The Winter Crown (54 page)

‘I do not expect you to, only behave in a dignified way at the oath-taking, and mind what you say. Your time will come.’

He gave her another of those looks. ‘Yes,’ he said, and his tone was so expressionless that it held a wealth of meaning. ‘Yes, it will.’

The ride to Limoges for the main conference was a mixed affair rather like the weather, which was raw and cold, but with flags of blue between the clouds and moments of weak sunshine that almost hinted at warmth on her skin. Raymond of Toulouse had joined them but stayed back off the pace, having little to do with anyone, and Alienor was glad, but even the awareness of his presence made her feel like a cat that had had its fur ruffled the wrong way. The sooner he swore his oath and departed, the better.

Harry had been quiet and subdued, but Alienor was positive he had little intention of obeying his father. Earlier she had seen him strike one of his clerks and dismiss a scribe, both of whom were in Henry’s pay and spied for him. She was also aware of Henry keeping a close watch on Harry’s knights. The air was full of dangerous tension and her nape was prickling the way it always did before a thunderstorm.

On reaching Limoges, the baggage was unpacked and the participants changed from their travelling clothes into formal garments for taking the oaths of homage.

Alienor donned a gown fashioned from cloth of gold patterned with eagles, their wings outspread. She wore a ring on the middle finger of her left hand set with a large topaz, which she called her phoenix egg because of its fiery golden colour. A gold net encased her hair, and she wore a silk veil secured by a gem-set coronet.

Richard arrived, ready to accompany her to the great hall. He wore crimson and gold and his cloak was lined with the chevron furs of blue squirrels. A coronet decked his hair too, and the ducal ring of Saint Valerie shone on his right hand.

‘Well,’ Alienor said, ‘this is an auspicious day, is it not?’ Alight with pride, she arranged the drape of his cloak.

Richard smiled and said with relish, ‘It is going to stick in Raymond of Toulouse’s craw to bow to us.’

Alienor grimaced. ‘Indeed, and it ought to be a sweet taste, but I am wary. It seems to me he has been backed into a corner; he has no choice. And when people have no choice, their oaths and allegiance are given with resentment and reneged upon at the first opportunity. Yes, I badly want to see it stick in his craw, but what will he do afterwards? Choke it up perhaps.’

Richard drew himself up. ‘He will do nothing, Mama, because I will not let him.’ His tone was proud, and slightly affronted. ‘He will be my vassal too, and I will keep him to his word.’

She took his arm and squeezed it, and felt the new strength of muscle under her hand. ‘I know you will,’ she said, ‘but I still do not trust him.’

‘Harry says that if Papa does not give him lands, he will seize them for his own because it is his right.’

Alienor felt a jolt of alarm because such words were an escalation of intent. Harry often postured and threatened to do things but he seldom followed them through because it was too much trouble. However, he might well be testing out his ideas on Richard and looking for support. ‘And who does he think will aid him, apart from those impecunious knights of his?’

Richard shrugged. ‘His father-by-marriage, I suppose, and anyone else Papa has ridden over in the past.’

‘Did Harry ask you?’

Richard fiddled with the jewelled hilt of his dagger. ‘Not in so many words, but he is truly considering it, Mama. He is not strong enough to take on Papa by himself.’

It had gone further than she thought. It would not be a wise idea to tell Henry; she needed more information before she could decide what to do for the best. Louis would definitely finance anything that split up Henry’s domains and caused divisions, but at the same time his daughters were united with her sons and Harry’s proximity to the French Crown was inevitable.

‘That is a very dangerous game,’ she said. ‘Your father will come to hear the rumours and he will deal ruthlessly with anything he regards as betrayal. You should not speak so where you can be overheard.’

Richard glanced round at Alienor’s women, but none were within earshot. ‘I do not, Mama, but Harry is less discreet; he does not care who knows. He hinted to me that he’s been quietly seeking support and finding it. He says there is huge unrest in England since the death of the Archbishop.’

Alienor’s alarm increased. ‘Just how far has this gone?’

‘I do not know, Mama; you must talk to Harry.’

She saw the doubt in his eyes lurking behind the veneer of manly confidence. This was new territory for him and he was still in need of guidance. ‘I am glad you have spoken to me,’ she said. ‘You have done the right thing. I will speak with Harry after the ceremony; leave it with me.’

Together, Alienor and Richard descended from her chamber to the public space of the great hall where everyone was assembling to witness Raymond of Toulouse kneel in homage to Richard and Alienor, and concede that he was Aquitaine’s vassal. Henry was already seated on the dais, watchful and alert, his gaze moving from person to person, marking and assessing. For once rings adorned his fingers and he wore a dalmatic of purple silk which set off the ermine lining to his cloak. Harry sat beside him, upright and still, mirroring his father’s pose, but his usual smile had been replaced by set lips and an inscrutable expression.

As Richard mounted the dais and received a kiss from Henry, Hamelin stepped forward, blocked Alienor’s path to the steps, and drew her to one side. If Harry’s face was inscrutable, then Hamelin’s revealed deep discomfort and unease, but dogged determination. Alienor gazed at him in surprise and alarm.

‘Madam, the King requests that you remain here for the moment,’ Hamelin said stiffly.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Alienor tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip.

‘Madam, forgive me. The King will explain all in a short while, but for now he wishes you to remain here.’ He drew her to stand beside Marguerite and her sister Alais: observers, not participants. The path to the dais had been blocked by Henry’s household knights.

Raymond of Toulouse came forward from a group on the opposite side of the room to where Alienor stood. Even though he was on his way to bow the knee and pay homage to his enemies, he walked with a defiant swagger. At the foot of the dais he paused, took a deep breath as if about to plunge into deep water and then mounted the steps and kneeling before Henry, put his hands between his and swore him allegiance, acknowledging him Duke of Aquitaine and overlord of Toulouse. Alienor’s breath stopped at the top of her chest in utter shock. Henry had no right to accept that oath. Indeed, it could be construed that because Raymond of Toulouse was swearing fealty to the King of England, Aquitaine was England’s satellite. She would die before she let that happen.

Rooted to the spot, she watched Raymond place his hands between Henry’s and Henry give him the kiss of peace. And then Raymond turned to her sons, first kneeling to perform homage to Harry for Toulouse, acknowledging him Henry’s heir. Harry glanced at his father and swiftly at Richard, but accepted the homage, a flush spreading across his face. Finally Raymond turned to Richard, who hesitated for a long moment, before finally completing his part of the ceremony, his expression rigid with strain.

Rage surged through Alienor so strongly that for a moment she could not see. This was the vilest betrayal of all: that Henry should snatch away from her the kernel of her authority, of who she was, and use Raymond of Toulouse as his instrument.

‘You serve the Devil,’ she hissed at Hamelin. ‘Let go of me, you traitor. I will not be restrained by the likes of you.’ She wrenched herself out of his grasp and flung from the hall with its tableau of treachery. Storming into her chamber, she ordered the startled servants to pack the baggage for an immediate return to Poitiers. She swept several gowns off a clothing pole and threw them on her bed for her women to fold and then dug her fingernails into her palms, seeking control.

Isabel arrived, flushed and tearful with distress. ‘Alienor, I am sorry, I swear I did not know!’

‘If you did, would you have told me?’ Alienor glared at her with furious contempt. ‘I think not, because your loyalty is not first of all to me, is it, but to your perfidious henchman husband! Get out before I say something to destroy any bridges remaining between us.’

Isabel bit her lip. ‘I am sorry, I truly am. I do not blame you for sending me away.’

Alienor refused to look at her. There was a pressure in her stomach and saliva in her mouth. ‘Just go,’ she said.

Isabel hesitated, and then made a deep curtsey. ‘I shall pray for all of you, and do what I can, however little that might be,’ she said and, with a sob, fled the room.

Alienor ran to the latrine shaft built into the thickness of the wall and hung over it, retching bile. When a hovering, worried Marchisa enquired if she was well, she waved her away and choked that she wished to be left alone.

Eventually the spasms subsided and she collected the shattered pieces of herself and strove to put them together. She knew Henry would not come to her and explain. Why should he? He had already revealed the kind of store he set by her. Returning to the chamber, she rinsed her mouth with wine and returned to the matter of packing. Once back in Poitiers and away from Henry’s poisonous presence, she would consider how best to proceed.

Richard arrived as she was putting her topaz ring in a wax-lined jewel casket. He was panting from his run up the stairs, the gold sunbursts on his tunic flashing with each hard breath.

‘How could he do this to us?’ he demanded, his voice almost breaking back to boyhood with the pressure of his anger. ‘He must have known what Raymond was going to do.’

‘Of course he knew,’ Alienor spat. ‘It is your father’s ploy to make Aquitaine a vassal of England and Normandy and at the same time save face for Toulouse. Doubtless he thinks he has been clever, but that oath will not stand. You are Duke of Aquitaine independent of anyone but me, and since I accepted no oath, it is invalid.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Should you not be at this triumphal feast of your father’s?’

Richard grimaced. ‘I said I had to visit the latrine. Harry is furious too. He says the oath-taking was a sop that’s not going to salve his pride or compensate for those castles just because he took precedence over me. He says it’s all Papa’s trickery again. He’s going to defy him because if Papa won’t listen to him, then what else can he do? What is there to lose?’ As he spoke, Richard controlled his voice, and it dropped to its deeper resonance.

A taut silence fell between them and then Alienor said, quietly bitter, ‘Your father is a consummate player. Harry must take consultation and advice, and be committed beyond the superficial to any undertaking. There is a great deal left to lose.’

‘And to win,’ Richard said hawkishly.

‘Rebellion goes far deeper than a complaint about not enough land or responsibility; rebellion risks all,’ she warned. A part of her felt a sensation of reaching out, of excitement and yearning. It was like inhaling freedom, but she knew the danger and was afraid for her sons and herself. She touched his arm. ‘Let us talk once we are back in Poitiers. For now there is nothing we can do.’

‘Your brother tells me you are considering folly,’ Alienor said to Harry when he came to her chamber having absconded the feast.

Harry shot an angry look at Richard. ‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Alienor said curtly. ‘I am your mother and I know what goes forth. If you are intending what you intend, then you must be very sure, and you must plan carefully. You cannot treat this as a sudden enthusiasm or a child’s outburst where all will be forgotten tomorrow. Either you mean this with all your heart as a man, or you must step back.’

Harry set his jaw. ‘I mean it, Mama. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I am going to return to the French court. There are many in England, both common folk and barons, who desire to cast off his yoke. He has made enemies everywhere. All we are to him are pawns on his chessboard and he thinks he can move us about wherever he wants.’

‘And what would you do?’ she asked. ‘How exactly do you intend to become a player instead of one of his pieces?’

‘I am a king,’ Harry said proudly. ‘I shall make him acknowledge me. There are many who will join my banner when I summon them.’ He gave her a wounded look. ‘I have not spent all my time revelling and pouring my allowance down the drain.’

‘Aquitaine is mine,’ Richard broke in swiftly. ‘I will not let you or Papa take it from me.’

Harry turned to him. ‘It is not my fault that Raymond of Toulouse swore to me first rather than you. It wasn’t my doing, as well you know.’

‘Perhaps, but even so I will never kneel to you for Aquitaine.’

Harry brushed the words aside with an impatient wave of his hand; that issue was not his current focus. ‘As you will. Come with me to France if you desire, and kneel to Louis as your overlord.’

Alienor was frustrated by their quibbling, and afraid too. ‘Do not be in such haste,’ she said, rubbing her aching temples. Everything was unravelling and she did not know which way to turn because there was betrayal of one sort or another in every direction and no sanctuary anywhere.

‘I tell you, Mama, I am not staying. I am going to Paris because I cannot call anywhere in my father’s domains home; he dishonours me at every turn. I am constantly being told to act like a man. Well, now I am, and the rest of you may do as you see fit, but my mind is made up.’ He departed the room with head down like a charging bull in a manner totally reminiscent of his father.

Alienor’s headache had become an intense sawing pain and she could not think. ‘We shall talk about this tomorrow,’ she said to Richard. ‘Tonight I am too exhausted, too sad – and too angry.’

Hamelin sipped his wine. It was always magnificent in the south and this one was exceptional. Even so, tonight it cloyed his palate and he did not want to be in this room. The feast to celebrate the homage ceremony had been a mockery. Humbert of Maurienne had been royally fêted and superficially all had seemed well, but excuses had had to be made for Alienor’s absence. Harry and Richard had been present because they were forced, but had left early. Hamelin suspected they had gone to keep company with their mother. Geoffrey had remained at the feast, watchful as usual, keeping his thoughts to himself and observing the proceedings with a keen eye. John, seated at the high table on an embroidered cushion, had behaved with aplomb. Now, he was leaning sleepily against Henry, being very quiet and good, obviously loving the treat of being allowed to stay up with the men.