Chapter 29 ELEANOR: AN ESCAPE

Windsor Castle February 1173 Richard and I were sitting in his rooms, whiling away the long, dark afternoon in my husband’s keep, when Alais burst in on us from the hidden door. I could not have been more shocked if she had risen full-blown from the stones of the floor the way Henry’s ancestor was said to have been raised straight from hell. Richard was on his feet in an instant, trained for war as he was. He had his dagger in his hand before he realized that it was not an assassin who came to us but Alais. “Richard, you must leave this place,” she said. “Alais.” Richard spoke only her name. My son had the sense to put away his weapon, but I saw that he was slain already Pain and love lingered on his face, at war with each other, vying for precedence. I saw then that he loved her far more than I had understood. For the first time, I saw that between these two, there were no politics, no talk of war, or lands, or gold. Between these two, they had found something I had never sought. A love based not on necessity, politics, or power but on the simple, personal bond between them. The loss of Alais had cost him not an alliance with France, or the lands of the Vexin, but something that was to Richard more precious. Alais seemed as struck by the sight of my son as he was by her. She blinked, swallowing convulsively, though she was too strong to weep. As I watched, she rallied, and found her voice once more. “You must go. John has brought Henry a letter that tells of your alliance with Geoffrey. Even now, the king musters his men-at-arms.” Light began to dawn behind Richard’s eyes, a light of joy I thought never to see again. “You have betrayed him,” Richard said. “You have risked yourself, for me.” Alais reached for him, and he caught her hand. “I will not stand by and let them kill you.”
Henry would never raise his hand to our son. But I remembered Becket, and how Henry’s knights had murdered him in cold blood. I knew that Richard could not tarry here. Richard kissed Alais’ hand as if swearing her fealty, as he so often had with mine, but he held it longer, and lingered over it as a lover might. She let him hold her hand, but she turned to me. I rose and went to them. “Eleanor, Henry is coming. Before he gets here, you must forgive me,” Alais said. “For what, Alais?” I asked, thinking that she meant to ask forgiveness for trying to steal my throne. “For taking the king’s love from you.” The princess spoke low, her voice barely above a whisper. I knew then that this was what she feared, the one thing that had plagued her the whole time she schemed to take my place. It was love she craved, love she valued. She served France blindly out of love for her father. I took her other hand in mine and kissed it. “Alais, you never stole Henry’s love from me. For a long time, there has been no real love between us.” I saw the question unasked in her eyes, and I answered it. I did not make her pay for it, but gave it freely, gift for gift. For when faced with the choice, she had saved my son. “I have not loved him truly, Alais. Not in many years. Not since long before I met you.” She came into my arms then, and I held her. Richard dropped her hand, and turned away. At first I thought he was sorry to see her in my arms again, but as he donned his chain mail, I saw him swipe at his eyes. He was as softhearted toward her as he had ever been. “Eleanor, will you shelter me? Me, and my unborn child?” My grip on her tightened, and I breathed in the rose scent of her hair. Finally, the war between Henry and myself for the love of this girl was over. Finally, I had won. “Alais, I will protect you. You need not even ask.” Richard gestured, clearing his throat, his squire springing into action as if on a battlefield. “Bring my light armor. We ride for the coast.” My love for Henry had died long ago, and for the first time, I had admitted it; that admission had set Richard free. His pain was lifted as if it were a dream gone at morning. His anguish had been, not just jealousy over the princess, but fear that I had been suffering, and horror that he could do nothing to save me pain. With that burden lifted, he looked light again, the bright young prince I knew him to be. Richard had seen me hold the woman he loved, and heard me promise to shield her. It was no idle boast. I had protected him from Henry all his life; I would protect her now. Leaving Alais safe with me, Richard would be strong enough to hold his own with Geoffrey and young Henry when spring came, when all my sons rose as one against the king. “Go to Geoffrey,” I told him. “Will he receive me?” Richard asked. “Geoff is waiting for you,” I said. “That is why Henry is coming for you now.” Richard was clothed in his travel armor. His men-at-arms, John of Northumberland and Gregory of Lisle, were ready to follow him. Richard came to me, and pressed my hand. “Stay at my keep in Oxford,” I said. I rang a bell, and Amaria stepped into Richard’s rooms from the hall outside. “Go by river. I will have the ice-breaking barge ready for you.” Amaria heard my command and left at once to see that the barge was prepared. “Henry can’t move troops in winter, but as soon as there is a thaw, he will come after you. Wait for word from me. Come spring, we will all be ready” “If it is war Father wants, I will bring it to him in Anjou.” I kissed my son. I saw that the time for counsel was over. I would have to trust Richard now to act for himself. On the battlefield, he knew no equal. Richard turned to leave and passed Alais then, going out the door by which she had entered. He stopped and took her hand. He raised it to his lips. “I will remember this, Alais. In the end, you chose me.” She did not speak, but he saw her love for him on her face. He and his men left, and the hidden stone door closed behind him. There was no longer a question in my mind. For months I had debated with myself whether to mount a full-scale rebellion, a complete uprising of all Henry’s sons. I had hesitated, wondering if Henry might someday see reason, if he might release his stranglehold over our sons, and the lands they held only in name. Each was a lord in his own land: Henry the Younger in Normandy, Geoffrey in Brittany, and Richard in the Aquitaine. But always, Henry kept his far-flung empire under his control. No matter what titles and honors he grudgingly granted our sons, he refused to let them rule. Now Geoffrey’s letter had tipped the balance. Henry knew nothing of my involvement, and nothing of young Henry’s desire for war. He had only veiled references from Geoffrey to Richard, which I knew he would be too overconfident to heed. Once Geoffrey wrote again and placated Henry, no doubt Geoff’s lies would be believed. It was only Richard whom Henry hated with an unswerving passion. Once my favorite son was safe, I would wait, and take my time to spring the trap I had built so carefully. I would take action to protect my sons, and myself. Henry understood only force, so let that be. Come spring, we would show him force, my sons and I together.