ELEANOR WAS DELIGHTED that Richard had chosen her favorite city for his Christmas Court. She’d missed so many family Christmases during her years of confinement that she would never take one for granted again. She’d been given an enthusiastic welcome into the city, for she’d always been popular with the townspeople, who were proud that she had worn the crowns of two realms. In the splendid great hall of the royal palace, she eclipsed her daughter-in-law without even trying, and some of the women guests pitied Berengaria, knowing that she would not be England’s queen as long as Eleanor lived.
After a meal as bountiful as the Advent diet would allow, Eleanor joined Richard on the dais and, as music and spirits soared, he shared with her news both personal and political, telling her his chancellor had brought back word from Germany that her grandson Henrik and his bride were the proud parents of a healthy son. “You are now a great-grandmother twice over,” he teased, and smiled when she pointed out that he was now a great-uncle. “I had not considered that,” he admitted. “I doubt that we’ll ever meet Henrik’s little lad, but Richenza and Jaufre will be bringing their son to the Christmas Court.”
“Jaufre is coming?” Eleanor asked in surprise, and he explained that Jaufre felt it could be risked since a truce now existed between England and France, with the final treaty to be signed in January. “I was not thinking of him fearing Philippe’s wrath, but yours,” she responded, and was surprised again when he said that he’d forgiven Jaufre for his defection to the French king.
“I declared his English lands forfeit to teach him there is a price to be paid for disloyalty. But I returned them to him earlier this year, for a king needs to mix the sour with the sweet.”
Richard then told her that he’d succeeded in getting his former clerk Master Fulk de Poitiers elected as Bishop of Durham, and Eleanor found herself thinking that he’d been very generous to the men who’d been with him in Germany. “I was astonished to learn that Heinrich had agreed to remit the rest of the ransom and free some of your hostages,” she said, and Richard glanced around to make sure they could speak freely.
“Longchamp deserves the credit for that miracle,” he said. “But I suspect that Leopold’s gruesome fate may have played a small role, too. There were times when I wondered if Heinrich was mad. Yet even a madman must fear God’s wrath, and I daresay there were many German churchmen to whisper that in Heinrich’s ear.”
He paused to take a swallow of wine. “It looks as if there’ll be no marriage between Aenor and Philippe’s son, for that idea seems to have died when Philippe rejected the earlier peace. Did I tell you, Maman, that Philippe’s envoys hinted during those summer negotiations that he might be interested in another marriage, one with Joanna?”
“No, you did not!”
“It was never a formal proposal, just put out there to see how we’d react to it.”
“I can well imagine how Joanna reacted,” she said, and he laughed.
“She vowed that she’d sooner wed Saladin’s brother! After the way Philippe has maltreated Ingeborg, he’ll find few men willing to offer their daughters or sisters to him. Even if a father cares little for his daughter, he’d not want to risk being shamed the way Ingeborg’s brother was.”
“Speaking of marriages . . .” Eleanor glanced meaningfully across the hall toward the Countess of Aumale and her new husband. “Hawisa and Baldwin seem to be getting on. At least she is smiling. Whenever I saw her with William de Forz, she looked as if she’d just eaten something that disagreed with her.”
Richard had given Hawisa and Baldwin a lavish wedding, but hadn’t thought much about their marriage after that. “Baldwin seems content enough,” he said, “though he’s not one to complain. For certes, they are happier than Constance and Chester.”
Eleanor followed his gaze and found the young Earl of Chester, standing alone as he watched the dancers. “He does not look as if he is enjoying himself,” she agreed. “Constance is not with him?”
“No. Her barons chased him out of Brittany again, and he is very bitter about it.”
“So he’ll be of no help in convincing Constance to send Arthur to your court,” Eleanor mused and Richard shrugged. But her words caught the attention of her younger son. John had drifted toward the dais, always on the alert to overhear something useful. He did not like the sound of that, for if Arthur was raised at Richard’s court, his brother might well conclude that the boy would make a satisfactory heir.
Richard had signaled for a servant to refill their wine cups. Eleanor clinked hers playfully against his, saying, “Shall we drink to the peace with Philippe? How long do you expect it to last?”
“Just long enough,” he said, and she gave him such an easy, intimate smile that John, watching, felt a twinge of envy.