“What of my mother?” Joanna interrupted, for she was not yet ready to contemplate a world without Richard; as raw as her grieving was, she was not sure she’d ever be ready.
Aliza’s eyes brightened. “She has been magnificent, my lady. She and Mercadier led an armed force into Anjou and ravaged the countryside around Angers to punish the townspeople for their treachery and to warn others that there is a high price to be paid for disloyalty.” Hearing her own words, Aliza flushed, for nuns were expected to condemn all acts of violence. But how could she not admire what the elderly, grieving queen had done? “Your lady mother then summoned the Poitevin lords to make a progress through her duchy,” she told Joanna, “issuing charters, confirming privileges and liberties, recognizing communes, doing all she can to win support for Count John.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
“We heard she is at Poitiers.”
“Then we shall depart on the morrow for Poitiers,” Joanna declared, and although she caught the worried look that passed between Mariam and the prioress, she ignored it.
THEIR HORSE LITTER WAS swaying so wildly that Mariam was beginning to feel queasy. How could Joanna have fallen asleep? And yet she had, proof of how utterly exhausted she must be. Her pallor was troubling, her skin as waxen as church candles, and her breathing was soft and shallow. Mariam at first had assumed she was prostrated by grief alone, and had been slow to realize that she was also ill; it was becoming obvious by now that this pregnancy would be more difficult than her earlier ones. But Joanna had been adamant about finding her mother, and when they arrived at Poitiers and learned Eleanor had left for Niort, she insisted they continue on.
When they were only a few miles from Niort, Joanna sent Sir Roger de Laurac on ahead to announce their coming, both women praying that Eleanor would still be at the castle. It was a massive stronghold, begun by Joanna’s father and completed by Richard, and at the sight of its stone turrets, Joanna blinked back tears, remembering how proud her brother had been of his handiwork. As soon as the horse litter came to a halt in the outer bailey, Mariam pulled the curtain aside and jumped out, not waiting for a stool to be brought over. Roger was hurrying toward them and then Eleanor appeared in the doorway of the great hall, with her granddaughter Richenza right behind her. Mariam turned back, crying, “Joanna, your mother is here!”
No one had yet brought out a stool, but Roger quickly stepped forward to assist the queen up into the litter. As soon as she saw her mother, Joanna began to sob. Eleanor pulled the curtain shut, gathered her daughter into her arms, and held her close as they both wept.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JUNE 1199
Fontevrault Abbey, Anjou
Raimond had been warned that Joanna was ailing. Although she’d given no details, her letter had revealed that she’d not been well enough to accompany her mother on her progress and Eleanor had sent her back to Fontevrault Abbey to convalesce. But Raimond was still shocked by his first sight of his wife. She’d not come rushing out to greet him as he rode into the abbey precincts, as she would normally have done. She was awaiting him in Eleanor’s guest hall, holding on to Mariam’s arm as if she needed support, and her always fair skin was so white that it looked almost transparent. When he embraced her, she felt as fragile and unsubstantial as cobwebs, smoke, and morning mist.
“I am so sorry for your brother’s death, love.”
“It still does not seem real,” she confided. She sounded as frail as she looked and he instinctively tightened his arms protectively around her. She clung for a moment, but then she shuddered and gasped, “Take me to my bedchamber, Raimond, quickly!”
Her urgency was as compelling as it was bewildering, and he swung her up into his arms, following Mariam across the hall toward the stairwell. Mariam permitted Dame Beatrix to enter, but she refused to admit Anna and the rest of Joanna’s women. No sooner had Raimond set Joanna on her feet than she doubled over, vomiting into the floor rushes with such force that her body seemed to be convulsing. Mariam and Beatrix dropped to their knees beside her, offering wordless murmurings of comfort. Raimond had the sense to step back, realizing there was nothing he could do for his stricken wife. When Mariam glanced over her shoulder and asked him to wait down in the hall, he did not protest, for he knew Joanna never liked him to see her when she was sick.