Windsor Castle February 1173 I prayed to God for Richard’s safety, standing¹ there steeped in sin, my father’s rosary in my hand. I thought of all I must be shriven for, but I turned that thought aside. There was more to do before there was less. There was a piper to be paid, and I would pay him. Eleanor and I stood alone in Richard’s rooms. His men had fled with him, down the hidden corridor. I thought I saw her reach for me. Then Henry was there, and I saw nothing else. His eyes fell on me, and his men-at-arms stopped short behind him. He stared at me, at the betrayal he had not expected, from the last person on earth he expected it from. For I had warned Richard of his coming, and now Henry’s rebellious² son had once more slipped his grasp. I saw the bitterness rise in his eyes, the same bitterness he had always turned on Richard. Now, for the first time, Henry turned that bitterness on me. “Alais.” He said nothing else. I saw that he would never forgive me. I had betrayed him to the son he hated most. Nothing, not even our unborn child, would succor³ that. I moved toward him and stood before him, in case he ordered his men to take me up, as he would have ordered them to take up Richard. The pain on his face cut me, but I stood firm under it, for I deserved it. Henry raised one hand, his gray gaze boring into mine. I saw his rage build behind his eyes, a great wall of red that swept his reason from him, until there was nothing left but his fury. I did not move even then, but waited for his hand to fall on me. Eleanor stepped between us. “Henry,” she said. His eyes did not leave mine, but his hand did not come down to strike me. “She feared for his life, Henry. You forget, she is only fifteen years old.” Henry’s face contorted with rage. I thought he would spit at her, but he did not; his eyes never left mine. He did not speak, but turned and left me there, standing in Richard’s rooms. He did not say a word, but stalked away. His men followed him like dogs, their pikes in their hands. “What have I done?” “What you had to do,” Eleanor said. My knees buckled⁴. I would have fallen had she not caught my arm. Eleanor held me up until she could get me to a chair. Marie Helene came in then, looking stricken. She came to me at once, and took my other hand. Eleanor had not let me go. “My lady, the king is calling up his men to ride after Prince Richard,” she reported. I felt my stomach

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