the throne of England? After the hell they went through with Matilda?”
“No. They most certainly would not trust her to rule alone. But if she were to marry wisely, and with a man the barons elected themselves, a man who could be trusted to place the welfare of England before all else … then some might see a benefit in making her queen. Let me put the question to you: Would Eleanor of Brittany be able to unite the barons of England?”
“She is Geoffrey’s daughter, Henry Secund’s granddaughter,” Randwulf said with careful consideration. “She has the charm and wit of the one, the sense of justice of the other. Eduard—?”
“She is honest and God-fearing,” said the darkly handsome knight. “Her beauty lights a room when she enters and leaves a terrible sense of loss when she departs. She is wise and brave, loyal beyond call—”
“And obviously possesses the knack of winning devotion,” William interrupted with a smile.
“Have you any candidates in mind for her consort?” Alaric asked.
“There are several,” William admitted, betraying the fact that the matter had been much discussed already. “Each with his own merits, each capable of gaining and holding the respect of the barons … and more importantly, their armies.”
“Forgive my lack of wit this night,” said Randwulf, “but it still does not explain why you have brought this meal to my table. I have no holdings to speak of, no vast army in England to draw upon, no influence there at all except with the royal executioner.”
“Your modesty does you no justice. Moreover, England is not the crucible—Normandy is. If the pennants of the Black Wolf were not firmly planted on the banks of the Loire, how long do you think it would take Philip to bring his armies across? I know, after standing in the Frenchman’s court and counting the number of familiar faces in the audience, the deals have already been cut with half the barony of Brittany, Maine, and Anjou. In exchange for retaining their lands and titles, none will lift a lance against Philip’s forces when he attempts to make Normandy part of France. Only you and your absolute devotion to the dowager stand in his way. You are Aquitaine’s champion. You carry her pennant above your own in battle. You have proven your loyalty time and time again; she and her granddaughter both trust you. More importantly, they would listen to you with an open mind.”
Under different circumstances, the Wolf might have laughed out loud, for the cobwebs had finally been blown off his senses and he knew why the earl had come to Amboise. The battles, verbal and physical, that Queen Eleanor and her husband Henry II had engaged in were the stuff of legends. Henry had even kept her under lock and key for seventeen years fearing she would lead her sons in open revolt against him. There had been no love lost between Eleanor and the blustery William either, and upon Henry’s death, she had heaped double the scorn on Pembroke, going so far as to rail her son Richard in public for making the old warrior Marshal of England.
Yet the Wolf was not laughing. He was not even smiling. He was, if anything, having difficulty controlling his fury.
“You would have me intercede on your behalf and convince the princess to play the cat’s paw to your political maneuverings, even though she has spent most of her life being used and manipulated like a piece on a chessboard?”
“You would prefer to let John decide her fate?”
A second, frozen hush descended over the group and this time it was Sparrow who broke the shocked silence.
“Softsword has not dared to lay a hand on our Little Pearl, has he?”
The earl’s eyes turned into chips of blue ice. “He dared to take her prisoner with her brother at Mirebeau, and he has dared to keep her confined in a tower room at Rouen all these months. Now, if the eyes I have watching those tower rooms are to be believed, he has dared to move her to Cherbourg, and from there, to transport her by ship to England.”
“To England!” Eduard surged forward, the scar on his face turning a livid white with rage. “The bastard has moved her to England?”
William nodded. “John himself is getting ready to bolt. He has no men, no money, no army. He knew before he sent me on this fool’s errand to see Philip that the French would never agree to a peaceful compromise, and