CHAPTER 7
To be the wellborn mistress of one wellborn man brought no shame; to be the mistress of many such could cause one to be called a whore, if not to one’s face, then behind one’s back. Therefore it behooved one to be beautiful, wealthy, widowed, and the vassal of the most powerful woman in Christendom. Several days after the unlamented departure of Sister Eustace, the abbey received a visitor of such standing. The Countess de Valence arrived with her escort, her maids, and eight carts of her barest necessities.
“Lady Anne.” The Duchess of Aquitaine looked up from her jewelry casket. “You are prompt as to my request and well prepared, I see.”
“I thought I ought to be, Your Grace.” Anne lowered her eyelashes, as well as herself at the queen’s feet in a curtsy that filled the room with rose-hued silks.
“I have never known you not to be prepared.” Aliénor gave the young woman her hand. “Do you know Armand de Lusignan?”
Anne kissed the queen’s rings. “We have exchanged pleasantries.”
“And how pleasant were they?”
“I have not had Armand de Lusignan in my bed. Not that I would mind.” Anne kept a well-trained smile on her lips.
The queen motioned the young woman to rise. “I wouldn’t mind either, if I were your age. You are to go to Normandy, seek him out, make yourself irresistible, and keep me informed of what he is up to. I doubt he will be much of a pillow prattler, but try not to sleep too soundly. You will have, as always, whatever you need from my chancellor.”
“Normandy.” Anne picked up the sander, examining it. “Such a moldy place. I shall need new gowns, of course, and a jewel or two, and the horse livery needs refurbishing. Perhaps I should—”
“Whatever you require, Anne,” Aliénor interrupted, knowing that the Countess de Valence’s needs and necessities increased with each assignment. “How fares John?”
Anne went about the room, examining the appointments. “When I left him, His Grace was bored and uncertain.”
“Indecisive, you mean, surrounding himself with his routier friends and harlots—present company excepted, of course.” The queen-duchess waved away the last comment.
Facing her mistress with a compressed smile, Anne curtsied. “Shall I leave immediately?”
“As soon as you care to. You are also to make inquiries about the Viscount of Tillières.”
“I don’t know him,” Anne replied with indifference to that part of the assignment.
“Nor should you. He is recently minted. His name is Guérin de Lasalle. And his wife’s—”
“His wife!” The sander crashed to the floor, spilling its contents.
The queen shook the sand grains from her hem. “Don’t tell me. You have exchanged pleasantries?”
Anne leaned against her chair. “I . . . he’s a nobody.”
“And how did you come by him?” Curious, the queen poured wine and handed the young woman the cup.
Anne moistened her lips. “I visit Isabel de Clare when she resides at Longueville. Sir William once called his captains there. We’ve met occasionally since. Sir William keeps him busy.”
“And I keep you busy. What do you know of this Lasalle?”
Anne shrugged. “What he has done. What he is. I don’t allow men to pry into every corner of my soul and I don’t pry into theirs.”
“Not when there are much more enticing corners. I don’t care if you’ve been tupping from sunset till sunrise. Your nobody turned out to be Sabine’s nephew. I made him marry an earnest little soul here who wanted a man of honor. He’ll do anything to get himself out of his marriage, but I want it indissoluble.”
“Why?” Anne broke her own rule to remain detached from her mistress’s schemes, but unlike the others, this one touched her personally.
“Now, there is a question.” The queen smiled over her cup.
“Armand de Lusignan and Lasalle hate each other. Would you like me to bed them both, Your Grace?” Anne asked anyway, intending to dislodge some answer.
“I allow you to bestow your favors on any man you want in exchange for bestowing them occasionally on a man I choose. This time I insist on it.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” Anne returned the cup to the table with some force.
The queen-duchess smiled, opened a silver-and-ivory box, and lifted from it a necklace of amber, the beads imprisoned in cages of golden filigree. She placed the beads in the young woman’s hands. “I do wish. You can have Lasalle as long as you make certain that he and his wife end up in the same bed, preferably at the same time. I don’t care if you indulge your anger or vanity, Anne, but don’t be blinded by it. We have a kingdom to save.”