Joanna was truly shocked. “Have you lost your mind, Mariam? How could you think I’d commit so grave a sin?”
“Do you see Morgan and me as doomed sinners? Granted, you’re a queen, but I do not think God will judge you too harshly for seeking a little happiness for yourself. You are free, after all, a widow, a woman grown, and as long as you take care—”
“No queen is ever free, Mariam, and Raimond most certainly is not! I think God would judge me very harshly indeed if I were to take a married man as my lover.”
“He is married? He has never said a word to me about a wife!”
“Trust me, he has one.”
Mariam looked stricken. “Oh, Joanna, I am so sorry!”
Joanna was no longer angry, remembering that Mariam had not been present when Sancha had related Raimond’s marital history. Smiling, she said, “Are you sorry that he is married? Or sorry that you tried to tempt me into a mortal sin?”
“Both!” Touched to see tears in Mariam’s eyes, Joanna embraced her, and if she had tears in her eyes, too, Mariam tactfully pretended not to notice.
AFTER A HASTY DEPARTURE from Toulouse, they pushed on to Montauban, where they were the guests at the local Benedictine abbey. From Montauban, they rode to Agen, where they were welcomed by its bishop, Bertrande de Beceyrus, who’d been at the deathbed of Joanna’s brother Hal in Martel ten years earlier. After listening to his detailed account of Hal’s last hours, Joanna had wept, tears of relief. Her father had written to assure her that Hal had made his peace with God, but it meant more to hear it from one who’d been an eyewitness. From Agen, they made a shorter journey to Marmande la Royale, and both Joanna and Berengaria were delighted to discover that this small town owed its existence to Richard, who’d granted a charter while Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou. Their next stop was the Benedictine priory at La Reole, where they were pleased to find another connection to Richard, who was responsible for its stone walls. La Reole had also been the site of a private meeting between Richard and agents of the Navarrese king to discuss marriage with Sancho’s daughter. Berengaria found it comforting to be in the same place where he’d bargained for her hand, and confided that he did not seem so far away whilst they were at La Reole. Raimond indulged her by prolonging their stay for a few days before they continued on toward the crown jewel of Aquitaine, the splendid port city of Bordeaux.
THEY WERE GIVEN an enthusiastic welcome into Bordeaux, the citizens turning out in large numbers to cheer their duke’s wife and sister. The Archbishop Hélie de Malemort, a member of a prominent Limousin family, personally escorted them to the Ombrière, the riverside palace of the Duke of Aquitaine since the eleventh century. And although they were still a hundred and fifty miles from Poitiers, as she rode through the streets of Bordeaux toward the castle where her mother had been born, Joanna felt as if she’d finally come home.
IT HAD BEEN a whirlwind week of festivities and sightseeing for the two queens and their entourage. The local nobility and clerics arrived to pay their respects, there had been bountiful feasts in their honor, and Joanna had been able to hear Mass in St André, the great cathedral where her mother had wed the French king more than fifty years ago. On this Saturday eve, most of the palace guests had retired to their own chambers, but Joanna felt restless and she and Mariam had gone out into the gardens. They were far more elaborate than Adelais’s small garden at Carcassonne, putting the women in mind of the magnificent gardens of Palermo, with raised flower beds, fruit trees, pebble-strewn paths, trellised arbors, and elegant fountains that cascaded water into deep marble basins. It was so peaceful that they lingered even as twilight’s lavender haze darkened and stars began to glimmer in the heavens high above their heads. But that peace was not to last, for they soon heard footsteps on the path, and as her dogs ran to investigate, Joanna knew the identity of the intruder even before Raimond de St Gilles came into view.
In the three weeks since they’d left Carcassonne, Joanna had allowed herself to enjoy the count’s company, but she had taken great care to make sure they were never alone, and she sensed his growing frustration. That was why she’d asked Mariam to accompany her tonight, for a garden conversation in full sunlight did not offend propriety, whereas one lit by starlight and camouflaged by swirling shadows could compromise her honor and break her heart.