Catching her concern, he attempted then to reassure her, saying he expected that a show of force would be enough to make the Breton barons see reason and it would not come to serious bloodshed. Eleanor did not believe him and after he departed, she went for a solitary walk in the gardens, accompanied only by her greyhound.
She wondered if a time would ever come when she did not fear for her son’s safety whenever he ventured into enemy territory. She’d not worried as much about Harry’s safety. But Harry had never been as reckless as Richard. For certes, he would not have challenged the entire line of the Saracen army to combat. Sitting down on a wooden bench, she sighed as she began to ruffle her dog’s soft fur. Somewhat to her surprise, she felt a twinge of reluctant sympathy for Constance. As little as she liked the woman, Constance’s abduction by her husband cut too close to the bone. Even after more than twenty years, she still remembered her despair on the day of her own capture, still remembered the sinister sound of the key turning in the lock of her bedchamber at Loches Castle. Had it sounded like that to Constance?
RICHARD’S CAMPAIGN IN BRITTANY was brief but bloody; a French chronicler noted in pious disapproval that he continued to fight even on Good Friday. Although the Bretons were no match for him in the field, he failed to secure custody of his nephew; André de Vitré managed to keep Arthur hidden. He did succeed, however, in reminding the Bretons of the high price they’d pay for rebellion, and upon his return to Normandy, they sent envoys to negotiate terms for peace and for Constance’s release.
DESPITE THE AUGUST HEAT, the garden of the palace at Le Mans was a scene of exuberant activity. Anna was playing a game of jeu de paume with Berengaria’s brother Fernando, batting the ball back and forth with great zest. Seated in the shade of a medlar tree, Berengaria watched her brother with a smile as Joanna watched her. She was glad that her sister-in-law was enjoying Fernando’s visit, glad that he’d thought to seek out his sister on his way home to Navarre, for it had not been a happy year so far for Berengaria.
She’d been very disappointed by Richard’s cancellation of his Easter Court, for that was a rare opportunity for her to act in public as his queen, and she’d been distressed to learn that he’d shed blood on one of the holiest days of the Church calendar. Joanna knew Berengaria was even more troubled by Richard’s intensifying quarrel with the Archbishop of Rouen over Andely, an island in the Seine owned by the archdiocese of Rouen, for this clash of wills had the potential to flare up into a full-blown crisis with the Church.
Andely was highly profitable for the archbishop, allowing him to collect tolls from passing river traffic. But the island’s location also gave it great strategic importance and Richard wanted to build a castle there. He’d offered several manors and the prosperous port city of Dieppe in exchange for Andely, and when Archbishop Gautier continued to balk, he simply seized Andely and began construction, much to the archbishop’s fury. Berengaria believed that to defy the Church was to defy God, and she’d sought to convince her husband of that on one of his infrequent, brief visits. Joanna had been an uncomfortable witness. Richard had seemed willing to humor Berengaria when she took him to task for his Good Friday fighting, but as soon as she broached the subject of Andely and his dispute with the archbishop, his temper had quickly kindled. They’d continued their argument in private, but the coolness between them when Richard departed told Joanna that they’d not resolved their differences.
The game had ended, for it was too hot even for youthful enthusiasm. Fernando was now pushing Anna in a garden swing, and she shrieked with laughter as she soared higher and higher. Joanna half expected such behavior to offend Berengaria’s Spanish sensibilities, but she continued to watch with a smile, happy enough to overlook minor breaches of decorum. “Fernando says he was well treated at the imperial court,” she confided to Joanna. “I almost think he enjoyed his time in Germany.”
Joanna thought he might have, indeed, for he was young, handsome, and charming, and she suspected he’d not often slept alone. Berengaria was continuing to speak about Fernando, saying he was very surprised to hear of Sancho’s marriage. Joanna had been surprised, too, by the Navarrese king’s recent wedding to the fifteen-year-old daughter of Raimond de St Gilles, for there had long been bad blood between Toulouse and Navarre. She was about to tease Berengaria about having Raimond as a family member when she caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see her Welsh cousin coming up the path. Mariam was not with him, and the expression on Morgan’s face told Joanna that their visit had not gone well. When she beckoned, he hesitated, but then joined them, gallantly kissing her hand, bowing to Berengaria, and smiling at Dame Beatrix; Morgan’s manners were always beyond reproach.