Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
The Autumn Throne
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Published by Sphere
ISBN: 978-0-74813-393-2
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Elizabeth Chadwick
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Sphere
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
Contents
1 Palace of Sarum, Wiltshire, April 1176
2 Winchester Castle, April 1176
3 Winchester Castle, Easter Court, April 1176
4 Winchester Castle, Easter Court, April 1176
5 Winchester Castle, Easter Court, April 1176
6 Winchester Castle, Easter Court, April 1176
7 Palace of Sarum, August 1176
8 Winchester Castle, September 1176
10 Palace of Sarum, Winter 1178
11 Winchester Castle, April 1179
12 Palace of Sarum, November 1179
14 Lewes Castle, Sussex, July 1181
15 Winchester Castle, November 1181
16 Winchester Castle, September 1182
17 Winchester Castle, April 1183
18 Rouen Cathedral, September 1183
20 Winchester Castle, July 1184
21 Windsor Castle, January 1185
22 Fortress of Domfront, Christmas 1185
24 Winchester Castle, April 1187
25 Palace of Sarum, Autumn 1188
27 Amesbury Priory, August 1189
28 Westminster, September 1189
29 Nonancourt, Normandy, March 1190
30 Pamplona, Navarre, September 1190
33 Bures, Normandy, Christmas 1191
34 Palace of Westminster, Christmas 1192
35 Palace of Westminster, February 1193
36 Palace of Westminster, Summer 1193
38 Winchester Castle, April 1194
39 Abbey of Fontevraud, Summer 1194
40 Abbey of Fontevraud, April 1199
41 Abbey of Fontevraud, April 1199
43 Palace of Poitiers, Winter 1199
45 Abbey of Fontevraud, Summer 1200
46 Abbey of Fontevraud, June 1202
47 Castle of Mirebeau, Poitiers, June 1202
48 Abbey of Fontevraud, April 1203
49 Abbey of Fontevraud, April 1204
The Norman and Angevin kings of England
I have called Eleanor ‘Alienor’ in the body of the novel, rather than Eleanor, because Alienor is what she would have called herself and it is how her name appears in her charters and in the Anglo-Norman texts where she is mentioned. I felt it was fitting to give her that recognition.
Palace of Sarum, Wiltshire, April 1176
Alienor,
Duchess of Aquitaine and Normandy, Countess of Anjou, Queen to King Henry the second of England, gazed around the bare, cold chamber that had been her prison for almost two years. Pale spring sunlight splashed through the window arches, and pooled in tepid gold on the floor boards. The hearth had been swept clean of ashes, and her few portable furnishings were loaded on the baggage cart waiting in the courtyard.
A chill breeze brushed her face. All winter the wind had swept across the Downs, howling around the white-washed palace buildings like a hungry wolf. Her joints had grown stiff, and her thoughts had become as turbid as the mud at the bottom of a frozen pond. It was difficult to stir, to awaken and face the world. A cramped limb returning to life always caused an agonising tingle. Holding out her hands she noticed the soft fawn age-mottles, but they bothered her less than the way they shook.
Her wedding ring glinted. Despite all she had suffered at Henry’s behest she still wore it, for while it adorned her finger, she was his queen and duchess. Even incarcerated on this wind-scoured hill top, her titles retained their potency. Henry in his usual ruthless way had isolated her here. The world moved and she had been banished from moving with it, her sin that of defying his will in rebellion and interfering with his policies. He accused her of betraying him, but the greatest betrayals had always been his.
What news she received was filtered through her gaolers, who were disposed to tell her little, and then only details that
brought her low while exalting her husband. Now, however, he had summoned her to attend his Easter court at Winchester, and she was suspicious of the reason. Forgiveness in the season of Christ’s rising? She doubted it. Further punishment? He must want something from her, even if only to parade her before his nobles and prove he had not had her murdered. He could ill afford to have another such accusation on his hands – not after his Archbishop of Canterbury had been hacked to death before the altar of his own cathedral by four knights of the royal household.
Hearing footsteps in the chamber beyond, she faced the door, concealing her anxiety behind regal hauteur. Much as she desired to leave this place, the notion of stepping into the world made her anxious because she did not know what she would find, or how long this reprieve from isolation would last.
She was expecting her gaoler Robert Maudit, and was astonished when the door opened and her eldest son stood on the threshold, dazzled in spring sunlight from the squint window on the stairs. His fair-brown hair was wind-tousled, and a magnificent white gyrfalcon rode on his gloved right wrist.