The Autumn Throne by Elizabeth Chadwick Page A

Clearly their earlier disagreement remained a tender subject with Isabel. ‘It depends what you have to lose by doing so, but I am grateful. I had resigned myself to never seeing any of you again.’ She hugged John and Joanna, and wondered at Henry’s motives for allowing the visit. Perhaps he was hoping that several more months spent in isolation at Sarum had pressed home his point andwould make her more willing to reconsider. If so he was sadly mistaken; the experience had just made her more determined to defy him.
    She brought her guests to her chamber in the north tower of the complex. Isabel made no comment as she gazed at the spartan surroundings, but Alienor saw shock in her eyes. And pity. ‘My penitent’s cell,’ she said. ‘At least it is cool in this heat.’
    Joanna sat down in the window seat, her expression and posture making it plain that she had not expected to find her mother dwelling in such reduced circumstances.
    Isabel’s maid was hefting a large willow basket and Isabel removed the folded tablecloth covering the contents and bade Amiria spread it upon the room’s bare trestle table. ‘I have good wine,’ she declared with determined gaiety as she produced a stone costrel from the depths of the basket. ‘And roast fowl and white bread. The guards dared not refuse the King’s own sister by marriage arriving under safe conduct.’
    Alienor raised her brows. ‘Does that not constitute an act of defiance?’
    ‘Not at all.’ Isabel tossed her head. ‘I am merely exerting my rightful authority.’ She presented Alienor with a cone of parchment filled with sticky brown squares. ‘Hamelin knows how much you like gingerbread and wanted me to give you this.’
    The warm scent of exotic spices blended with honey filled Alienor’s nose as she took her next breath. She and Hamelin did not always see eye to eye. As Henry’s brother he always supported him; at times he could be a self-righteous pedant; but he had a thoughtful side and he was not vindictive.
    ‘You must thank him and tell him I appreciate his gift,’ she said, feeling almost tearful. ‘It is kind of him and I am not accustomed to kindness these days.’
    Isabel turned pink at the praise. ‘Indeed I shall. And this is from me.’
    She gave Alienor a small rock crystal bottle wrapped in a square of purple silk. The bottle was carved with a swirling labyrinth pattern and when Alienor removed the stopper, awonderful perfume of roses, nutmeg and woody balsams from the oil within transported her to the gardens in Poitiers with the summer roses and honeysuckle trellising the wall.
    ‘I will treasure this,’ she said when she was able to speak. ‘You have brought comfort to my day; indeed to all my days here.’ She hugged Isabel and wiped away a few treacherous tears on the back of her hand.
    Once the table was ready, they sat down to eat.
    ‘I am to be betrothed,’ John announced as he broke a piece off the loaf.
    Alienor turned to her youngest son in surprise, although not shock. He had once been betrothed to little Adelaide of Maurienne but the child had died soon after Alienor’s imprisonment. It stood to reason that Henry would find someone else for him – and that he would not see fit to tell her.
    ‘Indeed? To whom?’
    ‘Hawise of Gloucester.’ He curled his lip. ‘She’s my second cousin but Papa says he can arrange a dispensation.’
    Alienor frowned. ‘Hawise of Gloucester?’
    ‘She was born not long before you first came to Sarum,’ Isabel said.
    ‘Ah, yes.’ Not that she had known about the child, but she had seen her father around the court at Winchester.
    ‘She’s only three.’ John sprinkled his bread with salt. ‘Of course she might die before I marry her like the last one, but if that happens Papa says he’ll give me Isabelle de Clare. That means Chepstow and Pembroke and Ireland. She’s older; she’s four.’ He bit into the bread. ‘And Normandy too,’ he added indistinctly.
    ‘And when is