Free The Winter Crown by Elizabeth Chadwick Page A

go.
    Before she could speak, he was at the door, shouting for Becket, calling for musicians and courtiers. ‘Come,’ he said over his shoulder, looking at her but through her. ‘We must celebrate your arrival and I am not the only one you must greet!’
    The hours until retiring were an endurance test for Alienor. She spoke and smiled; she mingled with the court. She received polite condolences, murmured outside of Henry’s hearing, and she saw the sidelong glances people cast in his direction. Thomas Becket was sincere and solicitous but also eager to show off the yards of glorious silk damask he had bought at a bargain price from a Venetian merchant. While she was politely examining the cloth, he was at pains to inform her that the idea to make Henry’s brother Count of Nantes had been his.
    ‘It is well thought of,’ Alienor replied, giving praise where it was due.
    ‘Better than Ireland,’ he agreed. ‘Now we must find a similar position for my lord’s youngest brother.’
    Alienor raised her brows and wondered how much responsibility Henry had delegated to Becket. One did not have a dog and bark oneself, but at the same time the animal could not be allowed to dominate the owner.
    Alienor looked at the young man Becket had mentioned. William FitzEmpress stood among a group of young knights, ostensibly listening to their conversation, but taking his time to gaze round the chamber, measuring and assessing, never still. Alienor did not particularly like Henry’s sandy-haired youngest brother, but he was less of a threat than Geoffrey, and at only twenty years old, there was time to decide his future. He caught her watching him and lifted his cup in acknowledgement. She returned the courtesy and he looked away.
    Hamelin arrived to speak with her, kissing her on both cheeks, holding her hands, and facing her without evasion. ‘My condolences on Will’s loss,’ he said. ‘I cannot imagine what it is like to lose a child, especially one as precious to you both as he was.’
    Alienor swallowed, suddenly tearful that Henry’s half-brother could mention Will while Henry could not. ‘No, you cannot imagine, but thank you,’ she said. Drawing a deep breath she steadied herself. ‘How has Henry seemed to you? He will not even speak Will’s name.’
    Hamelin glanced across the room to where Henry was talking with Alienor’s chamberlain Warin FitzGerold. ‘He does not speak of him among us,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘We have learned to avoid the subject because he either deflects it in rage or, as you see now, he diverts himself with other matters. He will not think about it because if he did, the grief would unman him.’
    ‘And he blames me, I know he does.’
    Hamelin looked uncomfortable. ‘No one knows what my brother thinks and feels; even those of us who are close to him cannot fathom his mind.’ He touched her arm. ‘I do know he is pleased to see you and the other children and I believe it will make all the difference to him.’
    ‘You are kind,’ she said with a wan smile.
    ‘No, I am truthful. He has missed you; your presence will help him deal with the wounds he licks in private.’
    She wondered if it would. After a hesitation she said, ‘I have brought him the son born of his concubine. Do you have any insights for me, Hamelin?’
    His expression grew wary. ‘I was raised under my father’s roof, and Emma was sent to Fontevraud. The Empress was indifferent to me and Emma, but she was always fair and I respected her for that and still do.’
    ‘And how did you feel?’
    He shrugged. ‘I resented Henry because I was the firstborn but he had all the privileges, and that only worsened when his other brothers arrived. I was always at the bottom of the pile because I was the Count’s bastard. I would lie in bed wishing things had been different, but as I became a man that changed. I learned to accept I would never be a king or a count. Indeed, would I want it? With the position I