The Winter Crown (55 page)

‘I should go,’ Hamelin said to Henry, who seemed unconcerned by all the undercurrents and was paring his fingernails with a small antler-handled knife. ‘If we are to start out at dawn, I need to sleep – I cannot keep your hours.’

Henry looked amused. That he was sitting down and acting as a leaning post for John was only because his damaged leg was paining him. ‘I cannot keep my hours either,’ he said wryly. He gave Hamelin a searching look. ‘You have said little this evening, Brother.’

Two frown lines appeared between Hamelin’s brows. ‘I have been turning things over in my mind, and thinking that there are going to be some storms to ride out.’

‘There are always storms to ride out,’ Henry replied with weary cynicism and looked up as an usher approached him.

‘Sire, the Count of Toulouse requests to speak to you urgently.’

Henry raised his brows. ‘So urgently that it cannot wait until tomorrow?’

‘He seemed to think so, sire.’

Henry flicked his hand. ‘Bid him enter then,’ he said, and looked down to tousle John’s hair. ‘Time for your bed, my little bridegroom. Geoffrey, you too. Time you left.’

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes, but rose to his feet.

‘I want to stay with you,’ John protested, stretching. ‘It’s not fair.’

Henry smiled sourly. ‘Life never is, even for those who make the decisions. We shall be riding early tomorrow morning and for a long time. Here.’ He gave him the knife he had been using, sheathed now in lion-stamped leather. ‘You can have this; I trust you to be grown up enough to care for it well.’

John’s eyes lit up and he thanked his father, but his feet still dragged as he was handed into the custody of his older brother and taken from the room.

‘Was it wise giving him a knife?’ Hamelin enquired. ‘God knows what – or who he will stick it in.’

Henry chuckled. ‘Let him be,’ he said. ‘He pleases me well – more than his older brothers.’

Raymond of Toulouse was admitted to the chamber and knelt to Henry, although again with a slight hesitation that showed his reluctance. His cloak was fastened askew and his clothes were rumpled as if he had donned them in haste. The expression on his thin features was wary and satisfied at the same time.

‘I thought you would have retired by now, my lord,’ Henry said with neutral courtesy.

‘I had, sire,’ Raymond replied, ‘but I have news you need to hear.’

Isabel lay in bed waiting for Hamelin. He had been gone for what seemed forever and the lamps were almost out of oil. She had been putting tiny decorative stitches on the neck of an undershirt she was making for him but now her eyes were strained and sore. She knew she would be unable to sleep until he returned. She had her chaplain read to her for a while, and she prayed, because there seemed a lot that needed praying for. Everything felt dark and ominous, even though the world was turning towards spring. And although spring brought new life, it also heralded the campaigning season and there was trouble afoot. She hated Hamelin going to war. She feared for him each time he kissed her farewell, but she knew better than to cling and weep. She was afraid for Hamelin and afraid for Alienor. She was like a grain caught between two millstones, for she loved both, yet to support one was to be disloyal to the other.

At last, in the small hours, Hamelin returned to their chamber and made his way to the bed by the light of the cresset lamp. Sitting down, he removed his shoes, then leaned forward and put his face in his cupped hands and groaned. Isabel sat up and crawled across the coverlet to him. ‘Hamelin, what is it?’ She set her arms around his shoulders.

He lifted his head. ‘I do not know if I can tell you. Christ, I feel so tired and sick – heartsick.’

Alarmed but outwardly calm, Isabel left the bed and rekindled two lamps. She stirred the fire to life and brought him a cup of wine. Hamelin drank, put the cup down and lay on the bed, propping himself against the bolsters. ‘I do not know what to say or do any more,’ he said bleakly. ‘We have reached a precipice and the only thing to do now is jump.’

Isabel strove to steady her voice. ‘What has happened?’

He grimaced. ‘Raymond of Toulouse came to see Henry and told him he had overheard Alienor, Harry and Richard plotting treason against Henry.’

Isabel stared at him in shock. ‘No! I do not believe that!’

‘It is true,’ Hamelin said grimly. ‘They have every cause, and it is within them to do so, especially after today.’

‘And how fortuitous of Raymond to overhear it, and report back! How can you be certain he is not just causing mischief?’

‘Because he had been paying one of Alienor’s servants to report to him – her water-bearer. Harry is preparing to ride to Paris and foment rebellion from there, and Alienor is supporting him.’

‘Dear God!’ She put her hand to her mouth. What had Alienor done? There was no going back from this. She raised her head. ‘He could still have misconstrued what was said. Perhaps he is making mountains from grains of sand. Nothing would suit Raymond of Toulouse better than to set father against son, and if he could harm Alienor into the bargain, so much the better.’

Hamelin shrugged. ‘And no smoke without fire, they say. Henry has to take this threat seriously.’

Isabel shook her head. ‘This would never have happened if Henry had not ignored her right as Duchess of Aquitaine and accepted Raymond’s homage himself. By doing that he was saying he has bound Aquitaine to England. There are many things for which Alienor will not forgive Henry, but that one will be written on her heart at her deathbed.’

‘He had to do it.’ Hamelin’s tone was defensive. ‘Raymond of Toulouse could not have been brought to swear any other way. He would never kneel to a woman – to Alienor.’

‘But the pressure was on him, not on Henry,’ Isabel pointed out. ‘Raymond would have had to swear eventually or be brought down. Henry had as much interest in what came about today as Raymond did.’

Hamelin said nothing, his mouth set in a tired, stubborn line, revealing that he knew very well what she was saying, but would argue no further.

‘What will happen now?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘Henry is going to take Harry on a hunting trip and keep him at his side for a while.’

Under house arrest then. ‘And Alienor?’

‘He will keep a close watch on her, but there is little she can do on her own from Poitiers.’ He pulled off his shirt and left the bed to go to the laver and wash. Isabel looked at him in the grainy lamplight. In the years since their marriage his frame had thickened but he remained strong and muscular. His hair was threaded with silver but curled at the nape in a way that still made her ache with tenderness. She loved him dearly, but she was not happy because she knew he would follow his royal brother to the ends of the earth, whether he agreed with him or not, and do his bidding as he had done at the oath-taking ceremony.

‘I have heard certain rumours too,’ she said quietly.

He turned round from his ablutions, squinting through water-blurred eyes. ‘What about?’

‘About Henry considering annulling his marriage to Alienor on the grounds of consanguinity.’

‘That is a ridiculous notion.’ He buried his face in a towel, a ploy that Isabel noted with foreboding.

‘Not to a woman who has been lied to and pushed aside.’

‘And what do these rumours say?’

Isabel clasped her hands together. ‘Some say he is planning to put Alienor aside in order to wed Rosamund de Clifford, and some say the French princess Alais.’

‘That’s preposterous!’ Hamelin lowered the towel, and she saw genuine astonishment in his eyes.

‘Is it? Alais is rising thirteen, of marriageable age. And he still keeps the de Clifford girl as close to him as his shirt and braies. There are times when I think nothing is beyond your brother.’

Hamelin gave a vehement shake of his head. ‘He will not do that.’

‘But what does it say that people think him capable of it?’

He returned to bed and pulled up the covers. Isabel pressed against him, seeking the warm security of his body, not wanting to argue, but still with a heavy conscience. ‘I want to go to Poitiers with Alienor,’ she said.

‘Why would you want to do that?’ He tensed as she had known he would. ‘No, you will go to Colombiers and wait for me there until we can return to England.’

She stroked his cheek. ‘I know that is your plan, but if I accompany Alienor, perhaps I can smooth the situation. Queens are not the only ones who are mediators.’

He grasped her hand. ‘If Alienor is caught up in rebellion, I cannot afford to be involved in it through you. Your heart is too tender and I do not want to see it bruised or taken advantage of. We cannot have conflicted loyalties in this.’

‘That will not happen. If matters become too difficult, I shall leave for the Touraine.’ She ran her hand over his chest, feeling the wiry curl of his hair. ‘I know you are troubled, but Alienor is still my sister-by-marriage – yours too. Her sons and daughters are our nieces and nephews – cousins to our own children. John is close friends with our William. I will not disobey you, but I am asking you to give me a few weeks with Alienor to see what I can do. And then I can bring the children away with me if necessary.’

She bit her tongue in the long silence that followed, and made herself stay still. Eventually Hamelin pulled her into his arms. ‘Very well, go, but I trust you, and if you break that trust, know that it can never be mended.’

‘I won’t fail you, I swear on my soul.’ She kissed him on the mouth, and he tightened his embrace, claiming her for his own, even while his words agreed to let her go.

Shortly after dawn, Alienor rose and prepared to face the day. She had slept badly, and her dreams had been vivid, disturbing, but impossible to grasp, so she could not recall their content, only their unsettling effect, which left her feeling as if the walls were closing around her, pushed inwards by unseen enemies on all sides. Yesterday’s headache still thumped at the back of her eyes, and she sipped a bitter tisane of willow bark to combat the pain. Marchisa was combing her hair, ready to plait it. It was still sleek and strong, but more silver than gold these days and she was contemplating abandoning the dyes and letting it become a natural waterfall.

As Marchisa added a lotion perfumed with nutmeg to the final strokes of the comb, Henry arrived together with servants bearing bread, cheese and jugs of wine.

Alienor eyed him in surprise as the attendants assembled a small trestle table, spreading a white cloth and arranging the food on it. ‘I thought you would be gone by now,’ she said. Her anger had frozen overnight and she was numb.

‘I am sorry to disappoint you, madam, but the sumpter horses are not ready and I have to wait on the rising of slugabeds. I thought we might break our fast together while I wait.’

Alienor dismissed her women and swiftly wove her hair into a plait herself. ‘Why should I want to break bread with you ever again after yesterday’s oath-taking?’

Henry waved his hand and sat down at the trestle. ‘You should pay no heed to that. It was the easiest way of getting Raymond of Toulouse to kneel in homage to me. He would never have knelt to you, so I represented you to make it easier. You are still Duchess of Aquitaine. Richard is still Duke.’ He reached for a piece of bread and looked at her in that way she hated because while ostensibly focusing on her, he had in fact detached himself and spoken as if she did not matter.

‘So you would rather Raymond of Toulouse was assuaged and pandered to than Richard and I be acknowledged overlords in a public ceremony?’ The numbness began to thaw and tingle with pain. ‘You had no right to do that, Henry. Aquitaine does not belong to you. It is only yours by marriage. It is mine and Richard’s by right of birth and blood.’

Henry chewed and swallowed. ‘Raymond of Toulouse was ready to make peace and I had to seize the opportunity. I need everything settled before I go to fight in Outremer.’

‘Ah yes, Outremer.’ Alienor picked up her own goblet, the drape of her sleeve shimmering in the light from the high window. ‘I wondered how long it would be before we came to that. If you ever set foot there, it will be more of a miracle than those purportedly being performed at the tomb of Saint Thomas. I can see straight through you. Even the money you give to the cause in Jerusalem remains yours. You are just stockpiling it elsewhere in case of emergencies.’

A red flush crept up his throat and mottled his face. ‘You have a vicious tongue.’

‘Any tongue is vicious that does not wag in support of your desires,’ Alienor said flatly. ‘You shall not annex Aquitaine to England, whatever subterfuge you employ. Far from settling things down, do you think my vassals will be overjoyed to see their hereditary rulers set aside as if of no consequence while Toulouse kneels to the King of England?’

‘I dealt as I saw fit,’ he snapped. ‘Nothing will change.’ He rose to his feet and paced to the window, goblet in hand.

The door opened and Harry walked in. ‘Mama, I…’ He stopped and looked warily from one parent to the other.

‘Ah,’ Henry said with false bonhomie. ‘The prodigal son. Come and break your fast with us.’ He gestured to the table.

Harry eyed him warily. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, but went to pour himself wine. His eyes were pouched and bleary from the previous night’s excess.

‘Even so, you should eat something before we set out.’

Harry blinked at him. ‘Before we set out? I am staying here in Aquitaine. None of my baggage or Marguerite’s is packed.’

Henry’s smile was narrow and intense. ‘No matter. I was not thinking of your entire household, just you and a few retainers. There have been too many misunderstandings between us of late; I thought it would be good for us to go hunting together. Marguerite can stay here with your mother.’

Harry flushed and shot a glance at Alienor, who sent him one back with an infinitesimal shake of her head before she dropped her gaze. ‘I am not ready to leave.’

‘Then I will wait for you.’ Henry finished his wine and dusted crumbs from his tunic, but did not leave the room, making it plain that he intended to take Harry with him here and now. ‘I’ve given orders to have your horse saddled,’ he said, ‘and your baggage packed.’ He spoke in a jocular tone and came to put his arm across Harry’s shoulder. ‘We can pick up supplies as we head into Anjou. Come, if you are not going to eat, let us leave your mother to make herself presentable for a public farewell.’