The Autumn Throne (31 page)

The door opened and a chestnut and white spaniel nosed into the room and gambolled up to Alienor, feathered tail wagging frantically, mouth open in a wide laugh. Scenting Snowit’s meal, he stood on tip-toe at Alienor’s skirts, snuffling the juice on her fingers. The gyrfalcon bated her wings and screeched.

‘Moysi?’

Alienor stared at him in open surprise and then focused on the door as it opened further and Richenza entered with her father.

Alienor hastily restored Snowit to her perch and put the last of the rabbit scraps on the floor for Moysi to devour.

‘Grandmère?’ Richenza advanced into the room and started to kneel, but Alienor stopped her, and embraced her with a fierce hug.

‘What a wonderful surprise, let me look at you!’ She held her granddaughter at arm’s length. ‘What a beauty you are!’ Richenza’s cloud
of wiry red hair had been tamed and tidied into a thick braid woven with gold thread. A light veil covered the top of her head, secured by sturdy golden pins. Her gown of vibrant spring green was laced tightly to emphasise her figure, and her cloak was lined with squirrel furs the same auburn shade as her hair.

‘Indeed, I am most proud of her,’ Heinrich said in his heavily accented French as he followed her into the room. He bowed to Alienor. ‘She is a credit to her family.’

If Richenza was blooming, Heinrich looked unwell. He was a heavy-set man who usually carried his weight with muscular vigour, but today his features were slack and doughy and he seemed tired.

Moysi, having cleaned the bowl, was busy shoving it around the room with his nose.

Alienor sent Amiria to bring wine, her initial delight at having visitors turning to caution as she started to realise the implications. ‘What brings you to Sarum?’

‘A visit,’ Heinrich said with half a shrug. ‘That is all.’

Alienor did not believe him. ‘Then I am delighted to see you. My daughter is well?’

‘Yes.’ Avoiding her gaze, Heinrich went to look at Snowit. ‘I see she is moulting.’

Alienor’s sense of unease intensified. ‘Yes, but she will go through it swiftly I think. Are you staying for the night?’

He inclined his head. ‘Yes, and I have brought Richenza to you for a little while.’ His gaze flicked to his daughter who was busy rescuing the bowl from the spaniel. ‘The Emperor desires me to join the crusade, but I have no wish to go. Let younger men take those risks. Some of us must remain at home and govern but the Emperor would rather I was elsewhere in his absence, so once again I find myself an exile.’ He folded his arms in a defensive gesture. ‘It will not be for long, and this time I do not have to uproot my entire family. Matilda has stayed behind as chatelaine. She sends you her love and greeting.’

Alienor was
not taken in by his platitudes. He was in exile again and biding his time until his overlord had departed on crusade. In the meantime, Matilda was left to weather matters as best she could.

‘I have brought Richenza to you because she is safer here. She loves you dearly, as I know you love her.’

Alienor frowned. ‘Indeed I do, but what do you mean when you say matters are not safe?’

Heinrich rubbed his fleshy palm over his face. ‘Ach, I do not want to tell you this, but I must. The King’s health is failing. Normandy and Anjou are being overrun by Richard and the King of France, and their demands on him increase daily. He is being pushed into a corner and soon he will stand at bay.’

‘How is he failing?’ Alienor demanded. Her stomach churned with a mingling of fear and dreadful anticipation.

‘He is suffering from his old ailment – his thigh weeps constant pus, and he has another fissure higher up.’ Heinrich indicated his buttock. ‘He can barely sit a horse, but still he struggles to do so and he refuses to rest – although he could not even if he wished, because he is being pursued hard and driven back. Many have deserted him and sworn their fealty to Philippe, or to Richard.’

Alienor bit her lip. She ought to have been brimming with triumph; indeed she did feel a little of that emotion, but she felt sick too. That it should come to this when it need never have happened. ‘Is John still with him? And William Marshal?’

‘Yes.’ Heinrich nodded slowly. ‘I do not know what he would do without them. Baldwin de Bethune remains staunch too, and Gilbert FitzReinfred.’ His mouth twisted. ‘But it is not good – for anyone – and that is why I bring my girl to you.’

‘To share my confinement?’ Alienor sent Richenza a wry glance.

‘For her to be safe,’ Heinrich emphasised. ‘She will keep you company and you will keep her from harm. It will not be for long as I say.’

He would not
be further drawn, but his hints left her in no doubt about what he thought might be about to happen.

Alienor was returning from her devotions in the cathedral, Richenza at her side, when the messenger rode under the gatehouse arch at a reckless pace and flung himself from his sweating horse so swiftly that the beast was still in motion and he was almost trampled beneath its hooves. Tossing the reins to a startled groom, he stumbled over to the women, knelt in the dust at Alienor’s feet and touched the hem of her gown.

‘My liege lady,’ he panted, ‘I bear tidings of great import. The Kingdom is yours; you are the Dowager Queen. King Henry is dead!’

Richenza gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘No!’

Alienor stood very still. There was a sensation within her of everything jolting to a stop, but not with dismay. It was like seeing a magnificent glow suddenly appear over her horizon, but not being sure what it meant and for the moment there was nothing beyond it. She had been expecting the news ever since Heinrich had brought Richenza to her for safekeeping in April, but she was still unprepared for the moment when the hammer hit. Henry dead. No longer of the world. All that fierce pugilistic energy gone to nothing, like a sky cleared of clouds in the aftermath of a thunderstorm.

She looked around. Everything was still normal beyond the small ripples caused by the young man’s hasty arrival, and no one knew the reason for that haste, only that it must be important news. The sun still burned in the heat-bleached sky. Three children played with Moysi, throwing a leather ball for him
to chase, and a woman was flirting with one of the soldiers, flicking her hips at him. None of that would change for the sake of this piece of news.

‘I cannot believe it!’ Richenza’s voice was tight with tears. ‘It can’t be true!’

Her declaration broke the moment and Alienor took a deep breath, and then another, drawing life into herself. What had been boxed in was now open space, wide with possibilities. ‘Hush now.’ Taking Richenza’s arm, she addressed her firmly. ‘You are of his lineage. Remember your position.’

Richenza raised her head and made a valiant effort although her face was flushed and her eyes brimming.

The messenger still knelt in the dust, his hat clenched in his fists and his head bowed almost to the ground. It was one of Richard’s hearth knights, she realised, Robert de Saintonge, who had once served as a page in her household. Alienor tapped him smartly on the shoulder. ‘Get up,’ she said briskly.

He rose to his feet, sweat trickling down his sunburned face. A groom led the horse away to rub it down.

‘When and where?’ she demanded.

‘At Chinon, madam, on the sixth day of July. I have letters for you, but news in more detail is following behind. I am but the harbinger.’

Something was developing within her, rising up like a fine swirl of dust, but gathering substance. She summoned a servant to take the young man and tend to his needs. ‘Go and refresh yourself,’ she commanded. ‘I will send for you again in a short while.’ She held out her hands for the letters, and as the knight departed she turned again to Richenza. ‘When I went to mass I was a prisoner, and now I am free. Indeed, I was free last night and the night before and did not know it. I could ride out of here this very moment and no one would have authority to stop me – no one!’ She envisaged doing exactly that. ‘I shall order the cooks to prepare a feast.’

Richenza’s eyes widened in shock and Alienor shook her head. ‘No, not to celebrate,’ she said impatiently, ‘although I
know God would forgive me for doing so. My reasons are practical. I will never return here, and before I leave, we should empty the larder.’

Glancing up, she saw her gaoler Robert Maudit hastening towards her. Plainly the ripples were flowing outwards as the news came to be known. She stood tall to face him, and felt life flowing back into her veins.

He bowed awkwardly. ‘Madam, I grieve to hear the tidings of the King’s death.’

‘You will understand if I do not,’ Alienor replied, ‘although when I know more, I may mourn the circumstances. My command is that you prepare to move my household to Winchester on the morrow.’

‘As you wish, madam.’

‘You did what you had to do and your orders were the King’s,’ she said. ‘Now your orders come at the behest of a new king, and since he is not present, from those who represent him. Let the rest of today be a time for reflection and prayer for the late King’s soul. Let a requiem mass be said in the cathedral.’

When he had gone, Alienor returned to her chamber with Richenza. ‘I knew he was dying ever since I saw your father in April. The question was only when, and how much more damage he would wreak on us all before he came to his end.’ She bade Amiria leave the door open and the windows wide. In practical terms it created a breeze through the room that helped to freshen the summer heat, but it was also the taste of freedom. After tonight she would never set foot in this room again. ‘So much wasted time,’ she murmured.

The messenger returned, having spruced himself up and changed his garments. ‘I am bidden by King Richard to escort you where you wish to go, madam, and remain to serve you in any way you judge fit.’

‘I am certain I can find a use for your talents.’ She smiled at him, and again felt a stirring within – of flirtatiousness and power. ‘I know you were sent in haste, but what more can you tell me?’

He cleared
his throat. ‘I do not know how much you know, madam. In his last days the King was too ill to attend talks with Count Richard and the King of France and took to his bed at Chinon. I was in the company of Count Richard so I do not know the full details, but when news of the King’s death was brought to us in the field, my lord sent me straight to England. I can tell you that as I departed King Henry was being borne to Fontevraud for burial.’

‘Fontevraud?’ She was surprised. ‘Not Grandmont?’

He shook his head. ‘It was too far in the summer heat.’

‘Of course.’ She banished the image conjured by his words. Fontevraud at least was a suitable alternative. Henry had told her he had dwelt at the abbey sometimes as a boy, and when they had visited early in their marriage he had been at peace there, so it was entirely fitting.

The young man could tell her no more because he had ridden in such haste. His sole duty had been to bring her the news and spring her from her prison. The only other detail he was able to impart was that Richard was in good health despite almost being killed by William Marshal.

Alienor stared at him. ‘William Marshal tried to kill my son?’

‘It was when King Henry was fleeing from Le Mans after the French had broken through, madam. The Count of Poitou gave chase and was almost upon him, but the Marshal turned back to protect the King’s retreat. My lord was unarmed save for a padded tunic and light helm and the Marshal could have run him through.’

‘But clearly he didn’t.’

‘No, madam. The Count cried out that he was unarmed and it would be a wicked thing to kill him. So the Marshal killed his horse instead and shouted that he would leave my lord to the devil. After that he got King Henry away to Chinon.’

Small wonder Henry had demanded William’s services, Alienor thought. Thank Christ that William had had the
bravery and intelligence to do as he had done. She only hoped Richard appreciated it too.

‘My lord Richard was at his mercy,’ the knight said. ‘No one could have stopped the Marshal had he chosen to plunge his lance differently.’

‘Then thank God he stayed his hand.’ William Marshal had learned his lessons and knew just how far to take brinkmanship, but clearly Richard still had more to learn. ‘And John? Was he not with the King?’

‘Madam, I do not know. All we heard was that the King was dead and being borne to Fontevraud. As far as I know the lord John was not with him, because his presence was not mentioned, but I believe his son Jeoffrey was.’

That young man too would have to be dealt with, but all would have to wait until she saw Richard. For now she had to prepare as best she could and come to terms with the change in her circumstances while she waited for a new vista to fill that blank horizon.

Five days later William Marshal arrived in Winchester, where she was now residing, and at last she had her news.

His face twisted with pain as he limped into her chamber. ‘Madam, forgive me if I do not kneel.’

‘What have you done?’ For a moment his action reminded her of the last time she had seen Henry and she experienced a jolt of fear. She gestured a chair to be brought for him and cushions plumped.