. Be thankful for what we have had.’

Alienor called for food and wine, and made Heinrich comfortable by the fire. The children crowded around him, and he set the baby on one knee and little Otto on the other. Richenza stood at one shoulder, playing with the silver curls at his nape, and Lothar leaned against his other side.

‘There are still arrangements to make and safeguards to put in place.’ Heinrich gave Alienor a meaningful look. ‘A prudent farmer does not put all of his chicks in one basket. For now I think it safer to leave the children with you and send for them when we are sure of our ground. I do not expect trouble, but it is best to be safe.’

‘You are wise,’ Alienor said. ‘They will be well cared for here and I will enjoy having them for a little longer.’

Matilda bit her lip but she kept her head up. She had gone to her marriage in Saxony when she was just ten years old, slightly younger than Richenza now. Her children were better off than many. They were not going to foreign lands and marriage with strangers but would be with their grandmother.

‘You are right.’ Her voice was tight but steady. ‘It must be done for their safety.’

‘It will not be for long, I promise you,
liebling
,’ Heinrich said and kissed her in reassurance. Observing their closeness, Alienor was both pleased and wistful because she had not been able to call upon that kind of support in either of her marriages.

On a mild evening several months later, Alienor was preparing for bed when Henry arrived to see her. Belbel had been combing a scented lotion of nutmeg and rose water through Alienor’s tresses which were still thick, falling to her waist in a blended waterfall of grey and silver. Henry had not seen her hair loose for a long time and his expression filled with surprise and even a hint of admiration.

‘I thought
you were still at Westminster,’ she said. ‘It is late for travel.’

He shrugged. ‘There was enough light when we set out, and a good moon. Why waste time?’

She ought to have known. Henry’s determination to squeeze every single drop from the day was a constant.

She had stayed at Windsor with Matilda and the children as winter thawed into spring. Matilda and Heinrich had been busy and preoccupied, preparing for their return to Germany. In February Heraclius, the Patriarch of Jerusalem had arrived to lay the keys of the tower of David at Henry’s feet and offer him the throne of his cousin King Baldwin of Jerusalem who was dying of leprosy. Someone was needed to take command and the Patriarch had come to England, seeking funds, seeking support – seeking a king.

Henry had sworn to go on crusade in atonement for his role in the death of Archbishop Thomas Becket, but had no intention of taking up the Patriarch’s request. In the interests of diplomacy he had said he would yield his kingdom and depart for Jerusalem if his barons agreed that he should go. He had ensured that their reply was a refusal but had been most accommodating to the disappointed Patriarch, giving him leave to recruit funding and men wherever he could.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ Alienor dismissed Belbel and poured Henry wine herself. ‘Did you decide to check up on my activities late at night to see if I had taken a lover?’ She gave him a sardonic smile. ‘Or are you here to complain to me of Richard again?’

‘Oh, both of those,’ he replied in the same tone she had used to him and sat down on her bed, rubbing his leg.

Alienor eyed him covertly. If he needed bodily comfort there were accommodating women at court, so this was something more. She brought him wine and refreshed her own cup. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘At least the wine in my chamber is decent.’

He made a derisive sound, but took a long drink before resting the goblet on his good leg and scrubbing his other
hand over his face. ‘John is begging me to let him go to Outremer and take up the crown of Jerusalem. He went to see the Patriarch behind my back and announced to him that he was ready to serve.’

Alienor was astonished. ‘John go to Jerusalem?’ The notion of their eighteen-year-old son ruling the holiest land in Christendom from the centre of the world itself was preposterous. She understood now why Henry had come to her. There was ambition, and then there was desperate ambition – anything to soar above his brothers. ‘What did the Patriarch say?’

Henry’s mouth twisted. ‘That it was good to see at least one of the family had a conscience and a sense of responsibility, and that he would think seriously about accepting him. Which goes to show that either he is completely desperate or an idiot.’

‘Or trying to force your hand.’

‘If so he is trifling with the wrong man. I told him it was impossible, but I would help him financially where I could, and that is all he will have from me.’

‘And John – have you told him your decision?’

Henry rubbed his beard. ‘Yes, and dealt with the tears and recriminations, but he saw reason in the end. I suspect he never really thought I would agree. Give him ten years and he might be up to the task, but he still has too much to learn and he is not sufficiently mature.’

‘And yet you would have him govern Aquitaine?’ Alienor said acidly.

‘That would have been different. He would have had my skill and advice to call upon. In Jerusalem he would be on his own and out of reach.’

‘Would have been?’ Alienor asked sharply. ‘Are you then considering removing him from the rule of Aquitaine? Have you seen the folly of your ways at last?’

Henry scowled at her, but more from habit than serious intent. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I have seen the folly of Richard’s and
I will have no more of it. We must come to terms with each other; this cannot continue.’

‘The remedy lies in your hands. Only you can put a stop to it.’

‘That’s why I came to talk to you tonight.’

Alienor sat down facing him. She tucked her hair behind her ears and saw him follow the gesture with a glint in his eye – perhaps remembering distant times when they had been allies and lovers. Long ago in a very different place. ‘Well then, tell me.’