The Autumn Throne (35 page)

The sounds surged closer and then faded, save for one male voice that rose to a shriek outside the hall doors, the sound followed by a loud thud.

Alienor commanded the ushers to find out what was happening. Walking regally, without haste, she returned to her chair on the dais, and directed the other women to be reseated.

Moments later two guards hauled a bleeding, battered man into the room and forced him to his knees at the foot of the dais steps. Blood streamed from a wound on his scalp, masking half his face and dripping into his greying beard. One forearm dangled at a twisted angle. The man wore robes of good wool edged with expensive braid.

‘What is this?’ Alienor demanded with cold fury. ‘Who dares disturb the peace of this celebration?’

‘Madam,’ one of the guards spoke up, ‘the Jews arrived to present gifts to the King and have caused grievous discontent and rioting among the crowds.’ He wiped his bloody hand on
his surcoat with distaste. ‘Why should good Christians have to stay outside while these infidels are granted access to the King?’

Alienor gave him a sharp look. ‘Has the riot been contained?’

His expression contorted. ‘The palace is safe, but I fear the unrest is spreading into the city.’

Alienor gazed at the blood-drenched man shaking at the foot of the dais steps. A Jew. Her instinct was to pull in her skirts and draw back, but she held her place. These people and their religion were anathema to Christians, but they were an essential element of royal fiscal policy and they were under Richard’s protection. ‘So this man came to present a gift to the King and this is what has become of him?’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘What is your name?’ she addressed the Jew. ‘Speak!’

‘Manasser bar Jacob … madam,’ he gasped through teeth bared with pain and stained red with the blood trickling from his cut lip. ‘We came … present … gift of gold bezants to the King and Queen.’ His eyes rolled, showing white under the lids.

She saw the looks on the faces of the guards; the mingling of anxiety, revulsion and dawning fear.

‘Isaac … Isaac had the gold, but he … it was robbed from us by the mob. I didn’t see the knife …’ He slumped, close to losing awareness.

‘Shall I throw some water on him, madam?’

‘What good will that do?’ Alienor snapped. ‘You will either completely destroy his wits or kill him. Take him to safety and see that he is cared for so he can be questioned later. The King will be very displeased by this – as am I.’

Subdued and tight-lipped the guards obeyed, dragging the groaning Jew between them. Even as they reached the door, Richard slammed into the hall followed by a host of courtiers. He was still wearing his crown, the gold and gems shot with light as he stalked forward. He was every inch the King, and in a royal fury. Glaring at the Jew slumped between his knights
he demanded an accounting of what had happened before brusquely dismissing them with an instruction to tend the man’s injuries.

‘It seems that the mob has turned on your Jews in righteous frenzy,’ Alienor said, ‘and the gift they were going to present to you has opportunely disappeared – a chest of gold bezants no less.’ She clenched her fists on the finials of her chair. ‘You must nip this in the bud before the riots spread, otherwise it won’t just be Christian against Jew, it will be mayhem for all!’

‘I shall deal with it,’ he growled. ‘The gold will be found and the ringleaders hanged.’ His nostrils flared. ‘Good Christ, I did not want my coronation to be decorated by a hanging tree, but I will raise one if I must in order to have peace. Anyone laying a finger on my Jews lays a finger on me – let it be known!’ With that he flung round and stormed out, calling for the city officials to attend him.

Alienor was furious; a perfect moment had been ruined. If the Jews had had the sense to keep their distance and if the Londoners had been less drunk and volatile this would never have happened. Now, even if a stop was put to the rioting, a precedent had been set and a layer stripped back that would make it easier to riot next time.

‘Perhaps Philippe of France was right, Mama,’ said John silkily. He had not followed Richard outside, but was standing looking round the hall and eyeing up the women. ‘He banished all his Jews at his coronation and took a percentage of all their goods before he let them go. Half of them are probably skulking here in London or up in Lincoln and York.’

‘Richard is not Philippe of France,’ Alienor snapped. ‘He will deal with our Jews as he sees fit and we shall see that his will is done.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ John said blandly.

‘You should go and help him. What are you still doing here?’

‘I wanted to make sure my wife and my mother were both safe,’ he replied with a disarming smile, ‘but you are right. I
should be about my business.’ He flicked a perfunctory glance at his wife that suggested the opposite of his remark, and departed at a saunter.

Eyes narrowed, Alienor watched him leave, and then turned her attention to her guests. It was time to make an end of things and deal with this unfortunate business, but first she must return matters to normality and restore the focus to Richard. She sent the dapifers round to fill everyone’s goblets and then raised hers on high. ‘A toast!’ she cried. ‘A toast to Richard, King of England by the Grace of God!’

As the salute was shouted back to her from the women of England – the sisters, mothers and wives who would be governing their lands while their husbands fought in Outremer – she tasted both fear and triumph in her wine.

‘I do not know what I am doing here,’ Belle whispered. ‘I swore I would never be alone with you again, especially not in a dark corner.’

John chuckled softly, and taking hold of the jewelled belt encircling her waist, pulled her close. ‘Then you broke your vow,’ he said. ‘It is not such a big thing.’

‘Not for you.’ She made a half-hearted effort to free herself. ‘I cannot be seen talking to you – my maid will be looking for me.’ She cast a swift glance over her shoulder.

‘We have a few moments.’ He tugged her further into the shadows and pulled her against his lower body. ‘I did not force you to come outside, did I?’

She pushed at him. ‘I thought you wanted to speak to me in private.’

‘I do. I have to go and help sort out this folly with the Jews – there are houses on fire in the city – but will you come to me later?’

‘I can’t, you know I can’t.’

‘But I want you … and that old husband of yours is no use to any woman on this earth. Find an excuse to get away.’ He put his hand on her buttocks.

‘You
have your own wife for that.’ She wriggled to escape. ‘Indeed, I have yet to congratulate you on your marriage.’

‘She’s a means to an end, she doesn’t warm my bed in any sense of the word.’

‘I will not bear you another bastard.’ Belle gripped his shoulders and pushed at him, both excited and appalled. Sick with desire.

‘Who said anything about that? There are ways …’

‘I hear you have another one now, in Normandy – Joanna is it?’

‘That has nothing to do with us.’ He looked round at the sound of voices. ‘Do not say no. I’ll be waiting.’ He kissed her hard on the mouth, invading her with his tongue, and then he was gone, melting into the night, swift as a hunting cat.

Trembling, Belle hid in the shadows until two courtiers passed, too deep in conversation to notice her. She could not decide whether their appearance had spoiled her opportunity, or saved her from a fate worse than death.

‘How is your wife, my lord Earl?’ Alienor asked William Marshal as she fell into step beside him, her tone slightly teasing as she addressed him by the latter title. She had arrived that morning at the great fortress of Nonancourt in north Normandy to attend a gathering where the government of Richard’s lands was to be discussed and settled as he prepared to depart for Outremer.

‘Isabelle is very well, madam, but resting at Longueville.’

‘She must be near her time.’

‘Late April.’
He gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I have suddenly taken to looking in cradles and paying attention to women with babies in their arms, and thinking that soon it will be a routine part of my household.’

Alienor lightly touched his sleeve. ‘Let me know when the child is born. In the meantime I shall write to Isabelle and offer prayers for her safe delivery. I am very fond of your wife.’

‘Thank you, madam.’ He inclined his head. ‘She speaks often of you and with high regard.’

‘I am pleased to hear it, although she must be cursing me too for the amount of time I take you away from her. I do not need to be a fortune teller to foresee how busy you are going to be in the months to come. You are going to earn that earldom of yours in every part.’

William grinned ruefully. ‘When I was a young man they called me Gasteviande because I had such an enormous appetite. Now I must apply the same to matters other than food and hope I have not bitten off more than I can chew.’

His smile vanished as they were joined by Richard’s chancellor, William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, who had several rolls of parchment tucked under his arm. A clerk and a scribe followed in his wake bearing more parchments, quills and ink, and two more servants clad in the Bishop’s livery.

‘My lord Bishop,’ William said with the bland courtesy of an accomplished courtier, ‘I am sorry if I was walking too fast. Do you wish to rest for a moment?’

Longchamp suffered from swollen joints in hip and knee, and his body was twisted like a tree gnarled out of shape. He walked awkwardly with the aid of his crosier, and his lips were often bared in a grimace of pain. His eyes, however, were acquisitive and shrewd, and his mind was a razor, especially when it came to fiscal matters. He was one of the inner circle, the man Richard intended to set in a position of high administration to govern England during his absence.

‘Thank you, my lord Marshal,’ he answered curtly. ‘I can
manage well enough.’
Without your help or solicitous gestures
his attitude said even though he was clearly in discomfort. ‘It is not far.’ He nodded at the open doors before them, leading into a chamber where a table and benches had been prepared for the council members.

Alienor had no love for Longchamp. He was cold and avaricious, and rebuffed all efforts at cordial relations, but he was also a precise and intelligent administrator and she could work with him, even if she did not welcome him in her social circle. Alienor suspected that Richard set great store by him because of Longchamp’s ability to draw money into the coffers from all directions and formulate schemes for making more. He was intensely loyal to Richard and reminded her of a snappy small guard dog.

Others were arriving, but out of courtesy had to tailor their steps and await the slow progress of the Bishop with Alienor and William walking either side of him. Among the group Alienor noted Jeoffrey, Henry’s eldest bastard son. Provision would have to be made for him, but it remained to be seen what, although by the end of this meeting matters would be clearer.

Alienor sat in her chamber, her feet propped on a stool, sipping wine while Amiria massaged them with rose-scented oil. It had been a long day and she was relieved to relax after the hard diplomatic negotiations over the plans for ruling Richard’s lands during his absence. She had her doubts, but Richard was clear about what he wanted and she had to trust him.

She was to have regnal control and an overall hand on the reins, but the chief work in England had been divided between Richard’s chancellor, William Longchamp, and Hugh le Puiset, Bishop of Durham. Both men were ambitious, capable administrators but had no experience of governing a country. Longchamp’s scribes had been busy making notes on wax tablets and Longchamp had taken everything in with beady eyes, keen as a raptor on the wing.

Four co-justiciars had been appointed to help keep order
and implement decisions made by the senior ones, William Marshal among them, for which she was glad, for he was an ally and a man of sound reason.

John had been given control of six shires in England, the county of Mortain in Normandy, and confirmed as Lord of Ireland, all of which should have pleased him greatly, but all that power had been curtailed by a ban on his movements. Richard had forced him to swear an oath that he would not return to England for a minimum of three years. John had obeyed, but without good grace. Alienor had noted the faint twitch of Longchamp’s lips. Not quite a smirk, but definitely satisfaction, and she suspected his fingers had been busy in that particular pie.

She was well aware that many saw her youngest son as an untrustworthy troublemaker, but to all intents and purposes he was Richard’s heir. The only other claimant was Geoffrey’s posthumously born son Arthur, who was a two-year-old. She had reservations about Richard’s decision but was keeping her own counsel while she decided how to approach the matter.

And then there was Jeoffrey, Henry’s bastard son, no longer a malleable youth but a grown man approaching his fortieth year. The story had come to Alienor’s ears of how, when drunk at a feast, he had upturned a golden bowl on top of his head and asked if a crown suited him. The shard of bitterness in his heart at being the firstborn son of a king and denied regnal power because his mother had been a common whore had pushed its way ever deeper with time. Before his death Henry had promised Jeoffrey an archbishopric. He had been ordained following Richard’s coronation and elected Archbishop of York in the autumn but was not consecrated. The Pope had yet to ratify the election, so Jeoffrey was an acting Archbishop, but in a kind of limbo. Having entered the priesthood under duress, his attitude was bellicose. If he upset people, then so be it, and that included Longchamp. The two men heartily disliked each other. Longchamp, who had his eye on Canterbury as a future prospect, was not
overjoyed at having Richard’s bastard half-brother as a rival archbishop. Longchamp had persuaded Richard to ban Jeoffrey from England for three years too. Alienor acknowledged fully that controlling all these petty power plays and keeping the peace would be difficult, not least because for part of the time she was not going to be there.