not an option open to you, is it? The lady comes with the crown. Even if the poulain lords were desperate enough to agree, any man she later married would be eager to advance a claim to your throne, following in Conrad’s footsteps.” Richard shook his head before saying dryly, “A pity she could not be reconciled with Humphrey de Toron, surely the only soul in all of Outremer who has no interest whatsoever in becoming king.”
Henri knew why he had such misgivings about wedding Isabella. Curious to learn why his uncle harbored misgivings, too, he said, “I confess it surprises me to hear you say this, for Isabella is your cousin.”
“I do not blame the girl for her predicament; none of it is her doing. And how can I not admire her for standing up to Burgundy and Beauvais like that? But my greater loyalty is to you, lad, and I fear such a marriage would be invalid under canon law. The aforementioned Humphrey is alive and well and still her husband in God’s eyes, for that so-called annulment was a farce from first to last. If you wed her, Henri, you risk having your children declared illegitimate, for your marriage to Isabella would be no more valid than Conrad’s.”
“Truthfully, that is not a worry of mine, Uncle, for who would challenge the marriage? The bishops of Outremer supported the annulment and are the ones urging me now to wed Isabella. They are a pragmatic lot, the poulains. But it is more complicated than even you know. Isabella is pregnant.”
“Ah . . . I see. No wonder you are so uncertain. If she gives birth to a son, he’ll inherit the throne. Of course she may have a daughter, in which case any son of yours would take precedence.”
“Are you suggesting I go ahead and roll the dice?” Henri asked, with such a sad smile that Richard felt a stab of pity.
“It is understandable that you might be reluctant to marry the girl under the circumstances. But leave that for now. Let’s talk about the crown. I do not sense any great enthusiasm for that, either. Why not?”
“It would mean lifelong exile, Uncle. Most likely I’d never see my mother again, or my brother and sisters.” Henri gnawed on his lower lip, not sure how candid he could be. But his uncle ought to understand if any man could, for all knew the close bond he had with Eleanor. “I was not yet fifteen when my father died. I assume you know the story? He was seized by the Turks on his way back from the Holy Land, held for ransom, and finally freed after my mother persuaded the emperor of the Greeks to pay it. We were so overjoyed when he finally came home.... But his health had been ravaged by his stay in prison and he died soon afterward. My mother took it very hard, and she said she’d have to rely upon me to be the man in the family, to help her protect my little brother and sisters. If I were not to come back to Champagne, I think it would break her heart. . . .”
Richard was not at his best in discussions like this; he preferred to deal with emotions by ignoring them. He was very fond of his sister, though, and he suspected Henri was right, for Marie was fiercely devoted to the welfare of her children. A thought occurring to him then, he brightened. “Might it not console her to know you now ruled a kingdom?”
Henri gave him another sad smile. “The Counts of Champagne consider themselves the equal of kings, so she’d not see that as much of an elevation.”
No son of the Duchess of Aquitaine could argue with that, but Richard tried. “You may just need some time. My sisters were all sent away when they were very young to wed foreign princes, but they’d been taught that would be their fate and so did not think to question it. For you, it is different, of course. You expected to rule Champagne till the end of your earthly days. But once you’ve come to terms with it, it might be easier . . . ?”
Henri took no comfort in that possibility. Never see his beloved Champagne again? Trade its lush greenwoods and river valleys for this arid, inhospitable land with its searing summers and noxious maladies? Trade the family he loved for a life with an unwilling wife and