The Queen's Pawn by Christy English Page A

always did, as it had always done, no matter who else was in the room.
    “Trust to me, Richard. I have all in hand.”

Chapter 5
    ALAIS: PRINCE AND TROUBADOUR
    Winchester Castle
May 1172
     
     
    On my first day in Eleanor’s court, she made me welcome but kept her distance, as if to avoid encouraging her ladies-in-waiting to envy. I saw behind her eyes that she loved me, even as she dressed me with her own hands, in her own gown. It was made of emerald silk, the finest dress I had ever worn in my life. My shifts were all plain convent wear, and Eleanor would not rest until she had had her seamstress sew a ribbon of emerald silk around the hem of the shift I wore.
    Eleanor made a brief show of presenting her women to me, each in their turn. They were all beautiful, and all only a few years older than myself, save for Eleanor’s chief woman, Amaria, who was of an age with the queen. They left with Eleanor almost as soon as they came in, and I was left alone to take in the beauty of my rooms by myself.
    The bedchamber had wide windows that looked down over a rose garden. The flowers had begun to bloom early, and I took in the scent of their perfume. There was a dressing room with a fine clothespress, though as yet I had no gowns to place in it.
    The tapestries on the walls were old but well brushed, and the bedstead was large, its rosewood posts carved with trailing flowers. I fingered the carving, and felt the polish of the years beneath my fingertips. The bedstead, too, was old, but it had been cherished, just as Eleanor cherished me.
    I had little time to admire my rooms or the gown the queen lent me, for her lady-in-waiting came for me almost at once, and took me in to meet the prince.
    Marie Helene, one of Eleanor’s ladies who had not been presented to me before, was a quiet woman, always watchful, a woman who thought long before she spoke. She reminded me of my father in that, though in no other way.
    Her hair was a soft blond, like wheat when it first turns from green to gold. Her hair was as fine as silk, and she often kept it hidden beneath a wimple. Her blue eyes were bright but steady. Marie Helene was worldly enough to see deception in others, but she did not lie herself. She never lied to me.
    The day I met her, Marie Helene curtsied to me with as much respect as if I were married to her prince already. She honored me from the first.
    As young as I was, I saw her good sense shining out of her eyes. She saw me fiddling with my borrowed gown, for I was six inches shorter than Eleanor, and the hem dragged the floor.
    “May I help, Your Highness?”
    I smiled at her soft tone of diffidence; it was clear that she did not want to overreach herself, and offend me. This evidence of reserve, the only such I was to see in Eleanor’s court, pleased me, as it was tinged so heavily with respect.
    “ Yes.”
    I stood still under her capable hands. Marie Helene drew my skirt up and tucked it into the belt I wore so that the ribbon on my shift showed beneath the emerald of the gown.
    “Thank you,” I said. “I have no clothes of my own.”
    “You will.” Her blue eyes met mine, and I saw her kindness as well as her restraint. “The queen will see to that. I have heard her speak of it already.”
    “Is it time to meet the prince?” I asked.
    She hesitated, as if afraid to frighten me. “It is.”
    I smoothed the silk of my borrowed gown. “I am ready”
     
     
    I remember little of my first meeting with Richard. Eleanor’s ladies were there as witnesses, and Marie Helene stood waiting for me by the door. Beyond that, I remember fragments. Only that the sunlight came in from behind him, and touched his red hair with gold. And that his eyes were the deep blue of France, so that I felt I had come home when I looked into them.
    We barely spoke, and the prince was as courteous as I could have hoped for. Behind his eyes, I saw his joy in me and in my beauty, and I felt the same joy at the sight of him. I remember the