He kissed her again and then drew away, heading to the stairs and pausing briefly to draw a deep breath before climbing to the solar.
The bed was made up neatly with the silk embroidered curtains Aliza had ordered last year. A scent of beeswax polish rose from the oak bench and light sparkled on the gold in the cushion covers. A beautiful room, but already a shell. John sat on a stool at the empty bedside, his head bowed, black hair flopping on his forehead, his clothes stained and dishevelled. Filled with pity, William went to him and touched his shoulder.
‘John, I am here. I have heard the news … dear God.’ He drew up a stool and sat so he could look into his friend’s haggard, beard-stubbled face. ‘There will never be another like Aliza. She was my dear sister. I shall know the loss of her as part of my firmament. I grieve, but God needed her for Himself, and God’s will is not an easy task.’
John curled his lip and his dark eyes flashed with rage. ‘Do not prate to me of God’s will,’ he snarled. ‘How can it be God’s will she should die? I say that God does not exist!’
It was blasphemy, but William understood the depths of John’s despair. ‘I need to give you something,’ he said, and placed the crystal-encased lock of hair in John’s hand. ‘Aliza gave this to me many years ago when she was with child for the first time, and asked me to pass it on to you in the event of her death. I did not want to take it, but she would not let me refuse – you know how determined she was. She said I must tell you that her life would continue elsewhere through her eternal soul and you must not mourn for her but continue to live your life in joy. She said if you could do that to honour her memory, she would be content.’
John made a choking sound and closed his fist over the token. ‘She asks the one thing I cannot do!’
‘Even then she was thinking of you and what might happen. I did not understand at the time, I thought she was being macabre and fanciful, but she had true wisdom.’
John rocked back and forth with the token clutched to his breast, and William wrapped his arms around him tightly as if swaddling an infant.
Joanna arrived with a jug of wine and some venison pasties. She cast a wordless look at William, poured a drink for both men, and quietly departed.
‘Aliza would not want you to grieve like this, but I know you will.’ William disengaged to bring the cups of wine. ‘Drink,’ he said.
‘I will never love again,’ John said bleakly. ‘My heart is dust. Nothing is worth this pain – nothing! I would rather never have had my son than lose Aliza. I would rather have remained celibate all my life than this.’ He snatched the cup, drained it to the lees and held it out to be refilled.
The words jolted William, but he knew they came from grief and John was not in his right mind. For now, he needed someone to sit with him while he found oblivion. William refilled his cup and sipped slowly, while allowing John to drink for both of them and fall into a stupor, Aliza’s token still clutched tightly in his hand. Eventually, when he slumped, William carried him to bed, covered him with a blanket and sat by him, listening to his ragged breathing, tears sliding down his own face.
At last, he left John in the care of his chaplain and sought Joanna. He found her kneeling in vigil at a small portable altar in a chamber off the great hall. Gazing at her neat, bowed head he tried to imagine how it would be to live without her. Would he wish their four beautiful children unborn if it vouchsafed her life?
He knelt beside her and clasped his hands together. ‘It is a terrible thing how quickly the wheel can turn and bring a man to nothing,’ he said. ‘We are powerless before the will of God. Aliza prepared as best she could. She was always wise … and now she is gone. I hope and pray that she is with our mother in heaven. Surely, she could not be anywhere else, my dear, sweet sister.’
‘William …’ Joanna looked at him with eyes full of grief and tears.
He took her in his arms. ‘I do not know what tomorrow holds for us, but I swear I shall cherish every moment with you. Even if we must be apart, I will be mindful of what I have and what I could so easily lose.’ He kissed her, and the kiss became passionate with grief and desire born of that grief. They went to bed and they loved each other with desperation, but at the last moment William withdrew, for even if they did have more children in the fullness of time, now was not the moment to be conceiving them. Lying beside her, stroking her hair, he felt guilty and sad that John would never have this solace again – and that Aliza would never know anything.
27
Palace of Westminster, May 1257
Joanna swallowed tears as she carried a bundle of fabric from the wall cupboard and placed it in an open chest in the Queen’s chamber, trying to maintain a neutral expression so no one would realise her distress. The women kept casting her looks, some quick and sympathetic, others speculative, and one or two filled with malicious satisfaction.
Alienor had just publicly asked Joanna for the return of the keys she held to the coffers where the royal belts and jewels were kept and had given them instead to a lady who was a protégée of Eleanor de Montfort. Alienor had set Joanna to emptying the cupboards of the ordinary fabrics and scrap lengths – a task Joanna had performed as a junior lady at court.
‘I can trust you with this,’ Alienor had said. ‘You should remember where you started in my household, when you had nothing.’
‘Madam, I am always your loyal servant,’ Joanna had replied, bowing her head.
‘So you say. Well, let your deeds prove your words,’ Alienor said before turning away to deal with other business.
The Queen’s ladies were packing the royal baggage for a journey from Westminster to Windsor. Alienor was eager to visit her daughters and escape from the city and the recent outbreak of sweating sickness. Several folk opined that the malaise had been caused by the unseasonal cold weather and the rain that had not stopped falling since late February, around the time that the King’s elephant had sickened and died. Iohan had been utterly distraught, but the King had given him one of its teeth as a keepsake and it now occupied a wall niche in their chamber at Westminster.
The sky was an overcast swirl of grey with droplets spitting in the wind. Joanna hoped it would improve for their journey upriver in the Queen’s barge. She had considered leaving the court and going to one of her manors but that would mean losing even more face and influence. Besides, she suspected that the Queen would not allow her to go. Alienor was keeping her dangling in order to make a point about who held the power.
With her back to the Queen, Leonora gave her a sympathetic look; she had to keep the peace with Edward’s mother and choose her battles wisely.
Joanna knelt by the chest and folded the fabric neatly into it while pretending not to notice the new woman bringing a belt to the Queen. She knew exactly why she was being ostracised. William was riding high in favour with Henry and the bullish young Edward, and Alienor feared she was losing her influence and her power in matters of patronage and policy.
The Welsh had recently been raiding with great success in Edward’s territories and when Edward tried to take them on, he had swiftly discovered that fighting the determined and war-hardened Welsh was a new and difficult experience. Embarrassed for funds, he had been forced to borrow money. Alienor had lent him some, but not enough, and Edward had approached William and Joanna for a loan, offering to mortgage several properties in return – properties that were part of Leonora’s dower, submitted with her willing consent. They had agreed, and so had Aymer when similarly approached. The contract was amicable, with full understanding on both sides. However, it incensed Alienor that her eldest son was running up debts and obligations to his Lusignan uncles. Henry had seen no harm in it and, since he was dealing with other difficulties, had dismissed the complaints with an impatient wave of his hand.
Seeking elsewhere for allies, Alienor had turned to the de Montforts, who had their own grievances with the house of Lusignan, not least the continuing dispute over the Marshal dower lands. As the King continued to favour William and the latter’s relationship with Edward grew ever closer, so the Queen’s treatment of Joanna had become increasingly stilted and glacial.
Joanna had once loved Alienor, and still owed her gratitude from their early years, and for that debt, she remained loyal. She would not be the one to break the bond, but she was near the end of her tether. Leaving the chest, she went to fetch another pile of cloths from the cupboard. The top pieces, of slippery silk, started to slide. Leonora hurried to help and surreptitiously squeezed her hand. Joanna’s eyes stung with tears at the kindness.
