Lady of the English (56 page)

Adeliza gazed round. “It is very fine,” she said, relieved that there was nothing here to overwhelm her saturated emotions, but cautious because his grin was brighter than ever.

“And I will show you something finer yet.” He gestured towards two narrow doorways set in the west wall. Her curiosity piqued, Adeliza went to the first one. Along a narrow, skewed passageway, she came to a door, and beyond that, a latrine with a small looped window giving air and light.

There was a recess for a candle and a polished wooden seat.

“You show me a latrine as a thing of wonder?” She eyed him askance.

He shrugged and gestured. “Now look at the other one.”

Mystified, she did so, and found an almost identical garderobe, except that this one had a triangular urinal set into the wall.

“You always complain I splash the seat,” he said. “That will no longer be a problem if we have one each.”

Adeliza stared and her shoulders began to shake again.

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh Will!” She was laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe and it was his turn to look askance.

Clutching her aching stomach, she stumbled to the bed and collapsed on the mattresses. “You showed me a town and a 444

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hospital,” she said, raising one hand to wipe her eyes. “I was expecting that. You showed me a church and a castle with fine decoration, and I thought you had excelled yourself.

You showed me a chapel that is so beautiful that it hurts me in here.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “And then you bring me here, and as if it is the greatest prize of all, you show me a pair of latrines!”

“Are you not pleased?” He looked anxious.

She fought to contain her hilarity because her stomach was aching, and she did not want to hurt him. “Of course I am pleased! It is a wonderful surprise and I bless your kindness. Not many husbands would be so thoughtful.”

His colour heightened.

He seldom bought her fripperies such as silks and jewels. If she wanted those she had to see to it herself via her chamberlain. Will rarely noticed details such as the colour of her gown or if she had made a special effort to dress for him. He took it all for granted and she had to fish for compliments. But then he would suddenly surprise her by bringing her a copy of Aesop or an ivory-covered prayer book. He would build her a chapel beautiful enough to make her cry…and her own private latrine, revealing that, in his own way, he had been paying attention to her after all and all the time. It was something very rare and precious that Henry had never done, despite making her a queen.

He came and sat beside her. “I tried to think of the things you would like—or find appropriate,” he said and kissed her, softly at first, and then with growing ardour.

“I am not certain this is appropriate, my lord,” she said, but with a smile in her voice and quickened breathing. “We should have hangings on the bed at the least. What if someone comes in and finds us like this?”

He rose and going to the door, he shot the bolt across.

“They won’t.”

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Her blood turned to honey in her veins. Lying together in daylight did seem slightly sinful, but that very sense of daring was erotic and it was her duty to love her husband and procreate with him; and in that sense, it was very appropriate indeed.

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Fifty-two

The English Channel, March 1147

G ripping a halyard and leaning forward, the wind ruffling his copper-gold hair, Henry watched the English coastline grow out of the haze and take on solid shape and knew it was a portent, because this land would one day be his. The sea slapping against the strakes of the ship was a choppy grey edged with whitecaps, and reflected the state of the sky, and the wind was so raw that his face was numb, but he was exhilarated, both by what lay on the horizon and by the sound of the soldier’s banter behind him on the ship. He was bound for England with a small band of mercenaries. He had no ready money to pay them beyond a few coins and jewels of his own that he had scraped together, but had promised them rich pickings when they arrived.

He was a week short of his fourteenth birthday, but he knew he was a man. Indeed, boyhood had always been a trial because he had never seen himself as a child and hated it when others did.

He had organised this mission without parental knowledge or consent, but he intended to show them that he was a contender now, and could do his part. Besides, he was needed in England.

King Stephen had the upper hand and that had to change. He had to prove he was a leader of men and show the barons he was England’s rightful king, especially as Stephen was attempting to have his own son Eustace crowned to succeed to the throne.

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Thus far Rome and the archbishop of Canterbury were resisting, but Henry knew he had to make himself the only choice. He was not simply undertaking this voyage to stir up trouble with armed conflict. He intended taking a diplomatic approach too because a king had to be able to negotiate, as well as fight.

Gulls circled over the ship, crying their message of approaching land, and two fishing boats were casting their nets a little off the steerboard side of the bows. Very soon the news of his landing would be spreading like wildfire. Henry smiled a little and pinched his upper lip, where a soft coppery moustache was beginning to grow in. His first intent was to spread rumours, and watch them grow in the telling. Thus could fifty men become five hundred, or even five thousand.

ttt

Will knelt in Arundel’s chapel and prayed for the safe deliver-ance of Adeliza and their unborn child. The midwives had been with her all night and into this blustery March morning with rain spattering in the wind. She had not fared well while carrying, and except for the round swell of her womb and her engorged breasts, she was skin and bone, with exhaustion-shadowed eyes. Pressing his clasped hands to his forehead, he swore to God that if she survived this birthing, he would not seek her bed again, no matter how much she entreated him, or how much he desired her, because her safety and well-being far outweighed a few moments of intimacy, physical pleasure, and her driving need to prove she was fruitful.

When eventually he made to rise from his knees, the pain and stiffness was so great that he could scarcely move. He walked slowly round the chapel, easing feeling and movement back into his limbs, and then went to the door. Outside, the children were playing tag, their voices bright and eager. Wilkin, his light brown curls tamed by a recent haircut, was ducking and twisting as Adelis sped after him, her skirts kilted up like a peasant’s. She 448

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was as fast and lithe as a boy, with vibrant, delicate features.

Godfrey danced after them, shorter-legged but determined, and three-year-old Reiner ran along last, happy to be shouting and using his little legs, but not really involved in the game. Their youngest sister, Agatha, aged twenty-two months, and conceived on their visit to Rising, was asleep on a cushion, being watched over by her nurse. Will swallowed. Each of his sons and daughters was a precious gift. He thanked God for their lives and their good health, because he knew how precarious both could be.

Not many families went unmarked by the loss of a child, or of a woman in childbirth. He and Adeliza had been blessed five times already and he was afraid that such grace was running out.

Glancing beyond his playing offspring, he saw Juliana coming towards him, and his stomach knotted. She had been bringing him reports throughout the morning and they had not been particularly encouraging. The baby was big, and Adeliza was struggling. Juliana’s face was pale and serious and he did not want to hear what she had to say.

“Sire, the countess has been safely delivered of a son,” she announced.

He stepped sideways so that he had the support of the wall at his back because he was shaking. “You speak truly? Adeliza…

is she…?”

“She is weak, sire, and very tired, but God willing she will recover. The infant is strong and lusty.” She gave him the ghost of a smile.

“Praise God.” He had to pinch tears of relief from his eyes.

Juliana curtseyed and returned to her duties. Drawing himself together, Will cuffed his eyes and summoned the children from their game to tell them that their mama had given them another brother. With the nurses in tow, he brought them to the chapel to light candles in gratitude for Adeliza’s life, and that of their new sibling.

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Later, alone, Will climbed the stairs to the confinement chamber, hesitated outside, then, taking a deep breath, went in. Adeliza was lying in bed, propped up on numerous pillows.

Her hair, stranded with grey, lay on her breast in a single braid, bound with a purple ribbon. She was awake, but her face was white and exhausted. The baby lay in a crib beside her, swaddled and sleeping. Gingerly, Will leaned over to kiss her.

“I was worried about you,” he said gruffly.

“God and Saint Margaret saw me through,” she said with a faint smile.”

“Perhaps, but we should have no more.”

“When I wed you, I thought I might not bear any at all,”

she whispered.

He picked up her hand to kiss the wedding ring he had set there. “I never doubted you would.”

“I would not deny any of them their lives. They are God’s gift.” She directed his attention to the cradle. “I want him to be named Henry.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Henry,” he said flatly.

“To honour my first husband, and be insurance for the future,” she said. “Stephen cannot object because it is the name of his uncle and his brother, and fitting…and it is what I want.”

Fatigued, she lay back against the bolsters.

His expression softened. “As you wish.” He leaned over the cradle to touch the baby’s cheek. “I will attend to his baptism tomorrow. I…” He raised his head and looked towards the door where Juliana was conducting an urgent whispered conversation with Adeliza’s brother.

“Joscelin?” Adeliza struggled upright again. “What is it?”

Juliana stepped aside and he entered the chamber, his expression sombre. “I do not want to trouble you,” he said. “I will talk to my lord outside.”

Will started to rise.

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“No,” Adeliza lifted her hand. “If the matter is urgent enough to bring you to my confinement chamber, I will hear what you have to say. I will only fret more if something is wrong and you will not tell me.”

Joscelin grimaced. “Henry FitzEmpress has landed a large invasion force of ships and men at Wareham.”

Adeliza gasped.

“What?” Will stared at him. “Who told you that?”

“A horse-trader. He says he heard it from a customer who saw them disembarking. One of them made a point of telling him they were here in full force and would be needing good mounts.”

“Who is leading them?” Will demanded. “Surely not the Count of Anjou?”

Joscelin shook his head. “No, Henry FitzEmpress, as I told you.”

“But he’s barely fourteen years old!”

“That is all I have heard. If it is true, the king will be calling for support.” Joscelin turned to the bed and opened his hands.

“I am sorry.”

“It is a good thing our son is being named Henry,” Adeliza said faintly.

Will grunted. “Whether he’s arrived at the head of an invasion fleet or not, it means nothing. No one is going to heed a boy. I doubt he has that many with him. To entrust an entire expedition to a child is madness and whatever Geoffrey of Anjou may be, he is not mad.” He gestured. “I cannot see hordes of seasoned fighting men flocking to a boy’s banner—

nor to his mother’s. In the end it will make no difference save to cause more destruction.”

“It will make a difference because he is here,” Adeliza contradicted, summoning her strength. “He is but fourteen as you say, and Stephen is forty years older. Experience may hold the day for now, but youth will eventually triumph, so who 451

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truly has the advantage in this?” The men looked at her, plainly startled. “You may not agree with me,” she said as she closed her eyes, “but you should consider.”

ttt

Matilda watched her brother pace her chamber at Devizes Castle, his temper evident in his hard footfall and the deep frown lines scored between his brows.

“Henry is a young fool,” he growled. “No good can come of this idiotic scheme.”

“Indeed, but he has shown initiative and courage,” Matilda defended her son. News had arrived of Henry’s “fleet” landing at Wareham, from where he had marched inland and made an attempt on a castle at Purton and been beaten off by the garrison. She was anxious and cross, but unlike Robert she was also proud and amused by her eldest son’s escapade. He had energy and daring.

“He is a danger to himself and others. If he comes to grief, then what of our future plans? What does it say to the opposition when they see his inept attempts at warfare?” Robert snapped. “They must be laughing up their sleeves.”

“Or they may be watching with interest. Robert, he is born of lions. Do not expect him to be a mouse.”

“I do not.” He shot her an angry look. “I saw to his tutoring and training when he was here before. I know his abilities, but I also know that he wants to run before he can walk. We cannot condone this!”

“It concerns me as much as it does you,” she retorted.

“But it is not a disaster, and you should not act as if it were.”

She frowned at him. His second son Philip had recently let him down. The young man had been forced to surrender the strategic keep of Farndon of which he was constable, which had caused the first rift between father and son. Following a fierce argument, Philip had gone over to Stephen, and then 452