Head bowed, Alienor mounted the steps and knelt again to present the Empress with the gift of a gold reliquary in the shape of a sceptre, set with rubies and sapphires. Inside the rod, concealed behind a rock-crystal door, was a sliver of the finger bone of Saint Martial. Alienor said in a respectful but not obsequious tone, ‘My lady, my mother, my queen, my empress. I honour you.’
The Empress accepted the gift graciously, with a look of genuine pleasure and approval. Taking Alienor’s hands between hers, she kissed her, making a formal pledge in return. ‘Daughter,’ she said. ‘You are mine now, and I will do my utmost to protect you and your rightful estate.’ She indicated Alienor to sit in the left-hand chair and the service resumed. Henry sent Alienor a smiling look filled with pride, and Alienor returned it, feeling buoyed up and optimistic.
At the formal meal to acknowledge and welcome Alienor as Duchess of Normandy, the women continued to take each other’s measure. Alienor thought her mother-in-law stiff and formal, but not the harsh termagant she had been prepared to encounter. The Empress was plainly very proud of Henry. There was a particular light in her eyes when she looked at him, but she did not try and oust Alienor from her position – rather she seemed to accept her role as a fitting consort for her eldest son.
‘It is a difficult world for women born to great estate,’ she said to Alienor as they dined on tender beef in pepper and cumin sauce, ‘as you must have cause to know.’
‘Yes, madam,’ Alienor said wryly.
The lines around Matilda’s lips grew more pronounced. ‘I fought with everything I had to keep my claim to England and Normandy alive. Now it is Henry’s task to continue that fight and take the crown that is rightfully his as it was rightfully mine.’ She looked at Henry with intensity. ‘And it is ours to help him in that endeavour.’
Alienor was not intimidated by the Empress’s autocratic tone. Providing Matilda did not meddle in the affairs of Aquitaine or come between her and Henry, she was prepared to keep a diplomatic peace. ‘I will give him all the help he needs,’ she replied.
Following the meal, the family retired to the Empress’s personal chamber for a less formal family gathering. Alienor was reminded a little of Louis’s apartments in Paris because much of the decor took the form of crosses, prayer books and religious objects. Her mother-in-law was devout and paid more than just lip service to God.
She was aware of Henry’s brothers in her periphery. Geoffrey had made his peace and everyone was being civil, but it did not mean Alienor had forgiven him for his attempt on her, or that she could bring herself to like him. If a dog bit you once, you didn’t give it a second opportunity. No one mentioned his bid to abduct her, but the awareness created tension and the atmosphere between Geoffrey and Henry bristled with hostility. William, the youngest, was pleasant enough towards her, but was overshadowed by Henry’s vibrant charisma. It was as if all the parental fires had gone into forging the first bright child, and only the tail end of the comet and the detritus had been left to flesh out the others.
‘You say you did not spend much time with your half-brothers?’ Alienor said to Emma. She was becoming increasingly fond of the young woman, who, despite her quiet demeanour, had a playful side and a keen perception.
Emma shook her head. ‘Only at some of the Easter and Christmas gatherings, and mostly they had no time for me, and – and when they did, I tried to avoid them.’
Alienor raised her brows.
‘I was our father’s only daughter and even if baseborn, I could claim his attention in ways they could not. They would pull my hair and taunt me when they thought Papa wasn’t looking.’ She gave a small grimace. ‘But sometimes he was looking, and then they would be in trouble, and I would have to avoid them even more.’
‘They will tease you at their peril now you are part of my household,’ Alienor said firmly.
Emma flushed. ‘I would not have you think that I am a complainer or a teller of tales – nor that I cannot stand up for myself.’
‘I think none of these things. I am glad of your company, but I protect those who serve me.’
‘I do not want to cause trouble between you and my brother,’ Emma said swiftly. ‘He has been as kind to me as often as he has been unkind.’
‘One does not cancel out the other,’ Alienor replied, but smiled to give Emma reassurance. ‘You have not caused trouble. I well know the ways of men, even if I do not have brothers.’
‘The ways of men?’ Henry arrived at her side and lightly took her elbow. ‘What is this?’ His tone was jocular, but there was a wary look in his eyes.
‘I was asking your sister how it felt to be the only girl amid a passel of brothers.’
Henry grinned. ‘Privileged,’ he said. ‘In all senses of the word.’
‘You used to pull my hair,’ Emma said. ‘And throw frogs at me.’
‘And give you rides on my pony and take you round the stalls in Angers to buy ribbons and pastries.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘As I told my lady duchess, you were kind to me too.’
‘And as I told Emma, now she is in my household,’ Alienor said, ‘she may anticipate ribbons and pastries and never again have to worry about the hair-pulling and frogs.’
Henry gave her an amused look. ‘Do I consider myself warned?’
Alienor arched her brows. ‘That is for you to decide, husband.’
He started to reply, but then his gaze fixed upon a travel-worn man in early middle age who had followed an usher into the room. His fur-lined cloak was draggled with rain.
‘Who is that?’ Alienor asked.
‘My uncle Reginald, Earl of Cornwall.’ Henry’s good humour vanished and he became as alert as a terrier. ‘What is he doing here?’
Alienor had heard Henry speak with affection of his uncle, who was a mainstay of his support in England. He was bastard-born to one of old King Henry’s numerous concubines and staunch to the Empress’s cause. The weather was vile and for the Earl to have made the hazardous sea crossing meant there must be serious news.
The Earl went straight to his half-sister the Empress and knelt to her. Alienor immediately noticed the strong resemblance to each other in the sharp grey eyes and the jut of the chin.
Matilda kissed him and raised him to his feet. He turned then to greet his nephews and Alienor. She felt the rasp of his beard as he kissed her cheek in formal greeting. His touch was icy.
‘What has happened?’ Henry demanded, cutting to the meat of the matter.
Taking a cup of spiced wine from a servant, Reginald went to stand near the fire. ‘The defenders of Wallingford are desperate,’ he said. ‘If you do not come now, we shall lose our foothold in England. We have nothing left to give and if you leave it until the spring, it will be too late. Even stalwarts such as John the Marshal are finding it difficult to hold on. We are close to victory, but we stand in peril of losing all we have fought for. Stephen is isolated and vulnerable, because of the death of his wife, who was his backbone, but her death also means he has thrown himself into a final effort to bring us down. We need you. I would not have crossed the sea at this time of year unless the summons was beyond urgent. You know how much I hate water.’
Without hesitation, Henry nodded. ‘I will come,’ he said. ‘I will begin preparations immediately and sail the moment I am ready.’
Alienor felt a glimmer of pride for her young husband. He saw a difficulty and addressed it head on. She also noticed how older men deferred to him. He had their confidence and it came not just from attitude but from deed.
Colour was gradually returning to Reginald of Cornwall’s complexion and his strained expression had relaxed a little. ‘The Earl of Leicester is eager to talk with you and may be brought to either keep away from the dispute or change allegiance. The same with Arundel, but they will not make a move unless you come in person. There is much concern over the notion of accepting Stephen’s heir as the future king.’
‘No surprise there,’ Henry said, curling his lip.
‘You need to prove yourself a viable alternative once and for all,’ said his uncle. ‘This is the point at which you succeed or you fail.’
‘I have not failed yet,’ Henry replied, ‘and I do not intend to now. That is not the future I have planned for my dynasty.’
Henry stayed up late, planning with his knights and retainers. Alienor went to bed and fell into a heavy sleep, but woke up when he returned in the early hours. She immediately felt nauseous and had to rush to the latrine where she stood over the hole, heaving, retching and bringing up bile.
Clad in shirt and braies, Henry hastened over to her and held back her hair from her face. ‘What is wrong?’ he demanded. ‘Shall I fetch your women?’
‘Nothing is wrong,’ Alienor gasped when she could speak. ‘Indeed, I suspect everything is very right.’ Her stomach was still quivering, but she managed to stand up. ‘Will you bring me a cup of wine?’
He did so, pouring one for himself too by the light of the single lamp. She sipped slowly, taking her time. Henry watched her with anticipation in his eyes, waiting for her to speak, although she suspected he must know the reply.
‘It is early days yet, but I think I am with child,’ she said. ‘I have missed two fluxes and have been feeling unwell for a few days now. It would seem on the eve of your going that our prayers for an heir have been answered. I certainly hope I am not being sick for any lesser reason.’
Henry put his wine down, did the same with hers and pulled her gently into his arms. ‘That is wonderful news. Do you know when?’
‘The end of the summer or early autumn, I am not entirely sure.’
‘You have done me proud.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘And you have done well in telling me now.’
‘I would rather that than send word by letter once you were in England.’
‘It is a great gift.’ His smile lit up his face. ‘I shall have even more reason to make a success of this for my son.’
Alienor bit her lip. Not every child was a son, but every man expected of his wife the duty of bearing one.
‘Is there anything to be done to alleviate the sickness?’
‘Food,’ she said. ‘Plain food. A little dry bread and honey.’
Henry strode to the door and bellowed. A bleary squire staggered off and returned with a loaf on a platter and a crock of honey, which Henry snatched from him and brought to her. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he fed her small morsels and watched her chew and swallow. Between one mouthful and the next, Alienor went from queasy to ravenous and ended up devouring every last morsel.
‘Lie down.’ He patted the bed, a gleam of excitement in his gaze.
Alienor looked at him askance but did as he asked.
He reached up behind his neck and unclasped the chain from which hung his gold cross. Holding it between finger and thumb, he dangled it over her abdomen. ‘The cross goes up and down for a boy, and side to side for a girl,’ he said.
Alienor laughed. ‘Where did you learn such women’s lore?’
‘My mother showed me when she was having William. I was very small, but I remember her letting me do this – although she was further along than you are.’
‘Did it work?’ She looked at the chain glistening in his hand, hovering just above her womb.
‘Yes,’ he said and gave a pained smile. ‘I would have preferred both my brothers to be girls, of course, but this only predicts, it doesn’t alter the sex of the child.’
The chain slowly started to move up and down in pendulum sweeps, becoming more and more vigorous. ‘A boy,’ Henry said with laughing satisfaction. ‘A strong and healthy boy. I did not doubt it for one minute.’
Alienor raised her brows. ‘Did you not?’
He shook his head. ‘Louis did not have it in his loins to beget sons on you, but I do – a whole dynasty of them!’
‘But what if it had gone the other way?’ she asked. ‘What if it had said a girl?’
He shrugged. ‘It would only be a matter of time before we had a boy. Daughters are valuable too. Only a man insecure in himself would fret over such a thing at this stage.’ He fastened the cross around her neck. ‘Wear this and think of me,’ he said; then he lay down at her side, pulled the covers over them both and settled down to sleep, his hand over her belly in a protective, proprietorial gesture.
Alienor remained awake for a short time, stroking Henry’s arm where it lay across her womb, and thought of the family they would become. And then she reached to the cross he had placed around her neck and smiled.
A burning August sun bleached the blue from the sky and gripped Poitiers in the fierce talons of a heatwave. High in the Maubergeonne Tower, the confinement chamber was insulated by thick stone walls. Linen curtains hung across the shutters, letting in air, but maintaining shade. A baby’s wail filled the room where moments ago there had only been Alienor’s voice, raised in a final cry of effort.
Hair drenched with sweat, chemise bunched around her hips, she raised herself on her elbows to watch the child being lifted from between her blood-dabbled thighs. The little body was streaked with blood and mucus, and the pulsating cord obstructed its genitals so Alienor could not tell the gender. And then the midwife pushed the cord to one side and beamed.
‘A son, my lady. You have a fine boy, praise God, praise God!’
The wails became lusty roars as the midwife wiped out the baby’s mouth and laid him upon Alienor’s belly. He screwed up his face and thrashed his limbs, but as he felt the warmth of Alienor’s flesh, he grew quieter. She reached down to touch and feel him. Alive, squirming, perfect.
The midwife gently lifted him off Alienor, snicked the cord with a small, sharp knife while intoning a prayer, and then removed him to a table where a bowl of scented warm water had been prepared for his first bath.
‘Do not swaddle him,’ Alienor commanded. ‘I would see him first.’
The woman gently washed the baby’s tender limbs and then returned him to his mother, wrapped in a soft towel. Alienor held him close and checked his fingers and toes, his little ears, his puckered face. His hair gleamed like new gold, so did the tips of his eyelashes. He was going to be red like his father. And between his legs, the very obvious proof of his gender. Alienor swallowed. Her throat was tight and she knew she was going to weep a flood of tears, some of joy, some of grief, but all of healing. She held the baby to her breast and kissed his face again and again. ‘He is to be named William,’ she said. ‘For the Dukes of Aquitaine and Normandy and the Conqueror King of England.’