Lady of the English (11 page)

“But if it does happen, the last thing we want is Angevin influence spinning the policies. We would be finished. Better that one of us rules than a woman who has lived in Germany all of her life and is about to take a puppy for a husband.”

“There is le Clito too,” Theobald spoke up.

Henry faced his eldest brother, who was Count of Blois and head of the family in name, although Henry’s policies and opinions were usually the ones that held sway. “He is our common enemy for the moment, I agree.” He leaned forwards, the light shining on his silk sleeve. “But both of you have a claim to England and Normandy as the king’s nephews.

Stephen is married into the English royal house and we know one of our uncle’s schemes is to bring him close to the throne.

We must make sure that it stays the foremost plan despite the vows everyone has been forced to make.” He fixed his gaze on Stephen. “We have to be ready with a strategy should the king die.”

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A look of alarm crossed Stephen’s face and he signed his breast with the cross. “I wish him continued longevity.”

Theobald cleared his throat. “I will not be a party to anything that threatens our uncle’s well-being.”

Henry mentally rolled his eyes. Sometimes he thought their wits were made of fleece. “Was I advocating any such thing?

I too wish him continued long life, but even if our cousin Matilda bears a son nine months from her marriage, the king will have to stay alive and in sound mind until that son is fit to rule, and she is not even wed yet. It does not take a fool to tally up the years. The same goes for a son of his blood born of the queen.” He spread his hands in an open gesture. “I am not asking you to contemplate treason, but we must plan ahead, just like a farmer husbanding his supplies for the winter. If we want to see our family prosper, we must work to ensure it happens.

Do you really want to see Robert of Gloucester rule by proxy when one of you could wear a crown? Because that is what will happen if Matilda becomes queen. Robert will be the true power behind the throne.”

As Henry had known he would, Stephen recoiled. There was little love lost between himself and Gloucester. Since boyhood they had been rivals over everything, from games of chess, to swordplay, to contesting for the king’s attention and approval. The king had always shown them both favour and affection, but had played one off against the other. Stephen was malleable, Henry thought; furthermore he was his brother and his own best chance to become the power behind the throne—because every ruler needed a chief minister and every reign could be manipulated.

“What shall we do?” Stephen asked.

Henry touched the jewels on his sleeve, exploring with his fingertips the cold gemstones. “Find men who are reliable, utterly discreet, and who see matters the same way that we do, 79

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and make of them allies so that they will support us when the time comes. You have charm, brother, and prowess. Men like you. Use it to win them to your side.”

“And those who won’t be won over?”

Henry shrugged. “If we are sufficiently thorough, they will be too few to matter.” He raised a warning forefinger. “But let us not act rashly in this. We must prepare the ground, and that will take time and consideration.”

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Ten

Rouen, June 1128

M atilda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drawing in the smell of incense. Usually its holy scent and association with ritual, ceremony, and royalty would have soothed her, but not today. She had been at her prayers all morning, but it made no difference to her feelings. Her gown of deep blue silk was beaded with gold jetons and jewelled with sapphires, garnets, and pearls. A veil of cloth of gold, bound in place by a coronet from her German treasure, covered her hair.

“You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen,” Adeliza said as she helped Matilda to don her cloak, gleaming with the pelts of a hundred ermine.

“What does it matter, save that I fulfil my obligation and do as my father bids?” Matilda said tonelessly.

Adeliza frowned. “I thought you were reconciled to the marriage?”

“I know my duty, if that is what you mean, but I will never be reconciled, and that is the truth of it.”

Adeliza’s brow remained furrowed. “Everyone is proud of you. I know you have the strength to make a success of this match.” Her tone was bright with reassurance. “Geoffrey looked so handsome at his knighting. Your father says he is mature for his years and he is pleased with him.”

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Matilda said nothing. Her betrothed and his entourage had been in Rouen all week for the marriage celebrations. Geoffrey and several of his companions had received the accolade of knighthood from her father in a grand formal ceremony. Geoffrey had been presented with a sword and a shield with a lapis-blue background, decorated with lioncels in gold leaf. He had acquitted himself well in displays of horsemanship and feats of arms, and had spent time closeted with her father. With her, Geoffrey had spent no time at all beyond formal public requirement, which had filled her with a combination of resentment and relief.

Her father had heaped upon her jewels and clothes, horses, hawks, and chests full of silver and treasure. She could have anything material from him for the asking, but all the wealth in the world could not compensate for what he was making her do. She knew he was not assuaging his guilt by such largesse, because as far as he was concerned he had nothing to be guilty about. The gifts were rather to reward her for her compliance and to express his pleasure in the match, whilst displaying his munificence to the world.

Over the next four days, the wedding party would travel the 120 miles to Le Mans, where the wedding itself was to take place in the great cathedral there before the entire nobility of Anjou.

“Would you take my place?” she asked Adeliza.

“If it were my destiny, yes,” Adeliza said. “You must give this match a chance. Set a smile on your face and your heart will lighten.”

Matilda curled her lip. “It would be a lie.”

“It would be your duty.” Adeliza’s voice sharpened. “Do you think my sweetness is all there is to me? Do you know how hard it is sometimes? But I smile and go forward because I am a queen and it is my God-given role to help and support your father. When I see my life thus, it becomes a reward to serve and not something onerous.”

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Matilda swallowed and did not answer, because she knew she would never be able to reconcile herself to being married to this preening boy when she had once been wed to a real man of dignity and standing. Adeliza did not understand. Matilda so missed the life she had had in Germany. Here, everyone seemed to be against her, or else to think that this marriage was a fine thing and her reluctance but the contrariness of a silly, fickle woman who should better know her place. Those who frowned on the match were her father’s enemies, or had their own reasons and agendas. The only person she could rely on was herself, and that made her feel terribly lonely.

Adeliza kissed her. “I must go and put on my own cloak,”

she said, “and see that all is in order. But for your own good, consider what I have said.”

ttt

“I am worried about Matilda,” Adeliza said as she knelt to remove Henry’s shoes and set them to one side on the sheepskin rug beside the bed. It was late and they had retired to their chamber within the fortress at Brionne where the wedding party was spending the night on its journey to Le Mans.

Henry dismissed her concern with a brusque gesture. “She is my daughter and she knows what is expected of her, and so does the young Angevin sprig.” He gave an amused grunt. “He is already experienced. Not that he told me himself, and I don’t listen to the bragging of those boys around him, but my sources tell me he’s no virgin. He knows what to do and, God willing, he will get her with child on their wedding night.”

Adeliza slowly began to rub his feet. “I cannot help but be concerned. It is a great step for her and I love her dearly.”

She gave him a tight little smile. “I will miss her, not only as a daughter, but as a friend.”

“Matilda will return for visits, and you can write to each other,” he said gruffly. “I know what gossips you women are, 83

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but you have the other ladies of the court for company, and your duties and business as my queen. There is more than enough to keep you occupied.”

Adeliza smiled up at him, but she had to work hard to keep the sadness from her eyes. Books and leper hospitals, charities and little charters. She had no wish to rule and dominate the world of men, but she did desperately want to fulfil her role as a queen and a woman. Each time he lay with her, each month when she bled, served to point up her feeling of failure and inadequacy. “And I have you, my lord, also.”

Henry drew her up to him and kissed her. “I admit here, if nowhere else, that I will miss her too, but I need her to make this match for me. Come, console me. It has been a while.”

Adeliza yielded to him with wifely obedience. These days they seldom bedded together. Henry was still vigorous with the court concubines, but as she had continued to have her flux each month, he had ceased to visit her, as if he saw no point.

She knew he preferred his women blowsy and buxom, whereas she was slender and fine-boned with barely a curve. Although she was always welcoming and compliant when he did come to her, the act itself was painful, if seldom prolonged. Henry was always swift to business like a ram in the field.

When he had finished and rolled off her, Adeliza wondered if this was what it would be like for Matilda and Geoffrey. As she straightened her garments, she remembered what she had said to Matilda about the difference between a reward and an onerous duty, and for a moment tears sparkled dangerously close to the surface.

ttt

Matilda looked down at her left hand, bare except for the thin circle of gold Geoffrey had placed on her finger that morning in the cathedral of Saint-Julien at Le Mans. The magnificence of the church had penetrated the wall she had built around 84

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herself, and opened her up to feelings of wonder as she heard mass before the altar with her boy-husband at her side. Here was the majesty and essence of God. She had been awed by the greatness, and sickened too that she should be worshipping Him here, having taken vows to obey and cherish her husband.

It was bearing false witness before one’s maker. Contrasting it with her wedding in Speyer, she felt soiled.

Throughout the day, she had been unable to look at Geoffrey, but had felt his eyes constantly on her. How she was going to bear his hands on her body tonight, she did not know. Her only hope was in not conceiving, because then the marriage could be annulled. Her laundry maid, Osa, had told her the necessary steps to take to avoid conception.

The women had brought her to the great chamber where the marriage was to be consummated. Matilda gazed at the fine, big bed with its clean linen sheets and embroidered covers, and at the painted chests and rich brocade hangings. Her women had earlier set out her ivory combs, her pots of unguents, and her jewel and trinket boxes. Perfumed smoke twirled from a small brazier burning frankincense and bark, but she only felt nauseated. Holy and magnificent surroundings only served to point up the ugliness of what was happening to her.

Adeliza was nodding with approval as she looked round.

“You can make yourself a very pleasant chamber here,” she said. “All will be well.”

“So you keep saying,” Matilda said shortly. “Are you trying to convince yourself too?”

Adeliza recoiled for an instant but swiftly rallied. “You must give your husband a chance at least. Come now. Drink some of this hot wine and let me help you disrobe.”

Matilda suffered Adeliza’s ministrations with a clenched jaw.

She wanted to strike her away but knew it would be unfair to vent her anger on her stepmother, who was as powerless as she 85

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was. Neither of them had a choice, but Adeliza was the better at adapting.

Matilda stared at the wall as the women removed her red silk wedding gown and gold belt; the gilded slippers and golden hose with brocaded garter ties edged with pearls; her crown of golden flowers; her veil; the ribbons wound through her braids.

All of it was carefully hung up or put away, leaving her standing barefoot in a plain chemise with simple ties at the throat. Like a virgin, she thought as the women combed down her hair until it lay like a dark-brown waterfall to her hips. A woman stripped of her power, no longer an empress, but a sacrifice. “I need to visit the latrine,” she told the assembled women and crossed the room to the small dark chamber set in the thickness of the wall.

Hidden in there by Osa, under the piles of moss and squares of rag for wiping purposes, was a small vial of vinegar. Biting her lip, Matilda took a piece of moss, tipped the vinegar over it, and, having pulled up her chemise, squatted and inserted the swab as high up into her female passage as she could, just as Osa had told her to do. It would prevent conception, the laundress said. There was always a danger that the man might find out, but it had a reasonable degree of success if a woman wanted to avoid pregnancy—and was certainly better than putting parsley leaves under his pillow or wearing a charm of weasel’s testicles around one’s neck.

Task accomplished, Matilda returned to the women. She could smell vinegar on her fingers and went to splash her hands in the laver, and then anointed her wrists with rose-scented unguent.

“Are you all right?” Adeliza eyed her with concern.