‘Go and see what my son is doing, and bring him to me,’ Alienor said to distract her. ‘I fear he is up to mischief of some sort – as always.’ Her sigh was exasperated but indulgent.
Joanna left her sewing and went to Edward, wiping her eyes on the side of her hand, annoyed at her sudden stab of emotion. The gardeners had been busy gridding out seedlings in heraldic patterns in the soil beds and there were delineated squares marked out with small sticks. Edward was using one of the sticks to flick the others away and the little plants had been flattened, uprooted and scattered.
‘Sire, what have you done!’ Joanna was aghast. ‘Now there will be no flowers to enjoy later in the year.’
He slanted her a look from vivid blue eyes. ‘I am confusing the enemy, and I have won the battle!’
‘But these are not the enemy,’ Joanna remonstrated. ‘These are seedlings trying to grow.’
He deliberately flurried his hand over the bed, further disturbing the soil. ‘There! I’m the winner!’
‘Your mother wants you.’ Edward could be a tyrant at times, and as his eighth birthday approached he was becoming increasingly difficult despite his undeniable charm. She reached for him and he backed away.
‘I’m too big to sit with women and little children,’ he said mutinously, and stamped off towards the garden gate.
Joanna chased after him and caught him as he lifted the latch. ‘You cannot go out there.’ She tried to take his hand.
‘I can go where I want!’ Edward shoved her off. ‘I’m the King’s son!’
‘All the more reason to behave as a king should,’ Joanna retorted as he struggled.
Cecily had noticed the altercation and arrived to help. ‘Come now, sire,’ she said firmly, ‘you should not be so vexatious. You would not want to be bled for an excess of choler. A king must learn control of himself so that he may control others.’
Edward gave her a narrow look, his eyes vivid blue in his scarlet face, but he ceased to fight.
A fanfare of trumpets blared from beyond the garden gate, heralding the arrival of a bright array of nobles and attendants, with hawks and dogs and baggage-laden sumpter horses. Joanna recognised Aliza de Lusignan with a flash of pleasure, and then her brothers, no longer youths but grown men. One sported a pilgrim’s cross on his cloak, another was clad in clerical robes, and a striking young man wearing a shallow-brimmed hat fluttering with peacock feathers rode at his side, whom she thought from memory must be William.
‘Your father’s kin have arrived,’ Joanna said.
Edward’s flush had receded and he studied the newcomers with interest.
‘Come, we must tell your mother and wash off all this soil.’
She took his hand, and Edward capitulated now because here was something new and interesting, and the only way through to it was by being agreeable.
On receiving the news, Alienor gathered her ladies together. ‘I had not realised they would be here so soon!’ Although she smiled, irritation marked her brows. ‘Ah well, let the King greet them while we make ready – especially you, young man.’ She pinched Edward’s cheek. ‘I shall know who to blame when there are no flowers in my garden.’
‘But I will protect you, Mama,’ Edward said practically. ‘Flowers can’t do that.’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘Your father named you after a peaceful king who did not know what a sword looked like, but you cannot thwart God’s will.’
She had a swift word with the gardener, giving him instructions concerning the ruined flower bed, and a small purse of coins to rectify the damage and mollify the upset.
Grumbling, Edward was scrubbed and made to put on a clean tunic. The Queen changed into a sumptuous gown of gold silk and called for her jewels, selecting several ruby rings, an ornate gold brooch and her favourite embroidered belt. Once Alienor was satisfied, her household made its way to the great hall and were announced by another fanfare of trumpets. The King hastened to greet his wife and escort her to her chair on the dais. Joanna moved quietly to one side with the other ladies, her hands modestly clasped before her. But she raised her eyes to look across at the group waiting to be presented to Alienor and briefly caught Aliza’s glance, and exchanged a smile.
Guy and Geoffrey, the two oldest Lusignan brothers, were first to kneel before the Queen – strong, wide-shouldered men in their twenties, with the swagger of warriors. Then Aymer, the priest in training, who had softer features but quick, intelligent eyes that took everything in. Henry had a bishopric in mind for him, and Joanna had heard mutterings about the King’s half-brother being far too young, and not the right choice for a role that demanded a serious, scholarly approach. The youngest brother, William, now stood on the cusp of manhood. His hair was still the mass of burnished tight curls she remembered and his eyes, with the light in them, were the grey-gold of field flints. He had high cheekbones that set his eyes at a slight slant, a chiselled, sharp nose and a wide smile. He had carefully folded his feathered hat through his belt and now he knelt to Alienor.
She extended her hand. ‘The King has spoken often of having you come to dwell with us and I am glad to welcome you to court,’ she said.
‘I am pleased to be so warmly greeted, madam,’ he replied in a voice light with youth, but holding the promise of richness, and bowed over her hand. Then he stood straight and turned, arm extended to Aliza, and brought her forward to curtsey to the Queen, who gave her a kiss on either cheek, greeted her as a sister, and indicated that she should sit on a stool at the side of her chair. Before doing so, Aliza presented Alienor with sweetmeats, contained in an exquisite enamelled box worked in the jewel-colours for which the Limousin was so famous.
Alienor’s face brightened with pleasure. ‘How thoughtful of you, and how beautiful.’ She handed the box to Joanna for safe keeping, and then introduced Edward to his aunts and uncles whom he was eyeing with critical interest.
‘My liege lord.’ William bowed deeply, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘I am looking forward to being of service. We have a gift for you also.’ He presented the boy with a decorated red leather belt from which hung a small ivory-hilted knife.
Smiling with delight, Edward took the belt and drew the knife from its patterned sheath to examine the strong little blade, and thanked his uncle with enthusiasm.
‘You have found the way to my son’s heart,’ Henry said with amusement. ‘He is a proper little knight.’
