Lady of the English (21 page)

“You should not have put yourself in his path,” Matilda said crossly. “There was no need.”

Adeliza kissed Henry’s ruddy curls and, as he started to squirm, set him down. He trotted over to look in a coffer that a maid was packing. “There was every need. Things had gone far enough. Who knows where it might have ended.”

“But it was for me to deal with, not for you to intervene.”

“It is the prerogative of a queen to intervene,” Adeliza said with gentle assertion. “Would you rather he had struck you?”

Matilda tightened her lips and added her cosmetic pots to the chest. Adeliza sighed. “I wish you would not part on a quarrel.”

“That is up to my father. I have stayed here for too long. It is time I returned to Anjou. If it eases your path, tell him I am leaving to be a peacemaker with my own husband.”

“And are you?”

Matilda said nothing but continued with her packing. After a moment, Adeliza rose and kissed her and left the room.

ttt

Geoffrey eyed his namesake. “He looks like you,” he said as he chucked the infant under the chin. His second son eyed him out of solemn grey eyes. His bonnet had been removed so that his father could see his hair, which was soft dark brown, sticking up in comical tufts. “Perhaps a daughter would be useful next, or even two, and then a further pair of sons to secure the inheritance.”

There was a sardonic gleam in his eyes. “What do you think?”

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Matilda refused to be drawn. “I think you would be a fool to plan ahead in such a fashion.”

“Oh, but I do need to plan ahead, because otherwise I will not be ready when the time comes.”

“I said ‘in such a fashion,’ not that you should not plan at all.”

He conceded her the point with a look of irritated amusement.

“You are going to tell me now that you almost died bearing this one and it would be too dangerous for you to have more.”

She arched her brow. “If I died, it would make your situation with regard to your power beyond Anjou more awkward than it already is. You need me whole and well for the time being.”

“Indeed, and I am flattered you chose to return to me rather than stay with your father—or did he send you to make peace?”

“You do not know my father.”

“To the contrary, I know the old spider very well indeed.”

His attention diverted to the nurse who was bringing Henry forward. “Last I saw he was a babe in arms, now look at him!”

His expression bright with pride, Geoffrey squatted to be at eye level with his son. He was used to very small children—

Aelis’s two were in the nursery and there was not so great an age difference—but even so, this was his heir, the future Count of Anjou, and there was something about Henry that sent a pang of uncharacteristic tenderness through Geoffrey.

Matilda had carried him in her womb, but he had set the life spark inside her body and it had been against the odds that he did so, some of them stacked by her. He stood up and lifted Henry in his arms. Holding an infant was not a suitable role for a grown man of great estate, but in this instance, it showed the world that here was his acknowledged flesh and blood, destined to rule.

Henry laughed, showing his pearly milk teeth, and pointed to the design on his father’s blue tunic. “Lion,” he said loudly.

“My lion.”

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Geoffrey looked quizzically at Matilda. “‘My lion’? Who has been teaching him that?”

Matilda flushed. “I tell him he is my little lion. He has a wooden one for a toy and a cushion with a big golden one embroidered on it. One day he will be a king. Why should he not acknowledge the symbols of kingship?”

“Oh, I agree,” Geoffrey said. “We must foster that in him.

Next teach him ‘crown.’”

“He already knows that one.”

“Crown,” Henry said in validation of her remark, and pointed at Geoffrey’s cap with its band of gold braid. “Lion.

Crown. Mama.”

Geoffrey chuckled and shook his head. “Indeed, I can see you have been teaching him well, but I must train him further.

I suppose you have not taught him to say ‘Papa’ in any of this.”

“I am sure he will learn swiftly enough,” she replied, concealing a pang of jealousy because Geoffrey was so at ease holding their son.

“Papa.” Henry bounced in Geoffrey’s arms, and stared round with alert, bright eyes.

Geoffrey laughed. “You are right again,” he said to her.

“Usually I would hold that against you, but not today.”

ttt

“Well then,” Geoffrey said later when the children had been taken away to the nursery and Matilda was settling into her chamber while the servants unpacked her baggage. “It seems no matter what we do, your father has no intention of handing over your dower castles.” He sat down near the hearth and stretched his legs towards the fire. “Neither war nor diplomacy will shift his stance.”

“He will not relinquish one iota of his power while he lives.

He will play factions off against each other and keep us all like flies trapped on his web. I tried all ways to persuade him and he 162

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would have none of it. Every time I raised the discussion he said it wasn’t the time, or he found other business.” She frowned at him. “And then you went and burned Beaumont to the ground and aided Talvas and de Tosney to rebel.”

“I was reminding him how much trouble I could give him.

Normandy is not the stable ground your father would have us believe and we are not the only ones chafing under his hand.

I refuse to be played for a fool. Your father may be a spider, but he cannot spin webs from beyond the grave. What if your barons renege when he dies? He is hoping he will live long enough to see his grandsons into manhood, but is that likely?

We need those castles. We need that foothold.”

Matilda made an impatient gesture. “So what are we to do?

It is a dangerous game to stir up a wasp’s nest. My father was going to sail for England, but he has deferred that business now to deal with Normandy.”

“I know what I am doing,” Geoffrey said with irritation.

“This strife will act as a warning to your father and perturb him sufficiently to capitulate and give us our castles.”

“I doubt you will win,” she replied, thinking that he did not know her father very well at all.

He sent her a calculating glance. “I pity your lack of faith.

Your father has spent a lifetime building up his kingdom, but buildings crumble and new ones have to be erected in their stead. I may not match him yet in terms of experience and guile, but I am younger and stronger, and I have the time that is running out for him. I know he does not intend me to wear a crown—in truth, I do not much care to wear one either. You are welcome to it. But Normandy is a different matter and, sooner or later, I always get what I want.”

“Normandy is as much mine by right of inheritance as England,” Matilda said, tensing her body. She hated his arrogance.

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“Yes, but when you are queen and duchess and countess, how can you be everywhere at once? It stands to sense that I should be your deputy in this—and surely you do not want me in England.”

“No.” She almost shuddered.

He came to her and began to remove her garments, his touch as delicate as a woman’s. “Give me free rein in Normandy until our sons are of age,” he said, his voice persuasive and smoky with desire. “And I will gain our castles and deal with your father and prove my worth to you.”

“And what worth would that be?” She felt the familiar coils of reluctance and craving snake through her body. “First you ask for castles, and now you seek a duchy.”

“Is it wrong to be ambitious? Do you not desire a kingdom?”

He cupped her breast and rubbed it through her chemise, stroking his thumb across her nipple until her flesh stiffened and she gasped.

“It is my duty,” she said.

“Ah yes, duty.” He drew her to the bed. “But duty and desire can sometimes be bedmates, no? I will show you what I am worth.”

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Twenty

Winchester, Hampshire, October 1135

H enry of Blois, abbot of Glastonbury, bishop of Winchester, picked up the large ruby sitting on the trestle and held it up to the light for a moment, before handing it to his visitor, Roger, bishop of Salisbury. Outside a chill autumn rain was steadily falling, but here in Henry’s private chamber, a warm fire and hot spiced wine were keeping the cold and damp nicely at bay.

Salisbury examined the gem with an acquisitive eye. “How much is this worth?”

Henry shrugged. “It depends on the value the owner sets upon it, and what its function is going to be. Perhaps it might decorate a cup, or embellish a reliquary.” He studied his folded hands for a moment. “Perhaps it might be used as the centrepiece for a new crown.” He fixed Salisbury with a knowing stare. “I leave you to do as you will with it. I need not know the fine details.”

Salisbury drew his purse from beneath his robes and dropped the jewel inside. “Of course not, my lord,” he said, returning the look. “But you will want to be told the outcome in due course.”

Henry took to fiddling with the small bust of a Roman emperor he had picked up in Italy a few years ago while LadyofEnglish.indd 165

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visiting the pope. “Of course,” he said. “I will be waiting in Winchester to hear.”

“And your brother?”

“Stephen is close by Wissant. He knows to ride the moment he receives a messenger from the court. Martel will make sure to inform him. Everyone of consequence knows their place and what to do.”

Salisbury nodded. “But Stephen has no notion?”

Henry snorted. “Stephen’s conscience is tender. He wants the meat without seeing the blood, so I have spared him that.

Do not worry. I can deal with him—and Theo.”

Salisbury pursed his lips. “It still never does to underestimate anyone.”

“I don’t,” Henry replied.

He saw his visitor on his way. Walking past the rain-drenched gardens, Salisbury paused to study the marble statue of a man clad in sweeping layers of fabric and a muscled breastplate. He was posed with one arm raised in mid oratory and his bare gaze was fixed on the horizon.

“Julius Caesar,” Henry said.

“Some might cavil at your pleasure in decorating your home with pagan images,” Salisbury remarked, brows drawn together.

Henry thought that the old man was probably secretly admiring his statues and plotting how he could obtain a few himself for either the palace at Salisbury, or his castle at Devizes.

Certainly if his mistress knew, she would want one, the acquisitive bitch. “Indeed, some might, but I pay them no heed. There are always those who complain at the slightest opportunity, as well you know. I bought these in Rome, the city of the pope, where people have them in their homes and gardens as a matter of course. Rome once had a great and powerful culture and these statues spur me on to the service of England. Julius Caesar might not have been a Christian, but he was an emperor.”

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Salisbury grimaced. “So you gain inspiration from him?”

“I do, my lord, but of course never as much as the Church.

My greatest duty is to God on high.”

“Indeed,” Salisbury said and walked ponderously into the courtyard, where an attendant had brought his horse.

“Who knows, perhaps one day we will see you installed at Canterbury.” He heaved himself into the saddle with the aid of a mounting block and a boost up from an attendant. “I will set this business in motion immediately.” He placed his hand lightly over his belt area where the ruby nestled in its pouch.

Henry nodded and felt a churning sensation in his own belt area that was part excitement and part tension. The deed was set in motion. There was no going back now. He retraced his steps and considered his prized statue of Caesar. Its purchase and transportation had cost him the best part of a hundred marks, but it had been worth it because in England it was a rarity, often remarked upon by envious visitors, and to him a symbol of ruling power.

Henry continued back to his chamber and knelt at his small, personal devotional. Gazing upon the crucified Christ he lit a candle and prostrated himself. Sometimes for the greater good, a king had to die.

ttt

“Here,” said Adeliza. “I made this for you.” She held out to Henry the hood she had been sewing for him to wear when next he went hunting. “Will you try it and see how it fits?”

She saw his impatient expression and felt cold. Of late it was so difficult to reach him. He was preoccupied with the business of government. His visits to her chamber had grown even less frequent and when they dined together with the court, he was brusque and distant. He seemed to have decided that since he could not beget a child on her, there was no point in bothering.

Something must have shown in her face because he checked 167

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himself and grimaced. “It is finely made,” he said, “and sure to keep my head warm if there’s a cold frost.” He tugged the hood on and allowed her to arrange the lower part around his shoulders, but she could feel his tension. He was eager to be away to his hunting and political meetings at his lodge at Lyons-la-Forêt. Women, other than court concubines and laundry maids, were not part of the arrangement.

In the antechamber a squire dropped a couple of boar spears with a loud clatter and was reprimanded by a chamberlain.

Henry removed the hood and directed another servant to pack it in his baggage.

“You should begin preparing your own things,” he said.

“I want to be in England by Christmas if the weather holds fair and I can finish sorting out the difficulties that wretched daughter of mine and her husband are causing me.” His expression soured for a moment.