Windsor Castle September 1172 When Henry and I returned to Windsor at the beginning of September, the entire castle turned out to greet us. We had stayed away too long, happy together as Henry had rarely been, even with Rosamund. What that woman thought of our liaison, I had not heard. Henry never spoke of her, and I knew better than to ask. But as happy as we had been together, we knew that we could not stay from court forever. Eleanor waited for us, just as we waited for word from the pope. As we reached the castle gates, Henry told me that Eleanor still resided at Windsor. I had no time to ask him why she had not gone on to the Abbey of Fontevrault, for the court had seen us then, and raised their cries of welcome. And still, I wondered why he had not done as he said he would. Men-at-arms stood at attention, their pikes raised in salute to the king. Ladies of the court stood in the mud of the bailey in jewel-colored dresses, their wimples snow-white against the castle’s gray stone. All the women held flowers. When I was taken down off my horse, one of them stepped forward, and laid a bunch of roses in my arms. The last of the summer roses, roses that bore no thorns. Those flowers made me think of Richard, and I had to breathe once, deeply, before I could put the thought of him away. And I saw the message for what it meant. I was a rose that now had been plucked, and some woman thought to mock me with it. It was a piece of cruelty worthy of Eleanor. I looked for her in the crowd of women, but of course, she was not there. I searched the faces of the men for Richard, but I did not find him, either. I turned my eyes on the crenellated windows of the women’s solar, and wondered if perhaps Eleanor looked down on me. Though Richard was somewhere in the keep, he, too, was gone from me, as all my former life was, by my own choice. I pushed Eleanor and Richard from my thoughts, and took in the faces of those around me. I stood in the king’s bailey and was gracious to the same women who once had dismissed me as a pious and obedient lapdog of the queen. In spite of the mockery of the roses I held, I saw in the eyes of the women around me that they feared me a little, now that I had the ear of the king. False subservience shone in the faces of all who surrounded me. For the first time, the truth of what it would mean to be queen dawned in my mind. I would have to be careful, and guard against the sin of pride. I was used to patience and obedience, but I was not used to praise. Even false praise was a heady wine, and could be my undoing. I thanked God Henry had made me wear my best blue silk. I wore no wimple; my veil was held in place by the filet of golden fleurs-de-lys Eleanor had given me. I took in the scent of red roses in my arms, trying to block out the thought of Richard as I smiled on the woman who had given them to me. Henry took my hand. As I turned to him, all thoughts of Richard fled. I was enveloped by the touch of my lover, and the scent of sandalwood that clung to his clothes and perfumed his skin. Henry smiled down at me, and for a moment, the rest of the court seemed to disappear. I raised my lips to his and he kissed me there in front of all the people. A cheer went up, and his men-at-arms called out his name. He waved to them, then smiled down once more on me. “My lady Alais, I would present my son.” I blinked, my lips still warm from his kiss, and from the approbation of the court. Never in my life had I been made so welcome. I knew that it was false warmth, but it warmed my soul just the same. Once Henry and I were married, and took the realm in hand, perhaps in time the warmth of the court would become real. Henry raised one hand, and a boy not yet ten years old stepped forward out of the crowd. I had never seen him before, but he had the look of Henry and Eleanor both, and something else, something that belonged only to him. He bore a sense of his own worth that marked him at once as a prince. “Alais, Princess of France and Countess of the Vexin, I present John, Prince of England.” I noticed that there was no other title behind the boy’s name, and I realized that this must be the famous John Lackland, Henry and Eleanor’s youngest son. I knew that Henry had once thought to put this boy into the Church, and that even now young John spent most of his time in the Abbey of Fontevrault. A boy meant for the Church had no need of lands, when his father might gift him with a bishopric, or better. As I looked into John’s eyes, I found myself doubting all I had heard. The shrewd gaze that stared back at me gave me pause. Even as a child, this boy was a political animal. Somehow I did not think the walls of a church would ever hold him, as they had once held me. The boy bowed to me, and smiled. I caught a hint of mischief in his gaze, and the sight of it made me long for Eleanor. There was a touch of her green in the hazel depths of John’s slanted eyes. “Good day, my lord prince. It is an honor to meet my future husband’s son.” John’s smile turned wicked. “Indeed, Princess, the honor is mine. It is not every day that a man is given a stepmother as beautiful as you are.” I laughed, for I was not his stepmother yet, and well he knew it, nor, for all his self-confidence, could he be considered a man. I saw that Henry was not pleased with John’s honeyed answer. I pressed the king’s hand. “My lord, your youngest son has your charm.” Henry’s face softened, as it often did now when he looked at me. “Indeed, Alais. Too much charm for my peace.” The boy bowed low, as serious as in a church on Sunday. “My lord, never on pain of death would I disturb the king’s peace.” Though there was still a light in John’s eyes, I saw that he did not mock Henry. The boy meant to offer his loyalty in front of all the court, child though he was, reminding everyone present of Henry’s other sons who did not do the same. Henry the Younger, Geoffrey, and Richard were conspicuously absent, young Henry in Normandy, Geoffrey in Brittany, and Richard hidden somewhere in the keep. All the court knew that Henry’s sons did not support our alliance, except for John. Henry looked down at his youngest son, and saw what I did. This boy, though young, would follow Henry, while his other sons did not. Henry clasped his shoulder. “Let us go inside. The sun is setting, and it will soon be time to feast.” John looked at me. “I feast my eyes on the beauty of your lady, my lord. But a feast in the hall is also welcome.” Henry laughed, drawing me close. “The princess is mine, son.” Some women standing by had the gall to simper at the prince, as young as he was. He cast an appraising glance over them, taking them in as if he knew what lay beneath their gowns already. “My lord king, it would be my honor to escort the princess to her new rooms, if you will allow me.” Henry kissed me once more as Prince John took my hand. “Look after her for me, Johnny. I will see you both in the great hall in an hour’s time.” I curtsied, as if I did not think it foolish for a child to escort me into the keep. This boy was the only son loyal to Henry, and I knew that made him precious, no matter what his age. John bowed, and Henry walked into his keep,the rest of the court falling into step behind him. As I watched, his ministers stepped forward and began whispering to him. Henry had kept the business of the kingdom with him at Deptford, but it had not consumed him. Now that he was back at court, it would become his focus, and I would fade into the background. For the first time since Henry had aligned himself with me, I felt the sharp bite of fear as I watched him walk away. There was nothing to hold him to his pledge to me, nothing but his word, freely given, and one letter he had sent by dispatch to the pope. I remembered my father’s words about Henry, words I had overheard once when I was a child. My father had said that Henry would swear an oath before God one day, and break it the next. Papa had told his courtier that Henry was known for such throughout Christendom. Any treaty with him was worth less than the vellum it was written on. I wondered, standing in my lover’s bailey, why I had not remembered that before. And I wondered now if Henry would break his word to me. John saw a shadow come over my eyes, and he smiled at me as he led me up the wide staircase to the castle’s upper levels. “Don’t frown so, Your Grace. There are new rooms waiting for you. The king has been very solicitous on your behalf while you have been away.” “The king is good to me.” John raised one eyebrow, and for the first time I saw the light of skepticism reach his eyes, a perception that went far beyond his years. It was uncanny, that this boy saw so much, when at his age I had known nothing. What I knew now of politics, Eleanor had taught me. I wondered, watching the prince, who had taught him. “Indeed, Princess. I am happy to hear it.” We came to a large set of double doors on a wide corridor that I had never walked down before. At our approach, the doors were thrown open and Marie Helene stepped out, Bijou in her arms. She curtsied at once to John, who eyed her russet gown as if he was imagining all that lay beneath it. She did not take offense at his gaze, but she did not dismiss his interest as a child’s bravado, either. “My lad, I am glad you have returned.” “So am I.” I caressed Bijou’s head. “Has she behaved since they brought her up with the baggage?” Marie Helene’s lips quirked in a smile. “Indeed, my lady. I have not yet set her down. Your new rooms are quite fine, and I wanted you to see them first.” “Ladies, I will leave you.” John smiled on us, then turned to me, taking my hand in his. “I will see you at the king’s table, Princess.” “I look forward to it, my lord prince.” “Call me John, Your Highness. I insist that beautiful women ignore my title, and smile on myself alone.” I wondered how a............