Lady of the English (33 page)
Matilda gave a curt nod. “Do what you can.” She tried to put the news from Rome aside. She had always known the road would be strewn with obstacles, and each time she came across another one, she set herself to clear it because right was right and she had a son to fight for. Stephen’s use of underhand tactics and false oaths merely put iron in her soul and made her even more determined to bring him down.
ttt
At Arundel, Adeliza sat on the window seat in her sun-filled confinement chamber and stroked the wonderful curve of her belly, round as a full moon. Even now, in the middle of her ninth month, she still had to reassure herself that she was not dreaming, that there really was new life growing inside her. She had conceived within the first weeks of her marriage during the 257
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honey month. God indeed must be shining His light on them, she thought. After fifteen barren years with Henry, Will had got her with child at a glance. Her fluxes had ceased straight away. And the strange thing was that Will had no bastards to his name, and Henry had had more than a score.
Will was due home from court any day, having attended a gathering at Oxford to discuss matters of government with the king.
Adeliza’s belly hardened under her palm and a small pain lodged in the small of her back. She shifted her position in the window seat to make herself more comfortable, easing her spine with a large pillow. A pile of sketches lay on the cushion beside her and she picked them up to study again. Now that Will had a substantial income through their marriage, he had embarked on various building projects. Arundel had received a new round keep of stone that had reached completion a fortnight ago, its foundation having been laid in the first month of their marriage, and work had begun to build an ornate castle on his manor of Rising in Norfolk. The latter was mainly sheep pasture and park land because the agricultural soil was poor, but Will thought it an ideal place for a hunting preserve and retreat that would also be fit for a queen. They had visited Rising on a freezing January day to study the ground and discuss plans. The first stones had been laid in late February as the evenings started to lengthen, and work, so she heard from regular reports, was continuing apace.
She shifted again as the pain returned, meandered vaguely around her hips and loins and vanished again. Turning her head, she looked out of the open window and saw two of Will’s outriders cantering through the gate. That meant he would not be far behind. She stood up, intending to send one of her ladies with a message to the steward, but as she turned in the window seat, she felt a strange sensation deep inside her body, followed by a gush of biblical proportions between her thighs, drenching 258
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her chemise and gown and puddling the rushes. The pain strengthened and her belly grew as hard as a drum.
She cried out to Juliana who dropped her sewing and hastened to her, while Melisande ran to fetch the midwife.
ttt
“You will wear out the floor,” said Joscelin of Louvain. He was Adeliza’s younger half-brother, born out of wedlock, and had joined Will’s household at Christmas, arriving from Brabant to take up the post of castellan. He was lithe and slender like Adeliza, with laughing grey eyes.
Will swung round and paced back the way he had come. “It has been a full day and night,” he said. “Why does birthing a babe take so long?”
Joscelin shrugged his shoulders. “You would need to ask a woman that,” he said with a rueful grin. “They always take their time whatever they decide, and then they’re apt to change their minds on a whim.”
“I always thought I was a patient man until now. It’s almost as bad as being at court,” Will said. The waiting, the pacing, the not knowing what was happening behind closed doors. There were many similarities. He began to pace again, then stopped himself and unclenched his fists.
Joscelin eyed him thoughtfully. “What will happen now that the bishop of Salisbury has been attacked by Waleran de Meulan’s men?”
Will grimaced. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s an enormous mess and no mistake. I am glad to be here and out of it.”
“Stephen lost control, didn’t he?”
Will shook his head. “Not exactly. The bishop of Salisbury has been stockpiling riches for himself and his relatives for many years, even back in the time of the old king. Something should have been done long ago. When it happened, it just got out of hand, that’s all.”
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Joscelin arched one eyebrow. “That’s an understatement.”
“Stephen knows what he is doing,” Will said hollowly. In Oxford, there had been a quarrel over lodgings between the household knights of Meulan and the bishop of Salisbury. A vicious fight had broken out, blood had been spilled, and the bishops of Salisbury, Lincoln, and Ely had been accused of fomenting a riot and subjected to arrest and arraignment.
“I wouldn’t call laying hands on a bishop a good way of garnering support from the Church.”
“It could have been done with more finesse, I grant you, but the amount of silver Salisbury has been creaming off is beyond a jest.”
“I agree, but Church discipline is a matter for the archbishop of Canterbury and the rest of the bishops, not the king.”
Will heaved a sigh. “Done is done. It is not the wisest move the king has ever made, but we have to go on from here. I—”
He looked up as a midwife entered the room with a wrapped bundle in her arms.
“Sire,” she said, “you have a son.”
The words struck Will such an emotional blow that it was hard to breathe. “And my wife, the queen? Is she all right?”
The woman gave him a broad smile as she placed the baby in his arms. “Your wife is well indeed, sire, and sends you her greetings and your heir.”
Will gazed into the tiny crumpled face amid the folds of soft blanket. Suddenly there was a tight lump in his throat. “I have a son,” he said in a choked voice to Joscelin. “A prince because his mother is a queen. A son to carry my line.” The feel of the baby’s weight took his breath away and filled his chest to bursting. He passed him to Joscelin, who took his nephew gingerly and having murmured appropriate words, and held him long enough to be polite, returned him to Will with relief.
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Will was torn. He was so proud and besotted that he could have carried the baby round with him all day, but he also knew that the child should be kept safe in the haven of the women’s apartments, not in the public arena. With great care he returned him to the midwife. “Give him to his mother,” he said, “and tell her I will visit as soon as she is ready to receive me. Tell her also I will arrange to have him baptised tomorrow morning.”
When the woman had gone, the blanketed bundle cradled along her arm, Will put his head in his hands and wept a little with pent-up joy and release. “The world has changed,” he said to Joscelin, who was looking at him askance. “I have a son in it now, and I must safeguard his future as much as my own.”
ttt
Later in the day, he visited Adeliza in her confinement chamber.
She was sitting up in bed looking radiant, her hair a gleaming braid falling forwards over her shoulder. Her gown had a deep opening secured with brooches so she could feed the child herself, which she intended to do until she was churched, after which she would employ a wet nurse. Her face was tired, but her eyes were glowing and her smile was radiant.
Will leaned over and kissed her very gently, feeling big and awkward. “I am so proud of you, and our beautiful son,” he said.
“And I am so grateful for God’s great mercy that we have him,” she answered with a tremble in her voice.
Sitting on the low chair at her bedside, he presented her with the small carved box he has been hiding under his cloak, and looked at her with anxiety and expectation.
Mystified, she took it and ran her fingers over the exquisitely chiselled leafwork on the top and sides, before unfastening the clasp. Inside was a book, its jewelled ivory cover a stunning contrast to the red silk lining. “Aesop!” she exclaimed with bright pleasure. “I love those stories!”
“I used to listen to you tell them at court years ago, and 261
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saw how you engrossed everyone.” He gave a wide smile at her delight.
She turned the pages, marvelling at the illuminated capitals and illustrations. The crow dropping his cheese for the fox to gobble; the ant and the grasshopper; the fisherman piping.
“I had the monks at Wymondham make it for you. I thought you could read it to the little one when he is older.”
Adeliza’s eyes were suddenly brimming.
“Ah, beloved, don’t cry,” Will said, alarmed. “You will make me weep too. What will my men say if I come from your chamber red-eyed and sniffling.”
She laughed and wiped her eyes. “They would not dare say anything, and a strong man’s tears are perhaps the strongest thing about him.”
He clasped her hand in his, marvelling again how small and fine-boned she was. The sight of her fingers encompassed by his large paw filled him to the brim with protective love. She had been through such an ordeal.
“I never thought I would be this happy,” she said. “You do not know the gifts you have given to me.” She reached her free hand to touch the soft cheek of the slumbering baby. “This is worth more than any earthly crown.”
They sat in contented silence, neither of them inclined to talk in depth, because what was felt was enough without words.
Although he had been apprehensive at first, Will was now reluctant to leave this wonderful, incense-scented room. He could have gazed at his Madonna-like wife and son all night, but he had duties elsewhere and the women were becoming restless at his lingering presence. It was time to leave. He kissed Adeliza again and the baby on his soft little brow, then reluctantly departed.
As the door closed behind him, Adeliza gave a contented sigh and, settling down in the bed, opened the Aesop, her fingertips exploring the intricate carving and smoothing over 262
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the small cabochon gemstones. It was a rare and beautiful thing.
Will was not a man of many words, but he could be thoughtful and delicate when the occasion arose, and sometimes, as now, he was capable of surprising her deeply. He did not always understand her, nor she him, but they had enough to live on, and sometimes, as now, a glittering feast.
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Thirty
Arundel Castle, Sussex, August 1139
A deliza stood by the double arch of her chamber windows at Arundel. It was late August, the harvest white in the fields and the dusty scent of high summer hanging in the air. The wet nurse sat in the window seat rocking little William and crooning to him. Adeliza was momentarily distracted by her son’s gurgles and turned to look at him, a sunburst of pure love lighting her from within. He was her little miracle and she still found it difficult to believe that God had granted her such grace.
After a moment, a smile on her lips, she turned back to the window. Will was in the courtyard, hands at his hips, the wind ruffling his dark curls around his head as he discussed the building work on the keep with the master mason. Adeliza felt blessed by the depth of his steady affection. It was like balm on a wound that had been raw and open for a very long time, and only now was healing.
Will was about to leave to attend a council at Winchester to discuss the issue of the bishops of Salisbury, Ely, and Lincoln.
Roger of Salisbury and Alexander of Lincoln were under arrest and Nigel of Ely was in rebellion in the Fenlands. Adeliza thought it disgraceful for a king to take up arms against God’s representatives. There were better ways of resolving issues between Church and State.
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Her expression grew pensive as she dropped her gaze to the letter a messenger had recently brought to her chamber. The oval wax seal on a green cord was Matilda’s. She hadn’t told Will about it yet and was toying with the idea of not showing him until he returned from court because she was worried about what the letter might contain. With all the unrest brewing in England, Stephen was keeping a close watch on the coastline because he feared an invasion from Normandy.
Adeliza knew a storm was coming, and she would either have to act or look away.
Making a decision, she left the window, broke the seal on the letter, and began to read. The writing was in Matilda’s firm personal hand and in German, which they both understood, but which denied the casual observer, Will included. Matilda expressed her delight that Adeliza had borne a son and praised God that she and the child were well. She added that her own sons were growing apace and she was much pleased by their progress, especially Henry’s. He was so clever and astute. The next words bore signs of having been erased many times, for the surface of the vellum was thin and rough, which was out of character for the usually decisive Matilda, but as Adeliza read, she began to understand why, and her hand went to her mouth. Matilda wrote that it was a long time since she had seen her beloved stepmother and she would like to visit her at Arundel if Adeliza would bid her welcome. She also wanted to enter into discussions with Stephen concerning the future of the crown of England and the ducal coronet of Normandy.
“Dear God,” Adeliza whispered. The letter was like a burning brand between her fingers. What was Will going to say from his position as a staunch supporter of King Stephen? If she agreed, she would be welcoming the king’s mortal enemy into her household. Yet it was a queen’s duty to be a peacemaker, and Matilda was her kin, her daughter by marriage. And Stephen was a usurper, whether Will served him or not.