“I love you, Henry,” Eleanor murmured, feeling vulnerable, and resting her head on his chest, taking comfort from his strength. Then she forgot all about Matilda as the familiar and much-longed-for melting sensation coursed through her body, and she gave herself up to her husband’s delightful caresses—although not for long. As needy as she, he mounted her swiftly.
“God, it’s so good to hold you again!” he cried, and then could say no more as passion overtook him. Eleanor’s desire was no less urgent, and as they lost control in unison, rolling between the sheets, grabbing and devouring each other, she thought she would die of the pleasure. Afterward, lying together in blissful euphoria, kissing gently and sensuously, they gazed at each other in wonder, shaken by the depth of their passion.
“I pray you never have to leave me for so long again,” Eleanor said, touching Henry’s cheek.
“I think I shall have to, if that’s what I’ll be coming home to!” he teased, grinning. “By the eyes of God, woman, you are a marvel! No one has ever made me feel like this.” He was being serious now.
“And shall make you feel even better …” Eleanor promised, sliding sensuously down the bed. “How like you this, my dear heart? And this?”
“Eleanor, you’re insatiable!” Henry groaned, stretching with pleasure, and chuckled. “Do you realize that for this you could end up doing penance for three years?”
Eleanor momentarily stopped what she was doing. “IfI confessed it,” she murmured, “but in truth, I consider it to be no sin.” She resumed where she had left off.
“Then we shall burn together in Hell, and be damned!” Henry gasped.
——
In the morning, the duke was up early, anxious to be out hunting. He would never lie late in bed, but was always restless to be gone.
“He makes a martyrdom of the sport,” his mother complained. She had complied with Henry’s demand, and there was an unspoken if uneasy truce between her and Eleanor when they met in the chapel before breakfast and bowed warily to each other.
“She had actually sent a message asking me if I wished to accompany her to mass,” Eleanor told Henry on his return.
“And did you?”
“Of course. She will never have cause to call me undutiful.” She set down the illuminated book she had been reading.
“Henry—”
“What’s that?” he interrupted, looking admiringly at the book with its bejeweled silver cover. He had an insatiable curiosity.
“It is The Deeds of the Counts of Anjou,”Eleanor told him. “I am learning all about your forebears.”
Henry sniffed. “It might put you off me for life! They were troublesome bastards, the lot of them.”
“It does make for very interesting reading.” she smiled. “And it explains a lot of things!”
“Hah!” cried Henry. “Don’t paint me with the same brush. Although if you listen to Abbot Bernard, I’m worse than all of them put together.”
“So he told me!” She laughed, then her face grew serious. “Henry, how long are we to sojourn in Normandy?”
“I’m not sure,” he said warily. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“You said six weeks.” The prospect of a longer stay with her dragon of a mother-in-law was more than she could stomach.
“I know, but I have just had news from Aquitaine. Some of your vassals are in rebellion. I want you to remain here while I go and teach them a lesson.”
“Rebellion?” Eleanor echoed.
“It seems they don’t like me,” Henry muttered, “but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I could quell them,” she told him. “They will listen to me.”
“And that’s precisely why I am going in your stead, so that they learn to listen to me as well.”
“Henry, I insist—”
“Eleanor, my mind is made up. Don’t worry, my Lady Mother won’t eat you up while I’m gone. She’s got enough of the statesman in her to appreciate the folly of upsetting me, when her power here derives from me.”
“But Henry, you need her to govern Normandy, and she knows it,” Eleanor protested. “That’s an empty threat. She has no need to fear you.”
“Yes, but she has every need to fear you,” he retorted. “Normandy has a duchess now—why should she not rule it in my absence?”
“And when we are summoned to England? I don’t want to stay here!”
“I have many dependable Norman barons, my sweetheart. No, never fear, my mother will behave herself. And you have your ladies and young William to occupy you.”
“You make it sound as if that should be enough to content me,” Eleanor complained. “Take me with you. Let us not be parted again.”
“No,” Henry declared. “It will not be for long, and war is man’s work. Then we can look forward to another reunion.” He grinned at her suggestively.
Again Eleanor experienced that hateful feeling of being trapped and helpless.
“You just don’t understand, do you?” she fumed. “I am the Duchess of Aquitaine, and I am fit for higher things than the company of women and babies. When there is trouble in my domains, I should be with you, putting things right. We said we would do these things together, Henry! And, as you seem to have forgotten already, we have just been parted for sixteen months— sixteen months—yet you are going to leave me again. I can’t believe you would even think of that, not after last night.”
Henry came to her and caught her roughly in his arms.
“Do you think I want to leave you?” He sighed. “Ah, Eleanor, in an ideal world we would be together always, but I have vast domains to rule, and that means I must continually be on the move. Listen. I know you for an intelligent woman, and I do value your political ability, but I need to assert my authority in Aquitaine, and I need to do it alone. When those godforsaken vassals of yours have learned who’s in charge, we will rule the duchy as equals. In the meantime, all I ask is that you stay here in safety with our son.”
“Very well then,” she conceded after a pause, still simmering, “but summon me as soon as you can.”
“No, I will return to you here,” Henry said.
“But why?” she asked in dismay.
“There is news from England,” he said. “I have not yet had a chance to tell you or my mother. King Stephen is ill; it can now only be a matter of time. We must hold ourselves in readiness, and for that reason we should stay here in Normandy. It is only a short distance across the Channel from England.”
“But you are going south,” Eleanor pointed out. “What if the summons comes while you are away?”
“I shall ride like the wind and be here in ten minutes!” Henry chuckled. “And I’ll bring your rebellious vassals with me. The promise of rich pickings in England might make them like me more.”
Rouen, 1154
It was late October. In the solar of the royal palace, the two richly garbed royal ladies sat sewing by a brazier. The wind was howling outside, and the colorful tapestries on the walls stirred in the draft from the slit windows.
“Bring me more silks,” the Empress commanded, and her waiting woman scuttled away. Another appeared with goblets of cognac, which she placed on the table.
“I wish there was news of Henry,” Eleanor said, taking a sip. “Oh, that’s warming.”
“I expect the weather is as bad in the Vexin as it is here,” Matilda said. Her manner toward her daughter-in-law was still merely polite, but months of familiarity had eroded the sharp edge of the glacier. Thrown together by virtue of their rank, both women had had to make the best of it.