confinement had not been rooted in vengefulness. It was even a perverse sort of compliment, he supposed, that Papa had recognized what a formidable adversary she’d be, even if she were a woman. But she was a woman with a man’s brain and a man’s daring and she ruled a duchy richer than the domains of the French king. “We are going to have to do something that does not come easily to either of us, then,” he said wryly. “We are going to have to trust each other.”
Henry exhaled a deep breath; he’d almost forgotten to breathe. For the first time he saw in Richard what his wife had seen, and it was a bittersweet moment, this realization that his second son would have made a far better king than Hal. “You will do homage to your brother, then?” he said cautiously. “Here at Angers, on the morrow?”
The younger man’s mouth tightened, but he gave a terse nod. “If you will give the order on the morrow to set my mother free.”
“I will,” Henry said, and Richard studied him pensively, at last able to see the man in the masterful king and the flawed father. It was a pity, he thought, that they’d not been able to talk like this until now-when it was too late. Hal would not honor an oath of homage. Even if he meant well, he’d fall victim to the blandishments of others, let himself be talked into treason again. My beloved brother, the male whore. And now, God help him, but Papa is starting to see it, too. But if agreeing would gain Maman’s freedom and buy him time to make ready for Hal’s future aggression, he would not begrudge the price-or so he tried to convince himself.
Constance was seated on a bench in her bedchamber while Juvette unfastened her braids. When Geoffrey entered, he seemed in good spirits, teasing Juvette, snatching up an ivory comb so he could brush out his wife’s long, dark hair, claiming he’d never understood why troubadours lavished such praise on day, when any man of discernment found true beauty in the night. Juvette giggled, for she was a brunette, too, and Constance marveled how her husband managed to turn sensible girls into simpering sheep with a smile and a few polished gallantries. When Geoffrey deftly steered Juvette toward the door, though, Constance’s interest sharpened. If he wanted more privacy than their curtained bed provided, either he had something confidential to tell her or he had one of his erotic games in mind. Lacking imagination herself, she’d come to value this attribute in her husband.
As soon as they were alone, she turned to look up into his face. One glance was all she needed, for by now she’d learned to see past the mask he showed the rest of the world. “What is wrong, Geoffrey?”
He’d already bolted the door once Juvette departed. “I am beginning to believe my father puts Merlin to shame. If my suspicions are right, he could turn dross into gold. I think he has somehow convinced Richard to do homage to Hal.”
Constance was astonished. “That is not possible…is it?”
“You tell me. Richard was planning to leave Angers at first light, but he changed his mind of a sudden-after my father made a surprise visit to his private chamber. And they were later seen in the hall, conversing together with remarkable amiability given the outrageous demand he’d made of Richard.”
Constance did not ask how he knew so much of Richard’s plans, for Geoffrey believed that knowledge was power and he paid well enough to attract reliable agents. “I fear you may be right. Richard must have come to terms with your father, for nothing else explains his behavior. It makes no sense, though. Why would Richard ever agree?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “Witchcraft, threats, a staggeringly rich bribe-who knows? But if I’ve guessed rightly, the rebellion has breathed its last gasp. Which means our best chance of gaining Nantes or Richmond has given up the ghost, too.”
Constance gnawed her lower lip, a habit she reverted to under stress. She and Geoffrey had agreed, after considerable deliberation, that their only hope of claiming the rest of her rightful inheritance depended upon Hal’s alliance with the rebels. If he won control of Aquitaine, he’d reward them with the promised Poitevin castles now and Richmond and Nantes once he became king; given the lavish way he’d been willing to compensate his allies during the last revolt, they had no worries that he’d renege upon the deal. And if he lost, it was still possible that they could win, for the unrest might give them the leverage they needed to pressure Henry into giving up Richmond at least.
“And if the rebellion sputters out like a quenched candle,” Geoffrey said morosely, “we’ll actually lose more than Hal. Those routiers I hired did not come cheap, and if I have to cut them loose, they’re likely to do what masterless men usually do, and plunder the Breton countryside the way Richard’s dismissed routiers sacked Bordeaux a few years back.”
Constance frowned at this reminder of their financial investment in the rebellion, for she was thrifty by nature. “Let’s assume the worst and you’re right about Richard. Why does that mean the rebellion is dead? Why not just delayed until a more opportune time?”
“Because Hal is ruled by whim, and who knows what he’ll decide to do six months or a year from now. And because if Richard really does homage, he will earn himself unlimited credit with my father for the foreseeable future. Which means that Papa is likely to turn a blind eye to Richard’s border incursions.”
As they were convinced that Richard was too predatory a neighbor for comfort, this was a prospect that they both found daunting. Constance chewed on her lower lip again, thinking that Richard’s next Clairvaux Castle could well be on Breton soil. “Well,” she said, “then we have to make sure that Richard does not do homage to Hal.” They’d dissected Hal’s failings with merciless honesty, but they’d not really discussed Richard’s weaknesses. “You know Richard better than I do, Geoffrey. Where is he most vulnerable to attack?”
“At one time, I’d have said his temper, but he is showing signs of learning self-control. So I would say his hubris.”
“I already know you had a fine education, so you need not flaunt it. What is hubris?”
“Pride,” he said, “vainglory, arrogance, vanity, all terms that can fairly be applied to Brother Richard.”
Constance nodded thoughtfully. “So we have a man who is prideful and hot-tempered. Surely you can find a way to turn those traits against him?”
He was silent for some moments, and then he smiled. “Yes,” he said, “I think I do know a way.”
Before a distinguished audience of bishops, barons, and highborn lords, Geoffrey did homage to his brother for Brittany, and then it was Richard’s turn. Making little attempt to hide his aversion, he came forward, fixed Hal with a baleful hawk’s stare, and knelt in the floor rushes. Before he could speak, Hal held up his hand for silence, and beckoned to his chaplain. The man hastened over, cradling a silver-gift reliquary as if it contained the Host itself. Hal accepted it with equal solemnity, although as his eyes met his co-conspirator’s, he winked. Geoffrey winced, thinking that if this was Hal’s idea of circumspection, God have mercy upon them all.
Smiling down at his glowering brother, Hal seemed in no hurry for the ceremony to begin, and Henry frowned, for he was taking too much obvious pleasure in Richard’s submission. All eyes were upon his sons, and Henry could see the bafflement on many faces; from the moment he’d announced that Richard would do public homage to Hal, there’d been no other topic of conversation at Angers, for none could figure out how he’d gotten Richard to agree to this. Wanting to get it over as soon as possible, exasperated by behavior he saw as juvenile and petty, Henry shot his eldest son a warning look, making up his mind then and there to return Clairvaux Castle to Richard’s custody, and if Hal liked it not, what of it?
Taking his cue at last, Hal again signaled unnecessarily for quiet. “An act of homage is not to be entered into lightly,” he said gravely. “Whilst I am gladdened that my brother, the Duke of Aquitaine, has offered to do so, I regret that I cannot accept his oath without some misgivings.”
Richard stiffened, Henry took an involuntary step forward, and a low buzz swept the hall. Hal let the suspense build for a few moments longer, noticing that his brother’s eyes had fastened suspiciously upon the reliquary. Holding it up as if it were an actor’s prop, he said loudly, “As sorry as I am to say it, I cannot trust the lord duke’s sworn word without additional validation. Therefore, I would have him swear homage to me upon these blessed holy relics so that there will be no doubts as to his good faith.”
Bedlam ensued, even more chaotic than Hal had hoped. Cat-quick, Richard was on his feet, his face flushed with incredulous fury, his lips peeled back in a snarl that went unheard in the confusion. Henry looked no less dumbfounded, staring at Hal in disbelief and, then, utter outrage. Quarrels were breaking out across the hall, as Richard’s followers began to exchange insults and threats with Hal’s household knights. Watching from the sidelines, Geoffrey kept his face carefully impassive, but inwardly, he was relishing the moment, a master puppeteer who’d succeeded even beyond his expectations.
