The Queen's Pawn (16 page)

At breakfast the next morning, I sat at my small table, my knife biting into the stewed pears the palace women brought. I laid a slice of pear on the soft fresh bread and savored the taste with my eyes closed.

Even in the light of morning, the memory of Henry’s eyes stayed with me. I had hoped sleep would cure me of this folly, but so far, it had not.

“The king said that I could see the puppies in the stable,” I told Marie Helene.

“The king said that?”

“He said they are fond of me.”

“They are only dogs, my lady. They are fond of everyone.”

I laughed. “Marie Helene, I am glad that I do not have to worry that you will try to turn my head with flattery.”

She smiled wanly. “I am sorry, Your Highness. I fear for you.”

Guilt pressed on me. I should not look on the king as I did, and I knew it. I would have to confess my sin, and be shriven. Perhaps once I did that, the heat of the king’s eyes would fade for me, along with memory of the scent of sandalwood on his skin.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” I told her. “I am a princess of France.”

Tears came to her eyes, and I offered her the linen handkerchief I kept tucked in my sleeve, the cloth that bore Eleanor’s crest. As she wiped her eyes, I said, “All is in God’s hands.”

After breakfast, we found the puppies and their dam where I had left them the day before. No one else was with them when Marie Helene and I ventured into the stable.

One great gelding stood at his stall door, and blew at us when we stepped in from the sunlight of the stable yard.

I rubbed his nose, and he looked at me with his great brown eye, turning his head so that I might scratch his favorite spot.

“Come away from there, my lady. He might bite,” Marie Helene said.

“He never bites. Sampson is a good horse for ladies.”

Marie Helene knelt in the straw at the sound of the king’s voice, but I did not have the good sense even to curtsy.

“My lord, do you spend a great deal of time in your stables? I thought the business of the kingdom would keep you elsewhere.” I said this with a smile, as I felt Marie Helene tugging on the hem of my gown.

The king came down off his horse, clothed this day not in the rags he traveled in but in fine brown velvet. Two men-at-arms flanked him, but I barely noticed them. I had never seen the king so well dressed in the light of day. The sun from the stable yard caught the red of his hair, and dazzled me. I did not move, but blinked at him, all my fine court manners forgotten.

Marie Helene tugged on my gown again, and I finally had the sense to kneel in the straw with her.

But I had seen how broad Henry’s shoulders were, how his strength could shelter as well as intimidate. I drew my eyes from his narrow hips and the leather boots that encased his thighs. Confused, I chastised myself for my thoughts. I would need to see a priest before the evening meal. I would go to confession at once, as soon as the king gave me leave.

“Rise,” Henry said, his voice unreadable.

I stood, and Marie Helene helped me not to stumble. Henry stood before me in a short gown good for riding, his cloche hat set at a rakish angle over one eye. His hose and high boots covered hard muscled thighs that were well shaped in spite of his age.

Henry caught me staring and quirked an eyebrow at me.

The silence that had fallen between us whispered to me. His eyes seemed to speak to me of possibilities undreamt of, of things that could lie only between us, and no one else in the world. Though I could not take my eyes from his, I spoke to break the spell that had fallen over me.

“Good day, Your Grace. It is a fine day for riding,” I said.

Henry answered formally, acknowledging that Marie Helene and his own men-at-arms were there with us. His eyes seemed to tell me that he had more to say, but that it could wait, until we were alone.

“And a fine day for lolling in the straw in good silk dresses, I see. Silk does not grow on trees, Alais. You might have a little more care.”

Marie Helene tensed beside me, but I knew that the king was teasing me. He meant to make me laugh, not to chide me. I felt the new warmth rising within me, and my laughter with it.

“Then Your Grace will simply have to buy me a new gown.”

Henry did not join my laughter as I had thought he might, but stared at me, searching my face.

“Indeed, Alais. The kingdom is not made of silk dresses.”

“No, my lord. The kingdom is made of gold and warhorses and land.”

He laughed then, and I felt Marie Helene relax where she stood behind me. I found myself wishing that she were not there, that no one else were watching us.

But kings are never private. We stood before our audience, neither able to say what we wished to the other. I chastised myself once more. By now I was so steeped in sin the priest would no doubt give me many prayers for penance.

“I have brought you a present,” Henry said.

I felt Marie Helene’s warning hand on my arm, pressing hard. But what I said was, “Your gifts are always welcome, Your Majesty.”

His eyes lit up beneath his stylish hat, and Marie Helene’s hand became a claw on my arm, pinching me. I did not heed her, but kept my gaze on the king’s face.

“I am glad to hear it, Alais.”

Henry gestured, and I saw that one of his men-at-arms stood in the doorway. Now he stepped forward carrying a box. When he set it on the ground, I heard the box whimper.

I shrugged Marie Helene’s hand from my arm. I did not look at the king or at his men, but knelt by the box and opened it.

I found a little dog inside, with white fur and a soft, cold nose. The puppy yipped in joy to see me, and tried to scramble into my arms. I picked her up before she hurt herself.

Her white fur was soft and spongy, her eyes black and set wide apart. I had seen such dogs at my father’s court as a child, and had always longed for one. But only court ladies kept lapdogs. I was a princess bound for England and marriage to an enemy. There had been no time for dogs.

How had Henry known of my secret longing? I had never told another soul of my childhood desire for something to care for, something to love that would be mine alone.

She leaped in my arms, licking my face. I laughed and soothed her with my hands, telling her to settle down, that she would be sure to get good scraps for supper.

“She had better get the finest scraps my table can provide,” Henry said. “She cost a pretty penny.”

I stood beaming at him, my arms full of scrambling puppy “Thank you, Your Grace. She is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you are, Alais.”

It was as if no one else were there with us, just Henry, myself, and that little dog. But Marie Helene cleared her throat, and Henry’s men-at-arms turned away. I saw them do it, and tightened my hold on the puppy so that she whined. I kissed the top of her head, drawing my gaze away from the king. My puppy was quick to forgive, licking my nose when I got too near.

I laughed, and looked up to find the king watching me as a cat watches a mousehole. I froze at the sight of such naked longing. I felt the warmth in my belly again, heating with the strength of his gaze. In the next moment, the look on his face changed to one of such bland interest that I wondered if I had seen the other look at all.

“A Bijon for my bijou,” Henry said.

He turned from me, calling for the groom to give him a leg up onto his horse. As if he held us both under an enchantment, Marie Helene and I followed him out into the stable yard.

Henry mounted and stood over me, his horse making him tower high above my head. As I looked up at him, his puppy in my arms, I saw again that he was king. I wondered how the day before he could ever have seemed otherwise to me.

“Good day, Princess. I will see you tonight at supper.”

“You will, Your Grace.” I knew that he did not offer an invitation, but issued an order.

Henry rode away without another word, his men behind him. Marie Helene and I stood staring after him.

My little dog barked to get my attention. “Well, little one, what should we call you?”

“Bijou,” Marie Helene said. “It will please the king.”

I ordered myself to set aside my thoughts of him, the warmth he made me feel, and the way he made me laugh. I would go inside to the priest, who was always waiting in the chapel, sitting with the Presence between masses. I would make my confession. Marie Helene offered to take Bijou from me, but I held on to her. I did not yet want to part with Henry’s gift.

 

 

I caught Alais alone with her waiting woman on her way to the priest. I considered it my duty to do all I could to discourage her predilection for constant praying, and for confessing imagined sins. I called her into my solar as she passed by, and she could do naught but heed me.

From the guilty look on her face, I could see that she was glad to have some excuse to avoid the dark cavern of the chapel. She no doubt longed for the sunlit expanse of my solar, as I did whenever I was indoors. When she stepped inside, her waiting woman dismissed, I saw the little dog clutched under her cloak.

“What have we here, Alais? A puppy from the stable?”

“No, Your Majesty. She is my puppy. The king gave her to me.”

“Did he indeed?”

I took this in, thinking of Henry’s face the night before as he watched her leave the hall. He had joked with me about her while dancing last night. But he had seen her since, and had planned the meeting with no assistance from me.

“The king just happened to have an expensive lapdog about his person?”

I saw the guilt on her face for what it was: Alais knew as well as I did that such gifts were not common, nor warranted, to the betrothed of the king’s son.

“Well, let her down, Alais. There’s no need for you to clutch her close. There’s nothing here that will harm her.”

“No, Your Majesty, I fear she will harm something of yours.”

I laughed, and Alais smiled for the first time since I had called her to me, her look of guilt fading a little, but only a little. I pressed on, curious to see what else might lie behind her unease. It was not like her to hide things from me. Her priest was in my pay, and from what he told me, she confessed only the usual things a young girl might: speaking harshly to a servant, moments of imagined disobedience, or occasional impure thoughts. I wondered now if there was something else, something her priest had not told me. I would have to increase his fee.

“There is nothing here she can damage, I think. The tapestries are off the floor for the summer, so let her go.”

The little dog yipped in oy at her freedom. As all dogs and children did, she ran straight to me.

“There now, little one. What is your name?”

“Bijou,” Alais said.

“What a lovely name for a lovely creature.” I caressed the puppy’s ears. Satisfied with that tribute, she raced off to smell the myriad joys of my solar.

As I watched, the little dog started chewing on one of my women’s discarded embroidery frames. Alais at once set it out of her reach, and gave her something else to chew on. I saw that it was a bit of leather from one of Henry’s gloves. It must have been in the box with the dog when he gave it to her.

Alais sat beside me when I bade her, and poured us both a cup of watered wine. We drank in silence, watching Bijou worry the bit of leather as if it were a rabbit she had by the throat. This little dog shared more traits with Henry than just the remnants of his glove.

My daughter watched the dog, unbridled joy on her face. I rarely saw her face so open, even when we were alone. I was reminded of the fact that she was still almost a child.

So I reined my jealousy in, and kept my voice even. “Alais, you know, of course, that Bijou was meant to be the gift for another.”

She looked at me, a little of her joy dimmed, but I had to remind her of the realities at court. Henry was what he was. She could not give in to fantasy and foolishness where the king was concerned.

“Even kings do not keep expensive lapdogs in their saddlebags,” I said. “Your Bijou was intended for his newest mistress, a girl just come to court from the country, some chit he picked up in Anjou.”

I wondered what the illustrious Rosamund thought of Henry’s newest doxy. I suppressed a smile. I might even ask my spies to look into it, simply to amuse me.

Alais turned pale as she took in this unwelcome news. She looked at her little dog, and I wondered for a moment if she might march out then and there, and cast Henry’s gift back in his face.

But Bijou noticed her mistress looking at her, and bounded over, scrambling against Alais’ legs, threatening to snag the good silk of Alais’ silver gown. Alais raised the puppy into her lap, and kissed her, and caressed her head. If tears came to her eyes, she did not shed them. After a moment, Alais turned to me.

“I did not know that.”

“I thought you did not.”

I reached out and took Alais’ hand. It lay still and cold in mine, distant, as if she were far from me. I squeezed it, and she grasped my hand in return, her palm warming at once over mine.

“You must not trouble yourself,” I said. “Henry is given to extravagant gestures. I simply did not want you to read more into it than there was.”

Alais met my eyes. I saw at once that she fancied Henry, perhaps because he was king, perhaps because she missed her own father and longed for the attentions of a man, though Richard had given her plenty of that when he was at court.

Or perhaps it was a girlish crush, as I once had on a traveling minstrel when I was twelve. Alais had never had the time or opportunity for such a thing, locked away in her nunnery