Boniface stayed to drink a cup of wine with the Queen and talk about his various projects, and Joanna retreated to her sewing. Edward arrived to visit his mother, his fair hair a dishevelled mop and his freckled face scarlet with exertion. One of his knees poked through a large tear in his hose.
‘What have you been doing?’ Alienor asked, horrified. ‘Come and greet the Archbishop even if you are in no state to do so.’
‘Uncle William let me ride Talent,’ Edward said, beaming, even as he knelt to his great uncle, exposing the rip even more.
Joanna lifted her head. The Queen’s gaze widened. Talent was William’s newest destrier, a powerful, bronze-bay Spanish stallion, young and skittish.
‘What?’
Edward grinned cheerfully. ‘He’s faster than the wind. He outstripped all the others.’
‘And he let you ride him – race him?’ Alienor’s voice rose a notch.
‘Yes.’ Edward’s gaze slipped, and Joanna suspected an adjustment of truth.
‘Is that wise, niece?’ Boniface turned to Alienor. ‘It seems rather irresponsible to me.’
‘Uncle William is the best tourneyer in the world!’ Edward enthused. ‘He’s going to teach me to joust just like him – and then I will be the best instead. And we’re going hunting tomorrow.’
‘We shall see about that,’ Alienor said, tight-lipped. ‘Go and change your hose and then come and sit with the Archbishop in a proper, civilised manner.’
Edward puffed out his cheeks in irritation, but bowed and departed.
Boniface looked sternly at Alienor. ‘It is not good to be encouraging your son in folly. He is intelligent and forward but not at the stage to be riding a spirited stallion.’
Alienor sent an accusing look towards Joanna, who was the scapegoat in William’s absence.
Joanna said, ‘My husband loves the lord Edward dearly and would do nothing to cause him harm I am sure.’
‘Not intentionally perhaps,’ Boniface replied, ‘but encouraging a headstrong boy to take risks is foolish. From my observations thus far, certain exuberances must be curbed. Edward is the heir to the throne. Encouraging him to ride a dangerous warhorse is the height of recklessness.’ He looked at Joanna as if it was her fault too for failing to mediate between her husband’s rash impulses and his reason.
The Queen said, ‘My husband’s brother is heedless at times, sometimes to excess. Be assured that I will deal with the matter.’
Edward returned in clean garments, his face washed, his hair combed, and this time made the proper obeisance, before perching on a stool at his mother’s feet, the picture of angelic innocence. Worried, Joanna excused herself. Since their return from Hertford, William had taken part in another tourney, permitted this time, but a young knight had been seriously injured and William had taken the blame. Now this. It was almost as though he was deliberately trying to ruin their standing at court.
‘What on earth were you thinking with Edward and Talent?’ she demanded of William in their chamber later.
He laughed and shook his head. ‘The little monkey came across him saddled up and was on his back and away before I could stop him. He’d been waiting his opportunity; I cannot fault his patience and cunning.’ William’s eyes shone with admiration. ‘He sits a horse really well, Joanna, no fear whatsoever, and his skill is excellent.’
‘Well, you are now in Boniface of Canterbury’s bad graces because of it,’ Joanna snapped. ‘William, you must think of these things.’
He snorted. ‘Hah, everyone who is not a Savoyard is the Archbishop’s enemy. He’s already made it clear he considers me and my brothers as rivals for influence. I’ve seen him whispering to the Queen. I’m not entirely wet behind the ears.’
‘Well then, don’t give him reasons to make a complaint.’
William grimaced. ‘It was pure mischance this afternoon. It won’t happen again. Boniface is just making a meal of it.’
‘You must be careful,’ she persisted. Soon she would not be here to curb William’s excesses and mishaps.
William shrugged. ‘You have nothing to worry about, and you should not – it is not good for you or the child.’
‘Well, do not give me cause to worry then.’
He sighed impatiently but kissed her. ‘I swear I won’t.’
‘And be careful with the lord Edward. If he keeps coming into his mother with ripped clothes and wild tales of escapades with you, it will not aid our cause.’
‘Joanna Worry-wort,’ he teased, pressing his forefinger to the tip of her nose.
