Entre one
Year of Our Lord 1183
Dear Diary,
It is remarkable how little I remember my childhood, particularly because it was so short.
I supposed I lived with my Mother, Eleanor, however little I saw of her. I recall believing Nurse was my mother until I was two years old and first met my father Henry when I was seven. I have seven brothers that I know of and two sisters, but I have only seen four of them more than once in my life. Henry, Richard, Geoffrey, and John.
Married at twelve years old to my husband the King of Sicily, I have lived with him and his family in Italy occasionally being visited by my brothers Geoff and Richard. Richard and I have always been close, despite him being eight years my senior, and it is him with whom I entrust my most honest thoughts. That I do not love my husband William, that I am almost glad I have failed to produce the King an heir so that maybe he will cast me aside, and how much I long for home.
And it is through him I found out my eldest brother, Henry, had died just this past month in the year of our Lord 1183. I suppose I should have been more upset by this, but I had not seen him more than three times in my 18 years of life and recalled only that we spoke little, if at all.
In truth the only people I ever felt truly close to was Richard and Alise, my brother's intended and the closest thing to a sister I had. Before I was sent to Sicily I had idolized the blonde beauty, five years my senior and the standard to which I held myself. So much that when I was four years old I stole away to the weaver's hutch and used yellow dye to color my Reddish blonde locks so that my hair could be as golden as hers.
December 10th, as I sat in my chambers surrounded by my ladies maids embroidering a silken square, I received a summons from my Father Good King Henry to come to the family castle in Chinon. As I read the slanted script my heart soared like a falcon over a glen, If only for a month or so I could leave Sicily. I would see my brothers and Alise for Christmas court and breathe the crisp air of France once again.
William approved the trip and with haste I had my maids packing up gowns and jewelry and all I would need for the trip. I sent for gifts for my family.
For Father a Dagger of Spanish steel, the finest quality I could afford. For Mother a pendent of silver and polished volcanic glass that was blacker then the darkest night mined from one of Italy's famed volcanoes. For Richard a bred and trained hunting falcon. For Geoff a collection of writings from the most brilliant mind in history. For John a book of some of the greatest inventions of the modern and ancient world for though he is not bright in most ways he did have a rather extraordinary grasp on mechanics.
And finally for Alise a circlet of fine gold wires, woven like vines bearing glistening jeweled flowers.
After all was packed and readied, my father's escorts came to retrieve me. I took with me no maids or courtiers for I wanted no trace of Italy with me on this trip.
I would once again be Princess Joan of England, and not Queen Joan of Sicily.
I am now sitting on a dock waiting for a team of horses to take us to Chinon, where I will be reunited with my family for the first time in six long years.
Last night on the boat I prayed to the Saints and the Blessed Virgin to ensure this homecoming be a happy one as I clasped my Rosary tightly, bracing my knees on the floor boards as waves tossed the boat.
A figure is approaching now but it is only a singular horse and rider, mayhap he brings news.
/
Joan closed the log as a brown stallion, sturdy and looming, skidded to a stop before the dock. Joan hardly recognized the rider but knew him immediately.
"By order of King Henry, Her Majesty is to continue on to Chinon with me alone" The burly young man in his early twenties astride the animal ordered as the boat master and escorts nodded obediently. A squire gave Joan a leg up as she mounted the steed behind the man side saddle and waved graciously to the mariners as they galloped off inland.
The rider had small deep set blue eyes and close cropped hair, he was obviously a man of war.
"So how fairs my big brother Richard these past years?" She asked as the blue water turned into nothing more than a strip of sapphire on the horizon.
Richard slowed the horse down to a trot to carry the conversation, "Well enough." He replied bluntly, "We have a long ride ahead and I suggest you hold on tightly, He is a fine horse to ride into battle with but I'm afraid he is not used to such a feminine rider."
Joan grinned, seeing through his gruff and stoic façade as she clasped her arms around his broad chest for without a horn to drape her leg over she would most likely struggle to stay atop the stallion. With a firm grunt he urged the horse forward and into a full gallop.
They arrived at the castle by late morning, and the grounds were bustling with servants and peasant and all manner of persons. Richard reined in the horse with much bravado as Geoff started toward them with a friendly wave while a young man Joan did not recognize hung back with a sulking pout on his face.
Richard hopped off the steed and tied the reins on to the wooden post before lifting Joan by her waist and pulling her down from the animal. Her travel shoes sank into the mud causing her to look down in slight discomfort, before gathering up her long skirts and making for dry land.
"Richard!" Geoff greeted his brother warmly before spying Joan and going into a deep, almost mocking bow, blondish hair falling in his face slightly until he brushed it back into order to match the rest of his, as usual, well put together self.
"And Her Majesty Queen Joan herself, an honor." Joan bit back and laugh before shaking her head. "Geoff is that anyway to greet your baby sister?" she questioned and Geoff straightened up with a small smirk.
"It is when she's the Queen Consort of Sicily. How fairs your husband, Good King William?" Joan didn't let her face fall.
"Very well, I'll be sure to tell him you inquired about him. And how fairs gentle Constance, has she come with you?"
Geoff shook his head, "No, no this is purely a family trip with few exceptions. I imagine you've heard about our brother Henry." Joan nodded seriously, and recalled the eve she had received word of her eldest brother's passing. "I have."
Spying the young man in the off white wool tunic behind Geoff Joan smiled a bit. "That simply can't be little Johnny." She peered over Geoff shoulder and pushed past him gently. John crossed his arms and shifted his brownish green eyes almost nervously.
"Oh come now, haven't you any words for your big sister?" she laughed and John eyed her before muttering a welcome.
The siblings strolled casually and oddly enough Geoff seemed the one most in the spirit of things.
"Ah, Christmas; warm and rosy time." He rubbed his hands together. "The hot wine steam, the Yule Log roars and we're the fat that's in the fire. She'll be here soon you know."
"who?"
"Mother" Richard responded for him.
Joan carried her skirts over a mud puddle as a sudden gust of wind whipped her white veil back "Does she still wish for you to be King Richard?" She asked and Richard pulled off his gloves.
"We're not as friendly was we were."
John growled, "If I'm supposed to make a fuss and kiss her hairy cheek I won't" he asserted and Richard eyed him "What you kiss Little Prince, is entirely up to you." John frowned, "I'm father's favorite. And that's what counts."
Richard leaned down to face John with total conviction. "You hardly know me Johnny so I beg you to believe my reputation. I am a constant soldier, a sometime poet, and I will be king."
"Just you remember, Father loves me best!"
Just then there was a horn blown by the water and Joan looked up with a small shine in her eyes.
"Mother" she breathed almost anxiously. "Shall we go meet her?" she asked her brothers and they all looked out to the dock then to the castle, their meaning was clear as day.
"Fine." Joan rolled her eyes and stepped over a mud spot and straightened her veil to cover her hair. "I'll go myself then."
She trekked toward the water line just in time to see a royal boat, embellished with gold with eight rowers on either side.
At the bow stood Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, garbed in scarlet and gold. Behind Joan came King Henry, a strong man for fifty years old whom Richard took after. In looks greatly, followed by his mistress Alise and all watched at the boat came to the shore and docked simply.
"How was your crossing?" Henry yelled "Did the Channel part for you?"
The queen walked down the gang plank. "It went flat when I told it to I didn't think to ask for more." She took his hand with her own bony, wrinkled one that had once bore the tender kisses of all the best men and flashed him a charming smile. "How kind of you to let me out of jail."
"It's only for the holidays," Henry assisted her down.
"Like school you keep me young." Eleanor sighed and looked about. "Here's Gentle Alise." She noted and stood before the severe looking Blonde who curtsied formally.
"No, no, Greet me as you used to." She held open her arms and held Alise lightly. "Fragile I am not, Affection is a pressure I can bear."
She looked up at the tower of the castle to see the sons looking down. "My, but I do have handsome Children."