Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,51

his brother into Marshal’s place. But if I overruled him, I’d be subverting his authority when he most needs it. I know he is not without flaws. I can trust him, though, with no misgivings whatsoever. Can I say as much for Johnny?”

“I raised this very question last summer at Winchester. I was somewhat surprised by your lavish generosity to John since you’d shown no favor to the other men who’d abandoned Harry, whilst rewarding men who’d stayed loyal to him. Do you remember what you told me? You said John deserves a chance to show he can be trusted. Has he given you any reason to exile him from England?”

“No,” Richard admitted, “he has not.” Picking up the cup Richenza had left behind, he drained the last of the wine before saying, “Who am I to argue with myself? Or with you, Maman. Tell Johnny I free him from his oath.”

Eleanor smiled, but she was not as confident as she’d have Richard believe, for her youngest was still a mystery to her. She could only hope John would prove her right.

“If I am releasing Johnny, I suppose I’ll have to open the door of Geoff’s cage, too,” Richard said, rolling his eyes. “Actually I’d been giving that some thought, for had he been in York, he might have been able to keep Marshal from panicking. Say what you will about Geoff, he does not lack for courage and would have thought nothing of plunging into the midst of that mob, swinging his crozier like a battle-axe!”

That image amused them both. Eleanor was becoming puzzled, though, that he’d not yet brought up the subject of his bride-to-be. He’d told her last night that while he was in Bayonne, he’d been able to slip across the border for a secret meeting with the King of Navarre, settling the last issues of the marriage contract. Now that they were alone, why was he not sharing with her what had been decided? Surely Sancho could not have been dissatisfied with the generous dower Richard was offering? Berengaria was to receive Gascony and, after Eleanor’s death, lands in Normandy and Anjou as well. So why was Richard suddenly so tight-lipped about the deal he’d struck with Sancho?

At last losing patience, Eleanor said, “So . . . tell me of the meeting with Sancho and his son. I assume he was contented with the dower?”

“Indeed he was. No, there was but one obstacle to overcome. Sancho was unwilling to delay the marriage until my return from the Holy Land. Quite understandable,” Richard said with a sudden grin, “since neither he nor his daughter would benefit if I were inconveniently slain in Outremer. Nor did I want to delay the marriage, either. My wife’s father would make a more reliable ally than the father of my betrothed. And if it is my destiny to die in the Holy Land, I’d rather not entrust my empire to either Johnny or Arthur, so the quicker Berengaria can give me a son, the better.”

Eleanor frowned, for she did not like him to discuss his death so nonchalantly. She already knew the odds were not in his favor for a safe return, did not need to be reminded of that in casual conversation. “But you cannot wed the girl ere you leave or you’ll be leaving without Philippe. So how did you resolve it?”

“We could think of only one way—have Berengaria join me in Sicily and marry me there or, if she arrives during Lent, then once we reach Outremer.”

“And you actually got her father to agree to this?” Eleanor was incredulous. “I know you can be convincing when you put your mind to it, Richard, but with a tongue as agile as that, you could lick honey off thorns!”

“Well, Sancho did impose one condition. To show my good faith and to safeguard his daughter’s honor, I told him that you would travel to Navarre and bring Berengaria to me in Sicily.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Did you now? Richard, you do remember that this will be my sixty-sixth summer on God’s Earth? Most women of that age do not stir from their hearths, but you want me to traverse the Pyrenees and then make a winter crossing of the Alps? Would you like me to make a side trip to Cathay, too?”

Richard could not hide his dismay, for he’d taken his mother’s consent for granted, and if she balked now, the marriage itself might be put at risk. “Maman . .