Lady of the English (52 page)

At last the spasms subsided, leaving her like the survivor of a shipwreck cast up on a beach, wrung out and exhausted.

She lay on the bed for a while, but eventually rallied enough to rise and wash her face. Then she drank a cup of wine and summoned the women back into the room.

“Are you feeling better, domina?” Maude enquired.

“Thank you, yes,” Matilda said stiffly. “I have not seen my son in more than three years. Small wonder I should be overset.” From the middle finger of her left hand she removed her ruby ring and gave it to a chamberlain who was standing in the doorway. “Take this to the lord Henry,” she said. “Tell him I will talk to him in a little while, but that this comes to him with all the love of a mother’s heart.”
And the red of a woman’s
womb,
she thought as the man bowed and departed.

ttt

Henry looked at the ring. It was far too big for any of his fingers and he had set it around his neck on a length of thin gold braid. The ruby was as big as his thumb and glowed like an illuminated drop of blood. It was a gift fit for a king, not just a trinket. He had decided it was going to be part of his regalia 412

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when his turn came to rule, and such a time could not be far away because it was the reason he had been sent here—to finish his education and to learn what he needed about becoming king of England. As far as he was concerned, he was already the uncrowned ruler of the country. His mother had done what she could, helped by his uncle Robert, but she was a woman, while he was growing into a man—albeit too slowly for his patience. The way she had wept in front of him and had to retire had been a little disconcerting, but that was just a part of her womanhood. His own eyes had tingled in response to the moment, but he had not cried, because he was a man, and there was nothing to cry about.

Wallingford Castle fascinated him and once he had been shown his chamber and where he was to sleep, he had been eager to be about the fortress, exploring the defences, the chambers, and all the nooks and crannies. He enjoyed himself at the kennels, making the acquaintance of various dogs, thus earning the approval of Brian FitzCount’s wife, the lady Maude.

She patted his head and said if he wanted he could have a puppy when he left. Henry had been delighted. Having a puppy was not as good as having this ring, but it all added to the excitement and the largesse being poured on him. Vassals often gave hawks and dogs in tribute. He had been taken to see the huge storage barns and undercrofts with their supplies laid down for years of siege. He screwed up his face as he recognised the bales of stockfish. It was one of the hazards of Lent, and of course people under siege, although you had to have a plentiful water supply in order to soften the stuff.

“How long could you hold out?” he asked Brian and his uncle, who were examining the stores.

“For as long as the enemy chooses to lay siege, sire,” Brian said.

“How long would that be?”

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“It depends. Might be days or weeks or months, but they would break first.”

Henry was thoughtful. “Will Stephen follow Mama to Wallingford?”

His uncle shook his head. “I doubt it. He has bitten off more than he can chew, especially when he cannot trust his teeth.”

He ruffled Henry’s red-gold curls. “You need have no fear, lad.”

“I’m not afraid. I want to fight him. It’s my crown.” Henry was aware of the adults casting amused glances over his head and was affronted.

“All in good time,” his uncle Robert said. “But first you have more learning to put under your belt and some growing to do if you are going to fit into your hauberk, hmmm?”

That was true, but the eagerness bubbling up within him was impossible to contain. He wanted it now, not in several years’ time.

“I promised your father I would keep you safe, and that is what I intend to do. You will be dwelling in Bristol and learning what a king needs to know in order to rule.”

Henry tucked the ring back inside his tunic. The stone and the gold were cold for a moment, but gradually warmed against his skin. He returned to the great hall with his uncle and FitzCount and found his mother waiting there for him. She was composed now and smiling, albeit in a strained way. Henry knelt to her again as he had been taught.

“I am sorry for weeping earlier,” she said a little breathlessly.

“I did not realise how overwhelmed I would be to see you.”

Raising him to his feet, she embraced him; with an effort, she kept her touch light. “How you have grown!”

He puffed out his chest. “I am here to help you, Mama,” he said. “It’s my turn now.”

Her eyelids tightened, but her smile became less strained.

“Indeed, and I am glad, because I have an important task for you.”

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Henry swelled further.

She set her hand on his shoulder. “Your uncle has told you that you are to go to Bristol and continue your studies there?”

He nodded.

“But first you will come to court at Devizes, and everyone will swear fealty to you as my heir, and acknowledge you as the heir to England. Everyone will know you are the future for which they must hold firm. You have taken oaths before in Anjou and Normandy with your father. It will be similar to those times, but more important.”

Henry’s breathing quickened. “Will I wear a crown?”

Matilda’s expression warmed with proud amusement. “You will indeed,” she said. “If you are to rule England, no one must be in any doubt, but you have to act like a king as well as look like one.”

Henry raised his head. “I can do that.”

The words and the tone of voice were adult and serious, and a pang squeezed Matilda’s heart and womb. She had failed at so many things, and the terrible grief was still close to the surface, but she could cope; and this child was a precious shining light on the path to the future even if there was still much to do to educate and steady him. The fight was only going to grow harder the nearer he came to being of an age to rule the kingdom. But rule it he would, of that she was certain, even if her own time was slipping away.

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Forty-eight

Arundel, March 1143

A deliza knelt on the altar steps of the chapel at Arundel with her eldest son and supervised his prayers.

He was two months short of his fourth birthday and every day he brought her joy with his questions, his brightness, and his existence. His hair was a tousle of warm brown curls and his eyes were a bright tawny hazel, like Will’s. He had lined up his collection of toy wooden figures on the altar step together with a representation of the Virgin Mary wearing a painted blue cloak. There was a little manger too with the Baby Jesus and a wooden donkey.

“You were once a tiny baby in the cradle,” she said. “Just like your brother Godfrey, and just like little Jesus.”

He wrinkled his nose. “But Jesus was born in a stable,” he said. “I wasn’t born in a stable, was I, Mama?”

Adeliza swallowed a smile. “No, my love, you were born in the bedchamber with many attendants and soft feather pillows.

But Jesus only had a poor manger for a bed. You should never judge people by how much wealth they have. The poorest person may have the greatest gift. If you ask Jesus he will help you and sustain you and look after you all of your life, although he was born in a manger and you were born in a feather bed.

He is the Son of God, and yet he chose the path of humility.”

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Wilkin nodded and sucked his bottom lip, the way he did when he was unsure about something. Adeliza gently stroked his head.

“If I pray to Jesus to bring Papa home soon, will he make it happen?” he asked.

Adeliza’s stomach gave a small leap. She had been praying for that herself. There had been no word from her husband for several weeks. He had come home after Stephen’s Christmas court in a subdued frame of mind and had told her about his meeting with Matilda at Abingdon, and how he had let her go, instead of taking her prisoner. “I could have stopped the conflict at a stroke, but I did not,” he said. “Nor did I tell the king what I had done, but perhaps I should.”

She had kissed him and put her arms around him. “You did what was right and what your conscience told you to do.”

He had shrugged and said nothing. A few weeks later, when it thawed, Matilda had returned the horses he had lent her with words of gratitude and a long letter for Adeliza. She said that her son Henry was in England to further his education, and to learn more about the kingdom to which he was heir. Adeliza had wondered if she could persuade Will to swear allegiance to Henry, but he was a stubborn ox when the mood was upon him. He said that Henry was a child and he had no intention of jeopardising himself or his family by stepping out on such a precarious limb.

“Mama?” Wilkin tugged on her sleeve. “Will he? Will Jesus make Papa come home?”

Adeliza shook herself. “Yes,” she said. “Yes he will.” She set her hand lightly on her son’s head and sent up her own silent prayer.

ttt

Seventy miles away, on the outskirts of Wilton, Will was attending to his own prayers in the chapel of the leper hospital 417

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of Saint Giles at Fugglestone. He had given four pounds of silver to the master to help sustain the brothers and sisters of the establishment, and also given them a cow he had brought from Arundel. She was in calf and would provide the inmates with good sweet milk come full spring when she gave birth.

Adeliza would be pleased, he thought, and put from his mind the knowledge that she would certainly be a deal less pleased to know her nunnery of Wilton, less than half a mile away, had been invaded by Stephen and was being used by him as a camp from which to attack Robert of Gloucester at Wareham.

Fresh from his success at Oxford, Stephen was in a bullish mood and determined to retake the port and thus deny the Angevins a secure landing with easy crossings to their supplies in Normandy.

Indeed, Will thought, his wife would be furious, which was one reason he had not written to tell her where he was, although of course she would find out and he would have to weather the storm when he returned home.

He had tried to dissuade Stephen from taking over the abbey, but the king had been adamant. He said he would compensate the nuns in due course, but he needed the buildings. It had been pointless to argue because the bishop of Winchester had been present and had made no protest, and since he was the papal legate, and had ultimate authority, it was a lost cause.

Will had billeted his own troops at Fugglestone, sufficiently removed from the leper hospital to assuage the fears of his men, but not on the nunnery site. It was making a silk purse of a sow’s ear, but at least it had mollified his conscience, as had the four pounds of silver and the cow. He was not afraid of the lepers, as many were, and he did not revile them because all men were sinners and Christ taught that one should have compassion for the afflicted. Adeliza had always concerned herself with the sick and the poor in practical ways and he loved 418

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her dearly for her compassion and dedication. So he talked to the lepers, listened to their stories, and cherished his own good health with renewed thanksgiving.

Back at the camp a summons had arrived from Stephen to attend a council at the abbey. The summons was delivered by Serlo, one of Adeliza’s clerks, who was serving Will on campaign as his scribe. Serlo had been conducting routine business with Stephen’s clerks and reacquainting himself with his birthplace. “It has all changed,” he said morosely. “The house where I was born is no longer there. There’s a new one of stone with a tiled roof when it used to be all timber and thatch.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Will asked, sending a groom to fetch Forcilez.

Serlo grimaced. “I suppose it is, but I always thought my house would be there, even if my parents were not. I expected to see something familiar, and for a moment I did not know who or where I was.”

Will shook his head. “I have come to the conclusion that there is no point dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.”

“There was talk at the clerks’ tables that they’ve sent the boy to Bristol.”

“What boy?” Will said with mild exasperation at Serlo’s habit of leaping from one thought to another.

“The empress’s son. She and the Earl of Gloucester have employed tutors for him—Adelard of Bath no less.” Serlo’s eyes gleamed with admiration. “They have set him up with his own household, so it seems that he is staying for the moment.”

“It is to be expected if they want him to be recognised as heir to the throne, but they have to keep him safe too.”

“The empress’s barons have sworn to recognise him as king when the time comes,” Serlo said. “They held an oath-taking in Devizes at Christmas.”

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“Is there anything you do not know?” The groom arrived with Forcilez and Will turned to mount the stallion.

“I try my best not to leave gaps in my knowledge, sire.”

Will grunted with sour amusement.

“Would you swear for him?” Serlo asked curiously.

“Not to the detriment of the king,” Will replied as he swung his leg across the saddle. “Besides, swearing allegiance to an untried child would be leaping out of the cauldron into the fire, would it not?” He wondered if Adeliza had asked Serlo to work on him concerning that particular subject, and thoughtfully eyed the little clerk as he went off on some business at the leper house.

He turned Forcilez towards the abbey, then drew rein as he heard the sound of shouts and the clash of weapons from the direction of the nunnery. His men came hastening from their tents and cooking fires, eyes wide and bodies tense with alarm.