The Autumn Throne (48 page)

‘You are a respectable matron now – on the outside at least.’

‘I play my part. You should think about what to do to make people respect you. People look at your brother’s armour and they marvel, but it is upheld by the reputation of the man. Would they do the same for you, my love? I wonder.’

‘Bitch,’ John said softly as the door closed behind her, but
without too much malice, and then he leaned back to finish his bath.

He was being dried when an attendant interrupted his toilet to announce that a messenger had arrived. ‘He says he will give the words he bears to no one but yourself, sire.’

John arched his brows. ‘Indeed? Very well, send him in.’

By the time the messenger was admitted, John was dressed in a loose robe and soft sheepskin shoes. With a wave of his hand he dismissed his servants and eyed the man who knelt before him. He wore sober, ordinary garments, nothing to mark him out as being unique or valuable, and his features were pleasant and nondescript. He had been divested of sword and dagger before being admitted to the chamber. The letter he handed to John was sealed with the small, private ring seal of Philippe of France. When John broke the seal and opened the letter, it was blank.

‘Nothing was written, sire, in case I was intercepted, but I am bidden to tell you from the lord King of France that you must look to yourself for the devil is loose.’

John stared at the blank sheet while he absorbed the words. It could only mean one thing and it was no use to question the messenger, who for the sake of security would have been told nothing. John’s stomach clenched. What this meant was that a final agreement had been made between Richard and Heinrich, and that as soon as the ransom was delivered, Richard would be on his way to England.

‘Go,’ John told the messenger. ‘Return to your lord and tell him that I shall bring the reply myself.’

The messenger bowed and departed. John shouted for his servants, and when they arrived he ordered them to start packing his baggage. If Richard was soon to be released, he needed to stop the process and secure his own position before it was too late.

Instead of going to the hall to deal with various matters of business and play dice, he changed into travelling garments, donned his cloak, and called for his horse to be saddled.

Belle caught
him in the courtyard, his foot in the stirrup as he gathered the reins.

‘Where are you going?’ she demanded.

‘To settle a few matters. Do not make a fuss. Go back to your husband.’

He gained the saddle, reined about and spurred his mount.

Left standing in his dust as he galloped away, Belle’s heart sank. Was this how it was always going to be? That he would use her and leave her at his convenience, never hers? She lifted her chin and returned to the hall. People gave her sidelong looks and she knew full well what they were thinking. She told herself she did not care, but it wasn’t true. She cared far more than she would ever admit, and she hated him.

Alienor stood on the wharfside at Southampton, preparing to sail for Germany. The first instalment of the ransom had left for its destination in the autumn with officials from Heinrich’s court and now she was preparing to embark with the hostages and the balance of the payment and bring Richard home.

A frigid wind was blowing hard, but at least it wasn’t a gale and it was in the right direction, which was a good omen. Their crossing would be swift. The treasure had been distributed between several ships so that should a storm blow up in the Narrow Sea, there was less chance of everything going to the bottom. It made the consignment harder to guard, but she had sufficient good men to the task.

The youths who were going as hostages were being very
manly, but they were excited too. Seeing them gathered together, talking animatedly, hearing a laugh ring out, she realised that what to her was a driving matter of life and death, and the desperate need to go to her child, was for them a fine adventure.

There had been no word from John. She did not know where he was or what he was doing, and neither did anyone else – save that he had departed Marlborough and crossed to Normandy. The sea was navigable today but at this time of year it was capricious and news was sporadic. She did know that Richard had written to John, instructing him to take command of key castles in Normandy and hold firm against Philippe of France, but the Normans had rebuffed him and refused to yield their fortresses to anyone but Richard. But after that there had been nothing and she was worried.

Her grandson Richard joined her, his complexion a wind-freshened pink and his blue eyes shining with the joy of the adventure. ‘Has Uncle Richard’s hauberk been packed with the baggage?’ he asked.

‘Of course it has,’ she said with a smile. ‘It is part of him after all.’

He chewed his lip. ‘Will he punish my father?’

Alienor set her arm around his shoulder. ‘That is between your father and your uncle. There have been misunderstandings and bad decisions on both sides, but it is not your place to worry about them and not your burden to bear.’

Richard gave a pensive nod. Alienor added with humour to lighten the moment, ‘Perhaps we could ransom one of the Earl of Norfolk’s hats. I think it would fetch a fine price.’

Grandmother and grandson shared a mutual smile as they watched Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, arrive at the dockside with his entourage. His reputation for flamboyant headwear was borne out by the peacock feather plumes fluttering from the crown of a brimmed concoction of scarlet felt.

Bowing to them, the Earl doffed the glorious creation with a flourish.

‘That
is a very fine hat you are wearing today, my lord,’ Alienor commented.

He gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘Better on my head than being crushed in the baggage, madam.’

‘Indeed, unless it blows off into the sea. I would hate you to have to jump in after it.’

‘It is well secured – more so than a wimple I would say.’

Alienor laughed, acknowledging his riposte. ‘It will be a swift crossing, and once we are there, I pray for good weather and a trouble-free negotiation.’

‘Madam, I shall do what I can for my part.’ He was sober now.

‘I know, and I thank you.’ Alienor was fond of Roger Bigod. Like William Marshal he was trustworthy and reliable. Although less outgoing than William – except in the matter of his hats – he remained constant and calm whatever crisis was thrown at him. He was also highly skilled in the law, one of the reasons he was on this journey.

Roger gallantly assisted her to board ship and once again she felt the sway of a deck under her feet. Walter of Coutances had been designated a hostage too, and he arrived swathed in furs and holding his crosier like a warrior’s baton. The winter chill had set his cheeks ablaze and fluffed his white beard to fullness. Walking with him was Baldwin of Bethune, lord of Holderness, and several knights and attendants. Some would stay in Germany as surety for the ransom and others would return as escort for herself and the king.

As the tide reached its zenith and turned, the treasure ships embarked and headed for the open sea, furrowing through the dark grey swell. Alienor sat in the shelter that had been constructed on deck, cushions and furs piled around her. Clutching a cross, she prayed for a safe journey and her son’s imminent freedom.

Alienor warmed her hands at the fire in her chamber at Speyer, and shivered. Outside the ground was as hard as horseshoe
iron and tiny pellets of snow filled the air like scurf, but the weather was not responsible for her sense of cold.

She had spent the feast of Epiphany at the tomb of the three kings in Cologne and had made offerings of gold and frankincense as she lit candles and prayed for her beloved son. Now she had arrived in Speyer, and although she had been greeted with deference by court officials and housed in comfort, she and her entourage had yet to meet the Emperor and she had not been permitted to see Richard. In some ways she was as much a prisoner as he was. Today, she had been promised that all would change. She wore her finest robes, and knowing how much store the Germans set by display, she dripped with jewels, many of them formerly belonging to Henry’s mother the Empress Matilda.

A delegation of courtiers arrived to conduct her and her entourage to the Emperor’s presence. Alienor straightened her spine and walking with a regal, measured pace allowed herself to be escorted to the great hall.

The room blazed with candle light and an enormous fire crackled in the hearth. Fine textiles and hangings curtained the walls, reflecting the heat back into the room, but still it seemed a long, cold walk to Heinrich’s throne set on the dais, where he waited, wreathed and gilded in state, watching her approach with a speculative look in his hooded eyes. He was a snake, she thought, nothing but a viper dwelling under a rock. But she knew what she must do, and on reaching the foot of the steps to his throne she knelt and made a deep obeisance.

After a long moment to emphasise his dominance and her prostration, he rose and came down the steps to lift her to her feet and give her the kiss of peace. ‘Welcome, madam. I trust you are being well looked after during your stay?’ He indicated that she should take a chair at his side – a smaller one, and a little below his in height.

‘Indeed yes, sire,’ she answered neutrally. ‘We have been afforded every comfort and hospitality.’

She took
the jewelled goblet of wine Heinrich presented to her and wondered how much it was worth. She had been able to think about nothing else these past months. What price each item would fetch when set in the balance against Richard’s freedom. This would bring a hundred marks at least.

‘In truth, sire, my life has been wearisome of late. I am an old woman, burdened by many sorrows. I hope you have some good news for me as you have written, and that I may see my son very soon, or my heart will break for certain.’

Heinrich eyed her with calculation. ‘Indeed, madam, I hope so too, but alas there is more to this than meets the eye.’

‘I do not understand. What do you mean there is more?’ Alienor gripped the stem of the goblet and felt the cold edges of the gemstones under her fingers. ‘We have fulfilled all your terms and done all that you asked. Do you now play us false and demand more?’

His expression was inscrutable as he rubbed his forefinger back and forth across his top lip. Sitting there in his jewelled dalmatic he reminded her of a Byzantine prince, and she knew how false they could be. ‘Madam, shall we say that the situation has become more delicate since our last negotiation. I have recently received a letter from the King of France, and from your son the Count of Mortain.’

Alienor’s stomach lurched. ‘Indeed? May I know what is in this letter?’

‘Of course.’ He flicked his fingers and a scribe came forward, knelt at Heinrich’s feet and presented him with a parchment sheet, the seals dangling. ‘Read it and you shall see the dilemma that faces me.’

He handed the letter to Alienor who in turn gave it to Walter of Coutances.

It was addressed to Heinrich by Philippe and John and they made him three offers of which they hoped he would find at least one acceptable. One was a thousand pounds a month if
he would keep Richard in prison. If that did not suit him, then Philippe would give a cash sum of fifty thousand marks and John thirty thousand to keep Richard a prisoner until Michaelmas. The third suggestion was that they would give Heinrich one hundred and fifty thousand marks between them if Heinrich would agree to detain Richard for twelve months or deliver him into their hands.

The details were utterly damning, and as she listened to them Alienor grew numb.

‘I am sorry,’ Heinrich said with false apology, ‘but now you see my difficulty. It is a very tempting offer is it not?’

By a supreme effort of will Alienor retained her composure. ‘I can see that this is mischief of the most malicious order, and I am astonished you would even consider it. I have come to you in good faith as a grieving mother, bearing all my worldly goods to pay you for my son’s release, and now you set more grief on me with this news.’

‘In showing you this letter, I am being honest with you. I could have withheld it from your sight, but I believed it was something you had to know.’

‘You need not have said that it gave you pause for thought when I am here to redeem my son with a ransom already agreed. You could have said you would not countenance such a treacherous betrayal. Where do you think my son will obtain such sums when he is locked out from England and all the strategic fortresses in Normandy?’ she demanded. ‘John has no money to give you no matter what he offers. His promises are chaff in the wind, and I say this as his mother. I am the one who controls his finances. Perhaps you want to take me for ransom too? Shall I hold out my own wrists so that you can put them in fetters?’ She extended her arms, fighting for her life, fighting for her son. ‘I tell you to accept the bargain you arranged with me, because you will never see the money they offer you. If you choose to sup with the King of France, then you might as well sup with the devil himself.’