The Winter Crown (5 page)

Alienor struggled for composure. ‘You say it is none of my concern, but for the security of our line, I must know these things.’ She felt like a lioness protecting her young. ‘You have kept this a secret from me for some time, to look at him.’

‘He was three years old in March,’ Henry said.

‘And his mother?’

‘She is dead.’ His voice was flat. ‘I have just been making arrangements for her funeral.’

Alienor looked away. She would not let him put her in the wrong or make her feel small and mean by his words. ‘I know you seek elsewhere to slake your lust,’ she said. ‘I know you are not chaste when you are apart from me or when I am great with child. I would be a fool to believe you did not go rutting elsewhere, but you have dishonoured me nevertheless by keeping a mistress and child under my nose without telling me.’

‘It was a separate part of my life.’ His face reddened with anger. ‘I did not keep her at court. There was never any insult or threat to you or our offspring. My grandsire had twenty bastard children in his household by numerous different mothers and his queens accepted every one of them.’ He gestured out into the hall at his half-brother. ‘My father raised Hamelin in his court, and Jeoffrey will be raised in mine. I acknowledge him; his welfare is my obligation and it is your duty, madam, to welcome him.’

Alienor tossed her head. ‘I would have done so without your command because a child is innocent no matter the sins of his parents, but I will not be kept in ignorance, Henry; that is my complaint.’

He gave an irritable shrug. ‘And I would have told you, but I saw no need at this stage.’

Alienor was tempted to dash her wine into his face. She could not believe he saw the matter as of no consequence.

‘You must admit he is a fine little chap,’ he cajoled.

‘I can see no wrong in him,’ she said stiffly, and rose from the trestle. ‘Forgive me, I am not well; I need to retire.’

Henry gave her a sharp look. ‘You are not going off to sulk, I hope.’

‘No, sire, I am not. But I am going to think long and hard … and so should you.’

Without waiting his leave, she left the hall with all its fine new furniture and embellishments, and went to her own adjoining chamber where she dismissed her ladies, sat on her bed with the curtains closed and shut herself away. Once alone, she pounded the coverlet with her fists, and let the tears and the anger surge through her body. It was betrayal of the worst sort. Even while she had been carrying and bearing little William, believing him Henry’s firstborn son, he already had a male child out of this woman, and now the shine of her memories was forever tarnished. She did not blame the child, and yet she could not prevent feelings of terrible jealousy. She would have to see him every day in the nursery, his features a blending of Henry’s and this unknown woman’s. Having the advantage of age he was already bigger and stronger than her legitimate sons and would be in a position to compete with them.

Eventually she gathered herself together and wiped her eyes. Done was done and could not be changed, but the future was a different matter.

By the time Henry arrived, Alienor was composed, and sitting in bed clad in a fresh white chemise, her hair a golden ripple around her shoulders. Resting a wax tablet on her upraised knees, she tapped the end of her stylus against her lips as she pondered.

‘To whom do you write?’ Henry demanded suspiciously.

‘To your mother,’ she replied. ‘To tell her she has another grandson – unless of course she already knows.’

Henry shook his head. ‘It was none of her concern either.’ He wandered about the chamber, picking up a casket to examine the carving on it, putting it down and picking it up again. Eventually, rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to her. ‘I thought you did not want to know, otherwise you would have asked.’

She noted with weary inevitability how he had turned the blame around. ‘Well then, I will ask you now: are there any others I should know about?’

‘None whose mothers have chosen to come forward. The child will be an asset to the household, and a good companion to our boys; you will see.’

Alienor’s heart clenched. ‘I have no interest in the other women you bed; indeed, I do not wish to know about them, but if children are born of your rutting, that is different because they affect our affinities. I must know about them.’

He shrugged. ‘As you wish.’ His eyes had the flat glitter in them that told her he was calculating how much he could keep to himself and how little he could give her.

‘I do wish. I warned you once; I am not just your brood mare.’

‘So you keep saying, and so I well know, but I will not be dictated to or ruled by a woman’s womb. Within two weeks I shall be in Normandy, and you will be regent here – I hardly call that treating you as a brood mare.’ He paced the room again, heeled around sharply and then plumped down on the bed, uttering a hard sigh. ‘Let us be done with all this. I need your cooperation, and when measured against the governing of our lands, the fact that I have a son by another woman, and born before I wed you, is a trifling matter.’

Alienor tightened her lips, still feeling resentful and insecure, but acknowledging the logic of what he said. He would never change his ways; there would always be other women, and the business of government mattered more than an argument over a mistress. It was the betrayal of trust that hurt. ‘Very well,’ she said shortly, ‘let us be done.’

Henry leaned over and gave her a kiss to which she responded with lukewarm enthusiasm before drawing away. ‘What do you intend for the child?’

He gave her a questioning look.

‘You say he will be raised in our household, but what role do you intend for him later?’

He opened his hands. ‘That will all come in good time. I shall watch him and decide later what best suits him, be it the pen or the sword.’

Alienor said nothing. It would be the priesthood if she had anything to do with it. That way, he would serve the family cause without being a threat to her own sons.

Henry began undressing. ‘There is no need to write to my mother about this. I will tell her when I arrive in Normandy.’

Alienor set her writing aside and moved so that he could join her in bed. Usually on the eve of a great council he would have kept late hours with Becket, Robert of Leicester and Richard de Lucy, and then for all she knew gone elsewhere to slake his sexual energy. But tonight was for conciliation and mending broken bridges so that, although damaged, with care they might still be crossed.

Alienor paused in reading Henry’s letter to press her hand to her womb as she felt it tighten around the child. By her reckoning she was not due for several weeks, but her body was making preparations. She had moved from Westminster as the spring advanced and settled in at the stronghold of Windsor for her lying-in. It was peaceful here but only twenty-five miles from London and within easy riding distance for messengers arriving from the south-coast ports.

A pleasant breeze ruffled the fresh green leaves on the apple trees, and the sun dappled the garden in coins of warm pale gold. Will and his half-brother Jeoffrey were playing a game in the orchard, galloping around on their wooden hobby horses, waving their toy swords and uttering blood-curdling yells.

‘Are you well, madam?’ Isabel gently touched her arm.

‘It is just a twinge,’ Alienor reassured her. ‘There is no need to summon the midwives yet, although I shall be glad to be free of the burden.’ She heaved a regretful sigh. ‘Henry will not be here for the birth unless circumstances change, which I doubt.’ She looked at the letter. They were still besieging Mirebeau and not expected home this side of summer. ‘I knew Henry’s brother would foment rebellion the moment they crossed the sea. He was biding his time and paying lip service to loyalty while he was in England.’ She had never warmed to Geoffrey FitzEmpress. The fact that he had tried to abduct her just days after the annulment of her first marriage had coloured her opinion of him, but independent of that he was a boor, not stupid by a long way but lacking the wit and charisma that made Henry shine. He claimed that their father had bequeathed him Anjou as his inheritance portion and had already incited one uprising in an effort to overthrow Henry’s rule there. This was his second attempt and Henry was about the business of putting down the challenge once and for all.

She lowered the letter to her lap. ‘I shall go to Henry immediately I have recovered from the birth. England is at peace and my mother-by-marriage has grandchildren she has not yet seen.’ Her gaze followed little Jeoffrey FitzRoy. Over the past several months she had come to terms with his presence in the household and had achieved a state of detachment. She was still determined that his path would lead to the Church, but for the moment he was just a small boy. She had deliberately not sought to know more about his mother and what she had been to Henry. It was easier that way. ‘I must also go to my own duchy.’ She smiled at Isabel. ‘You have never seen Aquitaine, have you?’

‘No, madam,’ Isabel said, ‘but I would like to.’

Alienor glanced round the garden. ‘Today bears a resemblance, but the light is different there – brighter. Here the fruit is sharp and the wine is sour from lack of sun on the grapes. In Aquitaine, both are as sweet as honey – or perhaps I have just been absent for too long.’ She made a rueful gesture. ‘It is time I visited my people again and showed them their heir.’ She cast a fond look at Will who had flopped down in the shade to rest, his face pink from all the running about, and her heart flooded over with ocean-deep love.

That evening, Will was quieter than usual. Heavy-eyed, he toyed with his supper of bread sops in milk. Jeoffrey devoured all of his and a second helping and then was ready to dash off and play again with the other castle children.

Alienor brought Will to sit with her and had her harpist play a soothing ripple of notes while Isabel told him a story from the fables of Aesop about a fox and a crow. Leaning against Alienor, he listened quietly and sucked his thumb, while she stroked his hair.

Once the story was finished, Alienor beckoned to Pavia his nurse. ‘Bed for you, little one,’ she said tenderly.

Hands and face washed, prayers said, Will clambered into the small bed arranged beside his little brother’s crib. Alienor came to check on the sleeping baby and to kiss her children goodnight. Will’s clean chemise, which she had finished stitching yesterday, was as white as a bellbind flower in the gloom. Once again she stroked his bright hair. ‘Goodnight, God bless you,’ she murmured.

‘Mama.’ He yawned, turned on his side and in an instant was sound asleep.

Alienor and Isabel sat down to a game of chess and the harpist continued to play softly for them, the notes as gentle as rain. Jeoffrey’s nurse brought him in from his game and put him to bed, ignoring his protests that he was not in the least sleepy.

Alienor moved one of her knights and stifled a yawn. ‘I should retire too,’ she said, ‘I have no stamina these days.’

‘Even so your wits are still sharp,’ Isabel replied, screwing up her face. ‘I do not know how I am going to escape from this trap you have set.’

Alienor flashed a smile. ‘I am practising so I will be ready for Henry. He’s always so determined to win, and I like to prove him wrong and keep him on his mettle.’

The women played for a while longer, drank wine and listened to music while the candle burned down on its pricket. Alienor grimaced because her back was aching. Even sitting down with cushions against her spine there was no respite.

‘Shall I rub your back for y—’ Isabel’s question was interrupted by piercing screams from Will.

‘Mama! Mama!’

With one accord Alienor and Isabel shot to their feet and dashed to investigate. Will’s nurse Pavia was already leaning over him. ‘I fear he has a fever, madam.’

Alienor pressed her hand to Will’s brow. He had been a little warm earlier, but no more than might be attributed to sun-flush; now he was scalding and his eyes were glittery and half-closed against the lantern light. ‘My head hurts,’ he whined.

‘Hush, hush, all’s well, Mama’s here,’ Alienor soothed, her voice calm, although she was sick with fear. ‘Fetch Marchisa,’ she said to the nurse and lifted Will out of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt his shudders ripple through her own body. There was a sudden gush of heat against the front of her gown as he spilled his bladder, and his wails increased, high-pitched with pain. The noise woke baby Henry who began to howl in tandem, and Isabel hastened to soothe him.

Pavia returned from her errand. ‘Madam, let me clean and change my little lord. I have fresh linens here.’ She held up a folded pile of cloth.

Alienor gave him to his nurse. Will’s urine had left a gleaming dark stain on her gown that soaked through her chemise to her skin. The moisture was clammy on her body below her heart and over the swollen mound of her womb and she felt a terrible sense of foreboding.

Pavia removed Will’s shirt and then stepped back, stifling a scream against the back of her hand.

Alienor stared, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the dark red pin-pricks blotching her son’s torso and arms. ‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘No!’

Marchisa put her head around the curtain. ‘Madam?’ And then she saw Will, and her look of worried enquiry turned to shock. ‘I will fetch the physician,’ she said and was gone.

Alienor took Will from Pavia and brought him into the main room to examine him in better light. The blotches did not resemble the blisters of pox or
la rougeole
, both of which could be killers, but that was no cause for comfort. The contagion was burning through her son’s tender body like wildfire.

Marchisa returned, Master Radulf at her side. He was dishevelled from his bed, his hair sticking up in tufts around his skewed cap. His satchel of nostrums was slung over his shoulder.

Alienor berated him for his tardiness while weeping with relief. ‘Do something!’ she cried. ‘In God’s name help him!’

The physician took Will in his arms and called for more light to examine him. Will wailed and tried to hide his eyes from the blossom of fresh candle flame. Master Radulf’s lips compressed as he saw the rash.