The Fatal Crown (52 page)

Heartsick, Maud was determined not to let Alix see her bitter disappointment. Left to herself, of course, she would have defended Arundel to the death, but she could not put Alix in jeopardy. All she could hope for now was that Stephen would agree to ransom her. A pain shot through the back of her neck and she prayed one of her agonizing headaches was not going to incapacitate her.

“I’ll get my things, Alix,” she said through icy lips. “Tell the herald you’ll give me up to the usurper. Neither you nor your unborn child must be put in any more peril than already exists.”

Maud turned on her heel but Alix caught her arm.

“A moment, my dear,” she whispered. Clinging to Maud, she walked over to the herald. “I have my answer for your master.”

Clasping her hands over her belly, Alix swallowed several times before speaking. Then lifting her wimpled head with great dignity, she looked straight at the herald.

“I’m surprised,” she began in a quavering voice, “yes, surprised and shocked, to receive so unchivalrous a demand from the King. To think that such a powerful ruler would so forget his knightly vows as to threaten two weak, helpless, and unprotected ladies is unforgivable.”

The herald’s eyes grew round; Maud and the captain, indeed the entire array of men and women, gaped at Alix in amazement.

“Return to your master,” Alix continued, her voice growing firmer as she disengaged her arm from Maud’s support. “Tell him that sooner than give up any guest within my walls to an uncertain fate, I, Adelicia of Louvain, former Queen of England, and now Lady of Sussex, will defend this castle to my last breath, even if it imperil the life of my unborn babe.”

Alix’s face had turned a deep rose; her bosom heaved with indignation; her eyes flashed defiantly. “It is beneath my dignity to treat with those who make war on women and children!”

The herald stared at her in disbelief, then bowed and left. Maud, somewhere between laughter and tears, was speechless.

“How dare Stephen threaten us,” Alix said. She held out a steady hand to Maud. “Come along, my dear, we have not yet eaten a good hot meal this morning. I suddenly find myself quite hungry.”

Maud followed her meekly, a lump in her throat and a veil of tears in her eyes.

“Why do you just stand there, Wulf ?” Alix said to the captain of the guard who seemed rooted to one spot. “Surely you have many urgent matters to attend to. As of this moment we may consider ourselves under siege.”

“Oh my lady,” the captain said, flinging himself down on one knee before her.

“Really, there is no need for that,” Alix said, her face crimson. “What will the Empress Maud think?”

“She will think what a great lady you are, and how fortunate she is to count you among her friends,” Maud responded tearfully, taking Alix in her arms and kissing her warmly on both cheeks.

While the castle inhabitants prepared for the siege, Maud kept watch on the battlements. What would be Stephen’s response to Alix’s defiance? she wondered. Looking over the parapet into the meadow below she was surprised to find so little war-like activity. Men could be seen polishing their weapons and armor or currying their horses; no attempt was being made to scale the walls with ladders; no timber was being cut to build a palisade; nor were men making trenchbuts or catapults to hurl over the walls. What did this signify?

As Maud watched, a figure emerged from the azure pavilion followed by two others: Stephen, his brother Henry of Winchester, and Waleran of Muelan. Maud’s heart stood still as she drank in the sight of her cousin’s tall body clad in a hauberk with a black mantle thrown over his shoulders. It was too far to see his features clearly, but almost as if he were aware of her intense gaze, she saw Stephen lift his head and stare straight up in her direction. The effect was as if she had been suddenly hit in the belly with an iron ball and could not catch her breath.

Shaken, Maud drew back, unprepared for the overwhelming conflict of rage, anguish, desire, and love that gripped her vitals. Her head reeled; she clung to the stone parapet while a tumult of feeling rampaged through her body like an invading force. Over the years she had tried to suppress all her emotions concerning Stephen, excepting only the desire for vengeance. But to her horror and shame, Maud knew that at this moment, had Stephen appeared beside her, she would have thrown herself into his arms, and disgraced herself forever.

When the violence of her inner storm had subsided, she hurried to find Alix who, with her women, had gone to the guardhouse.

“Waleran and the Bishop of Winchester are with Stephen,” Maud told Alix. “But I see no sign of the Flemings.”

“We must thank God for that. So the Bishop is there. It’s a mystery why he remains loyal to his brother after the Canterbury affair.”

“I’ve asked myself the same question,” Maud said.

With a troubled look, Alix asked, “Do you suppose that if we throw stones, burning pitch hoops, and boiling water from the battlements, that will discourage Stephen’s men from trying to scale the walls?”

“We?” Maud repeated.

“Why, all the women, of course. We cannot stand by and do nothing.”

At the thought of the gentle Alix and her timid ladies hurling pitch hoops from the ramparts, Maud stifled a desire to laugh out loud. “No, of course you must contribute. Fortunately, I saw no signs of any attempt to scale the walls, but should there be, I’m sure your efforts will discourage them.”

Alix remained a constant surprise. Just at the moment one expected her to faint dead away, she drew upon steely reserves of courage Maud had never even suspected.

By mid-afternoon, some six hours later, the herald returned. The entire castle mesnie—knights, men-at-arms, servitors, priests, and women—all gathered together in the great hall to hear the King’s reply. The atmosphere was taut with apprehension but the assembled group had acquired a strong sense of purpose since this morning. Of one mind, they were united behind their Lady, determined to prevent the King from taking possession of Arundel.

“The King wishes to apologize to the Lady of Sussex,” the herald began, “and truly regrets she found his request unchivalrous. It has never been his intention to persecute pregnant or helpless women. When the Countess of Anjou is delivered into his hands he will send her under safe escort to her brother at Bristol. No harm will come to her, nor will he besiege the castle. King Stephen swears this on his honor as a knight.”

Amidst the cheers that rocked the great hall, Maud stood frozen, unable to credit her own ears. Stephen was willing to let her go? Impossible.

“I wonder why he allows you to go to Bristol, Madam,” the captain of the guard said, obviously troubled. “It seems foolhardy in the extreme to let you slip through his fingers like this. What does he gain? Is it a trick of some kind?”

“It makes no sense,” Maud agreed, “for he gains nothing and loses much.”

Alix cleared her throat. “Perhaps Stephen makes this gesture so that he’ll not be thought less than knightly. Such considerations are important to him, no matter how ill-judged the action may be.”

The captain shook his head. “If he lets the Countess go, he puts his crown in jeopardy and condemns the land to civil war.”

“But he has now made a public vow to ensure Maud is taken safely to Bristol,” Alix said. “Think of the shame if he broke it.”

“We have all seen what his vows have been worth in the past,” Maud retorted.

“I would not trust the Countess of Anjou in his care,” said the captain.

“I firmly believe that where Maud is concerned, Stephen will behave honorably,” Alix insisted.

“In this matter, your good heart may lead you into an error of judgment, my lady. Madam is his enemy. Why should he treat her more honorably than he did his brother, who was not?”

Alix’s face turned a deep rose and she avoided looking at Maud. Flustered and ill at ease, she began to wring her hands. “What I meant to say was he is a knight,” she stammered. “He has taken vows to protect women and children—”

Sweet Marie, Maud thought, Alix must suspect that she had meant something to Stephen. Surely that was the implication. Was that all she suspected? Anxious that this subject not be pursued, Maud walked quickly over to the herald.

“Who is to be my escort to Bristol?” she asked.

“The Lord of Muelan was mentioned,” the herald said.

A chill ran through her. “He is not an acceptable escort. An accident is sure to befall me somewhere between here and Bristol. Tell that to your master.”

“Wait,” Alix said, taking Maud aside where they would not be overheard. “Do you recall my saying that I did not understand how Bishop Henry remained loyal to Stephen? Well, perhaps his loyalty has never been tested.”

Maud’s heart began to beat faster as she caught Alix’s meaning. “No one has offered him the opportunity to take his revenge, is that what you mean?” She looked at Alix with respect. “Holy Mary Virgin, when I am queen you shall be my chief adviser. Who would have guessed you had such an aptitude for intrigue.”

“I was married to your father for many years,” Alix said, blushing furiously at the compliment.

Maud smiled. “And the years were not wasted, I see. Now then, suppose I were to request that Bishop Henry escort me to Bristol instead of that ogre of Muelan. It is two days’ ride at least. Plenty of time to attempt to suborn my cousin and win him over to my cause.”

“That is exactly what I had in mind,” Alix said, as she and Maud exchanged a look of affectionate complicity.

Together they approached the waiting herald.

“I wish to send a different message to my cousin of Blois,” Maud said. “Tell your master that I’m most grateful for his courtesy to me and the Lady of Arundel, and I’ll gladly go to Bristol but only if the escort is my cousin, Bishop Henry of Winchester.”

After the herald left, Maud asked Alix, “Will it occur to Stephen that I may try to suborn his brother?”

Alix shook her head with a sad smile. “Unfortunately not. Therein lies his weakness, my dear.”

Maud concealed her surprise at Alix’s astute perception of this aspect of Stephen’s character, an aspect that she herself was only beginning to discover. Whatever his motives in allowing her to leave, Stephen had made a fatal mistake in giving her this freedom. In his place, Maud knew, she would never let an enemy go free. Never. I will win, Maud thought, suddenly buoyant with hope. I will win.

T
HE NEXT MORNING MAUD
set out to join her half-brother, Robert of Gloucester, at Bristol. Stephen had consented to her request that the Bishop of Winchester escort her, and in return she had reluctantly agreed that Waleran of Muelan might accompany them for the first part of the journey.

“I’m so pleased to have you for company, Your Grace,” Maud said to the Bishop riding on her right, having decided to begin her campaign to woo her cousin with a show of flattery. “I hadn’t expected such a large escort.”

Henry, a hauberk over his cassock and a mace attached to his belt, slid his pale green eyes sideways at her; a brief smile touched his lips, and for a moment she was reminded of Stephen.

“Not safe to travel with less,” Waleran said with a short laugh, riding on her left.

“Are the roads dangerous then?” Maud asked, pretending innocence.

“Since Gloucester turned traitor they are,” Waleran replied, shooting her a malevolent look from his black eyes.

Maud ignored this, refusing to be baited. “How far do we travel today, Your Grace?”

“I hope to reach Southampton well before Vespers,” Henry said, “where we will break our journey for the night. If you tire we can stop sooner.”

“How thoughtful.” Maud gave him a gracious smile.

“How thoughtful indeed,” Waleran repeated mockingly. “Christ! This woman is the King’s enemy, my lord bishop! Or had you forgotten she is being escorted to Bristol as a prisoner?”

Maud’s fingers tightened on the leather reins as she looked at the Bishop. “Prisoner? That was not how I understood your brother’s reply to the Lady of Arundel. Does Stephen of Blois break his sworn word—yet again?”

“Indeed not. We escort you to Bristol for your safety. By no means are you a prisoner,” the Bishop said with an angry glance at Waleran. “My Lord of Muelan used a poor choice of words.”

“Did I?” Waleran snorted. “In my mind she’s a prisoner, an enemy of the realm, and if I had my way, she’d be riding in chains!”

Repressing a shudder of mingled fear and loathing, Maud looked away. With his stubble of black hair and beaked nose, Waleran reminded her of a great bird of prey. As she had already suspected, his intentions toward her were overtly hostile.

“Or better yet, imprisoned in one of the King’s castles, where she can do no damage,” Waleran continued, obviously warming to his subject. “It’s not too late, Henry. Nothing prevents us from taking matters into our own hands and—”

“Enough!” The Bishop’s voice sliced through the air like the crack of a whip. “Stephen’s intention was for the Countess to go to Bristol and that is where she goes.”

“By Christ, Stephen has made the worst decision of his life,” Waleran said, his voice rising. “You agreed with me, you know you did. To have your enemy in your grasp and then let her go defies belief. Such an opportunity may not come again and my blood boils every time I look at her!” He gave an exclamation of disgust and spurred his horse forward to the front of the column of armed men.

Maud was shaken by what she had just heard. Her cousin had dared much for her sake. He must still care, her heart sang; despite all that has happened, he still cares.

“I apologize for Muelan,” Henry was saying. “Pay no attention to his rantings.”

Wrenching her thoughts away from Stephen, Maud wondered if the time was ripe to test the Bishop.

“So you also advised Stephen to imprison me, Cousin,” she said, allowing a note of distress to enter her voice.

“I’ve ceased to give Stephen advice, but it’s true I was against sending you to Bristol. I agree with Waleran in principle: Stephen has made a monumental error by letting you go.” He paused, then added with a note of venom: “But then who am I to question the King’s decision?”