Lady of the English (7 page)

ttt

Still red-cheeked and glowing from her walk, Maude looked at Brian expectantly. The servants had made up the great bed for the night and been dismissed, taking the dog pack with them.

“If we do not have an heir now, it will be too late,” she said.

“My fluxes barely come at all these days and you are returning to court within the week.” She jutted her fleshy jaw. “I am entitled to claim the marital debt from you. I know you have no desire for me, but this is not about desire, it is about procreation.”

Brian bit his lip. If the situation had not been so appalling, he would have laughed. Besides, it was no laughing matter, because if he did not pay that debt, then he was violating his oath of marriage. She removed her wimple and gown. Reluctantly he took off his tunic and his shirt, but it was she who approached him. Her chemise was plain but clean. The smell of lye soap mingled with that of fresh sweat from her recent exercise. She rubbed her hands together to warm them and, without further ado, unfastened the drawstring on his braies. Delving down, she began to fondle him. Brian closed his eyes. He wasn’t a stallion in the breeding pen. He had never felt less amorous in his life and he was flaccid in her grip, which was becoming ever more desperate and vigorous. “Give me a moment,” he gasped, pushing her away. “Go and get into bed.”

She heaved a sigh, but did as he bade, and lay back, hitching up her nightgown and opening her legs. Brian hastily snuffed the candle and climbed in beside her. It would be better in the dark, he told himself, easier to pretend. He banished the thought of Maude’s dimpled flesh from his mind; blotted out 46

LadyofEnglish.indd 46

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

too the smell of lye and sweat. He tried to ignore the grunt she made as he mounted her and imagined instead a lithe taut body scented with royal incense and roses, eyes the blue-grey of lavender flowers and a mouth that drove him wild. Such fancies in his mind, he became hard enough to do his duty. To enter her body and give her his seed. And once inside her, it became easier to envisage that this was not Maude but Matilda, and the act not just one of procreation, but of lovemaking.

When it was over he lifted himself off her and sat up, his ribs heaving. In the aftermath of release, he felt sullied, but at least he had given her what she wanted.

“There, there,” soothed Maude, patting his back as if he were a dog or a horse that had performed well. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“No,” he said, and thought that while he was relieved at a duty done, she was obviously satisfied that she could remove it from her own list of things to do while he was home. Her hand left him; she turned over and was soon asleep, soft snores catching at the back of her throat. Brian quietly dressed in the dark and went out. As he opened the door, he felt her dogs trotting past him into the room and he heard them leaping on to the bed, encouraged by Maude’s sleepy murmur of welcome.

Rousing a squire, he had the lad kindle a lantern and guide him to his own chamber. Let her have her dogs; he would seek the comfort of the written word.

47

LadyofEnglish.indd 47

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Six

Palace of Westminster, London, December 1126

Y ou will go to your grave with ink-stained fingers,”

Robert of Gloucester told Brian with deep amusement.

Brian looked at his hands and gave a self-deprecating smile before concealing them beneath his cloak. “I think you are right.

The marks do come out, but by the time I get rid of one lot, more are waiting to take their place.” His expression sobered.

“There are worse stains in the world.” He glanced round.

Westminster’s great hall was packed with courtiers, all robed in their furs and finery. Snow had fallen earlier that morning and there was a light dusting on the ground, fine as flour. There had been much talk concerning the oath that the king was expecting everyone to swear to Matilda, accepting her as his heir, and there was an undercurrent of deep unease, although no one had voiced their intentions of refusing to swear. Brian’s gaze flickered over Stephen of Blois and Boulogne, who was talking to his brother the abbot of Glastonbury and Roger, bishop of Salisbury. Brian’s mathematician’s eye easily picked out patterns in the gathering. Knots of men. Factions attached to each other by strands of mutual interest and ambition. They were all so much yarn for the king’s weaving—or for his undoing.

A fanfare sounded throughout the hall and, along a path cleared through the kneeling crowd by the royal marshals, the LadyofEnglish.indd 48

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

king arrived and swept to take his place on the middle throne of three set on a raised dais. He wore a hinged crown glittering with gemstones and was accompanied by Adeliza, also crowned and clad in shimmering cloth of silver. Brian watched Matilda walk to take the third throne on her father’s right hand. His chest tightened as he looked at her. She wore a close-fitting gown of blood-red wool with gold embroidery at throat, hem, and cuffs, and small jewels stitched in flower patterns all over the body of the dress. Her cloak was lined with ermines. She too wore a crown, set with gold flowers and sapphires, and her hair was loose, brushed down her back and shining like a dark waterfall. Her face was set in lines of ice-like purity and Brian caught his breath at the sight of such unattainable beauty.

Robert said softly, “We have just witnessed the entrance of a future queen.”

The words sent a shiver down Brian’s spine. Matilda looked straight in front of her as she took her seat with regal authority, and he thought that she resembled a figure from a stained-glass window come to life, shimmering and holy. “She is already an empress,” he replied.

Oaths were sworn to uphold her as her father’s heir. First the archbishop of Canterbury, then York, followed by all the bishops of the land. Roger of Salisbury approached and bent an arthritic knee, gripping his crosier for support. Nevertheless, his voice was clear and steady. Brian and Robert exchanged knowing glances. Roger of Salisbury was a superlative actor and politician. Matilda responded to him with such coolness and grace that Brian thought his heart would burst. She would be a great ruler, if only given the chance.

Stephen of Blois clenched his fists and hesitated when it came to his moment. Immediately, Robert rose from his place by his father’s feet and stepped forward, but Stephen recovered from his pause and the men arrived at the same time. “It is my 49

LadyofEnglish.indd 49

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

turn to take the oath next, I believe, cousin,” Stephen said, smiling but hard-eyed.

Robert raised his brows. “What makes you think that…

cousin?”

Continuing to smile, Stephen said, “Is it not obvious? My mother was the daughter of a king.”

Brian winced on Robert’s behalf. Like his own mother, Gloucester’s had been a concubine, and Stephen’s remark was almost an insult. There was a sudden tightening of the atmosphere around the men, but then Robert stepped back and bowed. “Now you point it out, my lord, I see that you should indeed go first, albeit that my father is a king. All will be glad of your eagerness to make your oath of allegiance to my sister the empress.”

The tension reached its zenith in an exchange of challenging stares. Stephen was the first to break eye contact and knelt to Matilda, putting his hands between hers and swearing that he would uphold her as her father’s heir. He made his vow firmly, but his jaw was taut and his voice lacked power and did not carry. Robert took his own oath in ringing tones that proclaimed his loyalty and intent to all. When it came to Brian’s turn, he knelt as he had done in the council room in September and pledged himself to her with every fibre of his being. He put his conviction into his voice and kept his heart out of his eyes, because too many people were watching too closely. The look she returned him was of lord to vassal, bright with approval, but cool with distance too, pointed up by the fact that she was on her feet and he was on his knees.

Following the oath-taking, the company sat to dine in formal magnificence. There was sturgeon and stuffed salmon; spicy meatballs studded with currants; swan and peacock; venison with numerous sauces. Sweetmeats of honey, rose water, and ginger. Conversations bubbled like a cauldron over a steady 50

LadyofEnglish.indd 50

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

heat and under the influence of food and drink the atmosphere gradually became more convivial, although men were still on their guard.

Towards the end of the meal, there was a sudden bustle at the lower end of the hall and Brian watched John FitzGilbert, one of the marshals, leading a messenger along the side of the room behind the trestles. News that wouldn’t wait then, Brian thought. Henry took the message from the man’s hand, broke the seal, and read the contents. His face and throat began to flush and his expression grew thunderous. He bared his worn teeth at the gathered nobles. “It seems, my lords, that we have a marriage to toast this day.” He glared around the trestle, striking each person with his stare before moving on to the next. “William le Clito has wed the sister-in-law of the king of France and been granted lands in the Vexin on my borders.”

Although he had spoken of a toast, he did not raise his cup and his words were thick with fury. “This is a ploy on the part of Louis to interfere with my policies. Well and good, he may do so, but he will not overturn my intent to see my daughter rule England.”

Brian felt renewed tension running through the gathering.

This news meant that William le Clito’s position was now a far greater threat to the succession than before. The Vexin would make it easy for him to strike into Normandy. Many here had taken the oath only to avoid Henry’s ire, and might well renege if circumstances played into le Clito’s hands. They would say that if it came to a war in Normandy, who in their right mind would want to follow a woman’s banner into battle? That would be a hard prejudice to shift.

51

LadyofEnglish.indd 51

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Seven

Westminster, March 1127

M atilda lifted her head and listened to the wind rattling the shutters of the queen’s chamber where she sat sewing with Adeliza. Now and again rain spattered too, sounding like handfuls of flung shingle striking a board. Beyond the complex of buildings the river was a turbulent grey churn, showing whitecaps on the tidal crests. Not a day to be outside unless one was forced. Spring was supposedly on the threshold, but was taking a long time to knock on the door.

Adeliza moved closer to the brazier and told her attendant, Juliana, to bring more light. “I started my flux again this morning,” she said in a neutral tone as she threaded a length of silk through the eye of her needle.

“I am so sorry,” Matilda said.

Adeliza shook her head. “I must accept that it is not to be and that God has other plans. I wrote to the archbishop of Tours for advice and he said I should concentrate on good works on Earth that would bear spiritual fruit. He says that God has closed up the mouth of my womb so that I may adopt immortal offspring, and he is right. Weeping and wringing my hands is foolish. Better to concentrate on the good I can do. I have already begun plans to build a leper hospital at Wilton.”

LadyofEnglish.indd 52

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

Matilda murmured with understanding. Such was the work of queens. Their task was to conciliate, to make peace between warring factions, to alleviate the suffering of the sick by good works and to patronise the arts. She had done all of this in Germany for Heinrich, whilst grieving that she could not bear him a living son.

Keeping busy so that there was no time to brood.

“I have also commissioned David of Galway to compose a history of your father’s life.”

“Who?” Matilda asked.

“The little scribe in your uncle’s entourage.”

“Ah.” Matilda’s mind filled with the image of a short, balding but still youngish man with ink-stained fingers just like Brian’s. He was a favourite in the chamber after supper when tales were told. “That sounds like a fine notion. I am sure he will make an excellent work.”

Adeliza secured the thread in the fabric. “It means Henry will always be remembered,” she said, her words bearing a note of poignant resignation. “I want to commemorate his deeds in a work of literature that will live on when we are gone.”

The women looked up as Brian FitzCount was shown into the room by Adeliza’s clerk, Master Serlo. Approaching the women he bowed, his expression grim.

“What is it, my lord?” Adeliza gestured him to rise, and directed him to the opposite window seat.

He sat down, removing his rain-jewelled cap. Today his boots were laced with blue cord to match the vamp strips up the centre and they had an elegantly pointed toe. “Madam, Domina, I am sorry to tell you that the Count of Flanders is dead,” he said. “Murdered by his servants while at his prayers in his private chapel.”

Matilda stared at him in shocked dismay. Adeliza gasped and crossed herself. “That is wicked!” She pressed her hand over her mouth.

53

LadyofEnglish.indd 53

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

Brian grimaced. “Louis of France is to preside over the election of his successor, and William le Clito is his likely choice.”

Matilda felt as if she had been double-punched. Charles of Flanders was a close ally of her father’s and popular with his people. It was terrible to hear of his murder—wicked, as Adeliza said. Anyone who killed a man at his prayers was damned to hell. But then to be told that le Clito…She forced herself to think beyond her shock. “What’s to be done?”

Brian rubbed his chin. “Your father is sending your cousin Stephen to negotiate and put forward other names for the title.

Even if le Clito is elected, he will not stay in the saddle. There are already riots in Flanders over the count’s death and the disturbances are not going to settle down in a minute. Your father has given the order that England is to cease supplying English wool to Flemish looms.”