The Queen's Pawn by Christy English Page A

saw the request in my eyes, and beneath her court reserve, the Eleanor I knew peeked out at me. She made a great show of being delighted with my obedience and modesty, so that all might take note of it. I filled my role as if born to it, as indeed I was, and it became a game between us.
    When each man asked me to dance, I would wait and catch her eye, so that she might nod and give her permission. I forgot the dinner talk of Thomas Becket and the king’s anger. I lost myself in the motion of the dance, the steps that had been taught to me by Eleanor herself.
    The queen winked when she sent me to the dance floor with a particularly good-looking young man. He was a lord from the north, a younger son who had just inherited unexpectedly. I knew from her ladies that he had come to court for the queen to arrange a match for him.
    “At least I am spoken for,” I said. “You don’t have to fear that the queen will saddle you with me.”
    The young man laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked over at Eleanor, who was still smiling at us indulgently “I would never be so ungallant as to call your company a burden, Your Highness.”
    “Not for one dance,” I said. “But for a lifetime ... that might be more cumbersome.”
    He flushed, and I laughed. “Don’t worry,” I said. “She will make you a good match. The queen has excellent taste.”
    “The Lord Richard is surely a fortunate man.”
    Marie Helene and I left for my rooms soon after. When I curtsied to bid her good night, Eleanor drew me close. “Lead men a merry chase,” she said, “but never let them catch you.”
    “Not until the wedding night,” I said, speaking low, so that others would not hear me over the music.
    Eleanor smiled her wicked smile, and let go of my hand. “No, Alais. Not even then.”

PART II
    WINDSOR

Chapter 8
    ELEANOR: QUEEN OF SPIES
    Windsor Castle
May 1172
     
     
    My spy network, while still active at Windsor, had to go underground. So I took my waiting women out for a stroll in the forest, that I might do my true work as queen unencumbered.
    The great trunks of the king’s forest rose above our heads as they had done since long before the Norman dukes had conquered these lands. Spring was well advanced by that time, and the green of the trees had not yet darkened to opaqueness, but shone with hints of sunlight through the leaves.
    We brought men-at-arms to guard us, though the king’s peace was secure here, as it was in all of southern England by that time. Henry and I had seen to that.
    Windsor was Henry’s palace, more than it would ever be mine. Though Winchester’s royal seat was held by the bishop, my network found it easier to maneuver there, far from the king’s eye. At Windsor, when the king was not in residence, his ministers were, and they all kept close watch over me.
    It was a bond between us.
    So to take my spies’ reports, I had to hear them outdoors. Spring had blossomed with May, the month of the Blessed Virgin, as Alais was quick to remind me. I still had not weaned her from her father’s religion. She clung to it as she clung to the memory of France. France I would never take from her, but Louis’ blind obedience to the pope and all his teachings was something I would cure her of.
    I left my adopted daughter with the elderly women of my court. She alone had the patience for them. Perhaps it was her convent upbringing; she would sit with them, content to read aloud while they spun wool for hours on end. I left them to it. I put Alais out of my thoughts, for I had the business of the kingdom in hand, business that I wanted her to know nothing of.
    Amaria caught my eye. When I nodded, she drew my waiting women away to watch a man on the tiltyard, not far from where we stood. He was one of Richard’s men, a great, brawny specimen that in my youth I would have favored. No doubt he had little talk or music to recommend him, but those things were not what such men were good for.
    Only Angeline