The Autumn Throne (50 page)

Richard grimaced, but eventually he sighed. ‘Very well, Mama, but only because you ask it of me. I do it as a boon for you.’

Alienor made a small sound of relief that was almost a sob. At least this way Richard could play by the conceit that it was to please her – a concession to her, as a woman, mother and queen making her request in the traditional role of peacemaker. If she took responsibility, it did not impinge on his honour so much.

The
next day, Richard knelt before Heinrich, who sat in full regalia on his imperial throne. He put his hands between the Emperor’s and swore to be his vassal. The words emerging from Richard’s lips had a defiant ring, as if they were swords, and the kiss of peace between the men was more like a form of branding to seal the promise.

Following the oath taking a great feast was held to celebrate the event. Alienor noted the number of dishes and the elaborate table cloths and settings and knew that this event must have been in preparation for some time. Heinrich had always known Richard would capitulate. Some of the goblets and platters she recognised as her own – items she had yielded as part of the ransom payment – but she composed her expression and endured.

The following morning, Alienor and Richard departed Heinrich’s court, leaving behind some of the hostages against the remainder of the ransom payment, although not any of the children. Heinrich magnanimously granted that they might return home. He bestowed gifts of good horses for their journey, sacks of food, fine cloaks and items of clothing to see them on their way as though they had been valued guests all along and never under any kind of personal threat.

It was a joyful company that set out, but there was an underlying anxiety to the journey and a real fear that at any moment they were going to be pursued and made prisoners again. However, as they took the road to Cologne, the light in the east was clear and the scent of spring filled the air. Alienor did indeed feel as though she had been into hell to reach down and pull Richard out of the devil’s jaws. She was exhausted, having lived on her wits and used up reserves that would have to be paid for. Just a little while longer, she told herself, just enough to see Richard established as King once more, just enough to build a reconciliation between her sons, and then she could retire and close the door on the world except for a few select guests.

The crown
of gold flowers and sapphires was so heavy that it created a band of pain across Alienor’s brow and temples, but she had no intention of removing it until the moment she retired to bed. She had worn this crown at her own coronation beside Henry forty years ago when she was still young and full of dreams and she had worn it again at Richard’s crowning. But this was a new beginning.

If Richard’s first coronation had been glorious, then this second celebration was Alienor’s finest hour as she presided over a great feast in the hall of St Swithin. She sat in a place of high honour as the accepted Queen of England. Berenguela was in Anjou and Alienor had precedence. She was the triumphant Queen Mother whose efforts had restored her son to his rightful place: the Lionheart’s mother with the heart of a lion herself. Everyone looked upon her with fondness, respect and trust in her wisdom.

Richard was already preparing to sail for Normandy. John had been summoned to court to answer for his behaviour but unsurprisingly he had not appeared. When the confrontation did eventually come, Alienor knew she would have to play peacemaker and bring the brothers together in order to face the real enemy.

She looked fondly at Richard who was laughing at a remark William Marshal had just made. Hubert Walter, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, had joined them, and Ranulf, Earl of Chester. Richard looked well, if still too thin, and he was as sharp as a honed sword, eager for battle. He had already tested that blade at the siege of Nottingham, fighting on the
walls and helping to defeat the garrison that had been holding out for John. Alienor suspected he was making up for all the time wasted in prison enduring Heinrich’s snide insults. He was restoring his balance and manhood as well as the country. She could appreciate that, but her heart quailed at the risks he took.

She was joined by Isabel de Warenne, moving slowly because of her stiff hips. Her face wore fresh lines of age and care, but she had a smile for Alienor. ‘I prayed for you and for Richard every day. This is indeed an auspicious moment.’

‘It is,’ Alienor agreed. ‘I owe a debt of gratitude to Hamelin for his toil in helping to gather the ransom. It could not have been done without him.’

‘Yes. I am so proud of him. It has been difficult for him since Henry died. He mourns him deeply. Even if they argued, they were always brothers and they were close.’

‘I know that Hamelin loved him. There were times when I loved him too, even as much as I hated him for what he did to me,’ Alienor said sadly. ‘Time passes and scars thicken over the wounds. I shall visit him at Fontevraud soon and see that he has a fitting effigy and prayers said for his soul.’

‘Time for you to have a little peace too.’

Alienor gave a wry laugh. ‘Do you remember when Henry wanted me to retire to a convent? You said it was a good thing and we quarrelled?’

Isabel eyed her warily. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘I was not ready then, but I am now in ways I was not before – and Henry is at my mercy, not the other way around.’

After a moment Isabel said, ‘I do not know if you were aware because you were so busy working for Richard’s release, but Belle’s husband died last summer.’

‘No, I had not heard; I am sorry.’ Alienor was cautious, trying to gauge Isabel’s reaction.

Isabel glanced round to check who was within earshot and lowered her voice. ‘You knew she was still John’s companion at times?’

‘No,
I did not. Had I been aware I would have tried to prevent it.’

‘She tried to keep it from me too, but I knew. Hamelin suspected but never took it further – I think he could not bear to know. I wanted to tell you that Gilbert L’Aigle of Pevensey has offered for her in marriage. He knows that she is the mother of John’s son, but he says she will be an honourable wife to him; what happened before should be laid to rest. They are to be wed as soon as we leave Winchester.’

Alienor wondered if the past could ever truly be buried, but she was tactful. Perhaps they would make a good match. Gilbert L’Aigle was much younger than Belle’s first husband, and a man of purpose. ‘I am pleased,’ she said warmly. ‘I shall make certain to congratulate her and give her a marriage gift.’

Isabel thanked her. ‘She finds L’aigle pleasing and I hope she has grown up at last and learned what matters.’

Alienor murmured an appropriate platitude.

Isabel touched her arm. ‘I hope you can find a way to reconcile your sons.’

‘So do I.’ Alienor noted that Isabel still had a deep need for family perfection; that had not changed with the years. ‘It is time John grew up too. He is not blameless and some things even a mother finds hard to forgive, but I will endeavour to do so. I do not expect him and Richard to embrace each other in love, but they must unite against Philippe of France and not allow him to drive a wedge between them ever again.’

She had said enough, and changed the subject to ask about Hamelin’s castle building project at Conisbrough. Isabel immediately began talking with enthusiasm about the fine chamber Hamelin had built for her and the conversation settled into calmer waters.

On a spring evening in early May, Alienor and her escort approached Lisieux. The almondy scent of hawthorn blossom hung in the air, and breeze-scattered petals drifted across the
road like snow. Although she was in her seventieth year, Alienor still felt the haunting sweetness running through her veins and was a little tearful even though she welcomed the spring with an open heart. Every single one was precious because they no longer spread out before her in an endless vista.

She was travelling to Lisieux without Richard who was dealing with matters elsewhere but had promised to join her on the morrow. Earlier in the week, mother and son had received a message from Jean d’Alençon, castellan of Lisieux, informing them that John was staying there and desired to speak to her. Alienor and Richard had agreed that she would go and talk to him and prepare the ground first before Richard arrived.

‘God knows, I want to string up the little runt by his heels and cook him over a slow fire for what he has done, but that is exactly what Philippe wants me to do,’ Richard had said. ‘I shall set the fear of God in him instead and then forgive him – not for my sake, Mama, but for yours, and for the stability of our lands. Go, do what you can to smooth the situation, but he is to know that my forgiveness is not unconditional.’

News of her coming had gone ahead and the town and castle gates were open so that she arrived with her escort at a brisk trot, banners flying. Grooms dashed out to tend the horses and an attendant helped her to dismount.

Jean d’Alençon emerged to welcome her and kneel in salute. He was beginning to go bald, and having been out in the sun without a hat, his pate glistened like pink marble. ‘Madam, I am pleased to welcome you and serve you in any way I can,’ he said. ‘And I look forward to welcoming the King also.’

As she bade him rise, Alienor could see how ill at ease he was – and no surprise given the guest he was harbouring. ‘The King will be here tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘For now you have me.’ She set him at his ease with a smile and a light touch on his arm. ‘All will be well, I assure you. Perhaps you would conduct me to my chamber.’

‘Madam.’

He
led her to a room near the top of the keep. A gentle fire burned in the hearth and small dishes of incense perfumed the room with fragrant white smoke. An attendant placed a jug of scented hot water and a towel on a chest at the side of the room.

‘Leave me,’ Alienor commanded d’Alençon, ‘but send my son to me when I request.’

He bowed and departed, clearly relieved to be away.

Alienor settled into her chamber. Belbel gently washed her feet and rubbed them with unguent before slipping on pale silk stockings and soft kidskin shoes. While her attendants made up the bed with her own sheets and covers, Alienor went to sit in the window embrasure to gather her thoughts, and finally, when she was calm and prepared, she sent for John.

He came in quietly and hesitated in the doorway, one hand resting on the wrought ironwork of the decorated hinges. And then he braced his shoulders and advanced to kneel at her feet and bow his head.

She had thought herself ready for this meeting, but looking down at him, she still felt a hammer blow strike to her heart. This was her last son, the one always in waiting who had never had a niche that suited him, yet who, despite all his faults, possessed so much potential.

‘Get up,’ she said. ‘Abasing yourself to me might do for a start, but how can I talk to you when I cannot see your face? Look at me, my son. Look me in the eyes and show yourself.’

John slowly raised his head and met her gaze. His eyes, quenched green with a glint of blue in their depths, held a boyish innocence. She had been drawn in by that expression too many times before and she was on her guard. But his face was thinner, a little sunken under the cheekbones, and she sensed his tension.

‘I have forgiven you many things,’ she said, ‘but I do not know if I can forgive you this. Are you so desperate for power
that you would trample on your brother’s backbone and make pacts with our enemies? You have torn a great hole through all we have worked for by what you have done.’

His eyes glistened with tears, and she hardened herself.

‘Many times I have asked why without an answer, or not one that I wish to be true, but what else am I to think?’

John put his hands together in supplication. ‘I believed Richard truly was dead, Mama. And when I heard he had been imprisoned, I thought he might never be released.’

‘Thought or hoped? You are not going to tell me you did what you did for the good of all? I am not that naive, John.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘I wanted to be King. I knew I could rule well, and Richard was gone and might never return. When I went to Philippe to make a peace treaty, he offered to help. He told me about all the things Richard had done to him in Outremer, and how Richard often said how worthless I was, and that he would promote Arthur above me.’ Anger suddenly flashed in John’s eyes, and he continued self-righteously, ‘Was I supposed to work with someone who broke the faith with me?’

‘Indeed, that is what I am asking myself at this moment,’ Alienor retorted coldly. ‘Your words cut more ways than one.’

John dropped his gaze.

Alienor sighed, raised him from his knees, and gestured him to sit at her side. ‘Ah John, I may find it hard to forgive what you have done, but hard does not mean I cannot, and it does not lessen the love I bear for you. It is over; it is finished; a new page must be written. But how are we going to shape it?’ She gestured to a nearby trestle. ‘Go and pour wine.’

He went to do her bidding. Watching him with his back turned, he reminded her so much of Henry in his mannerisms – the curl of his hair, even if it wasn’t vibrant red; the shape of his ears and angle of jaw – and she experienced an odd mingling of tenderness and apprehension.