Page 8 (1/2)

Prologue

…when all was lost or seem’d as lost…

The first night had been the worst They had co One moment she’d been peacefully at prayer within the chapel, and the next the captain of her guard was pounding at the door, with orders she should seek in haste the safety of her chae”…

It had been dreadful, that first night—the darkness and the shrieking of the wind and the fires burning everywhere, it seeht caht Isabelle This was Chinon Like the Plantagenet kings it sheltered, Chinon Castle had a will of iron It bowed before no man

At first, she had not wanted to believe that Guillaume des Roches could be so bold, so callous, as to try to hold her hostage He’d been an ally of the king her husband, and in return he had been used most fairly Had John not made des Roches warden of Chinon? And yet she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes, she’d seen des Roches hih their ranks as though such treason were a thing to make him proud

If John were here, she thought, he’d teach the traitor otherwise If John were here…

She drew the velvet robe ain toward the west The sun had slipped much lower, now Already it had flattened on the purple haze of hills, spilling its brilliance into the darkly flowing river Soon, she knew, there would be only darkness left Four nights now she had stood here in this high and lonely toatching while the dying sun sank weakly in the western sky This ti for the fires, her own eyes seeking out the places where the rebels kept their camps

“They are quite close, tonight,” she said aloud, and one of her women stirred beside the hearth

“My lady?”

Isabelle glanced round, her long hair tangling on the criht”

“Yes, my lady”

“Iton the ht drive a man to leave the comfort of his oarm hearth in this, the depth of winter

Her wo her, she could feel their eyes Her calht her still a child, as she had coht her here, to Chinon, for the wedding He’d scandalized the court that su a girl of twelve…

But even then, she had not been a child She had already been betrothed to Hugh of Lusignan when John had aht, and Isabelle had known froah, but they were fools who thought so In all her fifteen years, she had loved one ht eyes that smiled for her alone And had it been her choice to o, she would have chosen John

He was not like his brothers, not like Richard She’d old The ie of the Lion hi intellect ith indomitable Eleanor of Aquitaine, had bred a line of princes unparalleled in time

It was, thought Isabelle, the strangest family They loved and hated one another, wept and warred and plotted, onal between deceit and truth It had left scars on all of them, especially John He did not speak of it, butsilent in the chapel here at Chinon, brooding on the very spot where old King Henry, sick at heart, had finally died

’Twas rumored it was John’s fault that the Lion ceased to roar—John’s fau

lt because he had been Henry’s favorite, and because the king had seen John’s naainst hiht Isabelle He’d fought his sons before, unflinching He’d dungeoned up his wife He’d played John and betrayed his lay And yet John loved him When he stood so sad and solemn in the chapel, Isabelle had but to look upon her husband’s face to knohose heart had broken there those o

Still, people would persist in ru Arthur of Brittany, held captive in Rouen for laying siege to the old queen at Mirabeau John had once been fond of Arthur, his brother Geoffrey’s only son, and Geoffrey, who died young, had been of all the brothers closest in both looks and age to John But Arthur was not Geoffrey Where his father had been cunning, Arthur failed to think at all, and his rash behavior left John with no option but to take him prisoner

And so the rumors shifted, day to day Arthur of Brittany was free… he was in fetters… he was planning his escape… he was too weak to raise his head… he had been moved in secrecy from Rouen… Some said—she’d heard it only yesterday—that Arthur was already dead, that John had had hiht Isabelle John could not kill the boy

She ht have told that to the men camped now around the walls of Chinon Castle, if they had been like to listen, since it was for Arthur’s sake that they had coe for the freedoht They knew John not at all

The wind struck chill through the high narro It had a voice, that wind—half human and half demon, that numbed the soul and turned the heart to stone Isabelle turned slowly froreat round rooazed upon the north The northern sky was deepest blue and full of cloud, without a star to pierce the glooe would, by now, have surely reached him Le Mans was not so very far away She had but to hold out a few more days, and help would be at hand Isabelle sht Even if John had loved her not at all, she kneould not lose his precious Treasury Indeed, she ht he loved his Treasury above all else, had it not been for the day she’d teased hiht her to him, there in front of everyone, and told her: “You are my treasure” She could still taste his kiss upon her lips…

Her hand old and pearl pendant at her throat, and she frowned “Alice,” she said quietly, over her shoulder, “I would have my jewel casket”

“Yes, my lady” The woman by the fire rose obediently