Even so, none of her unhappy conjecturing explained why he would want to keep her at a distance all of a sudden. Joanna had been right; they’d parted on good terms. So what had come between them? If she’d done nothing to offend him, why was he delaying their reunion like this?
Berengaria was lonely, too, for Joanna had not yet returned, sending word that she would be staying at Fontevrault Abbey for a while. Berengaria did not begrudge her sister-in-law some time with her mother, but she missed Joanna very much; for three years, they’d seen each other daily. She did get a surprise visit in early June from her brother Sancho. He’d been ravaging the lands of the rebel lords Geoffrey de Ran?on and the Count of Angoulême and was now on his way north to besiege Loches Castle with Richard. Berengaria was delighted to see Sancho. He brought welcome news of home, had stories to relate of her sisters Constanza and Blanca, and he also had word of their young brother Fernando, who’d written that he was being well treated at the imperial court.
But even Sancho’s unexpected arrival would prove to be a mixed blessing. He’d assumed she’d joined Richard in England, and although he tried to hide it, he’d been taken aback to find out that she’d not yet seen her husband. It was humiliating enough for Berengaria that her household ladies and knights knew of her plight, but it was far more mortifying that her family now knew, too. Even worse was to come. Sancho had been evasive whenever she’d mentioned their father and at last he’d confessed that the elder Sancho was not well. Their father’s health had always been good, but he was sixty-two now, an age where men were vulnerable to any number of dangerous maladies. When Sancho departed for Loches, Berengaria gave him a letter for Richard, as sparing and laconic as any of his own letters had been, and then passed the endless hours praying for her ailing father and trying not to think about her missing husband.
JOANNA FELT A LITTLE guilty about staying so long at Fontevrault, knowing how miserable Berengaria must be. But when Eleanor got a letter from her granddaughter the Countess of Perche, Joanna delayed her departure yet again, for she very much wanted to meet Richenza. The young woman did not resemble Joanna’s elder sister, for she’d inherited her father’s dark coloring, but she had her mother’s beauty and much of her charm, and she and Joanna felt an immediate empathy. Like her brothers Otto and Wilhelm, Richenza had grown up at the English royal court, forming a close bond with Eleanor and Richard that was now causing her great pain.
She’d explained apologetically to Eleanor and Joanna that her husband really had no choice. Had he not obeyed the French king’s summons, he’d have risked losing all their French lands. If it were up to her, Richenza would have taken the gamble, for she loved her uncle. But she loved her husband and young son, too, and in any event, the decision had been Jaufre’s, not hers. Now Richard was back and Jaufre feared what was to come, so he’d willingly agreed when Richenza suggested she visit her grandmother. Jaufre hoped that Richenza could make her Angevin relatives understand why he’d deserted the English king, but he was not optimistic, for he’d heard one of the verses of the song Richard had composed in his German prison, which was being widely circulated by troubadours and trouvères:
“My comrades whom I loved and still do love
The lords of Perche and Cauieux
Strange tales have reached me that are hard to prove;
I ne’er was false to them; for evermore
Vile would men count them, if their arms they bore
’Gainst me, a prisoner here.”
Richenza had done her best, stressing Jaufre’s reluctance and his kinship to Philippe, which made it even harder to defy the French king. Eleanor’s welcome had been affectionate enough to reassure her that she was not blamed for Jaufre’s defection. Her grandmother said nothing about Jaufre, though, and she was reluctant to ask Eleanor to intercede on his behalf with Richard. Richenza adored her grandmother but she knew Eleanor was not as quick to forgive as Richenza’s mother had been.
On the second day of her visit, while she was walking with Joanna in the gardens of Eleanor’s lodgings on the abbey grounds, she decided to risk confiding in her aunt. “It is so hard,” she said with a sigh, “for a man to serve two liege lords.” When Joanna agreed, she was encouraged to continue. “Aunt Joanna, do you think my uncle will forgive Jaufre and me?”