Windsor Castle July 1172 Alais rushed into my antechamber from the outer hallway as if the devil himself were on her heels. I knew then that she must have seen my son with his lover. The niche in the outer hallway was a favorite of Richard’s trysting places, as it was for half the court. Even Alais had known of this niche, though she had never used it herself. No, she took her ease with my husband by the riverside, in full view of his men. Alais froze in my doorway, as a rabbit does before it runs. She, too, would run from her pain, but it would catch her in the end. Better to face it, and know herself. Men brought pain as the spring brought rain, my son included. I remembered the day I had known that even Henry would stray from me. I had absorbed my pain, and lived with it, but in those days Henry had known me well, and had seen the pain on me as he would have seen a bruise. I covered it from others, but then I could hide nothing from him. “Would you rather return to Louis?” he asked me. “He would never take a lover.” “No,” I said. “He never did.” “And yet you chose me,” Henry said. I had seen my choice, and knew what path I would take. I reached for Henry’s hand, and drew him with me onto my bed of furs. “I choose you,” I said. I took Alais’ arm and she followed me, away from the sight of Richard hiding from the rest of the world with another woman. Alais sat in the chair I offered her, her face as pale as I had ever seen it. Her eyes were vacant, lost, and I knew that I would have to take her in hand. If she thought to marry among my men, she had better learn to take what comes. “Alais,” I said, “you saw something you did not like.” “Richard,” she said. She closed her mouth and did not speak again. I sat beside her and waited, sipping my own wine.
She did not drink her wine, but held the golden goblet between her hands, as if it were the last connection she had to earth. I took it from her and set it on my table. I drew my chair close to her, and took her hand. “You saw Richard with my woman Margaret.” She met my eyes, and I saw that she was older than she looked. She understood me. “You knew.” she said. “You’ve always known.” “Alais, if you mean that I knew my son took women to his bed, you are correct.” I let her take this information in. She sat once more in silence, her great brown eyes wounded as they had been on the day I took her hunting, and that bird had bled out its life on Richard’s glove. Fury rose in me, that she would be so weak. I had trained her to see the world as it was. I blamed the Church and all its teachings for this. “Did you truly expect fidelity, Alais? Richard is a good man, the best man I have ever known. But what is true of all men is true even of my favorite son.” I sat back against the cushions of my chair and watched her, my anger behind my teeth. I saw the political value of all this. I think I saw it first, as I see everything, as a tool to be used to shore up my power. This pain of Alais’ could be used as a wedge. I might drive it between them, if I had the need. I might support their marriage while keeping them apart, separate from each other in any real sense, and both dependent on me. I saw this, as I would see the next move laid out on my chess table before I lifted my chosen pawn. I felt my heart twist within me. I wanted Alais to be stronger than that. I wanted her to let it go, to become the kind of woman I had always been. The woman I had been since the age of fifteen, when I had looked in Louis’ eyes and known that my husband loved me, and I did not l............