The Fatal Crown (29 page)

“How much?” she asked haltingly in rusty Italian, addressing the withered Lombard, whose half-closed eyes regarded her with astute cunning.

His lips opened wide at hearing his own tongue, and after cheerfully haggling for a quarter of an hour, she bought the chess set, along with a gold brooch set with rubies and a delicate silver cross ablaze with sapphires and pearls. Our Lady’s colors—that would suit Alix, she thought.

A kind of frenzy came over Maud, and she began to indulge herself in an orgy of spending. At another booth, she bought herself three pairs of leather shoes, a pair of boots for her brother Robert, as well as a pair for Brian FitzCount. For Stephen she picked a pair of Spanish-made leather boots, the color of his hair.

Next she purchased six bolts of silk in vermilion, purple and indigo, then selected an ivory carving of the great cathedral of St. Peter’s in Rome. By the time she was finished, it took three grooms plus Aldyth and herself to carry all her purchases back to the litter. There was not enough room for everything and a pack mule was pressed into service.

When she returned to the castle and entered the courtyard, she met Geoffrey with a group of his companions getting ready to go hunting.

“Madam, what have you done? Bought out the entire fair?” he cried in a shocked voice as he stared at the array of parcels and bundles.

Ignoring him, Maud walked up the steps and swept through the open doors into the entrance hall. There would probably be an unpleasant confrontation with Geoffrey later tonight, she thought. Not that she cared. Even their scenes of mutual recriminations broke the deadly monotony of her life in Anjou.

Late that afternoon, wearing her new gold brooch pinned to a gray mantle, Maud walked along the ramparts between the red flint towers of Angers Castle. A golden hawk soared above her, then plummeted downward. Pausing, she leaned over the stone parapet but the bird was lost to view beyond the ancient walls of the city. Below, a small party approached the castle, then disappeared as they crossed the drawbridge. In the fading light she saw the deep blue of the merging Loire and Mayenne rivers. A few white sails could still be seen cutting through the water as they headed for the farther shore, beyond which rose the outline of purple vine-clad hills.

The sound of the steward’s horn calling the household to its evening meal startled her. Ignoring the summons, Maud leaned her elbows on the parapet and propped her chin in her hands. She sighed, watching the first shadows sweep over the river. A light wind suddenly whipped the water, blowing the edges of her white headdress across her face.

How she longed to share this peaceful beauty with someone she loved. With Stephen. Nineteen months, two weeks, and five days, she counted, since she had last seen her cousin, yet her need of him had not diminished. In truth, the pain of missing him was, if anything, worse now.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself the luxury of conjuring up his image: tall, tawny-haired, his green eyes dancing, his lips curved into a loving smile. His arms reached out to—

“Madam?”

She turned sharply as the sound of Geoffrey’s hostile voice ruptured the evening’s tranquility. He had come up silently behind her, his face set in its usual expression of sulky antagonism.

“What do you want?” The animosity in her voice matched his, as she steeled herself for the accusations she expected.

“Didn’t you hear the horn?”

“I heard it.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Why do you dally? There are guests for supper and we await your arrival.”

“Who are they tonight?”

“The only ones of significance are a nobleman from Champagne, Count Conon and his lady, old friends of my father, and the Bishop of Angers.”

“Sweet Marie, I cannot endure another evening of crushing boredom listening to the same dreary talk.” Her voice took on a cutting edge. “The condition of the vines in Champagne this year as compared to last; who has been born, died, wedded, and bedded; the latest victory or blunder of Fat Louis of France. Spare me, please.”

Geoffrey’s face turned a dull rose as he struggled to control his temper. “I regret that you continue to look upon an evening of Angevin hospitality as such an ordeal, Madam.”

“I beg to be excused. Say I’m unwell.”

“You are not excused. If you were well enough to bleed the treasury dry at the fair, you are well enough to attend the evening meal.” His blue eyes looked murderous. “If common courtesy will not move you, let me remind you that when you’re Duchess of Normandy, the goodwill of the church—which includes the Bishop of Angers—will be important to you,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom. “If you offend the good bishop now, he might prove to have a long memory. It’s something your father would take into account—Madam.”

“The Bishop of Angers spends more time in the castle than he does tending to his own See,” Maud retorted, knowing perfectly well that he was right. “Oh, very well, I’ll be down shortly.”

“When? The steward cannot serve until you arrive.”

“I said shortly,” she replied, between clenched teeth.

Geoffrey turned sharply on his heel and strode quickly away, disappearing around one of the towers.

Maud leaned once more on the parapet but the mood had been destroyed. As she gazed out at the darkening rivers and hills, she wondered how she had survived the past sixteen months here in Angers, and how she could endure even one day more. If only her father—she crushed the treacherous thought.

Maud walked along the ramparts, descended the winding staircase to the second floor, and entered the great hall. She seated herself next to her husband in the high-backed carved wooden chair at the high table. The Bishop of Angers said grace, and, at a signal from the Count, the steward blew his horn and the servitors began bringing in the dishes.

“So pleased you could join us, Countess,” said Bishop Ulgar of Angers, a powerful prelate with shrewd brown eyes set in a craggy face. He sat at Geoffrey’s right hand, in the place of honor.

Despite her earlier complaints to Geoffrey, Maud liked and respected Bishop Ulgar. He was intelligent, charming, and learned; he also seemed well-disposed toward her. Not one of those pious, canting ecclesiasts that the Emperor had never been able to abide. She gave him a friendly smile.

Maud saw the look of relief on the Count’s face, as if he feared she might say something out of place.

“The Countess,” Geoffrey explained, “regrets her late arrival. She’s been out of sorts lately, haven’t you, my dear?”

“On the contrary,” Maud replied with a bright smile. “In truth I’ve been feeling particularly well.”

There was an awkward silence as the dishes continued to arrive and everyone bent hurriedly to their trenchers. Seated next to the Bishop, the nobleman from Champagne, a grizzled lord with a red nose and a huge paunch, complimented Geoffrey on the quality of the cuisine.

“Thus it was in Angers in your mother’s day,” he rasped, “and I’m pleased to see the same high standards prevail.”

“Delicious! What do you call this dish?” the nobleman’s wife asked Maud, as she scooped a dripping handful into her mouth.

“I’m the last person to ask,” Maud said, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Geoffrey quickly cut in: “I believe my mother called it porray of leeks, a recipe she brought with her from Maine.” He paused. “Let me see now if I can recall what she told me. Yes, a mixture of leeks, onions and minced pork, cooked in milk, and thickened with bread crumbs steeped in broth and drawn up with blood, vinegar, pepper, and cloves.”

The Countess turned to Maud with a look of surprise. “How fortunate you are to have a husband who takes such an interest in the preparation of food. I would love to visit your kitchen and learn the secrets of some of your recipes.”

“I’m sure the Count will be happy to take you on a tour,” Maud replied. “I barely know where the kitchen is located, nor am I familiar with any of the household recipes.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” the woman babbled, her eyes darting in dismay from Geoffrey to Maud. “I had assumed, of course, that you—that is to say—” Her words trailed off as she looked helplessly at her husband, who was staring at Maud.

“A natural mistake,” Maud said sweetly. “One does not expect to find a man so well-versed in those matters which are considered the natural province of women.”

There was an appalled silence. Geoffrey turned white before a deep red stained his delicate features. Observing her husband’s discomfort, Maud experienced a moment’s intense gratification, then immediately regretted her rudeness. But it was too late. The words could not be called back. Frozen with embarrassment, the stunned guests looked everywhere but at their host and hostess. The evening was saved from total disaster by the Bishop of Angers, who stepped skillfully into the breach.

“My lord,” he said in a silky voice to the nobleman, as if nothing untoward had occurred, “I understand there’s to be an unusually fine grape harvest in Champagne this year, praise God. Will you tell us the yield?”

Somehow the meal continued. Maud did not speak again; Geoffrey finally recovered himself enough to stumble through a stilted conversation with the nobleman and the Bishop. This time, Maud knew, she had gone too far. The repercussions would be formidable. Half fearful, half defiant, she awaited the outcome of her folly.

Aldyth and her women were preparing Maud for bed when Geoffrey stalked into her chamber.

“I must talk to you, Madam,” he snapped, ignoring Aldyth and the other ladies.

Maud, clad only in her chemise, quickly pulled on a pelisse. “It will have to wait,” she said coldly to hide her inner agitation. “I’m preparing to retire.”

“It cannot wait. Your behavior tonight was outrageous. I won’t be insulted at my own table in front of my guests. This evening was the last straw. As you have made no secret of your unhappiness here, I give you permission to leave Angers.”

Maud looked at him in amazement. “Leave Angers? To go where?”

“Normandy, England, back to Germany, wherever the devil take you, for aught I care, so long as it’s well beyond the borders of Maine and Anjou.”

“Indeed? When I wish to go you will hear of it.”

Geoffrey folded his arms across his chest. “Your wishes no longer concern me. I insist upon your leaving. You have no choice.”

“No choice? I wonder what my father will have to say about that! Not that I don’t long to go, mind. Sweet Marie, I’m so weary of this paltry backwater I could lose my wits.” She paused for breath. “There’s nothing I desire more than to be in England, where people are civilized and men behave like men.”

Geoffrey reeled back as if she had struck him. Maud advanced relentlessly. “Wait until my father, and yours, hear how you’ve treated me, a former empress, and the future queen of England!”

From the corner of her eye she saw Aldyth and her women, open-mouthed in horror, scurry to a corner of the room like frightened geese, but she no longer cared what they thought, what anyone thought.

“God’s death, Madam, you’ve been treated like an empress. Every effort has been made to ensure your comfort and pleasure. Have I objected to the gowns and headdresses and jewels you buy daily?” Geoffrey ran to several chests, opened them, and began to pull out armfuls of gowns and tunics. “Just look at these! If you live to be a hundred you could not wear them all.”

Running over to a pole stuck in the wall, he tugged at more gowns and mantles, sweeping them to the floor, then tore open several boxes, gleefully spilling boots, shoes, gloves, stockings to the ground.

“You have free run of the castle; the finest horses, falcons, and hounds are at your disposal; the best minstrels sing for you; and my private tutor has quite deserted me to be at your beck and call. You have no cares, no responsibilities for the running of the castle!”

Geoffrey’s nostrils distended, his eyes became blazing blue slits; his voice shook with anger. All semblance of control gone, the famous “demon blood” of Anjou raged now in full fury. For one quite terrifying moment Maud thought he might strike her.

“You wouldn’t let me take responsibility for the castle or anything else,” Maud screamed, taking a step back. “You would never let me do anything of use. How can anyone be happy under such circumstances, particularly when forced to live with an arrogant, spoiled pup of fifteen, who cannot perform man’s most basic function!”

“I can perform it well enough with others,” he shouted back incautiously.

“So I have observed. Is that something to be proud of?”

His face turned scarlet as his jaw dropped. Swallowing, he quickly recovered. “I was brought to you an innocent victim, Madam, sacrificed for the future of Anjou. Little did I expect a vicious, serpent-tongued woman to be thrust into my bed.” He paused for his final blow. “My father was tricked into believing you were not barren and the Emperor was at fault, but I know better! You unmanned him as you do me.” He drew a shuddering breath. “If you are not out of this castle by Sext tomorrow, I will have you thrown out.”

In a frenzy of rage, Maud picked up the first object that came to hand, a heavy iron candleholder standing on one of the chests. As she ran toward him, Geoffrey turned and fled, Maud hot on his heels. She tried to smash the iron base on his head, and the candle flame actually singed an apricot curl, before Aldyth wrested the candle-holder from her and held her, struggling wildly, while Geoffrey made his escape.

After a few moments, breathing heavily, Maud released herself from Aldyth’s grip. Her hands were dotted with hot candle grease that burned into her flesh, her hair was disheveled, and her pelisse awry. Collecting her scattered wits, she summoned her frightened women, ordered all her boxes to be brought to the chamber and her belongings packed, ready to leave by noon tomorrow.

“We’ll be up all night but there’s no help for it,” she told them.

“Where will you go?” Aldyth asked, much shaken.

“First to Normandy, then, with my father’s agreement, to England.”

“But my lady—”

“If you utter so much as one word in Geoffrey’s favor, I will leave you behind, do you understand?” She glared at Aldyth before turning to her stricken ladies, who stood paralyzed in the center of the room. “Well, why do you stand there like sheep? Bring the boxes and saddlebags!”