“Joanna, what have I done to displease him?”
“Nothing! Why would you ask that, Berengaria? Remember what he said when we parted from him in Acre, that if Philippe took four months to get home from the Holy Land, he could damned well do it in three, promising that he’d return in time to celebrate Christmas with you. Does that sound like a man who was displeased with you?”
“No . . . but the man I left at Acre does not seem like the man who writes these letters. In the Holy Land, he went to great pains to have me with him whenever he could, bringing us from the palace at Acre to his army camp at Jaffa, having us join him at Latrun. Now . . . now he does not seem to care if we are ever reunited.”
“Berengaria, that is surely not so!”
Berengaria did not seem to hear Joanna’s protest. “I listened to Guilhem tell us about the crown-wearing at Winchester and all I could think was that I should have been there to witness it. I ought to have been seated in the north transept with his mother, not hundreds of miles away, having to hear about it secondhand.”
“There was not time to send for you, dearest. It seems to have happened very quickly, barely a fortnight after he took Nottingham Castle.”
“There would have been time had I been awaiting him in London, Joanna. Or if I’d accompanied him to Nottingham as his mother did.” She saw Joanna’s dismay and smiled sadly, realizing her sister-in-law had been trying to protect her again. “Bishop Guillaume was telling me about a letter he’d gotten from the Bishop of London, and he assumed I knew Queen Eleanor had witnessed the siege.”
Joanna did not know what to say. She did not understand her brother’s behavior any more than his wife did, but she was sure that the sooner they were reunited, the better. She smiled then, for an idea had just come to her. “My mother said that they planned to sail from Portsmouth, so that means they’ll be landing at Barfleur. We can be there to meet them, Berengaria!”
“No.”
Joanna blinked. “Why not?”
“I will not chase after him, Joanna. When he sends for me, I will come. Until then, I will wait here.”
Joanna did her best to convince Berengaria that she ought to come to Barfleur. But her sister-in-law remained adamant. She knew most people thought Berengaria was the ideal wife, soft-spoken and devoted and deferential. They did not realize how stubborn she could be. Or how proud. Joanna decided to try again later, but if Berengaria insisted upon remaining in Poitiers, she would go herself to Barfleur. She needed to see her mother. She needed to see her brother. And she needed, too, to find out why he seemed so indifferent to a reunion with his young queen.
AFTER CAPTURING éVREUX, the French king turned it over to his ally, and John was lodged at the castle on this rainy afternoon in early May. As Durand hastened down a narrow street already deep in mud, the knight cursed as the wind blew his hood back and then swore again at an aggressive beggar who blocked his way. It took him a while to find the small, shabby tavern, hidden away in an alley close by the river. It was poorly lit by smoking wall rushlights; he paused in the doorway until his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw the man awaiting him at a shadowed corner table.
Sliding onto the bench beside Justin de Quincy, Durand signaled to the servingmaid for wine. “A charming hovel you picked for this tryst. What . . . you could not find a pigsty?”
“I did look for one,” Justin said, “for I wanted you to feel at home.”
They traded smiles that were colder than the rain drenching évreux. They were very unlike; Justin was much younger, dark, intense, and guarded, while Durand was in his thirties, with the swagger and high coloring of a Viking. They’d loathed each other from their first meeting, but they’d often had to work together, for they were both the queen’s men and the one attribute they shared was loyalty, absolute and unquestioned, to Eleanor.
Justin’s message was a coded verbal one, for it was too dangerous to commit anything to writing. “What are your chances of bringing the lost sheep back into the fold?” he said, pitching his voice even lower than usual.
“This particular sheep is one for wandering off on his own. I’ll do my best to track him down, though. Once I find him, where should I bring him?”