Joanna’s stare was so direct, so challenging, that St. Clair found himself unable to hold it, and he turned his eyes away from her, thinking furiously and unaware that his own gaze had returned to Berengaria.
“You find her beautiful, do you not?”
It took several seconds for the import of what Joanna had said to penetrate his awareness, for he had been looking at Berengaria’s sleeping face, oblivious to what he was doing, but now he stiffened and straightened his shoulders.
“I think I misheard you, my lady.”
“I am not your lady, Andre. I might lie with you and enjoy you, and you me, but I could never be your lady. But Berengaria could, and probably will be, albeit secretly and very quietly.”
St. Clair could hear his heart pounding loudly in the pause that followed, and when Joanna spoke again it seemed to him he could hear a smile in her voice. “Would you like to bed a queen, Sir Andre?” She paused again, briefly this time. “Come, sir, it is time to grit your teeth and banish blushes. You may bed both of us, would you but say the word. Then we would all three be pleased enough with our lot, and life could go on with never a wrinkle to mar its smoothness.”
Andre did not even dare attempt to answer, for he was afraid, yet far from convinced, that the Queen of Sicily had lost her sanity, and the thunder of his own pulse was deafening in his ears. He sat motionless, making no attempt to look at her, and she bent forward and took him by the wrist, tugging at him.
“Andre, look at me. Look at me, and listen! Look at me!”
He turned his eyes with painful slowness to look at her and found her frowning at him.
“Sweet Jesus,” she said, more to herself than to him. “You are even more innocent than I suspected. You are unfit to be permitted out alone and unguarded. Andre, listen to me, and if you have never heard anything before in your life to do with women, hear this.” She squeezed his wrist with both hands now, this time hard enough to cause pain, and he flinched and looked directly at her.
“Are you listening to me? Good. Now hear this, from a woman with no wish to deceive you and a Queen with no need to lie. Berengaria is yours for the taking. I am, too, but there is naught in it for me but pleasure. For you and Berengaria, on the other hand, there is much more at stake. You are to beget a son on her, an heir for Richard.”
As he made to leap to his feet, she leapt ahead of him and pushed him back down. “Listen, you stupid man! Do you think I would jest with you on such a matter? It is a fact. Richard has planned for this, and arranged it with great care, and there is nothing you or anyone else may do to alter it. He will, if need be, use the full power of his liege right to your fealty and order you directly to the task of doing it as duty, and if you refuse his wishes he will deal with you accordingly. Believe me, I know whereof I speak, and you know my brother well enough to know that he will not be crossed in anything he sets his mind to as he has in this. Richard has no fear of popes or bishops or prating priests, and there is no other monarch alive who could force his hand and make him change his mind.”
She checked herself, seeing the look in his eyes, then flicked her hand sideways, as if to clear such thoughts away, and resumed in a more gentle voice. “But none of this is anywhere near as bleak as I have made it sound, believe me. Nor would it be unpleasant in any degree, especially with regard to my sister Berengaria.” She spread her fingers wide and drew a deep breath. “Richard took Berengaria to his bed on their wedding night, witnessed by all who were required to be there to stand witness, but he made no attempt to couple with her. She is no virgin, nor was she expected to be one, but she is virgin to her husband, because Richard is a man’s man and that means his Queen will be no man’s woman, officially at least, for the remainder of her life.”
“That is scandalous! She was brought to Sicily to wed him by his mother. How could Eleanor not know about her son and his vices?”
Joanna looked at him wide eyed. “Who said she does not? Did I?”
“No, but—”
“There are no ‘buts,’ Sir Andre. My mother is no man’s fool and there is nothing she does not know about her sons … nor her daughters, for that matter. She knew what she was doing.”
“Then how could she do such a thing to this young woman?”
The naivety of his question brought a hard edge of impatience to Joanna’s voice. “She could do it because this young woman is her father’s daughter, bound to obey his wishes in this as in all other things. Her father is King of Navarre, and Eleanor’s son is King of England and ruler of an empire that includes Gascony. My mother arranged the perfect alliance, matching Richard with Berengaria, one of those brilliant instances of logic and initiative in political reality that have made my mother renowned throughout her life for her political acumen.
“Richard has tribulations uncounted in Gascony and no time to deal with them. The entire region is a rats’ nest of treasonous bandits. They call themselves landowners and noblemen, but they are no more than brigands who have no love for Aquitaine, and even less for my brother or for his House, whether it be called Plantagenet or Poitiers. And to the east of Gascony lies Toulouse, a foe to both Gascony and Richard. That single fact, that enmity between Toulouse and Gascony, is the sole thing holding back open rebellion by both powers against Richard’s lands and authority. But our farsighted mother has contrived to liquidate that threat.” She paused, collecting her thoughts, then resumed in a stronger voice. “The day he married Berengaria, Richard endowed her with title to all his lands and holdings in Gascony.” She saw St. Clair stiffen slightly with shock. “Gascony’s southern border is the northern border of those territories ruled by Berengaria’s father, Sancho. He is a sound and solid man, a strong King with a powerful and experienced army, kept in the field for years campaigning against the Muslim Moors in Granada, to the south of him. And now that his daughter holds title over Gascony, Sancho will work to ensure that Gascony and Navarre stand united against Toulouse, thereby taming the Gascon bandits in his daughter’s name and forming a firm cushion between Angevin Aquitaine and any threat from its eastern neighbors. You must admit, that is all logical. Will you not agree?”
St. Clair nodded. “Aye, it is, admirably so, but it does not—”
“Of course it does, Sir Andre. Royal duty and responsibility excuses anything necessary to the well-being of the kingdom. Berengaria has always accepted that. Besides, she is … complacent. That was the word my mother used in describing Berengaria’s ability to absorb what Richard would do to her—or would
“But even so, my brother is not wholly without conscience. He told the child what their life would be like, before they slept on their wedding night, and he told her that he would not object were she to satisfy her needs discreetly with some man who could be relied upon to keep his silence.” Joanna paused dramatically. “And then he went even further. He told her that, should she get herself with child, he would accept the infant and claim it as his own. And then he selected you for the task.”
“What?
“Why, in the name of God? Why, Andre? You know my brother. You know who and what he is. Why would you find this difficult to believe? I knew it weeks ago, from the way he thrust you into prominence every time we turned around.”
“But … But—” Andre reeled back in his chair. “That is infamous, madam! To suggest that the King would ever consider having anyone else, let alone
“Ah! The famous little Philip, of course!” Joanna pulled herself up until her spine was straight, and looked into the flames, her face unreadable. “The little bastard prince. The French King’s bane … No, sir, you need not remind me of that fable. That child exists, but he is no more the son of Richard Plantagenet than I am. He is an illusion, an artifact created for the common people to perceive. But I would have thought that, even with your unworldly eyes, you would see through such a simple subterfuge.”
“Explain that, if you will.”
“I will. You asked me but a moment ago how I, who know him better than you, could even hint that my brother might be capable of such a thing. Well, I can
