The Dragon and the Jewel (9 page)

He left his men patrolling the streets, for he knew when this many people were crowded into one place, knifings, fights, and murders were inevitable.

T
he cavalcade rode to London for the crowning in easy stages where Richard of Cornwall had held supreme authority while his brother King Henry had traveled to Dover and Canterbury. He knew his brother trusted him totally with the crown of England because he had no ambitions whatsoever to steal it and wear it.

He was secretly appalled at the lavish coronation that had been planned. The whole month of January had been set aside for spectacles and pageants, and anyone in England who had ever had a remote connection to the nobility had arrived for the crowning of the queen.

Richard had discovered that the king had forced his rich nobles to lend him money to pay for this lavish spectacle and that the London guilds had been “persuaded” to open their purses to provide expensive wedding presents. Richard shook his head in disbelief. His brother and he were alike in being able to pluck gold coins from thin air, but his own acquisitive Norman fingers hoarded his wealth, while Henry’s hands scattered gold to the winds as if he were able to acquire it like King Midas.

La Belle Eleanor sat her palfrey, flanked by Sir Michael and
Sir Rickard de Burgh. They rode directly behind the king. Because of her insistence at having the twin brothers upon her right and left flank, they had already earned the hatred of her ambitious uncles and the rest of the arrogant Provençals.

The Tower of London was the first stop on the long procession to Westminster. At the Tower she rode up beside the king and her guards fell back among the queen’s train. La Belle wore a glittering, tight-fitting gown; its sleeves lined with ermine. As she positioned her horse beside Henry’s, he smiled across at her. “You are very beautiful today. I hope you won’t find this too tiring … especially since we didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth sensually full-lipped. In a throaty voice she said, “We can sleep when we’re dead.” She was so much more woman than he had expected. They had set sail on a sea of carnality where he would have willingly drowned to satisfy her.

“Three hundred sixty men and women are to greet us on horseback and welcome you to the City of London. Each couple will present you with a cup of gold or silver.” The men wore cloth-of-gold tunics; their wives were adorned in fur-trimmed cloaks. Beginning with the Lord Mayor of London and his wife, the couples rode forward bearing their cups of precious metal. Hubert de Burgh, England’s justiciar and castellan of the Tower of London, had arranged for one hundred eighty young pages and squires to act as cupbearers. One by one they came forward to pipe their thanks on the queen’s behalf and carry the precious cups into the Tower for safekeeping. La Belle decided it was a waste of precious metal and wondered how soon she could have some of them melted down and fashioned into objects of adornment.

When this ceremony was concluded, the glittering cavalcade moved slowly down The Strand toward Westminster. The entire route had been hung with silk banners, and at each and every corner trumpeters blew a fanfare as they approached.

The Londoners’ cheered this dazzling young beauty who had come to their king so he might beget heirs upon her body. The crowds went mad in an excess of ecstacy, scattering colored confetti and dried flower petals.

The highlight of the whole glorious day for the new bride was not being anointed by the archbishop, nor receiving the blessing of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. The thing that sent the blood rushing to her fingers and down to her very toes was that sanctified moment in the abbey when the crown was placed upon her burnished gold hair and she became Queen of England. She felt the incomparable rush of power. It was stronger and more potent than anything she had ever known before. It surpassed sexual gratification in its thrilling impact, making her breasts tingle and her abdomen ache intensely. To her great amazement she felt herself climax and she became wet and sticky between her legs.

The banquet that followed was the greatest feast ever laid out in history. Henry had suffered the burn of humiliation at his own humble crowning, accompanied by the stringy joint of beef, and he had been determined that Merrie Olde England would make up for it now.

During the long winter, or season of the devil, as it was known, everyone existed on salted meat and smoked fish, but the spring had arrived early this year, providing lambs, kids, and calves to add variety to the vast platters of roast oxen and venison. Strong-fleshed peacocks, swans, and herons filled the banquet tables. Thousands of eggs had gone into the puddings and pastries to tempt the nobility and provide lavishly for the thousands of Londoners who packed the gardens and roadways around Westminster.

The consumption of fish was tremendous, the varieties too numerous to count. Sturgeon, conger, mullet, mackerel, flounder, salmon, and plaice vied with great piles of shellfish, oysters, shrimps, and crabs as well as crayfish, eels, and lampreys.

Wine flowed freely and none of it was domestic, which Henry feared the Provençals would think inferior. The most expensive kinds imported from Guienne and Gascony and sweet Spanish muscatel were served to the guests by none other than the Lord Mayor of London.

The nobility performed their hereditary parts in the ritual, but the wedding train of the bride overflowed with so many foreigners who looked down their long, thin noses at the natives,
totally ignoring the age-old precedence of rank with highhanded disregard for the long-established pecking order.

The bride’s relatives filled the head tables as if it were their divine right to do so, and Henry was so flattered by the attention they lavished upon him, he realized happily he much preferred their noisy, laughing company to that of his staid English aristocracy. Tedious English ballads now gave way to more robust ones:

Henry thought the Provençals witty, clever, and sophisticated. Surely they were the most beautiful young people God had ever created. He couldn’t believe his own luck in attracting and attaching them to his court.

William Marshal enjoyed showing off his beautiful wife. He was extremely proud of the accomplished, elegant young lady she had grown into and knew that perhaps only one more year would be necessary before she became a woman … his woman. She always managed to stand out from other females, and this coronation banquet was no exception. Everywhere was cloth-of-gold or gowns fashioned from material of threaded gold. Eleanor wore deep royal purple, her sleeves lined with heliotrope satin. A priceless chain of amethysts long enough to wrap about her neck twice and still encircle her waist made her blue eyes turn a mysterious shade of purple.

When her brother Richard approached them, Eleanor watched the pink roses ever-present in Isabella Marshal’s cheeks blossom to dark red. She knew they had not seen one another for months, yet it was painfully obvious how they still felt about each other. She lifted her mouth to her husband’s ear. “William, dance with your sister and I shall dance with Richard.” William squeezed her hand. Already he loved her dearly. She was so quick to size up a potentially explosive situation and defuse it.

She laughed up at Richard. “Did you enjoy playing king?”

“You little maggot, you know I hated every minute of it. I’ll be so bloody glad to get back to work sounding out the barons about war with France.”

Eleanor groaned. “Bugger war, ’tis all men think of.”

“Then I wish to God Henry would spare it a thought. With what he’s spent today, we could have mounted a full-scale assault to regain Normandy. He’s handing out gold marks, tracts of priceless land, castles, and even pensions to these grasping Provençals. Christ, with my own ears I heard him promise Thomas of Savoy a groat for every sack of English wool that will pass through his territory. Her relatives are legion and I think he’s determined to reward every last one with a royal post. There’s one been named King’s Special Harper and another he’s going to put on the roles as King’s Versificator. I swear if Henry had any brains he’d be dangerous.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s in love. You can’t blame him for trying to impress her … she’s very lovely,” said Eleanor.

“That’s generous of you, sweeting; most women dislike each other,” Richard said.

“There shall be no rivalry between us whatsoever. Look, here she is dancing with Henry; don’t they make a magnificent pair?”

The two couples faced each other. The queen looked at the exquisite purple gown and amethysts. Henry spoke. “Eleanor.”

Both beautiful young women replied, “Yes?”

The queen gave Eleanor a look that should have felled her. Then she turned her face to the king and said, “We cannot both be called Eleanor. I have decided only the queen shall be Eleanor. You will have to be called something else. What is it your brothers call you—Maggot?” she asked sweetly.

Richard was shocked and almost jumped to his sister’s defense. Then he hid a smile as he realized the maggot was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

Eleanor drew herself up to her full height, less than five feet and said regally, “I am the Countess of Pembroke and you may address me as such. I have always loathed the name Eleanor
… it is hideous. You are most welcome to it.” She took Richard’s arm and swept off.

He bent low to whisper in her ear, “I’m so relieved there is no rivalry between you.”

“Bloody foreigners … I’m up to my gorge in them. Too bad we’ll have to put up with them a whole wretched month before Henry sends them packing.”

But Henry did not send them packing. He allowed the hangers-on to stay. Not only that, but more flocked over every day like a skein of geese honking into England. Henry listened to William of Valence as if every word were a pearl of wisdom. He immediately created Peter of Savoy the Earl of Richmond and gave him a valuable piece of land along the Thames in exchange for three symbolic feathers. He gave Amadeus land that he promptly sold.

They all sang homesick songs for their beautiful sunny Provence, but they didn’t go back. Though King Midas was heaping gold upon his wife’s relatives, he never had anything left over for his English subjects who paid the bills, not even kind words.

The English conceived a hatred for the Provençals that grew daily. After only three weeks a great council was called, and the barons most emphatically affirmed that no changes were to be made in the laws or methods of government.

The subject of Princess Eleanor came up again and again in conversations between the king and queen. “Each time your sister puts in an appearance, she is wearing different jewels.”

“Darling, those jewels didn’t come from royal coffers, I can assure you. They are gifts from her husband. The Marshals are probably the wealthiest family in England,” he explained.

“Henry, I am the Queen of England. It is ridiculous that your little sister be allowed to outshine me. Why don’t you give me the gold and silver cups stored in the Tower? I have goldsmiths and jewelers showing me their designs every day, begging me for my custom.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, actually, I’ve had an offer for some of them. I really do need the money, Eleanor.”

“Those clowns! If they are rich enough to buy our possessions, they can afford to give you the money you need!”

His voluptuous young wife always managed to make her demands at the end of the day preparatory to their going to bed. She gave him a sidewise glance from beneath her golden lashes. “Henry, why don’t you help me remove my stockings? I feel in a most giving mood tonight.” She reclined upon the bed and ran the stockinged sole of one foot up her other leg. Her skirt fell back to display the golden treasure between her legs.

As Henry’s fingers strayed from her garter to a more tempting object, she stroked his swollen groin with her toes. “If I can be generous,” she said throatily, “why can’t you? You are the king, for God’s sake, and I am your queen. If we put our minds together as well as we put our bodies together, we should be able to come up with some arrangement that will satisfy me.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. “You know that when I am satisfied, all my attention can be concentrated upon satisfying you.”

He had already learned she was capable of teasing him, holding out against him until his part of the bargain was accomplished. “There is an honored custom known as Queen’s Gold, It’s a percentage of the fines levied on the Londoners. I see no reason why we cannot reactivate this
custom
, which has been out of use for many years.”

His words worked like magic to open her legs wide and allow him to indulge his fantasies to the full. As he moved vigorously back and forth upon her, she gave vent to her own fantasies of luxurious excess. Surely fines could be levied on these Londoners with the thinnest pretext; if the Queen’s Gold hadn’t been paid for years, she was probably due a fortune in back payments of the tribute. She would look into it immediately. If the sheriffs of London balked, she would have them imprisoned. She was the Queen of England and she would be obeyed.