Canterbury Papers (39 page)

“Why did the caliph want that particular jewel?” I asked, staring down at the man flopped in the chair. “Why is he willing to trade the lives of Christian knights taken in battle for that pendant?”

He made a small gesture with one shoulder. A little man in a large body, pretending to be careless. “His grandfather adored the Arab poet Ibn al-Faridh, who created the jewel. That caliph gave it to William, Duke of Aquitaine, when he was his prisoner. The duke, in turn, passed it on to his
petite-fille
Eleanor, who gave it to
Richard
, who gave it to you.” He pronounced “Richard” in the French way, as Eleanor always did, and it distracted me. “The caliph knew that you had it. He's making a life project of calling back all the works of this poet, who was also a master jeweler.”

“Aah.” William turned away in disgust. Every eye in the room was now on him. “We will talk of this later.” He faced me.
“Princesse
, I am sorry. The jewel seems to be out of our reach for the moment. I will do what I can to remedy the situation, but it will take some time.” He shook his head.
“Je suis désolé.
And the Temple—the English Temple”—he glanced down at Destriers—“regrets this flagrant act immeasurably.”

I felt a curious distance from his words. The pendant that I had worn for so many years, the talisman Richard had given me on our betrothal day, seemed but a distant memory. The importance of discovering its whereabouts, which had been almost overwhelming when I first recognized the man from the inn at Havre only a short time earlier, did not seem so present. There was a lightness about this feeling, as if somehow memories were lifted from me.

“Don't disturb yourself, Sir William,” I said. “These things all belong to the past. As long as I know what happened to the pendant, and why, I am satisfied. And if its purpose now is to save the lives of Christian knights, perhaps that exalts the keepsake beyond any value I could give it.”

He threw me a look of such surprise and pleasure that I was startled. Mayhap he thought I had been nigh on to throwing a fit, like some fishwife in Dover, and was gratified at my restraint. But what I said was true. And if it pleased him in the passing, so much the better.

It was the clatter of hooves in the courtyard that broke the silence that followed. The door burst open without ceremony, and two men entered. They bore themselves as if from a royal house. I recognized immediately the livery of Queen Eleanor herself. William also knew the coat of arms and turned to them with an inscrutable expression on his face.

“My lady Alaïs,” the two said, both going down on one knee. I nodded in reply, but they were already turning to William.

“My lord William,” the front-runner said, bowing briefly. I watched with interest, thinking, Lord William? “I bring you greetings from Queen Eleanor.”

“The queen is well, I trust?” William asked.

“Yes, well, my lord. She is well and here at Poitiers.”

“Is she now?” His voice registered no surprise, only a slight, quizzical lift at the beginning of the sentence.

“She asks you to come to her today. She is in residence at the ducal palace.”

“How convenient,” I murmured. William pretended not to hear.

“What is her suit?” He perched himself casually on the corner of the table at which he had so recently labored, unmindful of his colleagues, who now seemed spellbound by the new drama unfolding.

“She wishes to speak with you and the
Princesse
Alaïs.”

“What does Her Majesty want with us?” he asked again, ignoring the fact that we had planned just that morning to visit Eleanor, whether she welcomed us or not.

“Now, wait a moment…,” I began.

“
Princesse
, you cannot think for a moment that, with John's men surrounding Fontrevault, the queen is here without his knowledge? And if that is the case, we would do well to—”

“You mean
I
would do well, since it is my skin we imagine to be at risk,” I replied. “What is Her Majesty's desire?” This to the couriers.

“The Lord William is to bring you to the ducal palace this afternoon. She has certain business she wishes to discuss with each of you.” The courier who spoke paused, looking around for the first time at the assembled men of finance. “She said it was important that you come together.”

“I'm going,” I announced, speaking to William over the couriers. “You can come if you like. It's liable to be a better show than we saw in the town square in Chinon. I wouldn't miss it to get the Vexin back for France.” I walked back to the bench I had occupied earlier and picked up my cloak.

I was eager to be gone and not afraid to face the old queen alone, but in truth, knowing that John had his men out looking for my party, I would rather have had William's company on the ride.

William returned to his place at the head of the table and scribbled a message, which he gave to the couriers. They departed in haste. Then he came to me and took my cloak, placing it around my shoulders with great gentility and care. I scanned the startled faces turned to us and nodded to the assembly. When I raised my head, there was not a man in the room, with any portion of sense, who did not know that I was now William's and he mine.

The fresh air revived me. Once mounted, I made it my business to keep up with William. “What is this ‘Lord William' business?” I asked as soon as we were cantering. “I don't remember hearing that you had a title.”

But he didn't answer, only shook his head. Instead he led me a merry chase down side streets of uneven cobblestone, where I was forced to pay attention to my horses' hooves or risk being tossed.

I had not been in Poitiers since that memorable occasion when Henry had descended with a fury on Eleanor and closed down her court, sending his sons scattering and Eleanor to prison. Nearly a quarter of a century had passed since then. The town bustled, and the crowded cobblestone streets and lanes were unfamiliar to me. Either they had changed or my memory had faded.

Then I saw La Maubegeonne rising straight up over the roofs of the buildings ahead of me, and I had my bearings. This famous tower had been built by Eleanor's grandfather for the woman he'd abducted from her husband and loved until the end of his life. The dukes of the Aquitaine had always been incurable romantics. One doesn't imagine dukes behaving like that, not for women anyway, but there you are. Eleanor had come from interesting stock.

As we rode into the courtyard of the ducal palace, the gates were opened for us without our request. Here, too, they were obviously prepared for our visit. But what Eleanor did not know was that
I
was ready for
her.

I
t was my first sight of her in many years. She stood tall and regal as ever, framed in the grand entrance to the palace. But as I came closer, I was stunned at her fragility. Although she was standing upright with no help, she looked so brittle I thought her bones might break before we got to a greeting. I saw also that she was shaking like a reed in the wind with a kind of palsy. And I felt my animosity shrink alarmingly.

The full, cascading, burnished hair I remembered was now thin and gray. She still wore it high on her head and, as was her custom always, with no covering other than a single jeweled diadem.

As I approached, she held out her hand for me to kiss. It was freckled with age spots, clearly visible in the sun, which at just that moment decided to spread out like butter over us all.

I realized that I had remembered her mostly as the young woman of my childhood, and the sight of her in this state caused some blurring of my vision with tears, despite my best intentions.

“Queen Eleanor.” I bent low.

“Princess Alaïs,” she responded, as if we had parted only that day after breakfast. She looked over my shoulder. “Lord William,” she said dryly, as if she were announcing something unnecessary. I knew he was bowing, too.

She said no more but beckoned to us to follow as she turned to enter the palace. To her side, immediately, came an old man who offered her his arm, which she took. Without that arm, I saw with dismay, she could not have made her progress.

Inside the palace we went not into the great hall, where traditionally visitors were received, but into one of the smaller, private rooms off to the side. There I was not particularly surprised to see my aunt, the ubiquitous Abbess Charlotte. She looked spectacular as usual, in a heavy silk shantung gown that shimmered when she moved. And move she did, quickly, to embrace me. I returned her warmth of greeting without hesitation.

“Niece, I am glad to see you are safe and back in France.”

“Dear aunt, if I had taken your advice at Canterbury, I would have been safer at an earlier time, but I would have had a far less exciting visit to England.”

Eleanor motioned us to sit around a table, as if we were a family, which indeed in some odd way I guess we were. Servants came and went with wine and ale, bread and cakes and platters of cold poultry, but no one ate anything or said anything for some time.

Finally I spoke. “I trust that Your Highness's journey to Spain to fetch the Princess Blanche was not too difficult and well rewarded by my brother, Philippe, when you arrived in Paris?”

The queen smiled at me, almost a real smile out of the past. “Thank you, Alaïs, for the thought. Blanche is safely installed at the court of your brother, and the two children seem to like each other.

It may be a marriage more successful than many that have been arranged by politics.” And I knew she was thinking past me, to that time when she was married to my father because their fathers had decreed it. But then, I recalled, she later married Henry for love, and that didn't work out too well either.

“We have asked you here to discuss several matters,” she said in William's direction, when most of the servants had withdrawn from the room.

“Good,” I said with alacrity. “And when we have finished, I have some questions for you.”

“They may not be necessary after certain things have been discussed,” she said, turning that ever-so-slightly shaking head stiffly in my direction. “But we are most willing to hear your questions at the end.”

Then she returned to William. “I am trying to save my son's throne. I am interceding with you to make that possible. If you, as Templar grand master in England, will agree to it, it will happen. If you do not support him, indeed if your Knights persist in rattling their collective sabers in his direction, his own fears may cause actions that will bring him down. And,” she added, “you know well that could make a new civil war in England.”

William sat back in his high, velvet-paneled chair, leaning his head carelessly on the cushioned backrest. He studied the beams on the ceiling for a brief period before he spoke. When his words came, he looked directly at the queen.

“Madam, the whole order of the Knights Templar is not exactly mine to direct.” The dry quality of his voice was inescapable, without exactly being impudent.

“You know what I mean,” she countered. “You are their general here in France, their grand master in England. You have the power to stop this threat to my son.”

Again he demurred ever so slightly. When he spoke next, it was slowly, as if he were thinking each sentence out carefully before giving it voice. “I will agree to some things,” he said finally. “I will agree to speak for John in our senior councils and attempt to persuade my brothers to give him another chance.”

He sighed, then continued. “And I will sign the papers that will expedite the major loan that John needs. But these agreements are on one condition: and one condition only: John will have my bond on it, provided he gives up this misguided search for the phantom bastard of Henry Plantagenet, once and for all.” William looked hard at the queen. “I want you to tell John that you know the child is dead.”

“John is frightened. You know that is why he has created a stir.” Eleanor waved her hand, as if discarding trailing cobwebs.

“Herod was frightened, too, and the consequences for a number of children are reported to have been most unpleasant.”

Eleanor's eyes narrowed, but she kept them on William. For my part I loosed the scarf around my throat and unclasped the jewel that held my cloak. I was beginning to feel very warm. I bit hard on my tongue to hold it. For perhaps the first time in my life, I knew I would choose my words extremely carefully, since now I had something besides their effect on my own life to consider.

“What stake do you have, William, in this matter?” Her voice held that old peremptory habit and note of familiarity in her address to William by his given name.

“Eleanor, leave it alone,” the abbess's tart voice cut in. “You must let it rest now, after all these years.”

“Au contraire
, Aunt. Let us talk about it,” I interposed. “The topic of the child seems to have John quite beside himself. And why shouldn't he be?”

“Princesse
—” William began, but Eleanor raised her hand again, this time quite purposefully.

“I will not be tempted into argument over this matter. I have nothing more to say on it, except to assure you, Lord William, that if the harassment of the king does not stop and the needed bond for silver to pay his troops is not forthcoming, you and your order will have much to answer for.” Eleanor folded her hands regally in front of her, staring straight ahead, as if her announcements were addressed to God and simply might be overheard by some worldly representative of his. I for my part wondered which order she had in mind, the Benedictines or the Templars? Or perhaps there was a third, an Order of the Mysterious, which I had not yet stumbled upon.

“Well, I have something more to say,” I announced, pulling her Sarum letters from my pouch. I threw them across the table, and they slid to a stop in front of her. William began to rise out of his chair, then thought the better of it. “You knew about my child, all these years you knew, and you never told me. You harbored your secret well.”