She narrowed her eyes, considering the remark. ‘Do you really think so? A little girl with your hair tied in silk ribbons would look beautiful.’
He gave her an indignant look. ‘Are you saying I have hair like a woman?’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘It would not be exactly like yours, and I would love to bear you sons in your image too, but I was thinking of a daughter with ripples like that to her waist.’
‘Who knows what the future will bring,’ he said, ‘but we can strive our best to prepare the ground and give it every opportunity to happen.’
He rowed them in to shore, to a grassy bank in the concealing, whispering shade of a willow tree, and there they made love in the dappled afternoon. His masculine strength and the beauty of his lean young body intoxicated her, and the gentleness of his hands, and his kisses tasting of marchpane, as her lips must taste to his.
Afterwards they lay side by side, fingers entwined, listening to the lap of the river, the call of a coot, the plop of a vole. They dabbled their feet in the water. She made a daisy chain and William chewed on a sweet stem of grass and watched the sun-coins glitter on the water.
‘I suppose they will be looking for us,’ she said reluctantly at last.
‘Yes, we should go, but …’ Sighing, he reached for his shoes. ‘We shall soon be immersed in duties at court and on our lands. But I want us to have time together like this, always. Just us; no attendants, no one watching. And even if we have cares, time to set those cares aside, if only for a moment. I want it for always – until the end of our lives, no matter what. Promise me.’
Joanna almost pinched herself in disbelief. This was the King’s brother, vital, handsome, and at her feet, asking her for reassurance. ‘We shall promise each other,’ she said. ‘Wherever we are, whatever the circumstances.’
They kissed again, tenderly, and returned to the boat. He had to work harder at the oars now as they made their way against the stream to the original mooring.
‘Of course, everyone will surmise what we have been doing,’ William said ruefully, ‘but that is between us, and we are man and wife. There is no cause for embarrassment.’
‘No.’
Amusement filled her because his ears were red again. She dipped her hand over the side and lightly flicked water at him. He ducked, and Joanna felt light and golden with love for him because he was hers, and she would not have flicked water over any other man with such spontaneous daring.
13
Windsor Castle, September 1247
The practice on the tilting ground had been hard work in the sultry, thunderous weather of early September. Hot and sweaty from the exertion, William stripped to his braies and scrubbed his body with a cloth steeped in cool, herb-scented water. One of Joanna’s numerous cousins, Richard, Earl of Gloucester, wanted to organise a tourney against him and his brothers and had approached the King for permission. Henry had procrastinated and not yet given an answer, but William hoped he would consent, for he and John de Warenne were to be knighted on the Feast of St Edward next month.
Joanna was occupied with the Queen this morning, but William would see her at dinner in the hall. He sometimes resented the time Joanna spent with Alienor, but he had to attend similarly on Henry, and maintaining royal patronage was necessary. Sometimes he would catch the Queen’s gaze on him when he was with Henry, and although she would smile, her eyes were speculative and assessing, which made the hair prickle on the back of his neck.
Jacomin was helping him with the laces of his court tunic when John de Warenne put his head around the door. A week ago, the King had announced to the court that John and Aliza were to wed, much to William’s delight. He could think of no better alliance, and it would be wonderful to have his best friend as his brother too. There had been some angry grumbling in the royal circle about how the best English heirs were being married off to various hungry interlopers, but William ignored the complaints as mere jealous griping.
‘I am almost ready.’ William grinned at John. ‘We did well today. I’m hoping the King will let us tourney against Richard of Gloucester’s party once we are knighted.’ He pointed to the rectangular cloth bundle tucked under John’s arm. ‘What have you got there?’
‘This?’ John unwrapped the cloth to reveal a leather-bound book and handed it to William. ‘You are always reading, and this might interest you.’
William ran his forefinger over the ornate brass clasps.
‘It’s a history of my grandsire, William the Marshal, who was Earl of Pembroke and regent of England when the King was a boy,’ John said. ‘My uncle commissioned copies so that our family could listen to his story on the anniversary of his death. It’s not until May, so you can have the book for the winter. No one could best him in the tourneys – he defeated five hundred knights in single combat.’
William whistled. Five hundred was like numbering the trees in a forest, and probably exaggerated, but it still whetted his appetite.
‘When we have children, his blood will run in their veins,’ John said. ‘I wish I had known him but he was more than ten years in his grave when I was born. I do not believe Joanna’s mother had a copy, for she was still a child at the time, so Joanna might like to hear the story too.’
‘Thank you,’ William said with heartfelt gratitude. ‘I promise I will take great care of it.’ He went to his personal coffer, and locked it inside with his crystal and jasper chess pieces. Then he turned to John and smiled. ‘I am glad we are going to be related by marriage, for I can think of no one I would rather call brother, even my own.’
Following the evening repast, William sat to play dice with his brothers and a few companions. Aymer was leaving the next day to study in Oxford. Henry had given him funds for his upkeep, and had promised him a bishopric to the great annoyance of many, who considered the King’s generosity to his siblings wasteful and foolish.
Edward joined his uncles around the dice table to watch. In the warm September evening his hair was dark with sweat and his eyelids were heavy.
William glanced at the boy. Edward was chafing against the ties that his mother had bound around him. He understood the lad’s need for masculine camaraderie and his avid curiosity about the world of dicing and banter – experiences he would receive from neither parent. A coterie of high-spirited young uncles was a different matter entirely.
Edward leaned against the table and desultorily flicked at a pile of silver, caught William’s eye on him in amused reproval, and with a sigh, propped his chin on his hands. William presented him with the dice cup. ‘Here, throw for me,’ he said.
Edward immediately brightened and cast the dice into the middle of the table, scoring a winning throw. Chuckling, William scooped up the coins and handed three to Edward. A glance at the Queen showed him narrowed eyes and pursed lips. William turned back to the game, feeling a glimmer of resentment.
