The Autumn Throne (51 page)

‘Richard will arrive tomorrow,’ she said, as he turned round, ‘and you must both come to an understanding. I can mediate, but
ultimately it is Richard’s decision as to whether he has you seized and cast into prison or forgives you your trespasses. You were summoned to Northampton to answer to him and you did not come – nor would I have expected to see you there. This truly is your last opportunity. You need to convince Richard that you will serve him faithfully from this day forth. I have spoken on your behalf, but I can do no more.’

John gave a wordless nod and handed her a cup.

‘I know it will not be pleasant for you tomorrow, but you must face the consequences of your actions. My advice is to shoulder your burden and do all you can to make amends. Stand firm with Richard to set matters right. Count this as a lesson learned and your last chance to be the man I know you are and not the boy you have been.’

John reddened and took a gulp from his cup. She sensed the temper in him, barely held in check – that was like his father too.

‘I want both of my sons to cooperate. As soon as this matter is concluded, I am going to retire to Fontevraud for a while. I need to rest.’

John eyed her sharply.

‘Oh don’t stare at me as if you think I’m going to drop dead,’ she said testily. ‘I have no intention of fading away or taking the veil. I shall expect to receive visitors including you and Richard, and I shall keep abreast of the matters of the world, but I need time to dwell in peace.’

John raised a sceptical eyebrow.

‘The Bible teaches us that there is a time and season for everything. What was not right for me before is right now. And speaking of being right, I am reminded of your cousin Belle.’

John was immediately on his guard. ‘What of her?’

Alienor fixed him with a stern look. ‘I know you have continued to see her on occasion and as more than the mother of your son. Do not deny it. Everyone has turned a blind eye – her husband was in no position to do anything else. But now she
is wed to Gilbert L’Aigle of Pevensey. It is a good match for her and I want your promise that you will leave her alone. People will say I am mad to set store by your word, but as a personal token to me, I hold you to keep this one intact.’

John opened his hands wide. ‘If that is what you wish, of course. I swear I will not go near her. It was over anyway.’

‘Mayhap, but I know you. You always want what belongs to others.’

‘I promise.’ He placed his hand on his heart. He felt different now anyway, because his view of Belle was now as his leavings – the gnawed bones after a meal.

‘Well then,’ Alienor said, ‘Richard will be here tomorrow, and you will take what comes. At least since you have recently been in the company of the King of France you know his plans and will have the best notion of how to counter and outwit him.’

Richard arrived late in the morning the following day with his full troop and Alienor was waiting to greet him with Jean d’Alençon. As she curtseyed to him they exchanged meaningful glances, knowing their part, although what was actually going to be said remained open to speculation.

In good spirits, a hawkish gleam in his eyes, Richard swept through to the great hall where the tables had been prepared and a meal was waiting to be served. For a short while Richard set aside his military concerns and applied himself with good appetite to food and conversation with his mother.

During a gap between courses, d’Alençon approached Richard with hands clasped before him in entreaty.

‘Sire, you may already be aware of the fact, but I must tell you from my own lips that your brother the Count of Mortain is here in the keep. I have offered him succour under my roof in the hope that you and he might be reconciled.’

Richard made an open, almost casual gesture. ‘Let him come forward and have no fear of me. My sword is at rest and I am too busy dining to go and fetch it to cut off his hands.’

D’Alençon
bowed and departed.

Alienor placed her hand on Richard’s sleeve and he smiled at her and pressed back. ‘Do not worry, Mama. I do not intend mutilating him unless it be with words.’

John was a long time arriving and when he eventually entered the hall, silence fell behind his progress towards the dais like a shadow chasing the sun. He wore plain dark robes and a black leather belt girded round his waist so that the impression was sombre and penitent. A man facing his sins and admitting to them. Reaching the dais steps, he prostrated himself, arms outstretched and head bowed. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I have done you wrong and I am at your mercy. I swear that I did not realise it would come to this.’

‘You mean you hoped it would never come to this,’ Richard retorted, eyes bright with ruthless amusement. ‘You are indeed at my mercy. As I recall, our great grandfather imprisoned his own brother for the rest of his life for conspiring against him, and that is the least I could do to you for treason is it not?’

There was a brief silence accompanied by a shudder from John. His voice emerged from the darkness of his prostration. ‘I know I have not done right by you. If you choose to imprison me, then I will gladly go.’

‘I doubt the word is “gladly”. I certainly did not go gladly when I was imprisoned, and I am sure our mother did not either when she was shut away in Sarum for all those years.’ He allowed the silence to draw out before continuing. ‘For that very reason, because I know how terrible it is to be a prisoner of someone else’s schemes and in another’s power, I will not do that to you, John. I would treat you better than you have treated me because you are my brother, and since I am indeed the King it behoves me to be merciful in victory.’

John said nothing, just kept his head bowed and his face against the wooden dais steps, breathing in the dusty air.

Richard leaned over the trestle and changed his tone to something softer, although far from merciful. ‘Still, I think you
were led like a little calf to the slaughter by the King of France. He is the real perpetrator and it is he and those who gave you bad advice and took advantage of your naivety that should be punished. You are nothing more than a foolish child duped by the machinations of others more cunning.’

John raised his head for the first time and looked at Richard, his face red with chagrin and humiliated anger. ‘Then pray allow me to take my revenge on them for so misleading me,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I would never have harmed you of my own accord, I swear it on my soul.’

Richard arched his brows. ‘I am inclined to believe you. Even if I do wonder if the state of your soul is not a little scorched around the edges by how close to the infernal pit you dance. Come, give me the kiss of peace. We shall say no more about it and we can sit and plan our campaign while we eat.’

John looked stunned at how easy it had actually been but stood up and stepped onto the dais. Richard rose from his chair, took John’s upper arms in a bruising grip and kissed him hard on either cheek before escorting him to his place at his right-hand side. John paused to stoop and kiss Alienor who sat on Richard’s left, smiling but wary. The worst seemed to have been weathered but there was still time for things to go wrong.

‘I do not understand why you have forgiven me,’ John said as a servant presented the high table with a large freshly cooked salmon, gleaming on a silver salver amid fronds of parsley.

‘Because I know you were not equal to the task and it was my fault for over-estimating your ability to steer a straight path. As a king, it also behoves me to be lenient to the weak.’ Richard gave John a benevolent smile.

John silently ground his teeth. ‘Tell me one thing: why did you name Arthur as your heir?’ There was a sudden glitter of true tears in his eyes. ‘You talk of betrayal, but you betrayed me too.’

‘I
had no choice at the time if I wanted to succeed in Sicily,’ Richard replied with impatience. ‘The only way to make Tancred an ally was to promise Arthur to one of his daughters. It will never happen, and now you have a chance to prove your worth. We shall confront Philippe and you will have plenty of opportunity to redeem yourself.’ He lifted a portion of glistening pink salmon and presented it on a large flat knife to John as a token of favour. ‘Come, let us celebrate.’ He directed an attendant to pour fresh wine into his goblet and stood up to raise a toast. ‘To our future,’ he cried. ‘May it be glorious!’

Every man in the hall roared the toast back at him.

Richard drank and passed the goblet to John who set his lips to the exact same place. ‘To Richard!’ he cried. ‘Vivat Rex!’

Again the cheer rolled around the room in a wave of sound, crashing back to the dais: ‘Vivat Rex! Vivat Rex!’ Men pounded the table with their fists and the hilts of their eating knives, even if some of them were eyeing John narrowly. For now they were prepared to follow Richard’s lead and move on.

Richard turned to Alienor and raised another toast. ‘My incomparable mother, without whom I would not be standing here among you now. To whom I owe my birth, my liberty, my very bones and blood. Vivat Regina!’

Amid deafening roars and table thumping, Alienor took the cup and drank, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘To my sons,’ she said. ‘To brotherhood!’ Amid another surge of cheers she made a graceful exit from the hall so that the men could do what men did at such times without having to stand on the ceremony of her presence.

As she returned to her chamber, she swiped away her tears and felt weak with relief. Her sons were reconciled even if they were never going to be bosom friends. At least they would cooperate for now, and the rift, if not healed, had been securely bandaged. Richard had raised a cup to the future and she had to trust that he and John could take it forward.

On
a perfect morning in mid-June, the warm breeze on her face and the first dust of summer sifting the roadside grass, Alienor glimpsed Fontevraud Abbey through the trees and drew rein, her heart lifting and expanding. The pale stone buildings waited to embrace her as they had always done, and now she came gladly, of her own free will.

‘I am ready for this,’ she told William Marshal, who had undertaken the duty of escorting her. ‘I have lived seventy years in this world, and now it is time to take stock and nurture my spirit.’

‘God grant you that tranquillity, madam,’ William replied courteously, the reins slack in his fingers. His powerful bay shook its head against the flies and swished its heavy black tail.

She tilted him a smile. ‘I shall still want to hear of the world’s doings and how the lives of those I care about are progressing.’

William laughed gently. ‘I did not think you were going to withdraw altogether.’

‘Indeed not. I expect you to visit and keep me informed.’ She teased him with a severe look. ‘These days you may be the Earl of Striguil and a great magnate, but you will always be my hearth knight.’

He gave her that certain smile that always melted her heart. ‘Madam, you could not keep me away.’

She meant what she said about him being her knight. His courteous, attentive manner and their shared sense of humour lifted the burden of her years and made her feel young and attractive.

As
they arrived at the abbey gates, a robin perched on a low wall puffed out his chest and warbled a full-throated song of joy. ‘There,’ Alienor said, with delight. ‘That salute is more fitting than any fanfare I have ever received.’

A welcoming party headed by the Abbess emerged to greet Alienor and her cortege, and conduct her to the guest house. Alienor prepared to alight from the mare, and because her mind was so buoyant she expected her body to be the same, but her joints were stiff and slow to respond. As William assisted her from the saddle she almost fell, and only his swiftness and strength held her upright.

She brushed off the moment with a rueful laugh. ‘I should remember that these days my body does not do as I bid without a deal of urging, but I would not have ridden in a litter today for anything.’

‘Madam, you are too eager and we are not quick enough to keep up with you,’ William said gallantly, but his gaze was concerned because he saw her frailty even if she did not. Although she was in a fine humour and good spirits, she needed to recuperate. She was like a fine candle without enough wax to sustain the wick.

That night Alienor dined with William in the guest house and they talked of their shared past. He donned the persona of the young knight to please her, setting aside the magnate and soldier burdened with heavy responsibilities, and she flirted with him and was the vivacious, alluring woman from days long ago in Poitiers when she had bought him horses and armour, and raised him to prominence in her household.

She asked him to sing for her as he had so often done back then, and he obliged, standing tall and puffing out his chest like the robin on the wall. His voice was richer and stronger than in his youth but had retained the pure tone she remembered, and she loved him for it, particularly the way he improvised the tune, making up extra parts, changing the words here and there, all on the spur of the moment.