The Queen's Pawn (13 page)

“I will leave you,” Margaret said. “I have much to do in the castle now that the king is here.”

I did not ask what one of Eleanor’s waiting women had to do with the king. I had heard of King Henry’s fascination with women, and thought it better not to know.

She left me with a curtsy and a smile, off to meet her lover, perhaps. My mind was full of such things, ever since I had seen and known Richard.

The inner stable was dimly lit, and I could see that no one else was there. I could hear the sound of iron striking metal in the smithy not far away but the stable stood empty of all but horses.

I knew that I should return to the palace. But I loved puppies; I had not seen one since I was a small girl, at home in France.

I stepped into the dappled shade, surrounded by horses in their stalls on both sides. I looked around once more for a groom, but saw no one there. So when my veil slipped, I did not right it, but let it hang down my back.

I saw no dogs at first, only horses in their stalls on either side of the central hall. I found the puppies finally tucked away in an empty stall, set behind a barrier of wood so that even their mother could not escape. The hunting hound eyed me at first, but when I let her sniff my hand, she licked me. Only then did I turn to her pups, who lay with their mother on a soft bed of hay. The dogs were so small that they had not yet been weaned. They were some breed of hunting hound I had never seen before. They would grow to be large someday, for even as newborn puppies they were each as big as my hand, with flopping ears and large paws. Heedless of my silk gown, I knelt in the straw beside them.

One puppy bounded over to me, far bolder than the rest, his long ears almost brushing the straw, and yipped. I reached into the pen and drew the little dog up against my breast.

He rested against my heart and nuzzled me, as if looking for warmth or milk. I laughed. “Sorry, little one, I am not your mother.”

“You’re much more beautiful.”

The voice sounded a little like Richard’s, and at the sound of it, my heart leaped. But when I rose to my feet, I saw that though the man who spoke was large like Richard, and had Richard’s dark red hair, that was where the resemblance ended. It must have been a trick of the fading light, for after first glance I saw that this man was poorly dressed in leather leggings and an old woolen tunic, rags Richard would never allow into his presence, much less wear.

The man moved toward me. I stepped back, but the wall of a horse stall blocked my path. I stood still with my back against it.

The man stopped moving and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Princess, I mean you no harm. I’m just a simple man, come to tend my dogs.”

I raised my chin, angry with myself that I had shown this peasant fear.

“These are the king’s dogs,” I said.

“That they are. And I have the caring of them, from time to time.”

My mask of dignity crumbled at the warmth of his voice. As he smiled, the skin around his eyes creased. His gaze reached for me, and held me, as if it might shelter me were a storm to come.

The dog in my arms distracted me, for he had begun to gnaw on my veil where it fell across my breast. I wrested it from him, and gave him the edge of my hair to chew instead.

“You are Alais, Princess of France and Countess of the Vexin?” the man asked, watching me.

I eyed him warily, but saw no harm in him. Perhaps he was simpleminded, and that was why he was left to care for dogs.

“I am,” I said, informing him of what all the castle knew. But before I could stand on my dignity again, I heard a yelp from the bed of straw at my feet. Another puppy had come forward at the sound of our voices, crying to be picked up.

I turned from him and knelt, drawing the second puppy into my arms. The man watched in silence as I played with the dogs.

“Am I interfering with your work?” I asked. “If you need to tend them, I will go.”

“No.” He held up one big hand to stop me, so I stayed where I was, my skirt and veil trailing in the straw.

The puppies turned back to their mother to be fed. I set down the two I held, who quickly found a place at their mother’s teats. When I looked up, I found the man still there, watching me.

“You are different than I thought you would be,” he said.

I did not point out that it was impertinent for him to think anything of his betters.

I saw that his eyes were a light gray. He had come no closer, but I could feel the strength of his gaze on me.

“I am as God made me,” I said.

“We can all say the same,” he replied. “But not all are as beautiful.”

I frowned and got to my feet. He raised his hand again, and I froze, for he stood between me and the stable door.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

I faced him squarely so that he could see that I was not lying. “I am not frightened.”

He smiled, a long, slow smile that made him almost handsome. “So I see.”

“Good day, sirrah.”

I stepped forward, but still he did not let me pass. I reined in my temper, for even then I did not have the sense to be afraid. He was just a man, a servant, and he was in my way, as no servant had ever dared to be in all my life, not in France and not even in England.

Still he watched me. I thought that he might not let me pass. I felt my heart kick against my ribs, but I stood my ground and did not drop my gaze from his. Finally, he laughed, and stepped out of my way.

“Good day, Your Highness.”

I only nodded to him, for I did not trust my voice. I walked into the castle, moving fast, for night was falling. I did not want to be late to the meal in the great hall. The queen was to present me to the king.

I knew that I would have to bathe again, for now I smelled of the stables, and of the puppies I had held in my arms.

I did not want to think of the man I had met, though his face stayed with me as I bathed and as I dressed in my new red gown. When Marie Helene went to put my hair up under a wimple, I stopped her, and called for a red veil.

It was the man I thought of as I left my hair trailing down my back to my waist. It was his eyes I felt on me as I raised the veil over my curls and pinned it in place myself.

“Your Highness, you cannot wear your hair that way It is not the fashion.”

“We will set a new fashion, Marie Helene.”

As I stepped into the great hall, I found it abuzz as I had never heard it. Fresh rushes were strewn on the floor, and gave off the scent of thyme as they were crushed beneath my feet. I felt as if all eyes were on me; I looked to no one but Eleanor.

The hall seemed larger that night as I walked to the high table, with its gray stone walls covered in tapestries. The king’s table was set on its dais above the rest of the company, so that all might see Eleanor and the king as they ate their meal.

The high table at Windsor was long, and seated over twenty people. Everyone had already taken their seats when I arrived. I did not look at them, knowing I would find King Henry’s ministers, and Eleanor’s ladies. I took a moment to wonder where Margaret was, but I did not turn from Eleanor to look for her. I knew that Angeline and Mathilde would be staring at me intently, as if praying for me to trip and fall. There was no danger of such a thing, and their rancor usually amused me, but that night, I kept my eyes on the queen.

Eleanor was seated in her place at the center of the high table. I went to kiss her, but the queen extended her hand to me. I took it, surprised by her formality I curtsied, bowing over her hand, while she sat on her gilded throne. I thought perhaps she would offer the empty chair beside her, and invite me to eat from her trencher.

I stood in silence and waited for this invitation, with Marie Helene two steps behind me. I felt Marie Helene’s hand on my sleeve, but I ignored her and did not take my eyes off the queen.

Eleanor leaned back against her cushions and took her hand away from me. “Princess Alais, I present you to Henry, King of England and Duke of Normandy”

I looked to the high seat at the head of the table, the seat that had always been vacant, and found the man from the stable staring back at me.

All the manners of my childhood flew from my head as if they had never been. I did not even curtsy. My father would have been ashamed if he had seen me.

The English king was not displeased at my obvious shock but instead seemed to think it a great joke that I had not known him in the horse stable. He beamed at me as if I were a party to his joke, as if he had not made a fool of me, and was not making a fool of me now.

He said nothing about our earlier meeting, his gray eyes warm on mine.

I gathered my wits and took another step toward him, so that I might kneel before him where all the court could see me. I knew how to do this prettily, without giving offense with overt servility. I had been taught obeisance as a very young child. I fell back on those lessons now; whatever he was and whatever he thought of me, this man was king.

“Rise, Princess,” he said. “You are welcome to our court.”

I was surprised to find him suddenly before me, offering a hand to help me stand. This was gallantry I had not looked for. His hand was warm on mine, and welcoming, though welcoming me to what, I did not know.

“Perhaps, my lord king, you will seat the Princess Alais at your right hand as a sign of favor,” the queen asked in her public voice.

“Yes, my lady Eleanor, I thank you. I will.”

Something passed between them down the length of the table, a bolt of fire. Eleanor wore the bland mask she often wore in public, but I wondered what she was thinking as she looked at the king.

Henry’s huge peasant hand dwarfed mine, and his wide shoulders seemed to block out half the room. His eyes never left Eleanor.

King Henry did me the honor of escorting me to the head of the table himself, one hand under my own. He helped me sit beside him before he took his own gilded chair. His trencher was wide and long, full of venison and smoked fish. It was too far from me, and he took care to bring it closer to the edge of the table, so that I might eat.

He took the first bite, as was proper. The rest of the hall picked up their conversations. Once the king began to eat, everyone else could eat as well. I looked to Eleanor at the center of the table. Marie Helene had taken my place beside her.

The queen did not look to me or to the king, but fell into conversation with the man on the far side of her. He was a young lord new to court, who seemed overwhelmed to be seated at the high table, let alone next to the queen herself. I watched as she put the young man at ease. In only a few minutes, she had him laughing at something she had said.

“Is it my wife you look at, or the young man beside her?”

The king leaned close so that no one but the server behind us would hear. Startled, I met his eyes. Their gray was like the sky after a rain. I saw for the first time that there was also gray threaded through the red of his hair. The scent of him was sweet, sweeter than I would have imagined, like the sandalwood that burned in the braziers back home in Paris. He wore blue silk now, with a band of gold at his temples. Seeing him among his courtiers, I felt as if the man I had met in the stables had been a phantom of my imagination.

“At the queen, Your Majesty I do not make it a habit to stare at strange men.”

I heard my own voice, and winced at how prudish I sounded. The scent of him had thrown me off my guard, as had the touch of his breath on my cheek. I wondered at myself. Even Richard’s nearness had not put me so on edge.

The king did not notice my discomfort. He seemed pleased with my answer.

“As well you should not. As my son’s betrothed, you have your reputation to think of.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said. “And that of my father.”

“Ah, yes. Louis”

The king gestured, and a servant brought more mead and filled his tankard again. “We must not forget the honor of your father.”

I spoke as if we were back in the stable, as if he were not king. “I never do, my lord.”

As I had earlier that day, I felt his eyes on me. He said nothing vulgar, but his gaze moved over my curls where they were displayed more than hidden beneath my thin veil of silk. His boldness went beyond any compliment Richard had offered me. I felt his gaze on my body like hands, and my temper rose, as it rarely did. I found myself breathless with an anger I could not express.

Henry smiled, pleased with my reaction. He gestured that I should eat.

“You are too thin, Alais. Here, take a morsel from my knife.”

He offered me a bit of meat on his dinner dagger, and I stared first at it, then at him, to see if he was testing me. I found no mockery in his eyes, only watchfulness. I did not take the meat into my mouth, as it seemed he expected me to, but drew it from his knife with my fingers.