The Queen's Choice. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ description of her was that of a man bent on love.’

      ‘My description was of you. Did you not recognise yourself, most handsome of women?’ There was his smile that melted my bones. ‘As you so wisely remarked, how would I know Lady Mary to such a degree after one dance?’

      And I laughed, a little in relief, in wordless delight, as Henry continued to pour his words of love over me.

      ‘How can I deny something that has become a part of me? I have not seen you for six months, I have not heard your voice, but you are fixed in my memory as brightly as an illuminated initial in that magnificent gift you have bestowed on me. I cannot deny it. I will not, even though there is no future for us together. If it is honour to let you go, then I will. But I will say this first, so that, in the rest of our lives apart, you will never forget it and you will always know it. You are loved, Joanna. You are my most treasured delight.’

      The words shivered over me, through me, and I replied as I wished to, as he would want me to. As, now I realised in those moments of blinding revelation, John had given me permission to reply. Flattening all my pride, my lips burning as I spoke, my tongue forming the words I had never said before to any man, and with such ease:‘I love you, Henry of Lancaster.’

      ‘There, it is done. Our love acknowledged in God’s presence.’ He smiled at me, all his beauty restored, all the harsh anger of the last hour stripped away. Yet he took a step away from me. ‘I will not kiss you again.’

      But it was not enough. Not at all enough.

      ‘Then I will kiss you.’

      And with a step I did so, abandoning my habitual reserve, as with grave courtesy, mouth against mouth, reawakening the same sensations so that my heart beat hard beneath my bodice, my blood raced beneath skin that suddenly felt fragile.

      The kiss ending, I pursued what I desired without permission, tracing the contours of Henry’s face with my fingertips, as he had traced mine. The straight nose, the uncompromising brows, the line of his lips, the springing texture of his hair, the contour of his jaw, as if I might absorb a memory that would remain with me for the rest of my life. And this from a woman who guarded her emotions, shielding herself from any power to hurt or destroy. I was shaken with amazement at my courage as I allowed Henry to read my thoughts, my utter longing.

      At last I let my hand fall away.

      ‘Will you remember me?’ Henry asked.

      ‘Yes. I will remember.’

      It seemed to me that an abyss was suddenly yawning between us.

      ‘You will be careful,’ I said.

      ‘Yes.’

      A tense little silence fell, tight-held with unspoken emotion, as once more he gathered my hands into his. The warmth was enough. It would have to be enough.

      ‘I will use the Book of Hours, every day.’ It was Henry who broke the silence. ‘Will you pray for me? Even though…’ He shrugged, his smile a little twisted.

      Even though I stir up insurrection against my cousin. ‘Yes. I will pray for you.’

      ‘There is so much I would say. But we both know it would be wrong.’

      ‘A betrayal of trust and much kindness.’ I sought for the words amidst my grief that we might never speak again. ‘It is in my heart that you succeed. And that you find a wife who will bring you strength and comfort.’

      ‘She will always be second best. A pale shadow. I must not let her know my heart is given elsewhere.’ He raised his head, listening, becoming aware of the outside world and all it demanded from him. ‘I must go, Joanna. It will be best if you remain here…’

      One of the little windows beside us had been opened by the priest to allow a breath of air to enter. Seeing it, inspired by some quirk of his imagination, Henry drew me with him as he placed the palm of his hand flat against the dusty glass, fingers spread across the deep blue and red and gold of the craftsman’s art in depicting an angelic throng. And without a word passing between us, I placed mine on the opposite side of the pane, so that my palm matched his perfectly, spreading my fingers so that they covered his as much as I was able. The glass was sun-warmed, the colours deep and rich, heavy with gilding.

      It was not a kiss. No it was not, but it was as if the colours bound us together.

      ‘I will never forget you,’ he said softly.

      ‘Will you write and tell us?’ I asked. ‘To tell us how you fare?’And then I wished I had not asked. Better to let our lives diverge as they must without keeping the useless skeins intact. ‘No. I think you should not,’ I added.

      I knew he understood, for he nodded. ‘I will when I can. It will be all about armies and finance and inheritance. Farewell, Joanna. Farewell, my love.’

      ‘Adieu. God go with you, Henry.’

      He was the first to remove his hand. The colours around me seemed less bright.

      When Henry collected his accoutrements and the book, despite his express wishes, I followed him out into the courtyard to keep a last, final image of him, and as I did so, a thought touched me.

      ‘Why did you come here today? If you would refuse John’s proffered aid, why travel so far? You could have told us of your intent by courier.’

      Henry turned.

      ‘You know the answer, Joanna.’ Never had my name sounded so like a caress. ‘It was to see you, even if we could not be alone, to say goodbye. I was not so soaked in passion at Richard’s injustice that I could leave you without your knowing.’

      So he feared death. He feared for the future. But he loved me enough to put his fears aside and come to me.

      Henry bowed, to any onlooker the bow of the most respectful of courtiers to the Duchess of Brittany.

      ‘I may die in battle. I may succeed in taking back what is mine. I may wed again. Whatever the future holds for me, I swear I will never forget you, in this world or the next.’

      *

      ‘He has gone.’

      Could any phrase be more empty, more lacking in hope?

      I had returned to our chamber with its rounded walls and fair aspect. I could have gone back to the garden, where the shouts and laughter of the children carried to us, a shrill squawk of impatience cutting through the rest. But I could not laugh with them. I could have returned to the chapel antechamber, to sit on the tiles in the dust and allow the sun-warmed colours to heal my loss. But the Duchess of Brittany did not sit on the floor and mourn. Besides, it would have been a coward’s way out. I had to face my husband. The generosity of what he had done shivered over my skin, like the brush of a goose-quill. For now I understood the quality of the gift that John had bestowed on me, a gift of vast proportions, worthy of a man with a truly great soul.

      Where was my loyalty now? Treachery was not only committed by men who took up arms against their liege lord, for had I not snatched at the gift John had given me?

      Head lifted, spine straight, I walked in, to stand before the table where John СКАЧАТЬ