After a poignant night at Royan, sadly passed because of her imminent parting from Henry, Ailenor’s travelling chests were carefully loaded onto sumpter wagons. With her clerk, John Mansel, leading her household, she prepared to travel on to Bordeaux and her haunted castle. Henry and his knights would ride north to Saintes on the border with Poitou. She eased herself into soft velvet cushions within a carriage led by two strong black horses, protected by a strong escort as Henry pushed his head through the gap in the carriage curtains and kissed her. ‘Send for me when our child arrives. If I can come to you, my love, I shall.’ He gave her his blessing and a gold ring set with a huge ruby he slipped from his finger. ‘God be with you and keep you safe. I shall write often.’
‘I’ll miss you.’
‘Godspeed, Ailenor.’
She dropped the curtain on Henry and his glittering column of knights, mercenaries and the loyal earls who were ready to march where he led. He planned to establish his camp at Saintes, from where scouts were instructed to ride out and find the French.
Ailenor gave Henry’s ring to Willelma for safekeeping. She would add it to her cross and beads, and the precious belt belonging to the Virgin, which they carried in her birthing coffer. She would wear both as she gave birth. Touching the crucifix that hung about her neck she murmured, ‘God bless you, my Henry, and bring you home safe and victorious.’
Two weeks passed as Ailenor and her household settled into the castle. As May gave way to June’s colourful profusion of early summer flowers, a messenger riding a grey jennet clattered into the courtyard of the Palais des Ombres. He carried two letters in his satchel. One was for the seneschal of Gascony who dwelled in the castle. The other, a letter with Henry’s lion seal attached to dangling silk ribbons, was for Ailenor. Since neither messenger nor seneschal had permission to enter the Queen’s darkened apartments, and since she could not leave her birthing chamber, the seneschal slid Ailenor’s letter through a screen slat to Domina Willelma.
Ailenor sat in the window seat with her feet raised on a faded, tasselled velvet stool, watching beech trees waving branches over the placid curving river. No gracious steps led down from this apartment to a secluded garden as in Windsor. ‘It’s airless,’ she complained, wiping glittering beads of sweat from her brow. ‘No, don’t hang dark curtains about my chamber. I won’t have it.’
Protesting, her ladies obeyed because Ailenor insisted on sunlight and shade whenever she desired either. The Palais des Ombres was, she considered, a disappointment, not as she had recollected it - decorated with tapestries and with comforting fires blazing in huge fireplaces. The large castle within Bordeaux’s ancient town walls had been sadly neglected, lacking the luxury to which she had become accustomed.
It was fortunate she had brought her own bed linen and cushions with her as well as the precious embroidery depicting St Anne’s Travail. She stared at the hanging, imagining she saw messages of perseverance and hope concealed within its golden stitches. If she turned to the right, she could enjoy its profusion of glittering stars, roses, and bulging-eyed figures. Remembering the saint’s labour, she would gather strength for her own. She glanced down at her belly which spilled over the cushions. It could not be long until she was released and feel sunshine on her face.
She broke the seal on Henry’s letter. Lady Mary came over, knelt, dipped her fingers into a bowl containing a soothing balm and massaged her swollen legs with oil of roses, pressing gently on her puffed up ankles. She softly read Henry’s letter aloud.
‘. . .We have marched to Pons, where our Gascon barons have convened with mercenaries and arms. Earl Simon has joined our venture. Nell is with child again. The child will not be birthed this side of Christmastide but my sister is exhausted. Her two boys are with her as well as their nurses and a small household. Our mother joined us in Saintes. She is as beautiful as I remembered her. We have captured castles on the approach to Pons. Louis sent a request for peace demanding those castles returned him - L’Aurus, Le Poitou, part of L’Auvergne, and, in addition, suzerainety of La Marche with Alphonse governing all this territory instead of Hugh de Lusignan. No, no, no. The title Comte de Poitou belongs to my mother’s eldest son by Count Hugh, not to the Capets. My mother rages against France daily. Count Hugh is now sending her from Saintes into Angouleme for her own safety. We advance to Tonnay-Charente from Pons without further delay. May God protect you and the child in your womb.’
Henry was not returning to Bordeaux yet. She stiffened her resolve to be patient and wiped away a tear with the edge of her veil. It was good news that Earl Simon had returned and was forgiven. She would see Nell.
Ailenor gave birth to another girl, whom she called Beatrice for her mother, but this joy was marred when she heard how Nell was trapped in Saintes. A messenger arrived at the Palais des Ombres with reports of fighting near a place called Taillebourg, not far from Saintes.
Ailenor greeted him in an antechamber. ‘There was a battle at Taillebourg in July. The King himself directed the use of pontoon bridges. The bridge at Taillebourg is narrow.’ He expressed the confined width with his hands. ‘It restricted the passage of our forces. After losses of life from fire and drowning, Earl Richard crossed the bridge carrying a pilgrim staff. He entered Louis’s camp and announced that if they could have a truce, the King’s army would withdraw.’
‘That was courageous of Earl Richard,’ she remarked, fear creeping into her voice. She sank onto a stool. ‘My husband, the King, where is he?’
‘The King is safe. Earl Richard saved lives and prevented hostage-taking. Earl Richard persuaded the King to pull back into the Saintonge, but we were too near Saintes should Louis give pursuit. Earl Simon rode to rescue his wife and children.’ He paused and drew breath. Ailenor’s hand flew to her heart.
‘Nell,’ she whispered. ‘Nell is in danger for her life.’
The messenger continued, ‘I can report Earl Simon rescued his family just in time. A large French army was riding towards Saintes, King Louis at its head. And siege weapons and fire. We moved south. The French took the castle of Frontignac. We moved forward into Gascony.’ He shook his head and fell onto his knees. ‘I fear the French are determined to lay siege to Saintes, Your Grace.’ The lad added, ‘But the King is resting at Blaye. He has a bout of dysentery, nothing to worry about, your Grace. He has sent me to you with this news.’ He leaned forward and she discerned fear in his eyes. ‘The King says he will come to you very soon. It is not over yet. “Tell the Queen she is safe in Bordeaux,” the King said.’ The lad looked up with tears in his eyes. ‘But, your Grace, I fear we have lost Poitou.’
‘Is Earl Simon riding to Blaye or Bordeaux?’
‘Bordeaux. His squire fought bravely at Saintes. He is injured. He’ll be cared for in a monastery where they have stopped to rest.’
‘What is the squire’s name?’ she asked.
‘Thomas. His injuries are grave but it is hopeful he will recover. He is brave. Earl Simon loves him as a son and will not leave his squire until he is assured he will live.’
‘I shall pray for Thomas and for the people of Saintes, for them all.’ She felt tears slide down her cheeks. When would she see Henry again? How long before Henry could see his daughter? It had not been an easy time for her either. She had endured a long difficult birth and she had been churched without him present.
She sent the lad to the kitchens and called for Willelma and Mary. ‘We must prepare for Earl Simon and Lady Nell’s arrival. They will be here within a week.’
When she was alone, she wept for Henry, for Thomas whom her embroideress loved; she wept for Earl Simon and Nell and, finally, for the disastrous campaign that had not brought them glory but, rather, loss.
Ailenor had advance warning of Simon’s crossing the two rivers that flowed close to the city from a scout who rode ahead. She ordered an apartment readied for her guests, chambers for their maids and the children with their nurses. In the event, no servants rode with Simon and Nell, none at all
. Simon had sent them back to France. Nell was accompanied by one lady and two nurses. Ailenor made the travellers welcome and ordered her household steward to oversee accommodation for their small company of knights.
She requested supper to be set out in her antechamber for Nell and Simon and his squires.
‘Where’s the King?’ Simon asked as he slid into his chair between Ailenor and Nell.
‘Henry, Richard, and their troops are at Blaye. He has not yet entered Bordeaux.’ She bit her lip as she said, ‘Henry apparently is ill.’
‘Wounded?’
‘No, Earl Simon, he was not. Henry suffers dysentery.’
‘What, our King too.’ Simon guffawed and lifted a chicken leg to his mouth. Dropping it on his plate, he pulled the napkin from his shoulder and waving it like a flag said, ‘He’s not alone in that. Louis and half his camp have dysentery.’ He dropped the chicken leg. ‘Two kings with dysentery. Well, well, Saintes has escaped siege because of it. The villages between Taillebourg and Saintes knew the French were on the way and poisoned many of their wells.’ Ailenor could not help smiling. ‘I hope Henry did not drink foul water.’ Simon’s gleaming dark eyes turned serious.
‘Perhaps, but Henry is, I hear,’ she said, ‘recovering.’
Nell, beautiful gracious Nell, with vivid eyes, even features, and luxurious plaits which fell onto the crimson gown Ailenor had given her to wear, turned to Ailenor and said, ‘We must make peace with the French. This is a hopeless war. It gets worse every day it continues. Hugh de Lusignan, the lords who were aligned with him, and even my mother herself, whose cause we were supporting, have deserted the cause, their cause.’
Ailenor gasped, shocked by this news. ‘What? You are saying your mother’s husband has played us false?’ she said. ‘But he asked us to come. I don’t understand!’
‘Traitors, the lot of them. Nell is right.’ Simon said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘I shall ride out to Henry in Blaye tomorrow and find out if we are seeking peace.’ He drained his cup and signalled to a page to refill it. ‘It’s the only way forward, the only way to protect Gascony too.’
Ailenor heard disappointment in her voice as she slowly said, ‘Yes, without peace, Gascony will be threatened. But we can’t leave now, even if we want to.’
‘That, Ailenor, is asking much of those knights who would like to see their families by Christmastide,’ Simon remarked.
‘I suppose their families can come to us here.’
‘At whose expense?’ Simon was curt.
Ailenor said she had no idea. Leaning over Simon she said to Nell, trying desperately to create a lull in this terrible conversation, ‘Would you like to see Beatrice? She sleeps nearly all the time; she’s a peaceful baby.’
‘Go and visit our new niece,’ Simon said to his wife. ‘I need to see to my men.’
Ailenor, feeling on safer ground talking about children than discussing knights who hungered for home and families, led Nell from the chamber up a wide staircase to the floor above.
Simon, Richard and Henry rode back from Blaye. Henry, fully recovered, was in good spirits. He embraced Ailenor. On seeing baby Beatrice, he wept. He greeted Nell warmly, making much of her small sons. He remarked that she looked well despite her ordeal in Saintes. Ailenor, glad to have her family around her again, declared they must have a feast to celebrate their reunion.
‘Celebrate what?’ Henry said when he was alone with Ailenor and his new baby daughter, now almost two months old. ‘Simon will only stay if I excuse his debts and return Kenilworth to him. That is not worth celebrating. As for Richard, he has demanded Gascony for himself. I have agreed he can govern the province. It has brought naught but trouble -’
‘What?’ Ailenor broke in. ‘No, Henry, Richard cannot have Gascony. It belongs to Edward, along with the castles in England you gave me before we sailed in May. Remember those too. You gave those lands to me in case something happens to you.’
Henry bowed his head. ‘I promised Richard Gascony in return for his courage at Taillebourg. He walked over the bridge carrying a pilgrim staff with crossbows pointing at him. Had it not been for him, I might not be here now.’ He shuddered.
‘Simon’s debts, Henry. You say you are paying those off. This war has cost you a fortune. You must un-promise Gascony to Richard. Think of the wine trade profits, the taxes you’ll relinquish.’ Ailenor thought for a moment whilst Henry stared down at his baby daughter. ‘Stop concentrating on Beatrice for a moment,’ she snapped. ‘Here is what you can do. Provide Sancha with a dowry and pay Richard off, but whatever you do, he cannot have Gascony.’
Henry glanced up from his daughter’s cradle. His eyes were determined. ‘We shall see. Let us first have peace.’ He called for a rocker for Beatrice’s cradle. Drawing Ailenor to the window and sitting her in the window seat, he said, ‘How would you like to spend the winter here in Gascony, maybe at Blaye? It’s a pleasant castle. You have not seen Gascony yet. Not properly as Queen.’
‘I miss Edward and Margaret. I expected to see them at Christmas. They’ve not met their new sister yet.’
‘We’ll send for them.’
It was no use quarrelling when Henry was determined to get his way. ‘Is that wise?’ she asked, attempting an appeal to his common sense. ‘It’ll be winter soon. Edward is your heir. He mustn’t take a chill.’
‘If you want Gascony for Edward, the sooner he comes the better. It will please Gascony’s nobles. All the children should be here with us. If Simon and Nell stay too, their children will have their cousins for company. Gascony would see us as a united family.’ He lifted her hand. ‘We shouldn’t worry about Raymond of Toulouse either. When Count Hugh betrayed us and joined with Louis, the Southern League against France fell apart. Count Raymond will now have to accept Louis as his King, and with him Louis’s Dominican inquisitors. It’ll be uncomfortable for him because Louis won’t suffer heretics in Toulouse.’
The reference to heretics reminded her of Rosalind. Whilst Ailenor did not really care about heretics, she did care about the embroideress who had been in her service. A full year had passed since the accusation against her was made in Marlborough. If Ailenor was to spend a winter in Gascony, she must have winter gowns. If the children came to Bordeaux, Rosalind could accompany the party. Besides the sombre castle needed tapestries and embroideries, new bed curtains and cushions.
She affectionately placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders. ‘Uncle Peter has written from Provence. He will bring Sancha to us as soon as her betrothal to Raymond is annulled and she has permission to marry Richard.’
Henry embraced her. ‘Good news, indeed.’ He turned away and scratched his head. ‘The Pope will seek favours from us in return for support over Richard’s marriage. He’ll want the best positions in the Church for his people. He’ll try and take Canterbury from us for one of his own relatives.’
‘Not if Uncle Boniface comes to England and takes up the position you offered him,’ she said to his back. It was the first time in months she had mentioned Uncle Boniface.
‘I’ll lose the income from Canterbury. It has suited me that Boniface is taking his time to come to us.’ He reminded her that a see without an archbishop or bishop meant its revenue fell to the royal purse.
She shook her head. ‘But you need loyal men in high positions to counteract the stubbornness of your Council.’
He spun around. She noticed how thin and light-footed he had become. ‘There can never be another Barons’ War as happened during my father’s time. Bishops must remain true to us. You are right. A loyal archbishop. Boniface must be placed in Canterbury without delay.’
‘And we shall send for Edward and Margaret.’ Ailenor smiled as she said this.
She excused herself, leaving Henry with his baby daughter and her nurses. As she hurried down the stairway intending to summon the master cook to her chamber to discuss menus for a feast to honour Nell and Simon, she determined to bring Rosalind to court. She would command the best tail
ors in Bordeaux to the palace. Perhaps it would be pleasanter in Gascony after all than returning to England. They’d avoid listening to complaints concerning her uncles from bitter barons and clergy and criticism over the disastrous Gascon campaign. Her father would never have permitted his authority to be questioned but, as she reminded herself, Henry was not her father. England was not Provence.
Ailenor and Nell purchased fabrics from the City’s drapers and planned new gowns. Henry, Simon, and Richard opened peace negotiations with Louis. Riders rode north and returned with news that an army with siege weapons was indeed moving towards Saintes. Louis’s army was recovering from the illness caused by poisoned wells and he had increased its size with mercenaries and troops commanded by the traitor Hugh de Lusignan. How could Count Hugh betray them? Not a word arrived from Isabella, who had returned to Angouleme. Ailenor pondered this. Where did Isabella’s loyalty lie? Ailenor considered it wise to remain silent on the subject of Henry’s mother and half-siblings. It was an uncomfortable subject with him.
‘I’ll ride to Poitiers with Simon,’ Richard announced firmly some days later at supper which they held privately each evening in her panelled antechamber, so they could discuss strategy without the danger of spies lurking behind every arras. ‘I’ll return with a promise of peace. We’ll insist that as part of it, the French do not attack Saintes.’ He frowned. ‘But you must accept reasonable terms, Henry.’
Henry grunted his response. ‘I have no choice. Louis will be after Gascony and Gascony is my son’s territory.’
‘What?’ Richard said. ‘Gascony is mine. You promised.’
Henry studied Richard through his drooping eyelid. ‘How about you have a dowry for Sancha from me, and your territory in Cornwall increased in size.’
Richard raised an eyebrow, and clearly recognising defeat, said, ‘You had best make this marriage worth it, Henry.’
The Silken Rose Page 22
