And so we returned to the vigor and heat of past days in the royal bed, where we could pretend that all was well. Edward took me with mutual satisfaction, confirming Gaunt’s crude assessment of his male powers, and I could make the King forget the encroachment of age.

“You are a pearl of great price, my beloved Alice.”

“And you are King of England. The country needs you.”

“I shall rule.” The self-regard was restored. “With you at my side.”

Triumph surged through my blood as I gave my body to him once more. I will look after him, Philippa, I vowed. I will care for him, nurture him, and love him. And I kissed his mouth for my own pleasure, even as I acknowledged within my heart: Edward was no longer the man who had first taken me to his bed, the man who had first commanded me to his bed. But for now I had pushed back the shadows.

The hunt met in the courtyard, the denizens of the Court clad in velvet and furs. Horses stamped in the cold and sidestepped at the delay. The huntsmen swore as the hounds swarmed under everyone’s feet. There was a sense of anticipation in the air that had been missing for a long time.

We waited. Would the King come?

We shuffled and puffed clouds of mist into the icy air. Squires brought ’round cups of spiced ale. We began to shiver at the delay.

Dark and saturnine in the middle was Gaunt, astride a glossy bay that resented the lack of action more than most. Beside him in the hands of a groom was the rangy gray that Edward loved. Deliberately Gaunt’s eye found me in the crowd. No need for him to voice his concern, his blame at what he obviously saw as my failure. I returned his stare with a stony expression. I had done all I could.

Time passed.

Expressionless, Gaunt motioned to the groom to lead the gray stallion away. He drew on his gauntlets. “We’ll go.”

He raised his hand to draw the attention of the crowd, for the huntsman to blow the stirring note to move off. I sighed and admitted defeat, turning my mare’s head toward the stables. I had no belly for the hunt without Edward.

“You’ll wait for me, Gaunt.”

He always was the master of surprise, of display and self-aggrandizement. The King strode down the steps and across the courtyard, taking the reins from the groom and swinging into the saddle with all the agility expected of him. By chance—or was it royal command!—a shaft of sunlight broke through to gild his leather and fur, sparking glints off the ruby that pinned the peacock feather to his cap and the jeweled chain on his breast. He smiled at the expectant crowd.

“An excellent morning. My thanks for waiting for your King—and my apologies. You need wait no longer.” He was self-deprecating, with the same formidable charm that had won him more friends than enemies during his long reign. There were murmured greetings from all sides.

The huntsmen began to move from the courtyard, Edward riding beside his falconer, taking a hawk onto his wrist as if he had never been absent, except perhaps for the first moments of stiffness in his posture as he settled into the saddle. The air of melancholy had vanished with the donning of the handsome wolfskin cloak against the cold. As I hung back to take my habitual place at the rear with the women, I felt a warmth spread through my chest and my belly where the child lay. And I heard what I had prayed I might hear as Edward turned his head to address his son.

“After the hunt, come and see me. We must make plans—for our armies in France. It’s more than time.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Gaunt, in his swaggering arrogance, which was as much a part of him as his raptor’s face, gave me no recognition, but I could see the depth of his gratification as the brisk wind whipped color into his cheeks. Father and son exchanged a handclasp, reunited and set to enjoy the occasion. I tucked my skirts securely beneath my legs and nudged my mare forward to follow the rest. I too would enjoy the hunt. When the huntsman lifted his horn to blow the gone-away, I gathered up my reins.

The huntsman did not blow, his action arrested by Edward’s hand on his arm.

“Mistress Perrers…”

All eyes fastened on the King, who had called the halt, and then shifted to discover me in the crowd. My hands closed sharply on the reins, causing my animal to jib. Never had the King addressed me so openly in public.

“Sire.” I sounded breathless even to my own ears.

“Ride with me.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment before I pushed my horse through the brightly clad melee to Edward’s side.

“Sire…”

“You said you wanted to hunt. So you shall.” He grasped my bridle to pull my mare closer, took my hand in his, then leaned over and kissed my temple. “You were right. It’s good to hunt, and I have been remiss.” His voice fell to an intimate whisper. “You will not be lonely today.”

Around me there was a general intake of breath. To single me out in so obvious a fashion! The Court was astounded. Hot blood rushed to my face so that my cheeks flamed with it. To be kissed so wantonly in public…! But was this not what I wanted, this acknowledgment in the face of lords and commons alike?

“Will you ride with me?” he prompted, forcing me to make a statement of our relationship. No one was to be allowed to fail to understand its meaning.

“I will, Sire.”

As I fell in beside him, my hand still in his, the courtiers streaming out into the water meadow, the huntsman blowing the gone-away at last, I could do nothing but smile as brightly as the fitful sun that chose that moment to bathe us in gold. Edward had given me recognition in public. I was the acknowledged royal favorite.

I suppose my enemies multiplied that day. Did I care? I did not, for the flame of my ambition burned fiercely. It was a momentous day. The hounds ran to ground a particularly fine and royally tined buck. Edward’s features sharpened and glowed with the exercise as his body relaxed into the familiar demands of the saddle. His laughter rang out, and the Court breathed a concerted sigh of renewed confidence. Even Gaunt looked content, despite my having replaced him at the King’s side.

I rode beside Edward for the whole of the hunt. When the hounds picked up the scent and the riders spurred into a gallop, he restrained his mount to stay beside me, conscious of my state of health. He could not have made his choice plainer if he had ordered the Chester Herald to announce the news with a blast of his trumpet.

Alice Perrers was the King’s Concubine.

I had to ponder this reversal of my fortunes, and did so in my room, where I stripped off my hunting finery and ordered my maid to fill the copper-bound tub with hot water. I sank into it with a sigh. I had not hunted for some weeks; my muscles complained, but not beyond what was tolerable. In the herb-scented water I inspected my belly that was rounded with the growing child: It would not be possible for me to hide it, and nor did I need to. For the first time I could display my increasing girth brazenly.

My name, in one form or another, had been on every pair of lips that day. Edward’s very public showing of what all the Court knew, but pretended not to, had seen to that. No longer secret, no longer hidden, no longer a source of shame for the Queen, my position was exposed naked for all to speak of. It was Edward’s gift to me, his recognition before the whole of the Court, with a generosity I could never have imagined. Made public and acknowledged by all, I was secure under the King’s protection.

I repeated the epithets I had heard as the hunt pursued the hapless deer.

Alice the whore: not one I would choose.

La Perrers: better—but it had been said with a sneer.

Royal mistress, royal paramour: a ring of authority here, perhaps.

But this one I liked much better: King’s Concubine. Official. Untouchable. Powerful. My sharing of the King’s rooms and the King’s bed was an undeniable fact; it lacked legal sanction, but the King’s stated preference gave me status. No one, no one, would dare slight me, the King’s chosen companion. Even Gaunt had managed to honor me with a deep obeisance as the hunt dismounted. I had never dreamed of such a gift, made in the face of the great and good, of which I was neither.

“Thank you, Edward,” I whispered, my hands protective over my belly.

I let my head fall back on the rim of the tub and closed my eyes, enjoying my achievement.



Chapter Ten



Edward went into immediate conference with Gaunt. I knew nothing of the discussions, always the preserve of men, but I saw the results. The King was once more at the head of affairs, the reins firmly in his fist: Gaunt was ordered to Gascony with an army to give the beleaguered Prince some aggressive support against French incursions. Even more impressive, Edward ordered a second attack from Calais under a tough old campaigner, Sir Robert Knolles. If I had needed any evidence of Edward’s recovery, it was this: a two-pronged attack from north and south that he had used in his early campaigns to good effect. At the same time a whirlwind of envoys was dispatched to the Low Countries, to Germany and Genoa, to enlist allies against the King of France.

Edward’s nights were spent with me, where anxieties still gnawed at him.

“I should be leading the attack,” he fretted. “Am I not strong enough?”

“Of course you are.”

But the depredations of Philippa’s death had dug deep. His strength was much restored, but however much I might not like to admit it, Edward’s mind had lost its incisive edge. While he was playing chess, reading a book of favorite poetry, enjoying the music of a well-played lute and sweet singing, his concentration could vanish, his awareness of his surroundings drifting away like high clouds under the strength of a summer sun. Even his confidence waned. And as it faded, my fears for him grew. He would never lead his troops with the same superb flamboyance, if at all. And yet I gave thanks: The isolation was over and Edward was reunited with his Court. A victory at Gaunt’s hands in France would in some measure restore Edward’s confidence in his ability to make well-balanced decisions. I poured two cups of fine Bordeaux, a wine symbolic of Edward’s possessions.

“To England’s victory!” I raised mine, and drank.

“To England! And to you, my love.” Edward kissed me with all the passion of a mighty king.

I celebrated too soon, of course. The news that trickled in over the coming months was not good. In the north King Charles of France had learned from past mistakes and refused to be drawn into battle against a major force. Knolles, increasingly vilified, lost impetus and authority, his troops becoming separated and easy meat for the French vultures to pick off. In the south we fared better. Limoges was sacked and burned, which put a stop to the French cause in that vicinity, but all we heard were tales of the Prince’s being forced to return to Bordeaux, abandoning the attack, defeated not by the French but by his own pain-racked body.

Edward’s convictions drained away.

“Gaunt is there,” I soothed. “He will take control. There is no need to worry.”

But increasingly Edward looked inward and was reluctant to talk to me. Nor did I realize the problem until I saw him waiting on the battlements for news that did not come, with young Thomas clamped to his side by a heavy hand on his shoulder, even though Thomas shuffled and twitched, clearly wishing to be in the stables or practicing his swordplay—anywhere but with his burden of a father.

“Then go!” Edward snapped, releasing the boy, and Thomas went with alacrity.

When I took the boy’s place, tucking my hand within his arm, Edward smiled, but there was a loss in his face. It was not I he wanted, and although the remedy was clear to me, it was not a pleasant one. I thought I would not enjoy the outcome, but I was woman enough and confident enough in my new role to do it. For the sake of the King’s health, I would risk the consequences.

I wrote a formal invitation on good-quality vellum, complete with wax and Edward’s seal, and prepared to dispatch it with a courier in full regalia. It was wholly illegal for the King’s Concubine to employ the royal seal—but why not? It could not help but have the desired effect. With a duplicity for which I made no excuse, I kept it from Edward. What point in raising his hopes if by some chance it never came to pass? Nor did I sign my name—it crossed my mind that I might just live to regret this missive. Indeed, I stood before the fire in my chamber, holding it between my fingertips as I considered consigning the document to the flames.