Winchester Castle May 1172 “Your Majesty,” my spy said. “There is news.” I suppressed my smile, for he would not have sought me out otherwise. My women were already dismissed. I raised a bell to call Richard’s page to me, that he might deliver a message of my own. I lowered my hand, and the bell stayed silent on its stand. My man knew better than to keep me waiting. “Your Majesty, the prince has been seen in the rose garden.” Why this was deemed important by the network of men I kept was beyond me. I held my patience, and waited to see if this was a fool’s errand, or if something was afoot. “The princess is with him,” he said. I did not respond, but took this information in. I remembered how Richard and Alais had watched each other the night before, how he had sung to her in front of the court, as he once would have done for me. It was as if my son had never seen a woman before, as if his other lovers had never existed for him. I, of course, knew better. When I did not speak, my man’s voice went on, low in my ear. “He was with the Princess Alais, Your Majesty. And in the kitchen garden, too.” I laughed out loud at that, the thought of my son following a skirt into the bowels of the servants’ quarters. My man looked shocked at my levity, and I calmed myself. Fools very seldom laugh, and they seldom tolerate laughter in others. I did not pay this man for his mind, but for his information. “I thank you,” I said. He blushed, and lowered his head almost to the floor in supplication. I never offered thanks to my men, only gold. He knew then how valuable his information was to me, or at least, how valuable I meant it to seem. I raised one hand and rang my bell. Amaria came forward at once from a hidden door, where I had kept her waiting once my other women had gone. She knelt to me, too, and offered her hand. I took it, as a sign of favor, before I spoke. “Pay this man in gold, double the usual fee. Then send Richard’s page to me.” “Yes, Your Majesty” Amaria bowed, and took my man out of the solar the way she had come. I had not long to wait, for Richard’s page came almost at once, as if I had spirited him there myself. I was gratified to see that my network was quick as well as silent. Soon I would need to call my women back to sit with me; I had been alone too long already. When Richard’s page came in, he found me kneeling at the window, as I had seen Alais do in her own rooms. I knew the picture was a pretty one, my slender figure in cloth of gold, kneeling before God in the sunlight. The boy did not have to know that the gold beads in my hand were not a rosary but a necklace that Raymond, my old lover, had given me, many years ago. I finished the semblance of my prayers while Richard’s boy waited for me. I crossed myself as he watched, his breath bated. I knew beyond a doubt that he was taking in all he saw, to report to Richard. I rose then, and turned to him almost as if I had not known he was there, as if I had not called him myself. The boy was too young to see through this obvious subterfuge. He was barely ten summers old, the down on his cheek not yet replaced by whiskers. The boy’s eyes shone still with worship, the innocent worship that only a child can harbor. I raised my hand, and he took it, kneeling before me. “I would call your lord to a hunt this afternoon, if he is willing.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” He did not move, as anyone else would have done. He did not hear the dismissal in my tone, so I was forced to repeat it. “I would hunt with my falcon,” I said. “Ask him to bring his hawk.” “Your Majesty, I will.” The boy spoke as if it were a solemn vow he was taking, as if he were swearing an oath, not to deliver a message, but to protect me for the rest of his life. I saw at once that he would remember this day, and these moments alone with me, on into his old age, if he was so lucky as to have one. Were he to stay in my son’s service, no doubt he would die in battle, as so many men did, praising my son’s name. Richard inspired the men he led with his prowess on the field. By me, men were simply inspired, as if their god had spoken to them through the glint of my green eyes. He left me then, and my women returned. I did not fasten Raymond’s beads at my waist, as I once would have done, but handed them off to Amaria. She palmed them without question, and hid them in her skirts, as I stepped forward and called my women to take up their tapestry once more. I heard from three more sources that Richard had helped Alais find the kitchen garden. He was with her there when his boy found them together and brought my message, offering to take them on a hunt. Alais agreed at once, though I knew she had never been hunting before. We set out, just as the afternoon sun was beginning to make its way in the west. It was a terrible time to go hunting, as Richard knew full well. He did not contradict me, but helped me mount my horse himself. Alais did not turn a hair when he offered to lift her onto her own. I knew she had never ridden before, but she watched how I held the reins for only a moment before he raised her into her saddle. The skirts of her new gown got in her way, and Richard turned his back as she and her lady-in-waiting set them to rights once more. I sat my horse, as still as stone, and smiled at her. If I had thought to catch her at a disadvantage, I did not. Alais met my eyes over Richard’s head, her laughter barely suppressed for his sake. I raised one hand and we rode out together. I let the children lead. I watched them, their heads together, as Richard pointed out first one thing and then another along our path. Winchester is lovely in the spring, and there was much beauty to see, though I saw none of it. Instead, I looked only on my son and his betrothed, the daughter I had raised to become a woman like me. Her dark hair glinted with auburn in the dying sun, and Richard’s fiery mane shone. I listened to my daughter’s low voice as she drew my son ever closer into her web. Jealousy ate at my stomach, and threatened to gnaw on my spleen. I did not fight it, but watched my own emotions, as I did all my weaknesses. They would remain my secret, as long as I did not act on them. To see my son favor Alais tore at my heart, but I knew that he loved me still, and always would. As we rode, I wondered whether I could let their betrothal continue. They were marrying, not for Henry’s power and wealth, but for mine. With Richard duke in the Aquitaine and count in the Vexin, I stood to control key parts of the Continent. Those holdings would shore up my power, no matter what else Henry thought to do in the future. Though I had lost Henry’s ear years ago, I still had Richard’s. As I watched him speak to Alais, leaning close to take in the scent of her hair, I wondered how long past their marriage I could hold him. Richard’s squire rode beside him with his hawk. As I watched, Richard turned to take his hawk onto his arm. He offered the bird to Alais so that she might caress his feathers. My daughter did not shrink from that bird of prey, but touched him gently, lovingly, as she might someday touch my son. I had taught her nothing of the love that sprang up between a woman and the man who wooed her. Perhaps I would not have to. Richard seemed determined to teach her himself. As I retrieved my own bird from my man, Alais laughed, her soft voice rising, its low cadence making Richard draw near, and heed her. I had not taught her to do that, either. Richard set his hawk free, and I did the same with my falcon. Our birds of prey rose into the darkening sky, their eyes sharp, settling almost at once on their quarry. They brought down two doves. Alais made not a sound, but when our birds struck, she paled. Richard did not notice, but raised an arm so that his hawk could return to him. The bird landed on his arm as it dropped the wounded dove into Richard’s outstretched hand. The squire took the hawk from Richard then, and my son cut into the dove’s flesh. He offered his hawk the heart of its prey, even as it still lay beating. Alais grew even paler. I knew she would not swoon, because she was strong, but I took hold of her arm just the same. I moved my horse close beside her. “Daughter,” I said, “that is enough hunting for one day. Come away from here. My groom will take my falcon, and its prey with it.” The relief on her face was clear to me, as it would have been to no one else. She might hide her thoughts from my women and from Richard, who even in that moment praised his hawk’s prowess. From me, she could hide nothing. She turned to me in her distress as she always had, as if I was her only refuge in the world. As indeed I was. Alais had been schooled by Louis in obedience and silent stoicism, but I had raised her to love me. When she turned her face to me, away from that dove’s death, I saw that I need not fear the love blooming between Richard and the princess. I would stay my hand. Let them marry, once Henry had blessed them. Let them love each other. Pray God they would be happy longer than Henry and I had been. Richard loved her well, but she loved me more than any man. Between the two of us, we would hold Richard in our sway. I would have the power I craved in the Aquitaine and in the Vexin. I would take one more step on the path that had no turning. If it ever came to a contest between Richard and myself, Alais would choose me. I saw in her eyes, as I drew her horse away from Richard’s bloody kill, that she would love me for the rest of her life, more than any other.