Then I thought with a glow of pleasure: You are an old man, Henry Plantagenet. You are older than I am in truth, although you are eleven years younger.
“You are beautiful still,” he said.
I bowed my head. I gave him one of those looks which implied that I could not return the compliment on his looks. He understood. We still knew each other very well, and even after all these years we could read each other’s thoughts.
“It is long since we met,” he went on.
“It was your pleasure,” I reminded him.
“It is now my wish that there should be no rancor between us while we are here.”
“Then the King’s wishes must be obeyed.”
His lips twitched; he was admiring me, I knew; and I felt my spirits rise. I knew that there would soon be conflict between us and I welcomed it.
I thanked him for the clothes and the saddle he had sent.
He smiled faintly. “I dareswear you needed them.”
“I did. I understand it is because Henry asked it that you freed me from my prison.”
“For this visit,” he reminded me.
“Then I must be grateful to him,” I said. He was moved at the mention of our dead son.
I said: “He was my son too. I knew the end was near. I saw him in a dream.”
He was too emotional to speak for a moment.
“He was a handsome boy,” I said.
“There was never one as handsome as he was.”
“The end was sad. All that conflict. I know you loved him dearly ... more dearly than any of the others.”
“He turned against me. He was led astray.”
I wanted to say to him: No, it was not as simple as that. When you crowned him, you created a rival. You were to blame. He had no love for you ... yet on his deathbed he remembered me. You made me a prisoner but you cannot take that away from me. In the love of our children I have something for which you would give a great deal.
But I said none of these things. I was sorry for him.
“We both loved him,” I said. “He was our son. We must pray for him.”
“Together,” he said. “None understands my grief.”
“I understand it,” I said. I looked at him and saw the pain in his eyes. “Because,” I added, “I share it.”
He took my hand and pressed it; then he lifted it to his lips.
For a moment our shared grief had taken us right back to the days when we had meant a great deal to each other.
Then the greatest joy I had known for years came to me. Richard arrived at Westminster.
I stood staring at him. He had changed. He was so tall. I had forgotten how handsome he was; it was those blond looks inherited from his Viking ancestors, those bluest of blue eyes which could look like ice and which glowed like flames at the sight of me.
“My mother!” he cried and I was in his arms. I could not help it but the tears were in my eyes.
“This is wonderful ... wonderful,” I cried.
“At last,” he answered. “I have dreamed of this moment.”
“I have gleaned every bit of information I could about you. I have followed all you have done as far as I could. I have chafed with impatience because I could not know more. And now you are here. Richard, my dearest son.”
He looked at me, smiling. “There is no one like you,” he said. “You look wonderful. At first I thought it could not be. You are so ... young.”
“I have kept myself young and I take a great deal of care to do so. There is so much we must talk of.”
“In secret,” he said.
“Oh yes ... yes ...”
“We shall find a way.”
“I intend to be at your side whenever I can be.”
“That shall be my endeavor, too. I have thought of you constantly. You have never been out of my thoughts.”
“You are to be a king now, Richard.”
“Aye,” he replied. “But he will do all he can to deprive me of my rights.”
“Hush,” I said. “We will talk of it later. We are going to prevent that, Richard. We are going to see that everything that is yours shall come to you.”
I was dazzled and bewildered. This meeting was something I had dreamed of for so long. I had never doubted that it would take place someday, but now it was here it seemed too wonderful to be true.
Later we contrived to be alone and we talked of Aquitaine.
“He can’t take it from you,” I said. “Aquitaine is not his to give or take. It is mine and I made you my heir.”
“He wants to give it to John.”
“Nonsense. I will never allow it. And you are the heir to England now.”
“He will try to deprive me of everything.”
“He will not succeed.”
“I am determined that he shall not.”
“He does not really want war between you.”
“No, he wants to get his own way without it.”
“We will defeat him. Why has he brought me here? Why has he suddenly released me?”
“Sancho of Navarre advised him to, and Henry asked it on his deathbed.”
“I know. But it would be more than that. He will have a reason which we shall discover in due course.”
“There is something else. All this time he has kept Alais here. She is my betrothed and everyone knows how it is between them.”
“She has been his mistress for years. Do you know what surprised me more than the fact that he has taken his son’s intended bride? His fidelity to her. I had never thought he could be capable of it, as he has been to her and was to Rosamund Clifford.”
“He does not always act as one expects him to. I will not take Alais now. And I shall tell him why.”
“It is amazing how he keeps up the pretense. How old is she? She must be about twenty-five by now.”
“I prefer Sancho’s daughter Berengaria.”
“And it is Berengaria you shall have. Even your father would not expect you to take Alais now. What is wrong in Aquitaine, Richard?”
“I do not understand it. I have brought law and order to the land. It is quiet now but one is never sure when disruption will break out. They did not like my father and they do not like me.”
I said: “When my grandfather ruled, Aquitaine was happy ... well, as happy as a state will ever be. There were always dissenters ... but never on the scale that there have been since I went away. There was music and laughter in the Courts.”
“Bernard de Borne inflamed rebellion with his poetry.”
“That was because he flattered your brother and made him believe all he told him. Sometimes poetry can inspire men and women to greatness. Why will not the people accept my son?”
“They thought I was on my father’s side against you.”
“They hated my first husband, Louis, but not as much as they hated Henry.”
“They will hate anyone but you, Mother. You are the only one they will accept. I know of only one way to keep order and that is by strict application of the law. And that is what they will never wholly accept.”
“If I went back ...”
“The King is a fool to keep you a prisoner. There are too many people who love and respect you ... and admire you, too. I tell you this: as soon as I am King of England, I shall have you beside me.”
“I am fortunate,” I said, “to be so deeply loved.”
And so we talked, but we knew that Henry would have his reasons for bringing us all together and most of all for releasing me from my prison ... if only temporarily.
Christmas was to be spent at Windsor. Preparations were in full swing to make this a very special occasion. For the first time for years the King and Queen would spend the festival together. Special wines were sent to Windsor with food of all description. Musicians, jongleurs, acrobats ... nothing was spared to make this a memorable time. I guessed it would have been so without such trifles.