He raised one hand, then let it fall to his lap. I have no choice, my lady. It is my duty, called upon by your son.
Balls, Henry. Gods entrails, man, you have spent a lifetime giving naught but the finest service to our houseto me and to Henry and to Richard himself. Enough, man. You have earned your right to die at home, in your bed. You could have declined with honor. Not even Richard would be so She stopped suddenly, her great eyes narrowing to slits. No, theres more to it than that. My son manipulated you somehow. Coerced you. That is his way But what was his lever? What hold did he find over you, to bring you to this? Tell me.
It was a command, peremptory and not to be evaded. Henry sighed and looked away from her to where the slowly passing countryside was visible between the curtain halves, seeing the dust lie thick and heavy on the cow parsley that lined the road. I have a son, my lady.
I know. I remember him as a child. His name is André, is it not?
He looked back into her eyes, impressed again by her seemingly limitless capacity to remember such details. Aye, my lady, André.
A man now and a weapon against you. Is that not so? Tell me.
He told her the entire tale, up to and including Richards intervention and solution, and throughout the hour that took she sat silent, her eyes never leaving his as she absorbed every nuance and inflection of his voice. When he finally fell silent, she nodded and pursed her lips, thinner than he remembered them, and the gesture drew attention to the hollowed cheeks beneath the high cheekbones that had always defined her startling and still-present beauty. He waited, and watched her eyes grow softer.
And that, of course, explains why you look so rudely healthy. You have been driving yourself these past two months to recapture your lost youth. Well, you have not suffered ill from it, old friend. So, what happened to these damnable priests? Did Richard hang them?
The priests were tried before the Archbishop of Tours and their guilt clearly established beyond doubt, although, lacking the authority and single-mindedness of your son in prosecuting them, that might not have come to pass so easily. They were then disowned by the Holy Church and bound over to the secular law of the Duchy of Aquitaine for execution.
And in the meantime you and your son were bound to Richard by unbreakable ties of gratitude and fealty
Henry St. Clair noticed the irony in her tone, but he paid it no attention. Aye, my lady. By gratitude more than even fealty, if such a thing be possible.
Hmm Eleanor shifted in her seat and then reached out and pulled aside the curtain on her left, and spoke as she gazed out at the long, slanting shadows thrown by the trees on the sloping hillside above them. It is growing late, my friend. We should be stopping soon, but it may be too late by then for you to ride back home alone. You must dine with us and return in the morning. In the meantime, come what may, I have a thought for you to dwell upon, Henry, and it is this: there has never been a tie, of any kind, that is unbreakable, given sufficient will, and power.
She turned her eyes back on him again. Absolve yourself of any guilt you feel, even be it born of gratitude. I will talk to Richard about this. I will not tolerate this idea of forcing you to sail to Outremer. It is a nonsense. Besides, you know my son almost as well as I do. He was yours to mold for years. He is a creature of great passions and enthusiasms, ungovernable and unpredictable to all save me, it seems.
Sir Henry spread his hands apologetically. My gratitude for your concern, my lady, but if it please you, I have no wish to be excused from this duty. I would far rather travel with my son to Outremer than bide alone here and fret for him. He is all I have left of family in this world, and life without him holds little attraction for me now that I am growing old. I might be a fool, as you suggest, but I would rather be an old fool near my son than be a lonely old hermit awaiting death here without him.
Eleanor gazed at him for long moments, then nodded her head slowly. So be it, my lord St. Clair. I will say no more on it. We are both of us too old and gray to quarrel over the manner of our deaths. The Reaper will find us wherever we may be She nibbled her upper lip between her teeth in a mannerism he had long forgotten, and then she added, You know why Richard was so intent upon enrolling you, dont you?
When St. Clair shook his head in honest ignorance, she sniffed. Well then you should. And take note, if it please you, that I said he was intent on itknowing my son as I do, it would not astonish me at all to learn that he has either forgotten all about involving you or has changed his mind since then. A moves afoot in England to have him take the Marshal of England, William Marshall, into his train as Master-at-Arms, but Richard will have none of it, and I would be surprised were it otherwise. Marshall was Henrys man, dyed in the wool, as fierce and lifelong-loyal as a hunting hound. In Richards eyes, Marshall will always represent Henry himself. And, truth be said, I cannot find it in my heart to fault my son for that.
She paused. Besides, Marshall is all for England, first, foremost, and above all else. Richard, on the other hand, has more to govern. England is but a by-blow of his empire, and a backward one at that. Gods throat, he can barely speak the language that they growl over there.
She stopped again, mulling her next words. I suppose you know about Alaïs? She read the answer in his face and grunted. Aye, of course you do. You would need to be both blind and deaf not to know of it. It was inevitable, given what was involved, but yet I find myself feeling sympathy for the poor creature, goose though she be, for none of what happened to her lay in her control. She has been used and abused her whole life long and she never had sufficient backbone to brace herself for any of it. Myself, I would have killed someone, years ago, had any man tried to do the half to me of what was done to her. But Alaïs is not me, and now she is home in France again, disgraced, and unlikely to find another husband soon What is it?
What is what, my lady?
Whatever is in your mind. You have a witless, gaping look about you, so spit out your thoughts and we will talk about them.
Henry gestured mildly with one hand. Merely surprise, my lady. I hear or see no bitterness or hatred in you when you speak of her.
A brittle smile quirked one corner of Eleanors mouth. Nor should you, for I harbor none against her. Did you not hear me when I said she has been used and abused her whole life? I have bitterness aplenty in me, Henry, make no mistake in that, but none of it is wasted on Alaïs.
But she stole your husband.
Stole? Stole Henry Plantagenet? Her smile spread wider but grew no warmer. Bethink yourself, my lord St. Clair, and remember the man of whom we speak. There never was a woman born who could steal Henry Plantagenet or bend him to her will for longer than it took for him to mount her, and I include myself in that. Henry was a taker in all things carnal. He saw, he desired, he took. Oh, I was his match for many years, but as soon as my looks began to change and I began to age, he looked elsewhere. And the old goat was lusty till the day he died.
No, Alaïs Capet did not steal my husband. Far from it. She was but one of a long line of vessels for his convenience, used and discarded when the next in line stepped forth to catch his eye. But Henry kept Alaïs closer than all the rest, because of the Vexin. Had he discarded her, it would have cost him the Vexin or, at very least, a long and brutal war to keep it. And in the end, he lost it anyway, before he died. But Alaïs was no thief. And besides, by the time Henry first set hands on her, he had already put me away. I had been locked up for years by then, because he said he couldnt trust me to run free without fomenting plots against him with my sons. He was right, too. I can see that now. But hate Alaïs? Might as well hate the north wind for bringing down the snow as blame that child for what befell her.
But her misfortune forced Richards hand to what he did, once he was named as Henrys heir. He could hardly take Alaïs as his queen when all the world knows she spent most of her betrothal period sleeping with his father. The Church in England was scandalized and made no bones about it. They howled anathema at the very idea of such a marriage, and forbade Richard to proceed with it, under pain of excommunication. And so Richards hand was forced. He sent her home to her brother, Philip, as was only to be expected.
To be expected, perhaps, my lady, but hardly to be welcomed by her family. King Philip must have been beside himself when he learned of it.
Nonsense. The only thing Philip might have been beside was his bedmate of whatever day it was when the tidings reached him. Philip cares nothing for Alaïs, Henry. He never did, from the day she was born. Women have no place at all in his affections. All he cared about was regaining the Vexin, and now that he has it safe, he will use his wronged sister as a weapon against Richard for whatever advantage he can gain. That is the total of his regard for hershe is a tool for negotiations.
That is inconceivable. His voice had fallen on the last word, hushed with disbelief, but Eleanor negated his awe with a tightly controlled flick of one finger.
Nonsense, far from it. It might be unnatural, but then, Philip Capet can hardly be called a template for Natures perfection.
Aye, I suppose that is true. But what of you, my lady? Have you been to Paris?
Gods throat, no! I have been in Rouen, about my own affairs, and now I am traveling home, for the first time in far too many years. I shall stay there for a while, I think, at least until Richard has been crowned in England.
Forgive me, my lady, but will you not go to England to witness your sons coronation?
She gave him a wintry little smile. Absolutely not. Richard is more than capable of having himself crowned, and the last thing I need is to be there to witness it. That will all proceed perfectly well and naturally, and in the meantime I will take myself southward, across the Pyrenees to Navarre. She saw the incomprehension in his eyes and added, To Navarre, Henry the kingdom in northern Iberia. There to find a queen for England.