In any event, kings had little practice in offering apologies, and so he chose instead to rely upon their good manners, for surely they’d be too well bred to rebuke the man who was acting as their host. He also took the precaution of having his queen, Sancha, present. She’d not been happy at being summoned from Aragon, for the birth of their eighth child had not been an easy one. But he’d insisted, for she was the sister of the King of Castile, who happened to be wed to Joanna’s sister Leonora. And he’d heard Richard’s queen was quite devout, so he thought she’d find common ground with Sancha, who’d founded a nunnery five years ago.
As it turned out, it was not as awkward as he’d feared. Just as he’d hoped, the women were coolly civil, politely thanking him for his hospitality and keeping their real feelings to themselves. And, as he’d expected, they both thawed with Sancha. The presence of the famed troubadour Peire Vidal helped to ease the tension, too. Cardinal Melior also proved to be an asset, being one of those worldly prelates as much at home in society as he was in the cloister. Alfonso saw to it that his guests had every amenity, and they did not protest when he insisted that they take time to recover from the rigors of their journey from Rome. Things were going so well that he even dared to hope Richard would be mollified when he heard how warmly his wife and sister had been welcomed at Alfonso’s court.
ALFONSO CELEBRATED THE END of his guests’ first week in Marseille with a lavish feast in their honor. After a five-course meal of southern delicacies, Peire Vidal performed a song he’d written about Richard’s captivity, and Joanna and Berengaria applauded enthusiastically when he disdained the French king as “neither true nor faithful,” scornfully claiming Philippe “buys and sells like a serf or a burgher,” and accusing Heinrich of breaking God’s Law in holding Richard prisoner. As he joined in the applause, it occurred to Alfonso that he ought to write a song himself about the English king’s plight; that would be a way of expressing his regret to Richard’s women without having to offer an actual apology. He was a talented poet, had even learned the lenga romana of Aquitaine so he could write in the language of the troubadours, and he was mentally composing verses in his head as the evening’s festivities drew to an end.
He was not paying attention, therefore, when Berengaria expressed her gratitude to Sancha for their hospitality, saying it was very kind of Alfonso to accompany them all the way to Poitiers. Sancha frowned, turning to look at her husband in surprise. “You have not told them?” She’d spoken in Catalan, the preferred language of the Aragonese kings, but her tone of voice and her expression alerted both Joanna and Berengaria that something was amiss, and Alfonso suddenly found himself the focal point of all eyes.
Alfonso had deliberately kept his plan secret, knowing it would not be well received. He’d been waiting for Raimond to arrive, hoping he’d be able to dispel their misgivings once they met him. Too late now. “Did I not mention it?” he asked blandly. “Regretfully, I will be unable to accompany you all the way to Poitiers, my ladies. This presented me with a dilemma, since I wanted to make sure you’d be able to continue your journey in safety. Fortunately, a good friend of mine offered to do what I could not. I will escort you through Provence and he will then take over. In fact, he will be meeting us here in Marseille, as he wanted you to get a chance to know him—”
Kings were not interrupted, but Joanna did so now, for an awful suspicion was taking root in the back of her brain; the lands beyond Provence were held by the Toulouse viper. “And the name of this friend you would entrust our safety to, my lord?”
Alfonso resisted the instinct to duck for cover. “Raimond de St Gilles, the Count—”
As he’d feared, he’d just tossed a torch into a hayrick. Both women were staring at him in horror. “You cannot be serious!” Joanna cried, once again cutting him off in midsentence. “The Count of Toulouse is an avowed enemy of our House!”
For once, Berengaria showed herself quite willing to join her sister-in-law in making an unseemly public scene. “He hates and fears my husband,” she said tautly. “We know he connived with the French king against Richard. I think he is quite capable of making us his hostages and turning us over to Philippe.”
Joanna was even more outspoken. “The man is a monster. He is believed to be responsible for the murder of the Viscount of Béziers some years ago, and many think he was behind the killing of your own brother, my lord king. He has terrorized his neighbors for years, none of whom would trust him with a dog, much less a queen!”