The Winter Crown Read Online Free PDF

said. ‘More than that I cannot say.’
    So it was a woman and of long acquaintance. Henry’s sexual appetite was as intense as the rest of him, and Alienor accepted that he made arrangements to slake his lust when she was heavy with child or not by his side. There were nights when he did not come to her chamber. Much of that time he was working on matters of government, but she was not naive. Any court whore would leap at the chance to oblige him, and his position of power meant he would never be refused. But a woman he had known for many years was more than a passing fancy, and his behaviour just now spoke of deep concern.
    Everyone was avoiding her gaze. Standing tall, she gathered her dignity. ‘Thank you, my lord chancellor,’ she said with regal command. ‘The King has business to attend to, but you may show me what else has been accomplished here.’
    Becket bowed and took his response from hers. ‘Madam, I think you will like what has been done with the smaller hall.’ He gestured with an open hand.
    Alienor followed him, and as he showed her the renovations with comments and flourishes, she replied as if she was interested, but when the tour was finished, she recalled not a word of what he had said.
    Henry gazed at the body of his mistress. With the sheet drawn up to her chin and her eyes closed, she might have been deeply asleep were it not for the waxen appearance of her skin, which lacked any warmth of colour. Her beautiful hair still rippled with all the vibrant life that had left its owner.
    ‘A cart in the street laden with barrels overturned and crushed her,’ Hamelin said. ‘By the time they pulled her out, she was dead. I am sorry.’ Words were inadequate; he almost felt foolish for saying them, but there had to be something to fill the void.
    Henry grasped a hank of Aelburgh’s hair and rubbed its softness between his finger and thumb, then leaned over and kissed her icy brow. ‘I was a youth of fourteen when we met.’ His voice caught in his throat, and he had to clear it with a cough. ‘She was a girl fresh from the country and sweeter than apple blossom. There will never be another one like her for me.’
    ‘I am sorry,’ Hamelin muttered again. ‘I knew what she was to you.’ He squeezed Henry’s shoulder in sympathy and stood for a moment in silence. Then he said: ‘What about the child?’
    Henry drew a shuddering breath. ‘I will bring him to Westminster to join the nursery. It was my intention to do so anyway at some point.’ He turned away from Aelburgh’s broken body, leaving it to be made ready for church.
    In the room below, his small son, Jeoffrey, sat on his nurse’s lap fingering a scrap of blanket, his blue eyes big with wonder and anxiety. ‘Is Mama still asleep?’ he asked.
    Henry plucked him out of the woman’s arms. ‘Your mama is sending you to live with me, because she cannot care for you any more,’ he said. ‘You will have brothers to play with and people to look after you. Here, would you like to ride on my big horse?’
    The child sucked his bottom lip, but nodded gamely. Henry threw a look over his shoulder at Hamelin filled with a raw mingling of grief and anger.
    Hamelin recognised dangerous ground. Henry never coped well when matters took away his control and made of him a straw in the flood. And he hated exposing his vulnerability to others. ‘I never knew my mother’, he said. ‘She died at my birth – but I do remember our father’s care and how he made me his son even though I had no rights of inheritance. I loved him for that, and honoured him all of his days, as you know.’
    Henry swallowed. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said, and then looked at the little boy in his arms. ‘He is all I have of his mother.’ Abruptly he pushed his way outside. It had started to snow and he protected his son within the thick fur folds of his cloak. Hamelin followed him out, closed the door and directed their attendant guard to disperse the curious crowd that had