windsor castle may 1172 i caught alais alone with her waiting woman on her way to the priest. i considered it my duty to do all i could to discourage her predilection for constant praying, and for confessing imagined sins. i called her into my solar as she passed by, and she could do naught but heed me. from the guilty look on her face, i could see that she was glad to have some excuse to avoid the dark cavern of the chapel. she no doubt longed for the sunlit expanse of my solar, as i did whenever i was indoors. when she stepped inside, her waiting woman dismissed, i saw the little dog clutched under her cloak. “what have we here, alais? a puppy from the stable?” “no, your majesty. she is my puppy. the king gave her to me.” “did he indeed?” i took this in, thinking of henry’s face the night before as he watched her leave the hall. he had joked with me about her while dancing last night. but he had seen her since, and had planned the meeting with no assistance from me. “the king just happened to have an expensive lapdog about his person?” i saw the guilt on her face for what it was: alais knew as well as i did that such gifts were not common, nor warranted, to the betrothed of the king’s son. “well, let her down, alais. there’s no need for you to clutch her close. there’s nothing here that will harm her.” “no, your majesty, i fear she will harm something of yours.” i laughed, and alais smiled for the first time since i had called her to me, her look of guilt fading a little, but only a little. i pressed on, curious to see what else might lie behind her unease. it was not like her to hide things from me. her priest was in my pay, and from what he told me, she confessed only the usual things a young girl might: speaking harshly to a servant, moments of imagined disobedience, or occasional impure thoughts. i wondered now if there was something else, something her priest had not told me. i would have to increase his fee. “there is nothing here she can damage, i think. the tapestries are off the floor for the summer, so let her go.” the little dog yipped in oy at her freedom. as all dogs and children did, she ran straight to me. “there now, little one. what is your name?” “bijou,” alais said. “what a lovely name for a lovely creature.” i caressed the puppy’s ears. satisfied with that tribute, she raced off to smell the myriad joys of my solar. as i watched, the little dog started chewing on one of my women’s discarded embroidery frames. alais at once set it out of her reach, and gave her something else to chew on. i saw that it was a bit of leather from one of henry’s gloves. it must have been in the box with the dog when he gave it to her. alais sat beside me when i bade her, and poured us both a cup of watered wine. we drank in silence, watching bijou worry the bit of leather as if it were a rabbit she had by the throat. this little dog shared more traits with henry than just the remnants of his glove. my daughter watched the dog, unbridled joy on her face. i rarely saw her face so open, even when we were alone. i was reminded of the fact that she was still almost a child. so i reined my jealousy in, and kept my voice even. “alais, you know, of course, that bijou was meant to be the gift for another.” she looked at me, a little of her joy dimmed, but i had to remind her of the realities at court. henry was what he was. she could not give in to fantasy and foolishness where the king was concerned. “even kings do not keep expensive lapdogs in their saddlebags,” i said. “your bijou was intended for his newest mistress, a girl just come to court from the country, some chit he picked up in anjou.” i wondered what the illustrious rosamund thought of henry’s newest doxy. i suppressed a smile. i might even ask my spies to look into it, simply to amuse me. alais turned pale as she took in this unwelcome news. she looked at her little dog, and i wondered for a moment if she might march out then and there, and cast henry’s gift back in his face. but bijou noticed her mistress looking at her, and bounded over, scrambling against alais’ legs, threatening to snag the good silk of alais’ silver gown. alais raised the puppy into her lap, and kissed her, and caressed her head. if tears came to her eyes, she did not shed them. after a moment, alais turned to me. “i did not know that.” “i thought you did not.” i reached out and took alais’ hand. it lay still and cold in mine, distant, as if she were far from me. i squeezed it, and she grasped my hand in return, her palm warming at once over mine. “you must not trouble yourself,” i said. “henry is given to extravagant gestures. i simply did not want you to read more into it than there was.” alais met my eyes. i saw at once that she fancied henry, perhaps because he was king, perhaps because she missed her own father and longed for the attentions of a man, though richard had given her plenty of that when he was at court. or perhaps it was a girlish crush, as i once had on a traveling minstrel when i was twelve. alais had never had the time or opportunity for such a thing, locked away in her nunnery whatever her feelings were, she would follow my guidance in this as all else. i would watch over her fascination with the king, to make sure it did not become overblown, and confuse her wits. we had come too far with her marriage to my son to turn back now over some benighted folly. alais sang for me at my request, so that i could watch her face without encumbrances, so that i could think. she sang a sweet song of spring, of a girl whose love has gone away. i know she thought of richard as she sang it, for her face took on a softer look, the kind of look she got when caressing bijou. i saw then that i could cast the die either way. if henry continued to support the alliance with france, and allow richard and alais to marry, i would gain power in the aquitaine and the vexin both. but if henry turned his eye on alais, with a covetousness i knew he possessed, i could secure richard against his father for all time. if such a thing was to happen, there was nothing i could not persuade richard to do. my mother’s instincts rebelled in horror at this idea. but if i ever thought that richard looked to attach himself to alais above all others, even me, then it was an option i would have to consider, and carefully. alais fell silent, her song finished. there was a long moment of quiet, when she looked at me. i feared that she read my eyes, and the evil thoughts that lurked behind them. i loved this girl, more than my own daughters, more than anyone but my son. but i knew that if need be, i would betray her. i had been a politician longer than i had loved anyone. self-knowledge was a hard thing, but i could bear it. self-knowledge and the strength to bear it had made me queen, not once, but twice. i reached for her and drew her to me. alais set her dog down and came into my arms as sweetly as she ever had, as if she had never cast a lustful eye at my husband, as if she had never threatened to take my favorite son from me. i had no god to pray to, but i prayed anyway i begged a god i knew did not exist to shield this girl in the days to come, to harbor her, even from me. in the great hall that night, i made certain that alais was seated next to me, at my very trencher. no one else shared it, and in this i showed her such high favor that it was remarked on. no one had ever shared my trencher at windsor but richard. my food had all been tasted beforehand, and alais shared the wine from my own silver goblet. henry raised his glass to me in greeting, but his glance was cool, the look he might have given anyone, with no calculation behind it. he turned at once to the man beside him and spoke of the kingdom’s business, as if alais and i were both forgotten. alais was disappointed that the king of england did not drop all he was doing and welcome her. i laid my hand over hers. “try this mutton,” i said. “it is very tender.” i spent the entire meal speaking to alais, often feeding her from my own hand. before long, she was smiling once more, henry forgotten. she even lowered her voice and made a joke about one woman’s ill-fitting wimple, and i laughed, so long and low that even henry turned to look at me. alais did not notice him then, and i thought perhaps my work was done. she could not allow herself to be distracted by the king. she had my son to think of, at least until i decided otherwise. the whole court noticed the favor i granted her, and smiled on her with more warmth than they had before. though windsor held plenty of my enemies, i had friends there, too. as soon as the dancing started, i beckoned a young man to my side. i think alais assumed that i would dance with him. i hid my smile, and laid her hand in his. alais met my eyes, startled, and i winked at her. “it is time you danced at windsor, alais, as you did at winchester. you must dance, and be joyful, while you are young.” i lowered my voice. “richard will be back in a month. until then, we must make merry where we can, must we not?” alais smiled at me, and it was as if the sun had come out in that dark hall. i simply smiled back at her, and let her go. the boy i had called over bowed graciously and led alais onto the dance floor, any thought of another partner forgotten in his duty to the queen. i watched henry; his earlier indifference was feigned. his gaze never left alais as the boy i had chosen led her in a reel, hand to hand, spinning slowly on the floor below the dais. i raised my goblet so that he could not see my eyes. alais wore her emerald gown that night, cut from the same bolt of silk as my favorite gown. i was dressed in cloth of gold, the only green on my person the emeralds on my fingers, and my eyes. emerald was a color that suited alais well. it seemed henry noticed, too, for he did not turn from her for even a moment. i had seen that look in his eye many times before, for the first time when it was turned on me. he did not move on her at once as i thought he might, but bided his time. he watched as one man after another led her out onto the floor. before accepting the hand of each one, alais would look to me. i would nod my permission, and smile if the man was particularly good-looking, keeping my face smooth of care, my hand light on the goblet of my wine. i listened to the jokes and gossip at the table around me, and laughed whenever it was appropriate, letting the music of my laughter compete with the music of the tabor, the lute, and the fife. henry did not hear me. he had eyes only for her. it was almost an hour before he rose and left the table, when the man who was speaking to him was in the middle of a sentence. a song had just ended, and before alais could take the hand of yet another young man, henry stepped between them. alais moved to one side deftly, almost as if her step was unplanned, and she was simply taken aback at the honor of the king’s presence. but she had her wits about her. she looked to me, as if i had the power to deny henry, even on the dance floor. my smile widened, and i nodded. her face lit with relief, and she accepted henry’s hand. i wondered if, at my prompting, she might have refused the king of england a dance in his own hall. she turned to me without thinking, without hesitation, as if either she or i had a choice. her courage warmed my heart, as did her arrogance. alais and henry moved together, the rest of the court forgotten. they stepped forward, then back, weaving in and out among the other couples as if alais was the prey and henry, the hunter. henry was graceful, his movements measured and stately. like a lion, he matched her pace at every turn, watching not for signs of weakness but for signs of strength. alais stared back at him, the only woman in the room who could have held his eyes in such a moment, save one. he seemed to find pleasure in her grace, for his gaze never left her, even when they were separated by the movements of the dance. i saw the fire that drew henry to her, the same fire that had called to me when she first came from france so long ago. alais’ fire was banked, but it burned strong, and warmed all who came near it. when the dance ended, they stood close, her hand in his. henry seemed in no hurry to release her. alais was first to remember where they were, and who. she turned to the high table, trying to find me. henry stepped between us, blocking me from her sight. he brought her hand close to his chest, as if he had no intention of releasing her. a spark of fire arced between them. it did not begin with him. henry smiled, his long, slow smile, the smile he had not turned on me since he left my bed. he bowed over her hand, and let her go. she curtsied low. when she rose again, henry was gone. he left the hall quickly, as if he wanted to carry the sight and smell of her with him, the touch of her hand in his. i knew he went to his mistress. alais had forgotten the girl’s existence in the heat that had risen between them. no doubt, that night when my husband took the girl from anjou, he thought of alais. she met my eyes across the crowded hall. everyone was pretending that they had not seen the exchange between her and the king, as if they were not speculating whether he would make her his mistress, and when. for once with alais, i revealed nothing of my thoughts. my face was as smooth and seamless as the silk i wore. in one graceful motion, i raised my glass to her. she curtsied but did not come back to sit with me at my empty trencher. she left the hall, her lady-in-waiting trailing behind her. i stayed another hour, and called for a song to go with the dancing. i laughed, and ordered more wine brought. i even took the floor myself, when a handsome young man bade me. i had learned years ago, before i ever went to louis’ court in paris, how to make merry in adversity, how to hide my thoughts and feelings while in company, even from myself.