The Autumn Throne (52 page)

When he departed the next morning, he presented her with
a pair of embroidered gloves and a set of red leather reins. There was a small braided whip as well, and some dainty ladies’ spurs, all of which he had carried in his baggage without telling her until now. ‘For when you choose to ride out, madam. You once gave me fine harness and equipment, and I wish to return the same to you. Send me the gloves if you have need and I will come to you.’

She watched him ride away with a tinge of sadness in her heart but it was wistful rather than grieving, and although her eyes were wet, she was smiling too.

As Alienor settled into the daily routine of life at Fontevraud, she gradually recovered her stamina and her balance. The light returned to her eyes, and she looked forward with relish to rising each morning rather than struggling through a fog.

The lay women who dwelt at the abbey became her court and her companions, and she enjoyed hearing their stories and sharing their lives. She often received messages and visitors from the world outside and was only as isolated as she chose to be. She could go hunting with her gyrfalcon if she wanted, take daily rides in fine weather, and enjoy the gardens to her heart’s delight. And there were healing and contemplative moments of prayer every day in the abbey church. Now and again she would glance at Henry’s unadorned tomb and consider employing a stone mason, but the days passed and the task remained in abeyance. She would know when it was time, but for now she was not ready to make his presence more prominent.

On a golden autumn afternoon when she had been at Fontevraud for almost two years, Richard arrived at the gates with his entourage. He had sent harbingers ahead to inform her of his coming and she was waiting in the guesthouse courtyard to greet him. He dismounted somewhat stiffly from his dun palfrey and his face contorted as he set his left foot on the ground.

‘You
are injured?’ She was immediately concerned.

‘Ha, it was one of those foolish things. An almost spent crossbow quarrel nicked my leg under the shield.’ He spoke with casual indifference.

Alienor tasted fear. ‘Have you had your chirurgeon look at it?’

‘Of course.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘It’s healing well. Most of the power was spent when it struck me.’

‘You should not put yourself in danger, let others do that.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘I am all right, do not fret. It is nothing.’

He looked so alive and vital that it made his words easy to believe, even knowing that they were all in the hands of God’s mysterious will. ‘I am glad to hear it. Come, I have food and wine laid ready.’

As they ate and drank in her chamber, he gave her the news of his campaigns against Philippe of France and the good progress he was making.

‘And John?’ she asked. ‘Are you both cooperating?’ She had heard very little from her youngest son since coming to Fontevraud. A couple of brief letters, a gift of a fur cloak at Easter and oil for her lamps, but nothing that spoke of John himself.

‘He is proving a model adjutant.’ Richard’s expression was sardonic. ‘Thus far he has done everything I ask of him and I have no complaints. If he has any to make of me, he has not said. I am sure he has his little proclivities tucked away in a dark corner somewhere, but nothing that causes me alarm – for the moment.’

He swallowed the mouthful of bread he had been chewing. ‘I am building a castle on the island at les Andelys,’ he continued. ‘It will curb Philippe’s ambitions. When I am finished it will be impregnable and guard the approach to Normandy so that nothing will get past it from France.’ His expression grew fierce with enthusiasm. ‘You have seen those fortresses in Outremer, Mama. The great ones that can withstand sieges for years on end. Gaillard will be such a one. I
am hoping just the threat of it will make Philippe turn tail and run. He is like a carrion picker – always slinking around the edges waiting his moment but he won’t confront me face to face. Gaillard will serve warning that I am watching him.’

‘And how much will it cost?’

‘As much as it needs. The sooner and stronger my frontiers are shored up the better. Let Philippe skulk in Paris and venture out at his peril.’

He proceeded to tell her about his plans for Gaillard, as eager as the excited parent of a newborn child. Alienor listened keenly because she admired his skill and the defence of their lands against the French was vital. She was so proud of him, but even so other matters could not be neglected and in their own way were just as important as the great stone turrets of a proposed new castle.

‘Berenguela has written to wish me well and make sure I have everything I need.’ Alienor gave Richard a meaningful look. ‘She tells me she holds you in her prayers and hopes you will soon visit her.’

‘As I hold her in mine,’ Richard replied, avoiding her gaze.

‘You should go to her,’ Alienor pressed. ‘If you intend building great castles to oppose the French then you should have heirs of your own body to inherit them. I am not meddling, I am being pragmatic, and so should you be.’

‘Yes, Mama, I will put it in hand.’

She could tell from the set of his jaw that he was merely paying lip service to humour her. Perhaps it was time she began writing letters and considering what might be done about an annulment, although there was no need to broach the matter with Richard at this point.

‘I have also been wondering about Joanna. Have you any thoughts about her marriage? She has been a widow long enough.’

The guarded look left Richard’s eyes. Clearly he was more comfortable discussing his sister’s marital future than his own situation. ‘One or two, which is part of the reason I am here. I
thought I might use my recuperation time to talk with you and see if you had an opinion – which I’m sure you do.’

Alienor smiled. ‘What makes you think that?’

He waved airily. ‘You are always one step ahead of everyone else … and since I have been pondering the notion of Joanna’s marriage, I thought you might have heard that Raymond of Toulouse has put aside his wife and hopes to make new alliances.’

‘As it happens I have already written to Joanna on the subject.’

Richard eyed her sharply. ‘Indeed?’

She gave him a superior look. ‘It is only natural that I exchange letters with my daughter. Strange as it may seem to you, there are some areas where women have as much influence as men. Joanna will do what is right for the family and our dynasty. She knows a union with Toulouse is to our advantage.’

‘Has she replied?’

‘She wrote to say she would consider the matter. Certainly it is a better suggestion than the one you had of wedding her to Saladin’s brother when you were in Outremer,’ Alienor said pointedly.

‘That was just verbal jousting,’ he dismissed with a wave. ‘It would never have come to fruition; it just showed a willingness to bargain on both sides.’

‘Perhaps, but the very fact that it was mooted is bound to cause misgiving.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘You know how long I have worked to restore Toulouse to our affinity, and I greatly desire this, but Joanna is a grown woman and she is entitled to her say.’

After their meal they visited the abbey church to pray and pay their respects. Richard gazed at his father’s tomb, still adorned with the same blank slab from seven years ago.

‘Sometimes I come and talk to him,’ Alienor said. ‘And what pleases me is that he cannot talk back. Now he is the one who has to listen while I speak.’

Richard
made an amused sound, but then sobered. ‘I am surprised you have no effigy for him.’

Alienor grimaced. ‘I think of it often, but somehow I feel it will bring him out of his tomb and back into the light if I do, and I am not ready yet. When it is time I shall know and he shall have the best stone mason in Christendom to carve it.’

Richard nodded with pursed lips. ‘I understand, Mama.’

‘He was mighty in life, and his effigy demands magnificence in death, but not yet. Let him rest in peace, and let me live in it.’

Three weeks later Joanna arrived at Fontevraud having ridden up from Poitiers with a full retinue of knights and servants. Richard had already departed north to deal with matters of government, and Joanna was to follow him to Rouen where she had agreed to wed Raymond of Toulouse.

Alienor swelled with pride at the sight of her daughter in the full flower of her beauty. Joanna was tall, graceful and glowing with vitality. She became stronger and more upright herself just by looking at her daughter – at the continuation of her lineage in this wonderful flesh-and-blood young woman.

‘I am so proud of you,’ she said as they walked in Fontevraud’s gardens together, ‘and of what you are doing.’

Joanna watched the fabric of her gown kick out and flare with each step. ‘It is my duty to my family is it not? This opportunity to unite with Toulouse will not come again.’

Alienor said nothing. She strongly desired this marriage and to bring Toulouse into her affinity, but she was torn, and surprised to be torn. Marriages were always made for political alliance and the greater good of the dynasty, and as Joanna said, it was her duty. But at the same time, remembering her own unions, Alienor was unsettled about pushing her daughter into one that might not be made in heaven.

Joanna gave her a sideways glance from intelligent grey eyes. ‘I can achieve what neither Papa nor Richard have been able to do with all their military might. I can restore Toulouse
through marriage. If God is good, I will bear sons and I will raise them to know their bloodline.’

There was an edge to Joanna. Unlike her sister, Matilda, she did not have that softer maternal aspect and Alienor was pleased by the air of hauteur. It showed her daughter’s mettle and that she had the strength, courage and passion for the task – a lioness to Richard’s lion, which she would need to take on Raymond of Toulouse.

‘And Raymond?’

Their walk had brought them to the abbey, and now they entered and moved silently down the nave until they stood before Henry’s tomb.

‘He is a man as all men, but not such a one as my father. Raymond is made of more malleable clay.’ She sent her mother a look that twinkled with humour and knowledge. ‘I am not without experience. I will endeavour to be a good wife to him, and I will foster relations between Aquitaine and Toulouse for all I am worth because I know full well that Philippe of France will do his utmost to destroy that link.’ Her lips curved in mockery. ‘To think that Philippe courted me in Sicily … the opportunities I have been offered these last few years astound me. I could have been Queen of France or wife to a sultan, and now the bride of a man who has long been our enemy.’ She laughed as Alienor eyed her askance. ‘I mean to bring peace if I can. You need not worry for me.’

‘But I do,’ Alienor said. ‘I worry for all my children. That is the lot of a mother.’

Joanna gave her a spontaneous hug that took Alienor a little by surprise. ‘I am glad you came to Fontevraud, Mama. I have loved it ever since I was a little girl. It feels so clean and light. I am glad Papa is here now even though he had planned to lie at Grandmont.’

Alienor made a face. ‘Indeed, and he has had the last say as always because it seems that we shall now lie side by side in eternity, and I did not think that would ever happen.’

The
maid untwisted the last strands at the end of Richenza’s plait, set the blue silk ribbons aside, and prepared to apply a fragrant lotion of rose water and ground nutmeg to her mistress’s thick, wildfire hair. Copper and gold rippled in the light, with darker shadows of ruby and garnet, amber and topaz. The antler comb had wide teeth to work through the strands, and Richenza had had a special brush made from bristle to smooth it down and control the energy.

‘Your hair has so much life!’ Alienor laughed, stroking its abundance. It looked as if it would be coarse, but it was soft and silky – a marvel to touch. She put a hand to her own locks which shone like thin silver thread. ‘Even when I was a young woman I could not match your glory!’

Richenza gave her a gentle nudge. ‘Oh that is not true, Grandmère, you were a beauty in your own day, do not deny it! I have heard the tales and many a troubadour song made in your honour. How many songs do you think I will have in comparison to yours?’

‘You are young yet, you have time,’ Alienor replied with warm affection. Richenza was visiting Alienor for a few weeks and both women were enjoying the sojourn immensely.

‘Who will sing a paean to my wild vixen hair? Yours was as smooth as gold. Mama often spoke of it and how she used to try out all the preparations and unguents in your coffer and hope they would make her as beautiful as you.’

‘I remember her doing that.’ A lump came to Alienor’s throat. ‘Although I never knew she wished such a thing; I thought it was just her curiosity: she always had to pare things
to the bone to understand them. And she was beautiful.’

‘Yes, she was.’ A silence of memory followed, filled with unspoken words of love and regret.

Thomas, Richenza’s small son, came to join in. He was not quite six years old, a handsome little chap made in the image of his father. His own hair was well-behaved, smooth and blond like Geoffrey’s.