Elizabeth Chadwick - The Summer Queen

Alienor gave the servants orders concerning Henry’s men and had a bathtub prepared for her young husband in the private chamber at the top of the Maubergeonne Tower. An attendant placed fresh bread and chicken on a board set across the bathtub so that Henry could eat and soak at the same time.

‘What of your brother?’

‘Geoffrey?’ Henry made a face. ‘He’s always wanted what is mine and will do anything to get it, even conniving with the French. Much good it has done him, the fool. He shut his castles against me so I took them from him. He has no idea how to keep men loyal and has neither the wit nor the talent for warfare. I besieged him at Montsorreau – if you can call it a siege; he didn’t stand. He does not have a backbone either.’

‘What have you done with him?’

‘Accepted his submission for now and put my men in charge of his castles. I have sent him to my mother in Rouen. I would have kept him with me but I do not want to spoil my time here with the sight of his sulky face.’ He paused to drink some wine and bite into the bread and chicken.

‘Your aunt Mathilde said there was no love lost between you.’

‘Hah, she’s right. Geoffrey’s always been a brat and resented me.’

‘And your other brother?’

‘Will?’ Henry swallowed. ‘He’s a brat too. He was always whining and telling tales when he was a child – still has that inclination now, but he’s no threat. He will be happy to take whatever Geoffrey drops through stupidity. Like Hamelin he has his uses.’

Chewing another mouthful he began to wash. The bathwater had changed colour from clear to milky grey. The sight of his wet, dark copper hair curling on his nape against his pale skin filled her with tenderness and a spark of lust. ‘And what do your brothers think of you?’

He gave a snort of amusement. ‘Hamelin would like to see me fall from a personal point of view, but he also considers I have the most to offer him and that it’s better to be faithful and not bite the hand that feeds. He likes Geoffrey and William even less, and they have only scraps to offer. Geoffrey wants me dead and that’s the end of the matter. If I had not promised my father on my soul I would not harm him, the feeling would be mutual. William is still becoming his own man. He won’t run with Geoffrey for the same reasons as Hamelin – it’s not a safe bet, so he regards me as the devil he knows.’

She pursed her lips. ‘So brotherly love is no part of the mix?’

‘God no!’

Alienor took the dining board away and Henry stood up. Attendants sluiced him down with jugs of warm water and he stepped from the bath on to a fleece rug where attendants towelled him dry and dressed him in clean, soft garments.

‘I learned long ago’, he said, ‘that to get the best from anything you have to be entirely familiar with its workings, be it a water mill, a ship, a horse or a man.’

Alienor gave him a teasing look. ‘And what about me?’

Henry lifted one eyebrow. ‘I am going to enjoy finding out.’

Alienor dismissed the servants with a peremptory gesture and sat on the bed. ‘That will take you a lifetime. Water mills, ships, horses and men – they are simple to understand and deal with, but you will find me more of a challenge.’

‘Ah, so you think men simple to deal with?’

The atmosphere was charged with erotic tension. Alienor stroked her throat, drew her hand down over her braids, and halted at her waist, with her fingers pointing downwards. ‘Men are governed by their appetites,’ she said.

‘As are women,’ he retorted. ‘Indeed the Church teaches us that women are insatiable.’

‘The Church is governed by men, who have their own appetite for control, do you believe everything the Church tells you?’

Laughing, he joined her. ‘I am not gullible.’ He unpinned her veil and unwound her hair, running his fingers through the strands and breathing in their scent. ‘So, if I am governed by my appetites, and you are insatiable, perhaps we shall never leave this chamber.’

She laughed in return. ‘My grandfather wrote a poem about that very thing.’

‘About two women, their ginger tom cat and a travelling knight?’

‘You know it?’

‘Hah, I have heard it recited round more campfires than I can remember. One hundred and ninety-nine times over the course of eight days, was it not?’ He unfastened the brooch pinning the neck of her dress. ‘Your grandfather was prey to poetic exaggeration, I suspect. I am not about to die trying to emulate his imagination. I always say that quality is better than quantity!’

Alienor leaned over Henry. His chest was still heaving from their most recent bout of lovemaking and there was a beatific smile on his face. ‘Well, sire,’ she said, ‘it seems to me you are indeed trying to match the record in my grandfather’s poem.’

Henry chuckled. ‘No one could blame me if I did. Is there any wine? I’m parched.’

Alienor left the bed and went to see to his request. Henry sat up, dried himself with his shirt and took the cup she gave him.

‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked after he had drunk.

‘I was thinking that last time we shared a bed, you could not wait to be out of it and away.’

Henry grinned. ‘That was because it was morning and I had things to do. I did not need the sleep, and both duty and pleasure had been successfully accomplished.’ He sobered. ‘Do not expect me to keep regular hours.’

‘I don’t, but I should know how long you are staying for this time. Do not tell me you have to rush off to Barfleur again?’

Henry shook his head. ‘I have decided to wait until after Christmas. I have plenty to occupy me here.’ He gave her a playful look. ‘I know little of Aquitaine and Poitou save that they are lands of vast resources and changing landscapes. I want to see them; I want to know about them – and about you and your vassals. And you have never been to Normandy. In turn you must familiarise yourself … and meet my mother.’

Alienor’s heart sank at the notion of meeting the formidable Empress Matilda. She intended to find out everything she could about her in order to be prepared. She had learned how to deal with Henry’s father, but a woman of the experience and temperament of the Empress Matilda was another matter entirely. She still bore the scars of her clashes with Louis’s mother, who had made her position as a new wife very difficult. How much of a mother’s son was Henry? ‘Indeed,’ she said guardedly.

‘And to beget heirs, we must be together. I desire sons and daughters of you, as you must desire them of me.’

‘We are certainly doing our best to succeed,’ she said with a smile, but she was thoughtful. She would have to guard against him becoming too familiar with her people even while he would be her sword should she need to curb them.

Henry drank his wine, kissed her once again, and left the bed to dress.

‘Your sister is proving a great help among my women,’ she remarked. ‘She is skilled with a needle as you said she would be, and I enjoy her company.’

‘Good.’ Henry nodded. ‘My father wanted me to do well by her, and she can be put to better use than sewing altar cloths in Fontevraud.’

Alienor eyed him. ‘I would have thought you might have more tender sentiments for an only sister,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘We sometimes played together as children and she was always at my father’s court for the great feasts of the year, but mostly we lived different lives. She is kin and I acknowledge my duty to her. Doubtless we shall become better acquainted now she is attending on you.’ He raised his glance to her. ‘What of your own sister? She is young enough to leave the cloister and remarry. Do you not wish to accommodate her among your women?’