They were interrupted by a servant with wine and angel wafers. John liked dogs and he broke off a piece of wafer to feed to Eleanor’s greyhound. While he’d sought to seem blasé and nonchalant, he’d actually been nervous about making this unbidden visit to his mother, for even before his foolhardy involvement with Philippe, he’d never had the easy, comfortable relationship with her that Richard and Joanna did. He understood why; he’d grown to manhood during those sixteen years of her captivity. But he was still jealous and resentful that his brother and sister had what he never would: this formidable woman’s love. Tossing another morsel to the greyhound, he did his best to amuse Eleanor now by sharing court gossip. Rumor had it that the reconciliation between Constance and the Earl of Chester was already foundering, he said cheerfully. And he reported with relish that Philippe’s attempt to find another German bride had come to naught, for his captive queen, Ingeborg, cast a long shadow.
“Another rumor had me bedding your good friend, the Countess of Aumale. Supposedly this happened whilst her late, unlamented husband, William de Forz, was off in the Holy Land. De Forz deserved to be a cuckold if any man did and I’d not blame the countess if she’d given him horns. But if Hawisa did, it was not with me.”
John would not have minded seeing Hawisa’s new husband cuckolded, either, for Baldwin de Bethune had blamed him for abandoning his dying father at Chinon. He was not about to admit that to his mother, and so he changed the subject, saying that Richard and Berengaria had bought a house at Thoree, north of Angers. His initial dismay at their reconciliation had soon faded, for he’d realized Richard would never be an uxorious husband; he loved war, not women. He was not going to spend enough time in Berengaria’s bed to get her with child, for it seemed obvious to John that she was barren, and he thanked God most fervently for that blessing.
John did not know it, but Eleanor was beginning to share his pessimism about Berengaria’s chances of giving Richard an heir. She was not about to discuss her misgivings with anyone, though, much less the son who’d benefit the most from Berengaria’s barrenness. So she did not comment upon his news about the house in Thoree. Instead, she gave him a level, searching look. “Why do I get the sense that there is something you are not telling me, John?”
John blinked. Jesu, did she have second sight? Wanting to get their visit off to a good start, he’d deliberately held back the news that was sure to darken her mood. “As usual, you are correct, Mother. Last month Richard heard from the German emperor. Heinrich is back from his conquest of Sicily and already meddling in French and English matters. He sent Richard a gold crown, reminded him of the fealty he owes to Heinrich, and added a warning that if he cares for his hostages, he will do as he is bidden. Heinrich is nothing if not subtle.”
Her eyes narrowed. “‘As he is bidden,’” she echoed, and John felt as if a chill wind had just swept through the summer garden. “And what, pray tell, is he bidding Richard to do?”
John did not like the way she catapulted to Richard’s defense, for he felt certain she’d never do as much for him. “Nothing that Richard was not already inclined to do,” he said coolly. “Heinrich wants him to make all-out war on Philippe.”
“Does he, indeed?”
“So he says. He even offered to provide aid to Richard in order to ‘avenge the injuries done by Philippe to both of them.’ Those were his very words. I daresay you can imagine what Richard’s were.”
Eleanor called Heinrich a name that caused John to regard her in surprised admiration; he had no idea that her command of invective was so extensive. “What does Richard intend to do?”
“He’s already done it. I have to admit that he came up with a clever ploy. He sent Longchamp to Germany with instructions to find out exactly what aid Heinrich means to offer. Since he cannot openly defy Heinrich as long as his hostages are in peril, that buys him some time whilst the French king’s fears grow by the hour.” John’s smile was gleefully malicious. “Richard said we’d see the sun rise at midnight ere Heinrich would actually commit troops to a war against the French, that he wants Richard to fight his war for him. But Philippe does not seem to know Heinrich as well as Richard does, for one of our spies at the French court sent word that Philippe had panicked at the thought of an English-German alliance aimed at France. He even tried to capture Longchamp as he passed through France, to no avail. So Heinrich’s outrageous interference can be forgiven if it robs the French king of some sleep.”
Eleanor knew better. By now she understood that each time Richard was reminded of his past helplessness, it lacerated anew a wound that had yet to heal. “Heinrich is remarkably heavy-handed for one supposed to be so clever. Why push for what was already sure to happen? All know the truce between Richard and Philippe was as fragile as a cobweb, to be blown away by a breath.”