Eleanor had rarely felt so helpless. He was hurting and she’d have given anything to heal that hurt, but there was nothing she could do. “You are right, Richard,” she said, for at least she could stop probing this painful wound. “You must give priority to the threat posed by the French.” He did not reply, merely nodding, but she sensed his relief, and she made haste to find a safer topic of conversation. “What is this I hear about your confrontation with a priest, Fulk de Neuilly?”
“Oh, that,” he said, and when he smiled, she knew she’d made the right choice. “He is one of those vexing preachers who enjoy making foreboding prophesies and claiming divine powers. This Fulk de Neuilly contends that the Almighty has blessed him with the ability to cure the blind, the lame, and the dumb. He also insists he can drive out demons and get harlots and usurers to see the error of their ways, and for all I know, he thinks he can walk on water, too. In other words, the sort of sanctimonious, prideful fool that any sensible person would take good care to avoid. After predicting that Philippe or I would meet an ‘unfortunate death’ if we do not end our hostilities, he made a dramatic appearance in Rouen, taking me to task for my sins.”
“He accused you of having three daughters?” Eleanor asked, even though she knew exactly what had transpired between Richard and the self-professed holy man, for her son’s riposte had quickly been repeated with zest, taking no time at all to spill from Normandy into Anjou.
“Three shameless daughters, he declared, warning that I must marry them off as soon as possible lest evil befall me. Of course I said he lied, that I had no daughters. And he replied that my three daughters were pride, avarice, and lust. So I told him that I would give my pride to the Knights Templar, my avarice to the Cistercian monks, and my lust to the prelates of the Church.”
It had been a deft rejoinder, showing that Richard could identify a foe’s weaknesses on and off the battlefield, and Eleanor laughed. “I could so easily hear Harry saying that,” she confided, “for you are more like him than either of you were willing to admit.”
“I’ll take your word for that, Maman,” Richard said, before painting a vivid verbal picture of the discomfited prophet slinking away to much laughter from the audience of earls and barons. They were interrupted by a servant bringing in wine and wafers, and by the time they’d eaten, Richard was in better spirits. “I suppose you heard that your friend the Countess of Aumale is now a widow, and probably a merry one since she loved William de Forz not.”
“Yes, I did hear of the count’s death. Sudden chest pains, I believe. And you are right about Hawisa. She saw his death as deliverance.”
“She will not be pleased, then, when she learns that I intend for her to marry again.”
Eleanor was not surprised, for great heiresses were valuable assets, used by kings to reward loyal vassals and to forge alliances. She felt some sympathy, knowing Hawisa would have no say in the matter, but she’d learned years ago to pick her battles and this was the price Hawisa must pay for her good fortune in being highborn and wealthy. “Whom do you have in mind for her, Richard?”
“A good man,” he said, although that had not been his reason for choosing Hawisa’s next husband. “When he gets back from Austria, I mean to give her to Baldwin de Bethune. I owe him an heiress, for my father had promised him Denise de Déols and I gave her, instead, to André.”
“Baldwin is a good man,” Eleanor agreed, “and since he was often at your father’s court, I am sure Hawisa knows him. That may make it easier for her.”
Richard was not particularly interested in Hawisa of Aumale’s opinion of her marriage; he saw her as a pawn to be moved around on the marital chessboard however he saw fit. “Tell her that I will give them a lavish wedding and I will pay for it myself. That might reconcile her to her fate.”
Richard had sent word to Eleanor as soon as he’d learned of Leopold of Austria’s death, knowing she’d find it as gratifying as he did. He’d not disclosed the entire contents of the archbishop’s letter, though, and he made ready to do so now, knowing she’d be troubled by what he had to say. “On his deathbed, Leopold gave orders for Wilhelm to be sent to the Hungarian king’s court, trusting that he’d restore the boy to his father in Saxony. But Heinrich got wind of it and demanded that Wilhelm be sent to him, instead. So he’ll have both Otto and Wilhelm as hostages now—as leverage.”
“Richard, do you know how Otto is being treated?”