“He hates Richard that much?”
“Oh yes, my lady. He is rather irrational when it comes to your son. He loathed being in the Holy Land, for he’d never wanted to take the cross. He hated the hot sun, the dust, the scorpions, the alien culture of Outremer. But above all, he hated the way King Richard overshadowed him at every turn. He surely knew he could not hope to compete with our king on the battlefield, but I do not think he realized that he’d be eclipsed in the council chamber, too, that he would be diminished on a daily basis. Nor did it help that King Richard held him in contempt and . . .”
He paused and Eleanor finished the sentence for him. “. . . and did not trouble to hide it.”
He nodded. “Indeed, he did not, Madame.”
Eleanor was quiet after that, not liking what she’d heard. She’d been able to “take the measure” of the Emperor Heinrich at Lodi, had marked him as a dangerous foe, ruthless and unscrupulous. Yet what she’d just learned convinced her that the French king posed an even greater threat to her son. Heinrich wanted to humiliate Richard and to profit by it. Since his hostility held no heat, he’d be guided by self-interest. Philippe’s hostility was far more dangerous, for it was white-hot, intense, burning to the bone. Did Richard realize that, though?
LEICESTER HAD GONE OFF to bed and Will was about to ask the queen if she had further need of him, for she looked very tired. It was then that a knock sounded on the door and he crossed the chamber to open it. The man standing in the stairwell was young, tall, and dark, with black hair and grey eyes. Will did not know his name, but he knew who he was. Every royal court had men like this, shadowy figures who came and went on mysterious missions for their king—or their queen. He stepped back so Eleanor could see the identity of this new arrival and she at once beckoned him into the solar.
As he knelt before her, she leaned forward, tension etched into every line of her body. “Did you find Durand in Paris?”
“I did, Madame.” He had been dreading this moment, knowing the pain he was about to inflict. “The news I bring is not good, my lady.”
“I did not expect it would be.” Gesturing for him to rise, she said evenly, “Tell me what you learned at the French court, Justin.”
“Durand was able to give me the details of Count John’s pact with the French king. He swore fealty to Philippe for Normandy and for all of King Richard’s lands that he holds of the French Crown. He agreed to put aside his wife and wed Philippe’s sister Alys. He agreed to yield Gisors Castle and to renounce any claims to the Vexin. In return, the French king promised to do all in his power to secure the English throne for Count John and to assist him in an invasion of England.”
He’d forced himself to meet her gaze as he spoke, but once he was done, he glanced away, for he’d just delivered a damning indictment of treason against the man who was still her flesh and blood, a child of her womb.
Eleanor’s face was a queen’s court mask, revealing nothing. She thanked him before sending him down to the great hall, saying her steward would see that he had a meal and a comfortable bed for the night. She sank back in her chair then, looking so exhausted that Will’s chest tightened. For a moment his eyes caught those of the queen’s man, and a silent message flashed between them, one of anger and unease. For none who served Queen Eleanor wanted to see her hurt and none who knew Count John wanted to see him as England’s king.
Will expected to be dismissed, too, and was startled when she said in a low voice, “I would have you stay a while longer, Will.”
“Of course, Madame.” As the door closed quietly, he took a seat beside her. He did not know what to say, what solace to offer. He tried to imagine how he would feel if his two small sons grew to manhood and turned on each other, as surely a vision of Hell as he could conjure up. Having no words, he was relieved to see that she expected none, that she sought only the comfort of his company. And so they sat together for a time, not speaking as night came on.