The Autumn Throne (42 page)

As the ship surged out across the channel towards Italy, she gazed at the figures on the wharfside growing ever more distant, and sent her prayers and her love like invisible ropes across the widening gap, to bind in spirit, if not in flesh.

Closing her eyes, Alienor inhaled the smoky perfume of frankincense rising from the braziers in her private chamber where she was warming herself before the fire. The scent always soothed her no matter her tensions.

Two musicians were playing a gentle duet on harp and
citole in the background, and that too eased her soul. She felt enclosed and protected. Outside a ferocious wind was slamming wintry rain against the shutters, and she welcomed the wild weather because it meant a respite. No messages would arrive from England while such a storm was in progress. Until this gale abated she had time to sip her wine and enjoy the fire, the music and the frankincense. So much had happened since Messina that she had had no time to catch her breath.

In Rome she had secured Jeoffrey’s consecration as Archbishop of York but that success had cost her eight hundred marks. From the papal Curia she had ridden on to Normandy to watch and protect the duchy, leaving Walter of Coutances to cross to England with the letters from Richard and a mandate to deal with the hornets’ nest of wrangling between the country’s bishops and barons, with John stirring the mix while pretending to be utterly reasonable.

Henry’s bastard son Jeoffrey had crossed the sea to take up his archbishopric and had promptly been seized and thrown into prison by Longchamp, who claimed he had no right to come to England. Eventually persuaded to disgorge Jeoffrey by deepening protests from the barons and Walter of Coutances, he had done so, and had the tables turned on him. In a desperate attempt to hold on to power he had tried to bribe John to side with him. John had gleefully refused and had Longchamp’s underhand dealings cried far and wide until the latter had been forced to hand over the castles he commanded and leave the country. Walter of Coutances had stepped in as chief justiciar, put Longchamp’s partisans out of office and replaced them with his own men. Longchamp had quit England and taken his grievance to Rome and for the moment was out of the dealings in person, although his hand was still stirring the brew from a distance. Coutances had also, under Alienor’s direction, had John pronounced as Richard’s heir, which had further calmed the situation.

She would have crossed to England herself, but Philippe of
France had reneged on his vow to liberate Jerusalem and, claiming ill health, had returned home, spreading the word that Richard was to blame for all the ills he had suffered on crusade, and that his sister had been disparaged and treated shamefully. Although he had sworn before the expedition not to encroach on Richard’s lands, Alienor did not trust his word of honour and remained poised in Normandy, ready to counter any hostile move he made.

News from Outremer was sporadic and travel-worn. Richard and Berenguela had been married on the island of Cyprus, which Richard had subdued following an altercation with its ruler Isaac Comnenus. Acre had fallen to the Christians and Richard himself had been sick there but was recovering. All these pieces of information were a distant story and there was nothing Alienor could do but protect Richard’s back. For the moment, this storm blessedly protected hers as well.

The fire snapped loudly, startling her, and a glowing ember coughed onto the edge of the hearth tiles and smoked as it turned from crimson to black. She finished her cup of wine, dismissed the musicians with thanks and a small purse of silver, and retired to bed.

A guest at Conisbrough, John donned a loose gown lined with the skins of northern squirrels and wandered back to bed, cup of wine in one hand and a letter in the other. Belle raised her head from the pillow and looked at him sleepily, her tangled hair a wild contrast from the neat braids with which she had come to his chamber. The orderly, demure young matron now looked like one of Southwark’s best. Despite her protestations, he had always known he would get her back into his bed. Of course he was a lot more careful this time. Her elderly husband was impotent and while a blind eye might be turned to his bedding her because he was the King’s brother and heir to the throne, it would not be turned if she got with child a second time.

‘Well, my love, it seems that the game is afoot once more.’

Belle stirred
and, yawning, sat up. ‘What game would that be, my lord?’ She bent one knee and eyed him provocatively.

John gave her an amused glance but did not take the bait. He had enough scratches on his back to last him a while.

‘An offer of marriage – a very interesting offer of marriage indeed.’

She rolled onto her stomach. ‘You are already married.’

‘It’s been disallowed by the Church. We’re related within the proscribed degree.’

‘I thought that was how you liked your women.’ She stretched her arms above her head.

He snorted. ‘Hawise was foisted on me because I had to take her in order to have her lands – as well you know.’

‘And me?’

He raised one eyebrow. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘I am the mother of your son. You could have obtained a dispensation and had me.’

‘I already have had you – twice last night. You should get dressed.’

She made a face at him but reached for her clothes. ‘So who is the fortunate lady?’

John rolled his tongue around his mouth as if enjoying a choice morsel. ‘The King of France is offering me his sister and all of the lands across the Narrow Sea for which Richard does him homage.’

‘His sister?’ Belle stared at him.

‘Alais, you goose. Richard has cast her off and married Berenguela of Navarre. Such a move might keep his southern borders safe but the rest is ruined now that Philippe is back.’

‘But Alais—’

‘Is a princess of France,’ he said with a hard smile. ‘I know full well the reasons why my brother repudiated her but I care not if she is my father’s leavings. A marriage is a business arrangement – a convenience. It would only be exchanging one convenience for another.’

Belle donned her hose, securing them above her knees with
daring red silk garters. ‘You think you will be allowed to do that?’

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Who is to gainsay me? Richard doesn’t want her, and Philippe is willing to make me his brother by marriage. Why should I not take it?’

‘You are a wolf,’ Belle said, half in fascinated admiration, half in disapproval.

He grinned at her. ‘Why thank you, my love.’ He leaned over and chucked her under the chin. ‘And you are a vixen.’

‘You should be careful.’ She pushed him off and reached for her chemise. ‘You could be playing into the hands of a man with a wolf trap, and it is not good to face such a thing when there is an angry lion at your back.’

‘But he’s not at my back at the moment and I am the one with cause for anger. He betrayed me in Sicily when he named Arthur as his heir – a whining, snot-nosed four-year-old.’ His eyes glittered dangerously.

‘Perhaps it was necessary policy at the time, and if he is married now, he may soon have an heir of his own body.’

John’s lip curled in a sneer. ‘That may happen I grant you, Outremer is a land of miracles after all, but Richard is all bravado and little deed.’

‘Oh come now, how do you know that?’ Belle’s gaze filled with greedy curiosity.

‘I have my means.’

‘But he has a son does he not?’

‘So he claims and has acknowledged him as such, but I hear that the child resembles his namesake and the conception event had several players, including the King of France.’

Belle’s eyes widened and she spluttered. ‘Truly?’

‘Of course it all goes unsaid, although I understand Richard has received absolution for his sexual excesses. It doesn’t alter the fact that he has given that little Breton runt preference over me. Why should I be loyal? As soon as I have dealt with my remaining business here, I’m riding for France.’

‘You mean it, don’t you?’

‘What do
you not understand about what I have just been saying? Of course I mean it.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘What about her? She doesn’t need to know. She would only side with Richard anyway because he is all that matters in her eyes.’

‘You should be careful.’

John smiled and kissed her again. ‘I intend to be. I learn by my mistakes – as do you, hmm?’

John made ready to depart for Howden, thirty miles away, where he was to spend Christmas with Hugh le Puiset, Bishop of Durham. Belle, by now tidy and modest, bade him farewell with everyone else as if she had not spent most of the night in his bed, indulging in all kinds of delicious, forbidden games. Her mother watched her with an anxious gaze and lined brow, and later, when the routine had returned to normal, and the women were about their duties, came to sit with her.

‘You are playing a very dangerous game,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and moreover a dishonourable one.’

Belle looked up from her sewing. ‘I do not know what you mean, Mama.’ Feigning nonchalance, she threaded her needle.

‘Yes you do,’ Isabel said primly. ‘You think you can go as silently as a wraith, but there are still eyes to see and ears to hear.’

Belle shrugged and thrust out her lower lip. ‘He is gone now, and I doubt he will be back.’

Isabel was at a loss. Her daughter had a hard look about her, a mingling of defiance and misery. Lightly she touched her hand. ‘I worry for you.’

‘Then you waste your time.’ Belle stabbed her needle into the fabric. ‘He is going to France, and I shall probably never see him again.’

‘France?’ Isabel said sharply. ‘Why is he going to France?’

Belle’s expression closed. ‘I suppose he has business there.’

Isabel wondered if John was going to visit Alienor. That would make sense, but why would he cross the Narrow Sea at
this time of year unless he had to? But Belle hadn’t said Normandy, she had said France. That meant Philippe. John was always intriguing. Isabel didn’t like Longchamp and she had been glad of John’s intervention, but her son was one of John’s close companions and she disliked the idea of him being involved in his schemes. There was too much entanglement.

‘What sort of business?’

Belle made no answer.

‘Why do you say you might not see him for a long time?’

‘Because if I am here in the North and he is across the Narrow Sea, how shall our paths cross?’ Raising her head, she stared her mother in the eyes for the first time. ‘I take what joy I can, Mama.’

‘It does not seem like joy to me,’ Isabel said bleakly.

‘But I am not you, nor would I wish to be – ever.’

Isabel compressed her lips and turned away before she cried. She often wondered how she and Hamelin had begotten this troublesome daughter, so beautiful, so privileged, and yet so full of hostility and dissatisfaction. What had they ever done to foster this? Their other girls had given them no worry and their son made her proud with his manly ways, although at the same time she would not have him follow John to France without knowing what was afoot. Indeed John was the root cause of the difficulties she experienced with their children; but until Richard begot an heir, he was their future king, and so they must tread with caution and turn a blind eye to Belle’s behaviour.

Later, she spoke to Hamelin. He had been busy about the demesne and was now relaxing in his favourite chair and toasting his feet before the fire. Sitting opposite him, she took out her embroidery and told him about John going to France. ‘I am worried. We should prevent Will from going with him.’

Hamelin had not been overjoyed at hosting John under his roof, but he had been obliged, and given the current situation he was wary of crossing him. He spent a great deal of time
looking elsewhere because he did not want to see the veiled glances cast between John and Belle. If they were duping him, he did not want to know any more because it was too painful. Isabel always fussed too much and had a tendency to coddle their son, but in this she was right. ‘I will summon him home and find tasks to keep him occupied.’ He sighed heavily. ‘The sooner Richard returns the better. If John intends going to France, it can be for no good purpose.’

Hamelin and Isabel were breaking their fast when an usher approached to say that one of the foresters, Haregrim, desired to speak with him urgently, and that he had an injured man in the bailey.

Hamelin was settled and comfortable where he was, but the expression on his usher’s face made him leave his meal and hurry outside.

A crowd clustered around a small cart, and lying upon it was a youngish man, grey in the face and fighting for breath, but still conscious and aware.

‘What is this?’ Hamelin demanded.

Haregrim stepped forward, a small, thin individual but wiry and tough, with intelligent blue eyes. Before becoming Hamelin’s deer-keeper he had served as a serjeant in his lord’s military household. ‘Sire, I found him on the road; his horse had put its hoof in a pothole, broken its leg and rolled on him. I put the creature out of its misery and brought him here. The kennel-keeper has gone with his lad to bring the horse for dog meat.’