He and Raimond exchanged cool greetings and the latter soon excused himself. “I hope he gave you no cause for complaint on this journey,” André said, watching Raimond depart with obvious suspicion. “I confess that I was not pleased when I heard that he’d be your escort. I considered riding south to meet you, but you know what they say—mice start raiding the pantry as soon as the cat is away—and that rat in Limoges is just biding his time ere he stirs up strife again.”
Joanna smiled, knowing he was referring to the Viscount of Limoges, one of Richard’s more untrustworthy vassals, and assured him that Raimond de St Gilles had been both courtly and kind. André looked skeptical, but he had more important matters on his mind than the Count of Toulouse’s spawn. “Cousin Joanna, your courier brought me a letter from Richard, too. He wrote that he was being well treated now and expected he’d soon be free. But after I reread it, I realized he’d actually said very little. I’d almost think he’d been writing under duress, but your man insisted that this was not so. I was wondering if he was any more forthcoming in your letter?”
Joanna shook her head slowly, and they regarded each other in a troubled silence. It never occurred to either of them to question Berengaria about her letter, for they both knew that if Richard was so guarded with his sister and closest friend, he’d have been even more reticent with the young woman who was his wife but never his confidante.
ANDRé RATHER POINTEDLY SUGGESTED that Count Raimond might want to return to Toulouse now that he was there to escort the women on to Poitiers, a suggestion quickly supported by Cardinal Melior. Raimond smiled blandly, saying that he was sure the ladies would be safe with Lord André, but he felt honor-bound to stay with them until the end of their journey. They all departed Niort the next morning, spending the night at the castle of the de Lusignans, who’d long been a burr under the Angevin saddle. Hugh de Lusignan had fought with Richard in the Holy Land, though, and so he was willing to play a role unfamiliar to the de Lusignans, that of a dutiful vassal. The following afternoon, the feast day of St Luke the Evangelist, they crossed the St Cyprien Bridge and rode into a wild welcome in Eleanor’s capital, the city she so loved.
JOANNA WAS ACCUSTOMED to taking command, but she was careful to defer to Berengaria now that they were in Richard’s realm, and so it was Berengaria who planned an elaborate dinner to thank Cardinal Melior and Count Raimond. She’d have made it a belated birthday celebration for Joanna, too, who’d turned twenty-eight in Blaye, had Joanna not convinced her to keep that a secret for a while longer. The next day, the cardinal departed for the French court; he’d been entrusted with a diplomatic warning for Philippe, although neither the papal legate nor the Pope expected the French king to heed it. Joanna was very grateful to the cardinal for providing them with the Church’s protection; she was still glad to see him go.
Later that afternoon, André asked Joanna to accompany him out into the gardens, acting mysterious enough to awaken her curiosity. A boy was pacing nervously around a towering yew tree and as soon as she saw him, Joanna understood. He was a sturdy youngster, tall for his age—which she knew to be twelve—with curly, red-gold hair and blue-grey eyes. Joanna’s throat tightened, for this handsome lad was the veritable image of his father. He watched uncertainly as she approached, and then made a credible attempt at a bow, saying “My lady” in a gruff, youthful voice that was just starting to change.
“I prefer ‘Aunt Joanna,’” she said and drew Richard’s son into a warm embrace that seemed to fluster and please him in equal measure. Leading him toward a bench, she gestured for him to sit beside her. “I am delighted to meet you at last, Philip. Your father has often spoken of you.”
“He has?” Philip flashed a surprised smile and she nodded emphatically, even though that was not so; Richard was notoriously closemouthed about his private life. But she knew that was what this bewildered boy needed to hear. She was sure he adored his famous father, even if he did not know Richard very well, and these past months must have been very difficult for him. She gave André a fond smile, thankful that he’d thought to take the youngster into his household, and then set about winning her nephew’s confidence, which did not prove challenging, so hungry was he for a family connection; André was the only one of his kin whom he’d met until now.
André joined them and they enjoyed a much-needed respite from their current worries, taking turns telling Philip amusing stories about Richard’s own boyhood and his time in the Holy Land. When Philip jumped abruptly to his feet in obvious alarm, they were taken aback, until they followed his gaze and saw Berengaria and her ladies just entering the gardens.