The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [191]
Alais was there. She was a beautiful girl, very gentle, a little uneasy at this time, particularly as Richard was one of the party. He treated her with a cool disdain almost as though he were unaware of her. I know of no one who could present such an icy front to the world as Richard. Geoffrey was rather amused by the situation, I believe. One had the impression that he was hoping for trouble and if he saw a chance would do his best to provoke it.
John was there. I could not like my son John. He was different from the others. Now he was placating his father at every turn, being the dutiful, affectionate son. Surely Henry was not deceived. Oddly enough he seemed to be. It was strange that he who was so shrewd on all other matters should be so blind where his sons were concerned—believing what he wanted to rather than what was blatant fact.
There were meetings. At some of them I was present.
Henry was trying to persuade Richard to give up Aquitaine, and Richard refused. Henry raged and ranted and Richard stood firm.
Henry wanted to distribute the power among his sons, and for that he had to have my agreement. That was why I was there. He did realize that I was of some significance on the Continent. I believed that a certain amount of his troubles there were due to his imprisoning me.
When he asked me to agree to the distribution of his possessions, of which John was to get the larger part, I stubbornly refused my consent.
“Why do you always go against me?” he demanded in exasperation.
“I only go against you when you act foolishly.”
“You are speaking to the King.”
“I am well aware of that for he never lets me forget it. I remember that he has been my jailer for a great many years.”
“And could be for a great many more to come.”
“If it suits his purpose, I have no doubt.”
“Why cannot you listen to reason?”
“Why do you not do the same?”
“I am the King—I make the rules.”
“As we have seen on occasions . . . disastrously. Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. Was there ever a greater mistake? Yes, one. The crowning of your son in your lifetime. Think about that, Henry Plantagenet, and then ask yourself whether you have always listened to reason.”
“Be silent.”
I bowed my head. The shafts had gone home.
“There is going to be trouble in Aquitaine. They don’t like Richard.”
“Do you think they would like John?”
“They are stupid ridiculous people. They spend their time singing romantic songs. They think that if you were their ruler it would be paradise. Richard will not give up Aquitaine to John. Perhaps he would to you.”
I stared at him.
He did not look at me and went on: “You could spend some time there. Go among them. Let them see you . . . how well you have fared in prison. Satisfy their love of romance. I have no doubt they will make up songs about you.”
To go back to Poitiers, to be in my Court again, surrounded by musicians and poets . . . long summer evenings out of doors . . . the scent of pines and glorious flowers . . . long winter evenings around a fire . . . laughing, carefree . . . beautiful clothes to wear . . . he was opening the gates of Paradise.
“Think about it,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “I will go.”
And I thought: Aquitaine returned to me and held for Richard.
What could be better?
From Windsor the Court traveled to Winchester.
I had told Richard about the King’s suggestion.
“If Aquitaine is mine, it is as good as yours,” I told him. “He is suggesting that I go there to keep order.”
“Which shows how worried he is. It is quiet for a while but revolt is always there . . . ready to break out. He thinks you will have a sobering effect and this is his way of bringing it about.”
“But if it is handed back to me—and that will have to be without double-dealing . . . if it is all fair and legal . . . I shall go there. I shall be free, Richard. And I shall see that, when I am no more, Aquitaine shall be yours.”
“You are the only one I would give it to.”
“So let us think about it. Let us consider every little detail so that he has no opportunity of cheating