Free The Queen's Pawn by Christy English Page B

that Eleanor had taught him the art of war by teaching him to nurture art within his soul. His music, his poetry, and his flair for battle, all came from the same place, the creative fount that Eleanor had nurtured, as she had left me nurtured in the Abbey of St. Agnes. Nowhere else would a woman have been taught to paint as I had been. No other nunnery would have allowed it. Always, Eleanor gave the best to those she best loved, holding nothing back.
    We walked on, and I felt close to him, closer than I had felt to anyone but Eleanor in many years. I thanked God once more that He had seen fit to give me this man as a haven for the rest of my life.
    We came to a part of the castle where people were stirring. As we passed, people bowed to Richard, then looked twice when they saw me. Some did not even think to bow, but stared. Richard did not acknowledge any of them except to nod to a few, the ones who were high ranking, the ones he could not ignore.
    He spoke to none of them, but dropped my hand as he led me to another door. This one opened onto a much larger courtyard. I could see the buttery in the distance, and somewhere I heard a wheel turning, drawing water from a well.
    Richard bowed to me in the middle of a simples garden that was not much larger than the one at the abbey. Winchester was a royal palace, as well as the bishop’s seat, but it was not as large as my father’s palace in Paris. No one else was in the garden, though I could hear women working in the kitchen not far away.
    “I will leave you here,” he said, his face closed to me. The easiness between us had fled. We had started gossip by walking in public un-escorted, and he did not like it. For me, he had broken every rule of the honor we had both been raised to. Behind his displeasure at the talk we had started, I saw in his eyes that he wanted us to build our own alliance, a love born from our common loneliness. Richard hoped that we might make our own rules, and be a haven for each other.
    “I must thank you.” I touched his arm. “I would not have found this place without you.”
    His face softened, and the shutters fell from his eyes. Before he could speak again, Marie Helene found me, her wimple askew where she had drawn it on by herself.
    “Your Highness, where have you been?” she asked. “When you did not come back, I was worried, my lady.”
    “You see, my lord,” I said. “She is my friend who fears for me, so much that she would scold me in front of my betrothed.”
    “It is a good friend who will scold you, though you are a princess. Keep her by you always, for friends like that are rare.”
    We stood looking at each other, Marie Helene forgotten until she cleared her throat.
    Richard bowed to us, and we curtsied. “I hope to see you again,” he said to me, lowering his voice slightly, as if to give us privacy that we no longer had.
    “I fear you will have to, my lord.”
    I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed. “Yes. Well, it is a charge I would not turn from.”
    “Nor I.”
    Marie Helene stiffened, but neither of us heeded her.
    As we stood together, Richard’s page came running to us. He bowed first to me, then knelt to Richard on the damp ground. Richard smiled, his face softening still further at the sight of the boy. He touched the crown of the boy’s head, and the page rose to his feet.
    “My lord prince, the queen calls for you to go on a hunt.”
    The child invoked Eleanor as if she were a pagan goddess come down to earth. I hid my smile. I had always loved her. My awe had been married to my love. With others, she was always above them, beyond their reach.
    Richard turned to me. “Shall we ride out, my lady?”
    I had never been on horseback in my life. I ate meat, but never had I seen it dressed or killed. But I would not let them leave me behind.
    “I would love to, my lord prince.”
    We left the garden then, trailing behind Richard’s page, who ran ahead like the child he still was. I remembered to