BERENGARIA HAD ALWAYS HARBORED ambivalent feelings toward Richard’s mother. She could not approve of Eleanor’s scandalous past, but she thought Eleanor played the role of queen to perfection: confident, courageous, and elegant. She’d never aspired to compete with her formidable mother-in-law, knowing that was a contest she’d have been sure to lose, and she was regretful that their five-month journey to Sicily had not developed any intimacy between them. She did not doubt that Richard might never have regained his freedom if not for his mother’s fierce determination, and she was deeply thankful that in his time of greatest need, he’d had Eleanor to fight for him. But she’d begun to resent Eleanor in the past year, always at Richard’s side while she was relegated to the shadows. So upon their arrival at the palace, she offered a coolly formal greeting to her mother-in-law, only to feel ashamed and outmaneuvered when Eleanor was very gracious in return.
Her first meeting with Richard’s brother was just as strained. She was startled by how little John resembled Richard; he was handsome enough, but much shorter than Richard, with dark hair, Eleanor’s eyes, and an irreverent, sensual smile that made her think he was envisioning her naked in his bed. She knew hatred was an emotion that good Christians should eschew, but she hated John, for he’d done his best to make sure her husband would never see the sun again. She would never forgive him for that and she did not understand how Richard and Eleanor had, how he was swaggering around Richard’s court as if his foul betrayal had never been. They are not like us, little one. The words were her brother Sancho’s, uttered on her last night in Pamplona, a gentle, rueful warning that she would be marrying into a family utterly unlike her own.
It was daunting to meet so many people at once, and she struggled to commit their names and faces to memory, knowing that they’d be offended if she did not remember them at their next encounter. She was grateful that Richard was so often at her side, and when he was called away, he saw to it that she was watched over by Joanna or André. It was Joanna who came to her rescue when they saw John bearing down upon them. Knowing that Berengaria did not want to interact any more than necessary with the man she’d privately dubbed the Prince of Darkness, Joanna adroitly steered her sister-in-law toward a group encircling the Bishop of Le Mans.
Bishop Hamelin at once interrupted his conversation to acknowledge the two queens, visibly proud to have so many highborn guests sojourning in his beloved city. “We are indeed honored that you could join us for Eastertide, my lady queens. It is always a season for rejoicing, but especially so this year, for just a week ago, we feared that our king might be breathing his last. Yet look at him now!” Beaming, he gestured across the hall, where Richard was conversing with the Archbishop of Rouen and the Bishop of Angers. “As Scriptures promise, Return unto Me, and I will return unto you, saith the Lord of Hosts. Because the king repented his sins, he was restored to full health, for God’s mercy is everlasting.”
Berengaria’s mouth had gone dry. “My husband was gravely ill?”
“Indeed, Madame. You were not told?”
Berengaria could only shake her head mutely. Joanna was just as stunned, but William de St Mère-Eglise quickly interceded, explaining it had happened so suddenly that there was no time to summon the queens, and once the crisis was past, the king had not wanted to worry them. Isabel de Clare helped, too, by saying lightly that “Men are all the same, bless them. My husband’s letters home make his campaigns sound like pleasure jaunts. Why they think wives are such delicate flowers is a mystery to me, for if men had to endure the ordeal of the birthing chamber, no family would have more than one child.”
That evoked laughter and Bishop Hamelin continued with his story, telling Berengaria and Joanna that the king had confessed his sins freely before his bishops and asked for absolution. “Since then he has attended Divine Service every morning without fail and he has made provisions for the poor to be fed daily, both at his court and in the towns. He has also ordered that chalices of gold and silver be made to replace those that had been taken from the churches to pay his ransom.” The bishop was clearly delighted to be a part of these admirable happenings, and carried on in this vein for some time, praising the king expansively. “Was he not one of the first to take the cross? Did he not found a Cistercian abbey at Bonport and a Benedictine priory at Gourfailles? Think what greatness he shall achieve now that he has vowed to honor God by living as a most just and virtuous prince!”
Berengaria had not known that Richard had founded two monasteries, and that would normally have been of great interest to her. Now that she knew why Richard had summoned her to Le Mans, the news barely registered with her.