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.He met my eyes then, and I did not look away.Our gazes held, and he seemed to see behind my eyes into my thoughts.I felt, in that brief, blessed moment, that he understood me.Since I was a child, I had known that I must marry this man, and part of me had feared it.Now I saw that we might build something together, something that politics and all its harsh necessity could not touch.Together, we might build a home, and find some peace amid the constant furor of royal courts, with their backbiting and their shadows.Together, we might love each other as a man and woman, not as a prince and princess.Richard took my hand, and held it in his own.“My mother is also your friend, as I am”I did not know what to say for my breath had gone.Tears rose to my eyes unbidden, though Eleanor had taught me never to cry.But my heart wept at the thought of finding a haven in my new life, a haven with my husband; my eyes wept, too.Richard stood beside me, my hand in his.He did not speak of my tears, and I felt that to him they did me honor.He reached down and wiped them away gently with one large finger.The sweetness of the gesture moved me more than anything else he might have done.I wiped my eyes with my free hand, and I smiled.“Eleanor has been like a mother to me,” I said.“All I am, all I will ever be, I owe to her.”His smile lit his face, as if dawn had broken over a plain of darkness.“It is so with me as well,” he said.“In all the dark places of my childhood, my mother was the only light.My music, my poetry, even my prowess in war, all were gifts from her hands.”I knew this was an admission that he would never have given to anyone else.Anyone else would have questioned that: a woman giving a man the gift of war.But I knew what he meant, for even in my cloister, I had heard of Richard’s heroism in war.He meant that Eleanor had taught him the art of war by teaching him to nurture art within his soul.His music, his poetry, and his flair for battle, all came from the same place, the creative fount that Eleanor had nurtured, as she had left me nurtured in the Abbey of St.Agnes.Nowhere else would a woman have been taught to paint as I had been.No other nunnery would have allowed it.Always, Eleanor gave the best to those she best loved, holding nothing back.We walked on, and I felt close to him, closer than I had felt to anyone but Eleanor in many years.I thanked God once more that He had seen fit to give me this man as a haven for the rest of my life.We came to a part of the castle where people were stirring.As we passed, people bowed to Richard, then looked twice when they saw me.Some did not even think to bow, but stared.Richard did not acknowledge any of them except to nod to a few, the ones who were high ranking, the ones he could not ignore.He spoke to none of them, but dropped my hand as he led me to another door.This one opened onto a much larger courtyard.I could see the buttery in the distance, and somewhere I heard a wheel turning, drawing water from a well.Richard bowed to me in the middle of a simples garden that was not much larger than the one at the abbey.Winchester was a royal palace, as well as the bishop’s seat, but it was not as large as my father’s palace in Paris.No one else was in the garden, though I could hear women working in the kitchen not far away.“I will leave you here,” he said, his face closed to me.The easiness between us had fled.We had started gossip by walking in public un-escorted, and he did not like it.For me, he had broken every rule of the honor we had both been raised to.Behind his displeasure at the talk we had started, I saw in his eyes that he wanted us to build our own alliance, a love born from our common loneliness.Richard hoped that we might make our own rules, and be a haven for each other.“I must thank you.” I touched his arm.“I would not have found this place without you.”His face softened, and the shutters fell from his eyes.Before he could speak again, Marie Helene found me, her wimple askew where she had drawn it on by herself.“Your Highness, where have you been?” she asked.“When you did not come back, I was worried, my lady.”“You see, my lord,” I said.“She is my friend who fears for me, so much that she would scold me in front of my betrothed.”“It is a good friend who will scold you, though you are a princess.Keep her by you always, for friends like that are rare.”We stood looking at each other, Marie Helene forgotten until she cleared her throat.Richard bowed to us, and we curtsied.“I hope to see you again,” he said to me, lowering his voice slightly, as if to give us privacy that we no longer had.“I fear you will have to, my lord.”I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed.“Yes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]