Windsor Castle May 1172 As Alais left the hall, Henry’s eyes followed her. Richard did not sit again until she was gone, but it was Henry I watched from the corner of my eye. As I did so, I raised one hand, and my footman stepped forward with my wine. He refilled my goblet from my private silver urn. At Henry’s court, to take care to avoid poison, I drank my own wine. Also, one could never trust Henry’s steward at Windsor to keep decent wine at table, as Henry himself drank only mead. I let Amaria spread the gossip that I drank a special draft for my health, but all knew why I took care at Windsor. There were many at Henry’s court who did not wish me well. Only after I had drunk deep and taken a last morsel of squab did I turn to Henry I was pleased to see him fawn over my daughter, as if she were some housemaid that he might take up against a wall. I thought of Rosamund, and wondered if she had spies in my court, as I would have, had I been in her place. I wondered if those spies would carry tales to her of Alais that night, and if so, how my old rival might receive them. The thought made my smile deepen, and it seemed Henry was caught in the light of my eyes. For all his attentions to Alais, now that she was gone, he had eyes only for me. I smiled my old, wicked smile, and Henry laughed, raising his tankard. The musicians began to play the first measure of the first dance. Henry rose to his feet, and I wondered which woman he would choose to partner him. He walked, not down the steps to the dance floor, but across the dais to me. “My lady Eleanor, would you honor me?” Henry held out his hand to me. He pitched his voice low so that the court could see him approach me but could not hear his words. Not for the first time, I wondered what had happened to the love that once had been between us, the great love that I had cast aside a crown for, more than a lifetime ago. “My lord Henry, it is you who honor me.” I, too, kept my voice low, to keep the matter private between us as I laid my hand in his. Of course, nothing for a king is ever private. I had lived as a queen since the age of fifteen. I had long since grown used to the eyes of others always on me. He said nothing more, but led me onto the dance floor. The musicians stopped playing when Henry offered me his hand, so shocked were they to see us together. We had not danced with one another in years, since Henry first touched Rosamund de Clifford. The musicians Henry employed were ill trained and had not the sense to start playing again as soon as we took the floor. But Henry and I had heard the first bars of the song, and knew what steps it called for. It was a dance we had enjoyed long ago, when we had both been happy. Henry met my eyes, as if in defiance of all who watched us. The entire court was silent, and for the first few steps of the dance, we were alone on the floor, moving as one. Our bodies remembered each other. The musicians started playing then, first the mandolin, then the lute, the tabor catching up with a crash before they all settled together into harmonious time. Henry laughed under his breath and I joined him, my merry laughter filling that cold hall, touching even the dark corners with my own brand of fire. “It is good to hold your hand again, Eleanor.” “I am glad to see you, Henry I missed you while you were away.” Henry believed me, for his face softened as he looked at me. Had we been alone, he would have kissed me. As it was, he drew me closer in the dance. “Eleanor, I am not myself when I am not with you.” “Stay, then, and let us bide a while together.” He did not turn from me, but his emotions were engaged, and he did not like it. He changed the subject, a gleam of mischief coming into his eyes. I had forgotten how well matched we once had been in mischief making, too. “Your French princess is a beauty,” Henry said. I laughed again, and Henry smiled to hear it, the warm music that had been denied him for so long. “She is not mine,” I said. “Well, she did not learn to tempt a man that way in the convent,” he said. “You saw how Richard would follow her, like a hound come to heel.” I watched him, my eyes still gleaming with laughter. My smile did not slip; my expression gave nothing away. His face darkened. “I should not have brought that boy’s name into our conversation.” I changed the subject back to Alais before we could quarrel. “And how did you like the morsel I sent to tempt you?”Henry laughed, as if he had forgotten Richard, though I knew he had not. “Your morsel is tempting, but not one I can digest.” “I knew that, Henry, or I never would have put her in front of you.” “Perhaps it is war I have no stomach for. I am growing old, Eleanor. I want peace.” The music stopped, and the court applauded us. Henry kissed my hand. He did not raise his head at once, but let his lips linger on my skin, before all the court, as if to swear me fealty, as Richard often did. When Henry raised his head and met my eyes, Richard spoke. “My lord king.” Henry straightened. Though his hand stayed on mine, his eyes sharpened like a hawk’s. His predator’s gaze swept the hall until his eyes fell on Richard. “My son,” Henry said. “Or should I say, one of the jackals that would feed on my carcass before I am dead?” A woman gasped, and her man shushed her, drawing her quickly from the hall. I felt the color fade from my cheeks as the bloom fades from a rose once it is cut. With Henry’s hand still in mine, I silently cursed Richard for refusing to stay quiet when I ordered him to. “There are no jackals here, my lord. Please, come and sit with me,” I said, though I knew it was too late. I pressed my hand to Henry’s arm, hoping to placate him as I once could have done so easily. He hesitated while he considered my soft voice, as he had for many years before strife fell between us. Hope rose in me, if only for the space of a breath. The court waited to see which would win, my voice of calm, or his h............