corrupting power royal blood could wield.
He took up two silver-backed brushes and ran them through his thick brown hair, noticing for the first time that it was sprinkled with gray. He had been relieved when Henry’s council had rejected the idea of the marriage. Since the Princess Isabella had married the Emperor of Germany and the Princess Joanna had become a queen by marrying King Alexander of Scotland, they also wanted a royal marriage for Eleanor. King Henry had been incensed with his council. He was ever at odds with them, chafing at the fact that he was a boy-king, but a few weeks before he reached his majority of eighteen he again put the matter before his council, informing them that he wished to give his beloved Marshal of England the King’s Precious Jewel, Eleanor. He told them in no uncertain terms that if they objected, they would be overruled the moment he became eighteen.
Henry was well pleased with himself this day. The marriage contracts had been negotiated and signed, and the portion Eleanor was to receive from William Marshal was more than generous, amounting to one-fifth of the vast Marshal holdings in England, Wales, and Ireland. Henry had always had a greatliking for William Marshal and an even greater liking for his vast fortune.
Henry’s brother Richard arrived and without hesitation threw open the door to the king’s privy chamber. Followed by half a dozen of his attendants, he filled the room. Richard was old enough to have his own residence and had just returned from his duchy of Cornwall. He put the king in the shade in every way. Not only was he more attractive, taller, and stronger, but the revenues from the vast tin mines in Cornwall were already making him wealthy.
Richard affectionately punched Henry in the shoulder and said, “Well, the little piss-ant is getting her own way again today.”
Henry, who had one drooping eyelid, let it close all the way in a sly wink. “You don’t think I’d be fool enough to let a fortune like the marshal’s slip through my fingers?”
Richard grinned as he reached out to feel the cloth of gold the young king wore. “Is that who is paying for all this lavish pomp and ceremony?”
“No”—Henry laughed—“as a matter of fact, you are. I shall allow you to make me a loan now that you’re filthy rich.”
“Thanks for nothing!” Richard, who was not really generous by nature, laughed.
Henry sobered. “Christ, Richard, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. You know I don’t have a pot to piss in. It’s so bloody unfair—talk about the sins of the fathers being visited upon the son! We had a prick of a father, Richard. The son of a bitch declared England a fief of Rome before he died, which means I owe an annual tribute of a thousand marks—seven hundred for England and three hundred for Ireland. It hasn’t been paid for nine frigging years because when I came to the throne I didn’t have one piece of gold. Too bad Father didn’t get swept out to sea instead of the crown jewels, when his treasure wagons were engulfed by the waters of The Wash.”
Richard poured himself ale, but Henry snapped his fingers at one of his attendants who immediately poured him the best imported Gascon wine.
“Have you paid Isabella’s dowry yet?” Richard asked.
“Surely you jest! How can I send money to Germany? I’m not the one with a pisspot full of money, you are.”
“That’s because I don’t spend it with both hands like you do. Take this wedding, for example. It could have been a very simple affair. After all, Eleanor won’t be a real wife for years. After the religious ceremony the little minx could have been packed off to the nursery and William sent home to his mistress. Instead you choose to put on a lavish show that costs thousands.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed and his voice became high-pitched. “I was crowned with a simple gold circlet of Mother’s and sat down afterward to a tough chine of beef. The
loyal
English