She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I am so pleased to see you, but it has been too long a time.’
‘Yes, it has, and I have so missed you!’
She had been in a separate flow while they were apart, and becoming part of the greater river again and entering a merged relationship was like negotiating rapids. She felt his body against hers – the body that had given her the children she had borne through hers in pain and travail. They were each half of a whole and that was how they were perceived by the people smiling at their tender embrace. She turned within William’s arms to face the external things and do everything expected of her formal position, deciding she would leave the rest until later and deal with what lay on the surface first.
Following a banquet and entertainment hosted by the King, Edward retired to his lodging. In a few days he would ride to Las Huelgas to marry the thirteen-year-old Leonora of Castile. The King and Queen were spending the night together, freeing Joanna to go to the house William had hired close to the Ombrière Palace – a fine merchant’s dwelling with cool, tiled floors, a courtyard and a fountain. Upstairs, the windows were open to a moonlit summer night, the sky as deep as indigo silk.
Joanna dismissed her maids, and as they closed the door it was as if they had taken the air with them, for suddenly she could barely breathe. William sat in the embrasure, foot up on the sill, slowly unlacing his boot. As a good wife, she ought to go and assist him, but she felt as unsure and tense as on their wedding night. He was being studiously attentive to his task, his focus on his fingers. She slowly removed her veil and untwined her plaits, watching him covertly. They were two strangers, and the strain between them was the greatest thing in the room. All that she wanted to say to him filled her up, but she could not speak.
Dallying, she slowly took off her shoes and her gown. He removed his tunic and stood in his loose linen shirt and hose. Bracing his arm on the window ledge, he leaned forward to look out on the darkness.
Joanna dredged up all her courage and joined him, tentatively touching his shoulder, and that was all it took to snap the tension.
Turning, he took her round the waist. ‘I have missed you so much,’ he said, and buried his face in the juncture of her neck and shoulder. ‘You do not know how deep, how wide, how far. It is almost too much to cross the divide.’
‘I do know,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Ah God, William!’
And then they were kissing and tearing at their remaining garments, frantic, all earlier caution and hesitation thrown to the wind as the rivers melded and became an overwhelming spate.
In the aftermath they lazed together, and Joanna reacquainted herself with his face, his body, the feel of his skin. His hair had lightened under the southern sun and gold twists glinted in the candle light. She ran her fingers through his curls with a joy so keen that it was almost pain.
‘I have missed you beside me,’ he said. ‘Not just your body, but you are my comfort. I can tell you things that I would never tell anyone else, not even John, for he would not understand. I find myself asking “What would Joanna do?” or “What would Joanna think?” and I imagine your face and your voice, and I have my answer.’
She laughed, and tugged on his chest hair. ‘You always sighed at my advice and called me a “worry-wort”, as I recall.’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I stoppered my ears entirely. It is reassuring to have you in the chamber and I know I can trust you with my life and our children’s lives and you will never let me down.’
Her eyes stung with emotion. She had had to stand on her own feet during their time apart. She had followed Cecily’s advice and trusted herself foremost, but William would love, protect and defend her for all he was worth. He saw her as she was.
She left the bed to bring wine and a platter of cheese pastries to share while they caught up with each other’s lives. Tension had robbed her of her appetite at the banquet, but now she was ravenous and set to with a will.
‘We have seen some fighting,’ he said between mouthfuls, ‘but I took no unnecessary risks and we were successful.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Henry entrusted me with the military detail of the campaigns and all has worked to our advantage. I have also been involved with diplomacy and administration. The people trust me.’
She recognised his need for praise, and his desire for her to believe in his abilities. And indeed, she did believe him. He had matured and learned some hard lessons since his quarrel with the Queen. She had seen from the way Henry favoured him at the banquet, and how others had treated him with deference, that he had won respect during the campaign.
‘I am proud of you,’ she said. ‘You have done so well.’
They kissed again, tenderly, before continuing with their meal.
‘I wish I could have brought the children to you,’ she said, ‘but we did not know what we would find here, and it was better to leave them at Windsor with their cousins. I wish you could see how much they have grown. Margaret has your curls, Agnes can recite the full creed now, and Iohan is learning to read.’
‘I am looking forward to seeing them,’ he said, ‘although they will have grown even more by the time that happens. But I am glad at least to have my wife.’
He raised his cup in toast, and she raised hers in reply.
‘What do you think of the lord Edward’s marriage to Alphonso of Castile’s sister?’ she asked.
‘It seems a fine solution.’ He reached for another pastry. ‘It avoids the dispute over Gascony, and secures our borders. The princess has been raised among men of military standing and she is well educated and of a compatible age with Edward. Like us, if God is good, they have the opportunity to grow old together and raise their children.’
‘Edward certainly seems amenable – indeed keen.’
‘Well, he is going to be free from his mother, isn’t he?’
She gave him a sharp look. ‘You need to remain on cordial terms with the Queen.’
He shrugged. ‘We shall never be bosom friends even if we have mended our relationship for now, but I meant no insult to her. Edward has always wanted to be his own man. His marriage is going to let him off the leash, with a new young wife at his side. His mother may be there in the background for support, but she is part of his past – even if she does not think so.’ He finished the pastry and poured a second cup of wine.
Joanna left her seat and went to the window. The summer breeze gently billowed her chemise. ‘What about the Pope’s proposal to make Edward’s brother King of Sicily? The Queen and her uncles are keen, and I think Henry will be interested.’
