Windsor Castle October 1172 I sat alone in blessed silence. I was supposed to be at prayer, but unlike Alais, I had no god to pray to. I had just heard from my spy network that Henry had word from the pope. His Holiness was cautious, nothing like the man who had set me free from Louis. This pope would wait, and bide his time, to see which way the wind blew, before he moved against me. The pope no doubt knew, as I did, that though Henry had sworn to go on Crusade, he would never stir from his own borders to begin a foreign war, especially a war of someone else’s devising. It served no purpose but to waste money, and Henry had the business of the kingdom to consume him; that, and keeping his sons at bay. Richard was another matter altogether. I knew it was the secret wish of his heart to go on Crusade for the Church, to raise the banner of Christ once more over the city of Jerusalem. No doubt the pope had heard this, too. From all accounts, his spy network was almost as good as mine. So His Holiness would not move against me, or my son. All I needed to do was bide my time, and wait for Henry to tire of her. I crossed my solar to my window, where the breeze and sun touched my face. It was almost winter, but still I kept my windows unshuttered. I loved the feel of the wind, and kept them open as long as I could, mewed up as I was in my husband’s keep. I could not go far, either in hunting or in merriment. I had to keep my eye always on Henry, to see what move he might make next. I did not think on Alais. I missed her as I missed nothing and no one else, but I kept my mind from her, except when she was before me. Like the pope, I would bide my time there as well. Before long, an opportunity would present itself, and I would bring her back to me. Richard barged in without knocking, the only man alive who would have dared. He crossed the room to me, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild. For one horrible moment, I thought something might have happened to Henry, or to Alais. I was wrong. “Mother, he will discard her.” “Richard.” I raised one hand, and Amaria drew the door closed behind my son. She raised an eyebrow, and I shook my head at her, telling her that there was nothing truly to worry about, reminding her that Richard was emotional, especially where Alais was concerned. His news had to do with Alais, the only subject that could upset him during those dark days. “Richard, what ails you?” “Alais, Mother. She is bearing the king’s bastard, and he will toss her aside as he has all the others. What will she do then? Who will protect her, when I cannot?” I waited, but the old jealousy did not rise as it once would have done. “Hear me, Richard. When Henry casts Alais aside, as indeed he must, I will care for her.” “She will be disgraced before all of Europe. Her life will be over.” I smiled. My son was strong and brave, but naive, as all men are. The loss of reputation did not ruin a woman unless she had no one else to succor her. Alais would always have me. “Richard, do not trouble yourself over this. There is nothing you or anyone can do to help her. She has chosen this path, and she will walk it to the end. But know this: when he casts her off, I will take her in. I will give her shelter.” “And her child?” The words were like bile in my throat, sharp and foul, but I meant them. “And her child.” Richard knelt to me and pressed his lips to my hand. He felt things so deeply; he always had, even as a child. I saw how much he still loved her, how much he would always love her, as he knelt there at my feet. “Richard, enough of this. Come and sit with me. Keep me company. I grow lonely without you near.” He rose at once, and crossed the room, my hand in his. He seated me in the best chair, and arranged the cushions behind my back. He kissed my forehead as if in blessing, before he sat beside me. “Wine, Mother?” “Please. Thank you, Richard.” He poured a glass of Anjou wine for me, and I drank it, though I was not thirsty. I watched him, my beautiful golden boy, and cursed Alais for hurting him as no woman ever had, as no woman ever would again. I swallowed my bile, and smiled at him. “What brings Alais’ plight to your mind, Richard? Have you been praying for her again?” “Yes, Mother. But I also went to see her.” I raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. “She said something vile about you, about ...” He flushed, not willing to repeat the phrase that was on all the court’s lips. My dried-up womb, indeed. “Yes, Richard, she spoke foolishly.” “She spoke against you,” he said. “Richard, things are said at such times that are not meant. No doubt Alais forgot in a moment of pique that every word she says is open to the speculation of others. The court cares for what a queen has to say, as they do not a princess of France.” “She is not queen,” Richard said, his face darkening. “Nor will she be. But the court does not know that. They must be cautious, and play both sides, until one comes out a clear winner.” “It is despicable.” “It is politics, my son. You would do well to heed it.” “I would rather be run through on the battlefield than force myself to such womanish tricks.” I laughed out loud at that. He forgot that I was a woman, too. “I’m sorry ...” I raised one hand, still laughing. “No, Richard, you do me honor. I know in your world to be thought womanish is a weakness. But women have deviousness, and ways that men do not, to see to it that their will is done.” “Yes, Mother.” “Do not trouble yourself, Richard. Leave the politics to me.” His face was still dark, his blue eyes shadowed. “Mother, she is sorry that she hurt you.” I felt my breath catch in my throat, as if he brought me news of a lover, and not of a young girl. “Is she?” I kept my voice from trembling, but I held my breath as I waited for his answer. “Yes. She is sorry for what she said.” I pressed his hand, and forced myself to smile. “Don’t think on the princess anymore, Richard.” He kissed my cheek, and rose to his feet. He had been too long indoors already “I love you, Mother.” He left me, and my women came in, bringing fruit and fresh wine, smiling at me as if I had not fallen into disgrace with the king, as if no usurpe............