(dramatic classical music) (Female announcer reads) (eerie music plays) (singing operatically) 15 years 5483 days and now another day has passed.

Or have I lost count again 15 years shut away in this bleak room in this sun-starved country: England.

(crying) Shut away like some mad woman hidden from the world.

15 years.

15 years of lonely exile of lonely exile.

Does anyone remember me?

Does anyone know I am still alive?

Will I ever be free again?

Or will I die alone and be buried in some unmarked grave?

Will I ever go back home again?

Will I ever see Aquitaine again?

Will I never go back home?

Will I ever be free again?

Will this exile never end?

Have there been new messages today?

Did the priest bring no news for me?

Or the merchant from London who came at noon?

Did no one send a message to me?

No one?

No one?

If this is what lies ahead for me, then I no longer want to live.

I would choose to die instead!

It would be done so quickly: with this poison only a minute or two and this endless waiting would be over.

I am so old now...

It would cheat death so little, so little.

I will close my mind to this wretched present time and place.

I will no longer notice this room, this wretched room, for if I do, if I do, I will lose my reason, or I shall destroy myself.

I will fix my mind on past happier times when I was free, when I was queen.

I am wed to Louis and I am crowned queen of France!

Oh what splendor!

Oh what grandeur!

Flaming candles great voiced choirs, procession of cardinals, princes and kings, while I sit here on the great high throne.

Your honor to us does you honor.

Your honor to us does your honor.

Is my neck quite straight, my lord?

I so abhor a crooked neck.

If one is born to wear a crown, one'’s neck should be straight and not bent like a goose.

A bent neck appears a judgment of God, saying one is unfit to rule.

Is my neck quite straight, my lord?

I so abhor a crooked neck.

I'’ve carried a weight on my head all week to strengthen my neck to wear this crown, and now I am no longer able to tell.

Your honor to us does you honor.

What is it, my lord?

Have you nothing to say?

The nuns all say I talk too much, but they also say I am wise for my years.

I read and speak four languages and I'’m very skilled at chess.

The holy fathers say I have an agile mind.

I sew and knit and embroider quite well, I dance and play the lute.

I'’m often told I have a pleasing touch.

I am widely read in philosophy, in metaphysics and astronomy and at present, I am learning the arts of state craft and diplomacy.

My lord, why do you stare at me?

Do my accomplishments surprise you or is my neck not straight?

Is my neck not straight?

Your honor to us does you honor.

Richard, oh my son.

Your words still pierce my heart.

Will they never stop haunting me?

They hover at the edge of my mind like dark, menacing birds of death.

Your voice was hoarse, just a whisper, I could hardly hear what you said.

And then came those desolate words that I cannot erase from my mind.

Vanity All life is vanity.

And living is a cruel jest.

The struggle even to breathe is mockery.

You lay there dying, dying, with that hideous wound in your back.

Gnawing and sucking your life away.

While I emplored you to live, emplored you to live.

And you would not even struggle, you welcomed death.

Why?

Why, Richard, why?

Should I then no longer struggle to live?

Should I abandon all hope of being free again?

But I have struggled all my life to shape my life to remain free, as I struggled against Louis, many years ago in Antioch, struggled and won.

Unbind me, I command you!

Release me, I demand it!

Unbind my hands, unbind my hands!

Have these soldiers untie me.

Order them to release me at once.

These ropes are cutting my flesh!

If I am still your queen and still queen of France, I demand you release me at once!

I demand it!

I demand it!

At once!

How dare you seize me and bring me here!

How dare you have me seized!

You, my husband and king!

Tied, bound, and gagged like some wretched thief.

How dare you allow them to touch me, as my husband, how dare you do that!

And how dare you as the king of France.

Oh, Louis, you erred most grievously.

And you will pay dearly for your mistake.

You will pay dearly, dearly.

I shall return to France with you, but once we are there, once we are there, I intend to divorce you!

On grounds of common blood, I intend to divorce you!

Your face is stricken, my lord, and you are weeping.

I have no wish to wound you for I know you love me well.

But we are not suited, you and I, our nature'‘s are too diverse.

So let me go out of your life, unnoticed, and unmourned like a shadow that shrinks in the sun leaving not even memory behind.

And that mild and gentle man sadly let me go, and I was free again.

But if I had not struggled, had not struggled.

Why would you not struggle?

Why would you not fight to live?

Was there more I could'’ve done?

To keep you alive?

Was there more?

Was there more?

Was there more?

More?

I must find an answer.

I must put my doubts to rest.

The sun has set and night is falling: darkness enshrouds the earth.

All is quiet now.

Only the lidless eye of God is awake.

And I am awake.

And if I lie awake, if I lie awake, I am afraid I will abandon hope.

I so fear despair, I so fear awake full night.

I will fix my mind on past, happier times, on past happier times.

Oh, what happy times, years ago when my troubadour came to me at night.

Many years ago at Poitiers where I reigned over the most splendid court in Europe.

Maneuvers and ploys, gambits and schemes.

Alliances formed, treaties signed, and marriages arranged.

Come in, my lord duke, please be seated.

You are seeking a bride for your son.

Your lands are to the north, are they not?

And is your son sole heir to these lands?

I see.

And what treaties are you bound by and with whom do you seek alliances?

I see.

I see.

And what is the condition of your treasury?

I see, I see!

Is that in land or gold?

And who is your overlord, if I may ask?

Oh, yes, of course!

The king of France.

From what you have told me I would suggest the young Countess of Anjoulême.

And good day, my lord duke, to you.

What is it?

My troubadour?

Coming tonight?

Then tonight cannot come too soon!

All day while I have held court, how I have yearned for the night and my troubadour.

The night, when the duchess has retired, the night that belongs to Eleanor.

No more treaties to ponder, no more accounts to read.

Hurry, sun, now on your way west, my lover comes when the first stars appear tonight.

I will lie in my lover'’s arms and his voice and hands will caress me, all night long in my lover'’s arms until the sun rises and combs the fields with light.

Hurry, sun, on your way west.

My lover arrives with the stars.

This room is cold now and cheerless and bleak and lonely.

Does anyone remember me?

Does anyone know I am still alive?

Anyone?

Bring me more wood for this fire!

There is a deep chill in here!

Rosamond.

Rosamond.

Rosamond.

The king's darling.

I am growing old.

The words are bitter on my lips.

I have long refused to see the truth this cruel glass has shown to me.

But now fair Rosamond, Henry'’s pretty young love, has forced this hateful truth on me.

I am growing old.

I am growing old.

My youth is gone, and with it goes my husband, I fear.

Who will comfort and solace me now that I'’ve looked in this glass?

Now that I'’ve seen its bitter truth.

What will solace me now?

My lord, Henry, please come in.

Won'’t you be seated.

Then I shall also stand.

It has come to my ears that your mistress, Rosamond, has been shown in my place at the English court with you.

I hear this on every hand.

Are all these reports true?

Then you are indeed a fool, Henry, you are indeed a fool to think I'’d endure such a mockery.

I will not endure that, Henry, I will not Indore that!

I will not be mocked as your queen!

My lord Henry, won'’t you be seated?

Then I shall also stand.

How could you so quickly forget the sons and daughters I bore you.

Will you have more?

Will you have more children?

I can'’t give you more; I can'’t bare more children.

My womb is barren now.

I loved you from the first, my lord.

With you, I found a man at last to match my spirit, ambition, and fire.

And we forged an empire together.

An empire from Scotland to the Pyrenees.

I love what we have made together, I love it as well as you do, but I will shatter that empire, shatter it completely.

Your sons and I will tear it apart.

I will see it in ruins, see it in ruins before I allow you to mock me.

I beg you, Henry, don'’t force me to this.

The stakes are too high for both of us, too high!

Too high!

Whom shall it be, my lord, your mistress or your queen?

Then I am no longer your wife or your queen.

We are parted forever!

Leave now.

Leave at once.

Leave now.

Leave at once.

My nails are burning, burning, to get at your face.

Henry, you have broken my heart.

You have made me old.

And for a long time after that I could find a little reason to live; my soul was sick with despondency.

Only when Richard died was I so close to despair.

Only when Richard died.

When Richard...

He was sinking, and the priest had not come.

His life was ebbing away.

He was sinking, sinking, sinking, without a struggle and still the priest did not come.

Live, Richard, Live, son!

Live!

(spoken) Absolve domine animas omnium fidelium defunctorum ab omni zinnela delictorum (sung) Is the priest still not here?

Live, Richard, live, son!

Live!

Live, son, live!

He's gone!

Richard, oh Richard!

Oh, my son, my son, my son.

Oh Holy Mother of God, oh Holy Mother of God, receive my son onto thy bosom.

Receive my son.

Oh Holy Mother of God, oh Holy Mother of God, love my son as I have loved him and grant him Paradise.

I ache, I ache.

My heart is cut out of me.

I am an old and weary woman already scarred by grief.

Why must I suffer more?

Why am I asked to bury still another child?

And why Richard, the dearest of all to me?

I cannot bear this loss.

God is cruel.

God is unjust!

It is not right that I suffer more.

If only I might have died.

If only I might have died instead of you, oh my son, instead of you.

Oh Holy Mother of God, love him as I have loved him and grant him Paradise.

(spoken) Yes, of course.

Yes, of course.

I see it.

I see it now.

Richard welcomed death as I flee it.

He yearned for death as I hunger for life.

There was nothing more I could'’ve done, no way I could'’ve saved him, for he was drawn to death and suffering like a babe to its mother'’s breast, (sung) like a plant seeking the sun.

May he find peace at last.

May this most cherished child find peace at last.

(spoken) Requiem aeternum Dona eis domine et lux perpetua luceat eis et lux perpetua luceat.

(offstage chime) (sung) Why are the bells tolling?

What has happened?

What is their news?

Why are the bells rung?

Henry dead?

God rest his soul and be merciful.

Then I am free.

I am free.

If Henry is dead, then I am free.

My exile is over.

And I am free, free at last!

God be praised!

Christ be praised!

I can wait now for I am free at last, at last!