windsor castle may 1172 the queen’s lady margaret came for me as soon as eleanor left. she was trailed by a hulking man who carried a great basket that held more food than an army could eat, much less two small women. marie helene stayed behind in the palace on business of her own, and i walked out with margaret to picnic down by the riverbank. we sat on a grassy knoll not far from the palace gates, where margaret said we would be able to see the king when he rode past with his men. margaret was a pretty girl just two years older than i, with soft blue eyes and blond hair that kept slipping down from beneath her wimple. she was too shy to take her wimple off and leave her hair to fall across her shoulders and down her back, though there was no one but myself and our guard to see. she kept pushing her fine blond hair back up, beneath her linen headdress. as we ate our bread and cheese, i raised my face to the sky. blue arched over our heads like the protective hand of god. birds darted down from the trees by the roadside, searching for their own dinner in the grass. margaret was a good companion. for all her youth and beauty, she knew when to hold her tongue. the afternoon passed in blessed silence, except for birdsong. when i was sated with food and wine, i lay back on our blanket, while the hulking guard cleared up the remains of our picnic. before long i fell asleep, the warmth of the sun on my face. margaret woke me gently when the shadows had begun to fall. “i must go back,” she said. “but the queen wanted me to show you the puppies in the stable. will you go with me?” i rubbed sleep from my eyes. the servant and the picnic things were gone. only margaret and i remained, our blanket a raft on a vast sea of green. “of course,” i said. “i am sorry to have kept you here.” “no matter.” she smiled, her dimples showing. her shyness was beginning to fade a little, and i saw that she was eager to get back to the keep for some reason of her own. “the king rode by with his men. how you slept through all that noise is beyond me.” we came to the stables within the walls of the castle. they had just been mucked, so the smell of manure was strong. i raised my scented handkerchief to my nose and mouth, grateful that marie helene had made me bring it. “i will leave you,” margaret said. “i have much to do in the castle now that the king is here.” i did not ask what one of eleanor’s waiting women had to do with the king. i had heard of king henry’s fascination with women, and thought it better not to know. she left me with a curtsy and a smile, off to meet her lover, perhaps. my mind was full of such things, ever since i had seen and known richard. the inner stable was dimly lit, and i could see that no one else was there. i could hear the sound of iron striking metal in the smithy not far away but the stable stood empty of all but horses. i knew that i should return to the palace. but i loved puppies; i had not seen one since i was a small girl, at home in france. i stepped into the dappled shade, surrounded by horses in their stalls on both sides. i looked around once more for a groom, but saw no one there. so when my veil slipped, i did not right it, but let it hang down my back. i saw no dogs at first, only horses in their stalls on either side of the central hall. i found the puppies finally tucked away in an empty stall, set behind a barrier of wood so that even their mother could not escape. the hunting hound eyed me at first, but when i let her sniff my hand, she licked me. only then did i turn to her pups, who lay with their mother on a soft bed of hay. the dogs were so small that they had not yet been weaned. they were some breed of hunting hound i had never seen before. they would grow to be large someday, for even as newborn puppies they were each as big as my hand, with flopping ears and large paws. heedless of my silk gown, i knelt in the straw beside them. one puppy bounded over to me, far bolder than the rest, his long ears almost brushing the straw, and yipped. i reached into the pen and drew the little dog up against my breast. he rested against my heart and nuzzled me, as if looking for warmth or milk. i laughed. “sorry, little one, i am not your mother.” “you’re much more beautiful.” the voice sounded a little like richard’s, and at the sound of it, my heart leaped. but when i rose to my feet, i saw that though the man who spoke was large like richard, and had richard’s dark red hair, that was where the resemblance ended. it must have been a trick of the fading light, for after first glance i saw that this man was poorly dressed in leather leggings and an old woolen tunic, rags richard would never allow into his presence, much less wear. the man moved toward me. i stepped back, but the wall of a horse stall blocked my path. i stood still with my back against it. the man stopped moving and raised his hands as if in surrender. “princess, i mean you no harm. i’m just a simple man, come to tend my dogs.” i raised my chin, angry with myself that i had shown this peasant fear. “these are the king’s dogs,” i said. “that they are. and i have the caring of them, from time to time.” my mask of dignity crumbled at the warmth of his voice. as he smiled, the skin around his eyes creased. his gaze reached for me, and held me, as if it might shelter me were a storm to come. the dog in my arms distracted me, for he had begun to gnaw on my veil where it fell across my breast. i wrested it from him, and gave him the edge of my hair to chew instead. “you are alais, princess of france and countess of the vexin?” the man asked, watching me. i eyed him warily, but saw no harm in him. perhaps he was simpleminded, and that was why he was left to care for dogs. “i am,” i said, informing him of what all the castle knew. but before i could stand on my dignity again, i heard a yelp from the bed of straw at my feet. another puppy had come forward at the sound of our voices, crying to be picked up. i turned from him and knelt, drawing the second puppy into my arms. the man watched in silence as i played with the dogs. “am i interfering with your work?” i asked. “if you need to tend them, i will go.” “no.” he held up one big hand to stop me, so i stayed where i was, my skirt and veil trailing in the straw. the puppies turned back to their mother to be fed. i set down the two i held, who quickly found a place at their mother’s teats. when i looked up, i found the man still there, watching me. “you are different than i thought you would be,” he said. i did not point out that it was impertinent for him to think anything of his betters. i saw that his eyes were a light gray. he had come no closer, but i could feel the strength of his gaze on me. “i am as god made me,” i said. “we can all say the same,” he replied. “but not all are as beautiful.” i frowned and got to my feet. he raised his hand again, and i froze, for he stood between me and the stable door. “i am sorry,” he said. “i did not mean to frighten you.” i faced him squarely so that he could see that i was not lying. “i am not frightened.” he smiled, a long, slow smile that made him almost handsome. “so i see.” “good day, sirrah.” i stepped forward, but still he did not let me pass. i reined in my temper, for even then i did not have the sense to be afraid. he was just a man, a servant, and he was in my way, as no servant had ever dared to be in all my life, not in france and not even in england. still he watched me. i thought that he might not let me pass. i felt my heart kick against my ribs, but i stood my ground and did not drop my gaze from his. finally, he laughed, and stepped out of my way. “good day, your highness.” i only nodded to him, for i did not trust my voice. i walked into the castle, moving fast, for night was falling. i did not want to be late to the meal in the great hall. the queen was to present me to the king. i knew that i would have to bathe again, for now i smelled of the stables, and of the puppies i had held in my arms. i did not want to think of the man i had met, though his face stayed with me as i bathed and as i dressed in my new red gown. when marie helene went to put my hair up under a wimple, i stopped her, and called for a red veil. it was the man i thought of as i left my hair trailing down my back to my waist. it was his eyes i felt on me as i raised the veil over my curls and pinned it in place myself. “your highness, you cannot wear your hair that way it is not the fashion.” “we will set a new fashion, marie helene.” as i stepped into the great hall, i found it abuzz as i had never heard it. fresh rushes were strewn on the floor, and gave off the scent of thyme as they were crushed beneath my feet. i felt as if all eyes were on me; i looked to no one but eleanor. the hall seemed larger that night as i walked to the high table, with its gray stone walls covered in tapestries. the king’s table was set on its dais above the rest of the company, so that all might see eleanor and the king as they ate their meal. the high table at windsor was long, and seated over twenty people. everyone had already taken their seats when i arrived. i did not look at them, knowing i would find king henry’s ministers, and eleanor’s ladies. i took a moment to wonder where margaret was, but i did not turn from eleanor to look for her. i knew that angeline and mathilde would be staring at me intently, as if praying for me to trip and fall. there was no danger of such a thing, and their rancor usually amused me, but that night, i kept my eyes on the queen. eleanor was seated in her place at the center of the high table. i went to kiss her, but the queen extended her hand to me. i took it, surprised by her formality i curtsied, bowing over her hand, while she sat on her gilded throne. i thought perhaps she would offer the empty chair beside her, and invite me to eat from her trencher. i stood in silence and waited for this invitation, with marie helene two steps behind me. i felt marie helene’s hand on my sleeve, but i ignored her and did not take my eyes off the queen. eleanor leaned back against her cushions and took her hand away from me. “princess alais, i present you to henry, king of england and duke of normandy” i looked to the high seat at the head of the table, the seat that had always been vacant, and found the man from the stable staring back at me. all the manners of my childhood flew from my head as if they had never been. i did not even curtsy. my father would have been ashamed if he had seen me. the english king was not displeased at my obvious shock but instead seemed to think it a great joke that i had not known him in the horse stable. he beamed at me as if i were a party to his joke, as if he had not made a fool of me, and was not making a fool of me now. he said nothing about our earlier meeting, his gray eyes warm on mine. i gathered my wits and took another step toward him, so that i might kneel before him where all the court could see me. i knew how to do this prettily, without giving offense with overt servility. i had been taught obeisance as a very young child. i fell back on those lessons now; whatever he was and whatever he thought of me, this man was king. “rise, princess,” he said. “you are welcome to our court.” i was surprised to find him suddenly before me, offering a hand to help me stand. this was gallantry i had not looked for. his hand was warm on mine, and welcoming, though welcoming me to what, i did not know. “perhaps, my lord king, you will seat the princess alais at your right hand as a sign of favor,” the queen asked in her public voice. “yes, my lady eleanor, i thank you. i will.” something passed between them down the length of the table, a bolt of fire. eleanor wore the bland mask she often wore in public, but i wondered what she was thinking as she looked at the king. henry’s huge peasant hand dwarfed mine, and his wide shoulders seemed to block out half the room. his eyes never left eleanor. king henry did me the honor of escorting me to the head of the table himself, one hand under my own. he helped me sit beside him before he took his own gilded chair. his trencher was wide and long, full of venison and smoked fish. it was too far from me, and he took care to bring it closer to the edge of the table, so that i might eat. he took the first bite, as was proper. the rest of the hall picked up their conversations. once the king began to eat, everyone else could eat as well. i looked to eleanor at the center of the table. marie helene had taken my place beside her. the queen did not look to me or to the king, but fell into conversation with the man on the far side of her. he was a young lord new to court, who seemed overwhelmed to be seated at the high table, let alone next to the queen herself. i watched as she put the young man at ease. in only a few minutes, she had him laughing at something she had said. “is it my wife you look at, or the young man beside her?” the king leaned close so that no one but the server behind us would hear. startled, i met his eyes. their gray was like the sky after a rain. i saw for the first time that there was also gray threaded through the red of his hair. the scent of him was sweet, sweeter than i would have imagined, like the sandalwood that burned in the braziers back home in paris. he wore blue silk now, with a band of gold at his temples. seeing him among his courtiers, i felt as if the man i had met in the stables had been a phantom of my imagination. “at the queen, your majesty i do not make it a habit to stare at strange men.” i heard my own voice, and winced at how prudish i sounded. the scent of him had thrown me off my guard, as had the touch of his breath on my cheek. i wondered at myself. even richard’s nearness had not put me so on edge. the king did not notice my discomfort. he seemed pleased with my answer. “as well you should not. as my son’s betrothed, you have your reputation to think of.” “yes, my lord,” i said. “and that of my father.” “ah, yes. louis” the king gestured, and a servant brought more mead and filled his tankard again. “we must not forget the honor of your father.”i spoke as if we were back in the stable, as if he were not king. “i never do, my lord.” as i had earlier that day, i felt his eyes on me. he said nothing vulgar, but his gaze moved over my curls where they were displayed more than hidden beneath my thin veil of silk. his boldness went beyond any compliment richard had offered me. i felt his gaze on my body like hands, and my temper rose, as it rarely did. i found myself breathless with an anger i could not express. henry smiled, pleased with my reaction. he gestured that i should eat. “you are too thin, alais. here, take a morsel from my knife.” he offered me a bit of meat on his dinner dagger, and i stared first at it, then at him, to see if he was testing me. i found no mockery in his eyes, only watchfulness. i did not take the meat into my mouth, as it seemed he expected me to, but drew it from his knife with my fingers. i swallowed my anger as well as my pride, and i ate the morsel, chewing carefully so as not to choke. henry watched every motion of my mouth. my hands felt heavy, and the hall felt warmer than it was. i swallowed the meat and took a sip of my wine, which had been set out too long and had begun to sour. at windsor, where eleanor did not rule, the english court thought little of these things. marie helene was careful of the wine that was brought into my rooms, but when i sat at the high table at the king’s court, i had to take what came. after i finished the bite of venison, i looked at the king, once more in control of myself, my gaze mild. i passed his test, whatever it was, for he smiled at me. “the dogs are thriving, alais.” “i am glad to hear it.” “they seemed to take to you. i wonder if you might visit them again with me.” “of course, your majesty if you wish it.” though eleanor was still speaking with the young lord beside her, she was looking at me. “do not concern yourself with eleanor,” the king said. he saw where my gaze was tending. “my lord king,” i began, weighing my words with care. i had heard of his legendary temper. “i am in the queen’s care. it is meet that i ask her permission, no matter what i do.” “even if i order you otherwise?” i thought perhaps that he was making another jest at my expense. “my lord, i obey you in all things, as i would my own father.” this statement displeased him. his gray eyes darkened, and i tried again. “your majesty, i have been brought here to serve my father’s treaty. i am here as a princess of france. i will serve you always, in whatever way you require. for my honor is bound to your house, and will be for the rest of my life.” i thought this speech a pretty one, and watched his face as he took it in. henry did not smile as i had hoped, but looked at my hair, at the way the curls fell across the front of my red gown. the firelight hit the silk and made the color shine like a small sun. the red caught my eye as i looked down at it, and i saw for the first time how beautiful that color was. “you would serve me out of duty.” “of course,” i said, thinking that finally he understood me. “i would have you serve me for love.” i sat very still, my hand on the goblet of my soured wine. “love is not given blindly. love is earned, my lord king.” henry looked at me for a long moment, his beaker of mead in his hand. he rolled his mug along his palm, and i braced myself, expecting him to order me from his presence. i was sure that he called for protestations of love from all those around him, and i was equally sure that all but myself had given them freely, whether true or not. i glanced across the hall, and found richard staring at me. i had not known he was at court; i had thought him long since gone to the aquitaine. henry was speaking to me again, and i turned away from richard. “you are not a liar,” henry said. “that is so, my lord.” he laughed at my earnestness, a great booming laugh that filled the hall. conversation stopped all around us as people turned to look at the king, to see what had set him off in merriment. they saw only the king and myself, sitting before an almost untouched trencher. some courtiers also laughed, though they did not know the joke, as indeed i did not. the king caught his breath and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “well, little princess, that makes one of us.” i could not believe that he had just called himself a liar. he laughed again, and i smiled in spite of myself, for henry was charming, whatever else was true about him. when he smiled, it was as if the sun had come out after a heavy rain, and shone over all the court. all in his court lived by his moods, as i began to learn that day. the day i met him was an auspicious one, for nothing i said angered him, until the last. i was fortunate, for his moods could turn without warning, and what was a jest in one instant could send him into a black rage the next. henry reached out and touched my cheek. he wore no gloves, and his hand was rough with calluses from riding and from sword-play. as once with richard’s, i found myself caught and held by the warmth of his hand. his eyes met mine, and still he did not take his hand away. it was as if we were alone, though all the court watched us, eleanor included. “well, little princess, we will see if i can earn your love, if you will not give it freely.” a sudden hush fell over the hall. at first, i thought the rest of the court shocked by the king’s boldness. but they had not heard what he said to me. silence had fallen because richard had risen from his place at one of the lower tables. as one, the court turned to look at him, as did i, eleanor, and the king. i wondered why he was not seated at the high table with us, but i had no time to ask. “i have written a song for my betrothed,” richard said. a young man rose to stand behind the prince, and strummed the lute he carried. one note echoed across the great hall. there was no other sound. all i could hear was that note, and the sound of my own heart beating. richard lifted his voice. a prince of royal blood sang a song he had written for me in front of his father, his mother, and all the court. such a thing would never have happened in france. after the first note, he turned to me and met my eyes, and my nerves subsided. all i could see was him. richard sang of a rose without thorns that grew in darkness, in a courtyard where light rarely shone. he sang of the rose’s soft petals and sweet scent, of how all who saw it wished to pluck it, though no one had yet done so. the double meaning in that verse brought snickers here and there across the hall. richard turned his eyes on them, and the laughter stopped. he raised his voice to sing the last verse in his beautiful tenor. he sang of the rose once more, of how the sun would shine on it, gild its leaves and petals, protecting it always even as it fed its growth. he fell silent, his song finished. the applause began. many stood, offering the prince glasses of wine, extolling him. they were courtiers, trained to fawn, but there was a note of sincere admiration in their praise. richard nodded graciously, but otherwise did not heed them. he looked only at me. richard bowed low as if to offer me fealty. tears rose in my eyes, and i blinked them away. his eyes shone as he sat down once more. beakers of wine and mead were offered him, but he took none, his eyes never leaving my face. only when he looked away did i turn to the king. henry did not smile, his feelings well hidden behind the gray of his eyes. i saw the wheels of his mind turning, but i had no idea where his thoughts were tending. “well, princess, it seems you have given your love to my son already.” i heard the accusation in the king’s voice, but i did not have the sense to be frightened. “the lord richard has made me welcome. i am grateful for his kindness.” “are you indeed? well, he is not the only one who welcomes you. you will find that the kindness of a king extends far beyond that of a prince.” “i thank you, my lord.” henry’s face softened when i said this. as he met my gaze again, i heard the bells chiming for vespers, and i asked, “my lord king, may i go to the chapel?” “you would go to meet a lover?” he asked. i saw his gaze shift to richard, where he sat among the young men. richard met his father’s eyes, and a flash of hatred passed between them. i forced myself to stillness, until my horror passed. “no, my lord. the call to prayer just rang. i have need of praying.” “by all means,” henry said. “if god calls you, do not let me keep you. i am only your king.” i searched his face. though he did not smile, his eyes sparkled with mirth. i could see nothing of the hatred that had lurked in his gaze only a moment before. perhaps it had been only a trick of the light. i stood and curtsied to him. henry waved one hand, and i turned from him to curtsy to the queen. eleanor raised her glass to me, and winked. she was pleased, both with richard’s song and with the king’s reception of me. she had taught me to speak well and to hold my own with royalty. i could see, even with the distance between us, how proud she was of me. richard stood when i did and simply looked at me. when i curtsied to him, he did not nod or bow in return. he watched me as i passed. only as marie helene drew me out of the hall did he raise one hand to me. i gave him one more smile before i left him standing among his father’s courtiers.