‘It is always a pleasure to be in the presence of such poise and beauty,’ Geoffrey replied with a courtly bow. He turned to Henry. ‘You have not met my son before. Madam, may I present Henry, Duke of Normandy, son of an empress, grandson of the King of Jerusalem, and future King of England.’

She turned her smile on Henry now, the curve of her lips slightly less warm than for his father, but nonetheless without strain. There was curiosity and sharp intelligence in her gaze. ‘Your father sets great store by you,’ she said. ‘I am pleased to welcome you to Paris.’

Henry bowed. ‘I hope I may justify his faith in me,’ he replied.

‘I am sure you will.’

‘He does so even now,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Mark me, he is destined for greatness.’

She smiled again and gave a small lift of her brow to show that she acknowledged a father’s pride while not being taken in by superlatives. ‘I do mark you, sire, but as you know, I always make up my own mind.’ She turned again to Henry. ‘You must take the opportunity to visit Saint-Denis. I am sure the building and the late Abbot’s collection of gems and relics will interest you.’

‘Indeed, madam, I intend to,’ Henry replied with a formal bow. Close up, she was very beautiful. Her skin was dewy and flawless, albeit that she was no virginal girl. Everything about her was tasteful, judged to exquisite perfection. He wondered how much it would cost to keep a wife like that in the style to which she was clearly accustomed – even if the revenues were hers.

He could tell that she was assessing him too, although not in the same way that he was assessing her. He wondered how her body would feel under his in the marriage bed and how experienced she was. What would she look like with her hair down? He lowered his gaze so that she would not see the intent in his expression. He was under explicit instructions from his father to do nothing to jeopardise their chance at Aquitaine, and that meant not alienating Alienor and not giving away by so much as a look or a word out of place what their intentions were beyond negotiating their truce.

She moved on to talk to others in the gathering, playing her role with consummate ease, knowing what to say and how to behave towards each person, although it was noticeable that she and Louis avoided each other beyond the most formal of exchanges.

Henry admired her poise, but was wary. A woman of such dazzling accomplishment might be a great asset to his future, but she might create difficulties too if she proved mettlesome. From the rumours he had heard, Louis of France had not been particularly successful in taming her, so it behoved him to think well on the matter.

‘Your foot is troubling you, I can see,’ Alienor said as she and Geoffrey partnered each other for a moment in the dancing that had followed the afternoon’s banquet. He was favouring the left side and she could see the pain-tension in his face.

‘It is nothing.’ Geoffrey dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘An old wound from a spear. It will settle down presently, it always does – but if it pleases you to sit with me a little while, I shall be glad of your company.’

Alienor sent servants for a comfortable chair, cushions and a footstool and had her own chair placed beside it.

‘Perhaps a game of chess?’ Geoffrey suggested.

Alienor gave him an astute look. He was up to something. His foot might indeed be sore, but he had deliberately manipulated this situation. ‘If it pleases you, my lord,’ she said and sent a servant for a board and playing pieces.

‘I hear all goes well now with your discussions,’ she said.

Geoffrey half smiled. ‘Now we have laid the ground rules, and ceased the meddling of that cadaver from Clairvaux, yes. I am sure we can bring matters to an amicable resolution for all.’

Alienor returned his look. Anything that discommoded Bernard of Clairvaux pleased her. She wondered if Geoffrey wanted her to intercede over some part of the negotiation in her role of queen as peacemaker. Geoffrey shifted position in the chair and moved his foot until he was comfortable.

‘My son dances well, does he not?’ he said, indicating Henry, who was in the midst of the next set, moving with energy and grace. His smooth young face was alight and his smile dazzled each partner in the change and turn.

‘I am sure he does all things well, my lord,’ Alienor replied with composure. The chess set arrived and she occupied herself in setting up the pieces on the board.

Geoffrey said quietly, ‘You think me a fond father for singing his praises, and to an extent that is true, because all men desire to be proud of their sons and to know their line will continue in strength. But I also see the man he will become. He governs Normandy well.’

‘With his mother’s help and yours,’ Alienor qualified.

Geoffrey hesitated as if he was about to argue the point, but then shrugged. ‘Henry is more than competent and he learns very quickly indeed.’

‘What is all this to me?’ Alienor asked. ‘You approached me about a match between your son and my daughter before Louis and I travelled to Jerusalem and Louis refused. He is certainly not about to change his mind now.’

Geoffrey studied the board and picked up a pawn. ‘I was not thinking of your daughter,’ he said and fixed her with his sharp, crystal gaze.

Alienor’s stomach tightened, but she refused to show him how much he had disconcerted her. ‘That is interesting.’ She resisted the urge to glance in Henry’s direction. ‘It would be a good move for Anjou, but what would I gain?’

‘You would be Duchess of Normandy and you would wear the crown of England.’

‘You are walking ahead of yourself, my lord. Normandy, perhaps, but England lies in the balance, and why should I want to be queen there when I know neither the country nor the people?’

‘Because it would be a fresh start among those who would not judge you,’ Geoffrey replied smoothly. ‘Make no mistake, he will be king. He has greatness in him. It would not disparage you to accept such a match.’

‘Perhaps not, but I say again it would not benefit me either.’ She moved her own pawn to match his and leaned back. ‘The Archbishop of Bordeaux once told me you sought to marry your son to me when he was still in swaddling.’

Geoffrey’s lips twitched. ‘He is not in swaddling now.’ He gave her a forceful look. ‘The moment your annulment is sealed, you become fair game to be seized and forced into another marriage. There are many wolves out there, and surely it is better to be in the company of those you know and who have come to you respectfully. You may think you are able to protect yourself, but you still need the weight of a mail shirt behind you, and he needs to be more than just a hired man or a loyal vassal. Even my termagant of a wife would tell you that.’

‘You are bold coming to me with such a proposal.’

‘There is no point in not being bold, but I am not rash, and neither is Henry. All we ask is that you consider the matter.’

‘I will say neither yes nor no,’ Alienor replied, maintaining a neutral expression, and set out to defeat him at chess. When she did, he accepted it with a rueful smile.

‘Perhaps you would like to play Henry,’ he said.

‘Does he often beat you?’ She glanced at the young man as he left the dancing at his father’s beckon.

‘Let us say we are evenly matched.’

‘Then I would expect the same outcome.’

Geoffrey looked amused. ‘Sometimes things are not as you expect,’ he replied and vacated his chair so that Henry could take his place. Then he limped off to speak with a French baron who held lands on the Angevin border.

Alienor appraised with fresh eyes the young man who took his father’s place at the other side of the chequered squares. What would it be like to be the wife of this supposedly accomplished young man, who had been such a model of modest propriety thus far? She was only nine years older than him, which might either be a gulf or no distance at all. In terms of experience, however, he could not begin to compete. He was a blank page; a very young man whom she might be able to manipulate into whatever she wanted him to be. She needed to know more about him first before she even began to consider such an enormous leap.

His eyes were bright and intelligent, and he already knew how to guard his thoughts. His lips were tender with youth, but set in a straight line, and his jaw was determined. How would it be to lie with him in the marriage bed? To perhaps bear red-haired grey-eyed sons and daughters? To have Geoffrey of Anjou for a father-in-law? That notion almost made her recoil. To wear a northern crown should his ambition and luck bring him to England’s throne? She knew little of that country; it had always lain in the periphery of her vision, misty, green and cold. If she felt far from home in Paris, England was a step further still.

With an open hand and a sunny smile Henry gestured her to begin. ‘Please, madam,’ he said. ‘It is your turn to make the first move.’

‘Well,’ said Geoffrey when he and Henry retired to their chamber for the night, ‘that was not so difficult, was it?’

Henry shook his head and gave his father a rueful smile. He had been steeled to encounter a used-up woman going past her prime, but the reality was one still young and beautiful with poise and charisma, who would make a fitting consort for any sovereign. He was used to women with strong personalities, his own mother being one such, but while his mother was abrasive in her opinions and like harsh steel, Alienor was liquid gold. She still wasn’t the innocent young virgin with whom he would have been most comfortable, but it was no disaster. ‘She is very beautiful,’ he admitted. They had reached a stalemate in their game of chess. He had told himself he could have won but had held back in order to be diplomatic, but at the back of his mind he had the worrying suspicion that she had been doing likewise.

‘Louis is a fool to release her and let Aquitaine go, but that is his concern to deal with, not ours,’ Geoffrey said. ‘The Duchess is the kind of woman to make up her own mind and do as she chooses. We do not have to work at pleasing a labyrinth of advisers and I doubt she will take anyone here into her confidence.’

‘So our success stands or falls on her decision?’

‘Precisely,’ Geoffrey said. ‘You did well today. I think you have made a good impression on her but without putting yourself so far forward as to seem brazen, and without calling yourself to the attention of Louis and his courtiers. I am confident that no one has any idea of the plans afoot. All they can talk about is me bringing Giraud de Berlai here in fetters.’

Henry went to the window and looked out. ‘She will consent,’ he said softly, more to himself than his father, and his mind was on the great wealth of Aquitaine, and what lay open to him as its consort duke. In the space of a few hours he had gone from a state of reluctance to being very keen indeed.

Geoffrey poured wine into the rock-crystal goblets and brought one to the embrasure. ‘To success,’ he said.

Henry took the cup and toasted his father in return. ‘To dynasty,’ he replied.

Alienor sat in bed, her knees raised under the coverlet to form a lectern on which she had placed the sealed letter that had arrived from Poitiers as dusk fell. She wound a twist of her loose hair around her index finger. For all her reputation as a temptress, the only man who had ever seen her hair unbound in the bedchamber was Louis. Contemplating the strand between her fingers she imagined the young Angevin’s stare should she choose to accept his offer and give him a husband’s privilege. It was an interesting proposal and one that had merit, but she needed to think the matter through carefully, because it was her choice this time even if that choice was constrained by who and what she was.

Letting the twist of hair spring free, she smoothed the letter on her upraised knees and bit her lip. Her heart’s desire and her longing lay at Taillebourg with the man who had dictated this letter, but political necessity and the welfare of Aquitaine made their bond untenable. As a girl of thirteen she had believed anything was possible, but time had wrought wisdom and tempered rashness. Her father and his advisers had been right. If she had married Geoffrey, Aquitaine would have tumbled into chaos as factions fought each other for the right to rule.

In the Holy Land she had dreamed of annulling her marriage to Louis and doing as she pleased, but even that had been no more than a fevered dream. Whatever she had with Geoffrey would always have to be kept secret and circumspect. It was her sacred duty to protect Aquitaine and increase its lustre. Whether marrying Henry, Duke of Normandy, would help her achieve her goal was another matter. The chess game had told her nothing about him save that he was fiercely intelligent and keen to please her without being obsequious. In some ways he reminded her of the squires she had raised to good service in her household. If she could raise him to good service too, then all might be well.