Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

the world that was truly hers, we glittering court at Poitiers, where for almost sixty-five years she had reigned in her own right as Duchess of Aquitaine. Eleanor was not, she knew, a woman ever to renounce power, no matter the accompanying Pain . . . and pain there had been in plenitude.Looking pensively at Eleanor's sculptured profile, at the face so familiar and yet so unrevealing, Matilda found herself thinking of all the

124griefs Eleanor had endured in recent months. Death had claimed four 0{ her children in a heartbreakingly brief span. Both the daughters born Of her marriage to the French King were now dead; Richard had died in her arms, and not five months later, she'd stood a ghastly vigil over y^ another child, asJoanna died giving birth to a stillborn son. She had, Matilda thought, been no luckier as a mother than she had been as a wife. Of the ten children she'd borne, she'd buried eight, had only a daughter in distant Castile and the son she was even now awaiting, the last of her eagletsand the least loved.And yet Matilda knew she had labored tirelessly for that same son to gain for him the Angevin crown, had then exhausted herself seeking to win recognition of his right. She'd traversed the length and breadth of her domains on his behalf, formally designated him as heir to her duchy of Aquitaine, and, lastly, undertaken for him a grueling journey that would have daunted a woman half her age. This past January, Philip and John had come to terms, sought to secure peace with the marriage of Philip's son and John's niece. Eleanor took it upon herself to fetch the young Spanish bride, child of the daughter sent so long ago to wed the King of Castile. Daring a dangerous winter crossing of the Pyrenees, she'd brought her granddaughter to Normandy for the wedding that would one day make her Queen of France. But however indomitable her spirit still was, her body was in its seventy-ninth year, and she'd fallen gravely ill upon her return, had been forced to miss the royal wedding she'd done so much to bring about.Eleanor rose, moved restlessly to the window and back again. John had sent word that he'd be arriving at noon; he was already two hours late."This will be the first time that you've seen your son since the wedding, will it not, Madame?" Matilda would have liked to discuss the controversial peace that the wedding was meant to warrant. The treaty was not proving popular inEngland, where men long accustomed to Richard's readiness to wage war for honor and profit looked askance at any resolution not bought with blood. Among those most eager for plunder and among those who'd have cheered the campaign on from the battle lines of London alehouses, John had earned himself a derisive sobriquet, one utterly at odds with the admiring "Richard Lion-Heart"that had been bestowed upon his brother: "John Softsword." But Matilda knew better than to broach the subject; Eleanor did not share confidences, least of all about her youngest son."Madame . . ."A young novice nun stood in the doorway"Madame, the King's Grace has just ridden into the garth."

115AND we celebrated the wedding the day after Philip and I con-l ded the treaty. We had to hold it across the border in Normandy, of urse, what with France being under Interdict, and Philip had to get econdhand account of the ceremony, since he's barred from all theSacraments."At that, John and Eleanor exchanged identical amused smiles, for the FrenchKing's marital troubles had only grown more tangled with time/ had now embroiled him in a confrontation with the Holy See. It was seven years since he'd rejected Ingeborg, four since he'd defiantly wed the Duke of Meran's daughter, and the Pope had at last lost patience. Six months ago he had turned upon Philip one of the more effective weapons in the papal arsenal, layingFrance under Interdict until the King agreed to set aside his present wife and recognize the longsuffering Ingeborg as his Queen."A pity you had to miss all the festivities, Madame . . . especially that memorable moment when Philip compelled Arthur to do homage to me for the duchy of Brittany, to acknowledge me as his King and liege lord. If I'd gained nothing else from the treaty, the look on Arthur's face would be recompense enough!"This last was said with a trace of defiance. John knew what was being said in alehouse and army encampmentthat his brother Richard would never have made such a peaceand he'd come prepared to defend himself with irrefutable logic and common sense. But his relationship with his mother was too tenuous, too fraught with ambivalence and inconsistencies to be governed by the detached dictates of reason.Instead of citing the very material advantages of peace with Philip, he found himself saying sarcastically, "But I'm discovering that a truce not won at swordpoint is somehow suspect. People crave glory, I give them peace, and they fancy themselves the poorer for it. What of you, Madame? Do you, too, fault me for renouncing glory in favor of crops in the fields and money in my coffers?"Eleanor gave a startled laugh. "Good God, no! Do you know me as little as that? War is the least productive of men's pastimes, and the most indulgent.Why should I want you to fight for what you can gain at the bargaining table?"John was pleased, but still wary. "I yielded to Philip only that which I could not hope to hold on the field," he said cautiously. "The fruth of it, Mother, is that I cannot afford a war. The money is just not there."They both knew why: because Richard had depleted the royal treasury with his wars, his crusade, his ransom. Eleanor said nothing, and

116John, disarmed by her unexpected approval, forbore for once to criticize the son she still mourned."Not that I expect the peace to last," he admitted. "But it will