GUY DE THOUARS WAS one of the garrison taken prisoner at Aumale Castle, and upon his release, he rode straight to Vaudreuil to thank the king for paying the large ransom of three thousand silver marks. He was seated in the great hall, waiting to be escorted up to the king’s bedchamber, quite happy to pass the time flirting discreetly with the king’s sister. Joanna was encouraging him, for she was bored and he was attractive, with a very beguiling smile. She wondered why he’d not yet married, deciding it was probably because he was a younger brother, overshadowed by Viscount Aimery, who had inherited the family’s title and estates. She thought it a pity that he’d not been the firstborn, for he was more likable than Aimery and far more trustworthy; whilst his brother swung like a weathercock in a high wind, Guy’s loyalty to Richard had been unwavering.
Berengaria liked Guy, too, and she was coming over to greet him when there was a stir at the doorway. Turning to see what was happening, she was dismayed by the sight of her husband hobbling into the hall, leaning heavily upon a wooden crutch. Joanna was already on her feet and while Eleanor had not risen, her eyes fastened intently upon Richard’s halting progress, almost as if she were willing each awkward step. The younger women were not as disciplined and they rushed toward Richard, entreating him to sit down, reminding him that he was not supposed to be up yet.
“I’ve made a career of doing things I am not supposed to do,” he said, with a tight smile that turned into a grimace when he took a misstep and pain shot up his leg.
“Sire!” Guy had been quick to comprehend what was happening, and he hastened over to drop to his knees before Richard, giving him a reason to sit. Richard did, with an alacrity that betrayed his discomfort. “I have come to thank you, my liege, for ransoming me and the other members of the garrison. I am very grateful.”
Richard almost asked Guy if he’d thought they’d be left to rot, catching himself in time, for he’d be lashing out at the wrong target. He motioned instead for Guy to rise and then accepted the wine cup that his practical mother was pressing into his hand. His men were hurrying toward him, delighted that he was on his feet again, and the women stepped back, realizing that he’d not heed them any more than he’d heeded his doctor. In less than a month, he’d mark his thirty-ninth birthday, and he was not going to change his ways at this point in his life.
RICHARD WAS STUDYING PLANS for his new castle at Andely when a message arrived coincidentally from the Archbishop of Rouen. When he swore after reading the letter, Eleanor came to his side; she knew better than to interfere in military matters, but this was a political problem. He did not object as she reached for the letter and read it for herself. It was not good; the infuriated archbishop was threatening to put Normandy under Interdict if Richard did not return Andely to him.
“What do you mean to do?”
“Nothing. If he is rash enough to carry out the threat, so be it. I’ll appeal to the Pope. My offer for Andely was more than generous. Dieppe alone is worth far more than those river tolls.”
That would not have been the way Eleanor would have handled it, but she was not the one determined to build a castle at Andely. He’d insisted that it would change the balance of power along the Norman border, for it would cut off French access to Rouen and provide a base for attacks upon Philippe’s castles in the Vexin. He meant to reclaim the Vexin and saw the stronghold he’d already named Chateau Gaillard as the means to that end. He envisioned the coming campaign over the Vexin as a naval war as well as a land combat, and he explained to Eleanor that he intended to build a fleet of shallow-hulled ships that would control river traffic on the Seine.