The Fatal Crown (55 page)

Mabel nodded and left.

An hour later Maud was still in her chamber. The Vespers bell had sounded but she could not bring herself to attend. Now a page stood outside her door waiting to escort her down to the great hall. Delay was no longer possible. Slowly she walked down the passage. She had gone over and over what to say to her cousin, preparing one speech, then tossing it aside in favor of another. Right now she could remember none of them.

For six years Maud had suppressed her love for Stephen, nurturing a desire for vengeance, fanning the flames of her hurt and rage until his downfall had become the most important goal in her life. With his defeat she would, at one stroke, not only regain the throne but wound him as deeply as he had her. She longed to pay him back in kind for his betrayal, for the years of anguish she had suffered. At last her moment of triumph was at hand.

Maud descended the staircase, slowing her pace yet further as she approached the great hall. She put her hands to her cheeks; they were burning hot. Adjusting the gold tissue veil covering her hair, she glanced down at the wine-colored gown and tunic, the girdle of filigreed gold encircling her waist, the gold-and-sapphire brooch at her breast. She had dressed with care, intending to look every inch the queen; she wanted to dazzle Stephen by her elegance, humble him by the majesty of her bearing.

At the entrance to the great hall she paused, suddenly overcome with panic. The page gave her a questioning look. With a forced smile Maud steeled herself and marched inside.

A group of men milled about the central fire while servitors passed around pewter goblets of hot mulled wine.

“Sister,” Robert said, detaching himself from the group. He came forward, holding out his arms in greeting.

Maud ran into them. “Dearest, dearest Brother, how can I ever thank you,” she breathed into his ear as she hugged him, then kissed him on both cheeks. “I’ll never forget what you have done for our cause. How proud our father would be!”

Robert stepped back, his face beaming, his dark eyes bright with the effect of her praise. Overcome with affection and gratitude, Maud seized his hands and held them tightly, determined to be worthy of her brother’s loyalty and devotion.

Brian appeared and she kissed him warmly on both cheeks. Then Miles of Gloucester approached her, leading Stephen by the arm. A hulking giant of a man with a shock of corn-colored hair and merry blue eyes, Miles thrust Stephen forward.

“Here is your prize, noble lady,” Miles said, forcing Stephen to his knees. “Kneel to your rightful sovereign, knave.”

“Miles!” Robert’s voice sternly rebuked him. “I’ve warned you before. Stephen is our prisoner but also our guest. Treat him with the courtesy his former position deserves.”

Hardly able to breathe, Maud forced herself to look down at the man kneeling before her. His arms hung limply by his sides; his head was bowed over his breast in the attitude of a penitent. She was shocked to note a number of silver strands in his hair. This was the cousin who had vowed to acclaim her as queen, serve her faithfully, and defend her honor with his life if need be. Instead, he had broken his sworn oath as carelessly as if it had been a piece of applewood to place the crown on his own head.

Here was the father of her eldest son, the passionate lover who had asserted his devotion to her, begging her to desert family and obligations to come away with him, then broken her heart and destroyed her trust. There was every reason in the world to hate him. For a moment Maud allowed herself to dwell on the wrongs he had done her, enjoying his sorry plight. Then the frozen core of bitterness in her heart began to thaw.

For the man on his knees, neatly clothed in blue and freshly barbered, did not resemble the wild and bloody figure she had half expected to see: a raging beast snarling defiance. Only a dark purple bruise near his temple coupled with the pallor of his face bore witness to the ordeal he had recently survived.

Was it possible defeat had broken his bold spirit? Was he truly humbled? Her heart ached in unwitting pity. Appalled and mortified, Maud found that all she really wanted to do was take him into her arms and comfort him like a child.

“Cousin,” she said in a faltering voice. “We meet again under most unfortunate circumstances for you.” It was not at all what she had intended to say.

When Stephen threw back his head to look her squarely in the eye, Maud saw to her mingled relief and chagrin that he had not changed. The jaunty manner was still evident—if more subdued. Green-gold eyes, gently mocking, certainly unregenerate, challenged her with their old caressing warmth. The blood rushed to her head. The palms of her hands became moist. As his eyes locked with hers, her loins responded instantly. She prayed it was not evident to those present that the captive was at his ease, while the victor was shaken.

“Unfortunate circumstances indeed,” Stephen responded. “If it please you, may I rise? Despite the hot bath every muscle is still sore.”

She nodded. He rose to his feet with difficulty. Instinctively Maud started to help him but stopped herself in time.

“A far cry from our last meeting in Normandy,” he said softly. A crooked smile hinted at old secrets shared between them.

Maud colored deeply, determined to hold firm against his blandishments. “I don’t recall our meeting in Normandy, but I well remember catching a glimpse of you at Arundel, though we did not converse directly. I’m glad for the opportunity to thank you for your chivalrous behavior to me on that occasion.”

Her words had hit the mark. Maud saw Stephen’s lips tighten and knew he did not wish to be reminded of his earlier folly. But for that reckless gesture he would not be standing here now.

“Unfortunately, I’m not of so generous a nature,” she continued with satisfaction. “You will be treated with every courtesy, of course, as befits your rank, but I don’t mean to let you forget you are my prisoner.”

Stephen flushed; he swallowed, as if trying to ingest the unpalatable news that he was truly a prisoner. For a moment something flamed deep within his eyes, then vanished. He gave her a forced smile and took a step toward her.

“I was ever your captive,” he said under his breath. “Nothing will have changed.”

She was tempted to remind him of Aldyth’s favorite warning: Those who have honey in their mouths have stings in their tails. Before she could do so, her nephew Phillip, Robert’s youngest son, ran up to them.

“My mother tells me the steward is ready to announce the feast,” he said, his eyes looking in awe at Stephen.

A moment later came the sound of the steward’s horn summoning the castle mesnie and guests to the feast.

Robert took Maud aside and asked, “Will you permit our cousin to join us at the high table?” When she hesitated, he continued: “Stephen spared my life during the battle when he could easily have killed me.” As her eyes widened in shock he pressed his point further: “Remember, he is still loved by the people despite his many drawbacks. Give no one occasion to say he has been treated with less than perfect courtesy by the future queen of the realm.”

She did not relish the prospect of having to confront her cousin over a long feast. But, ever the diplomat, Robert was right. “It is our enemy’s defeat we celebrate. I would be much honored should he rejoice with us.”

She followed Robert and the others up to the high table where Mabel already awaited them. The mesnie of Gloucester Castle seated themselves at the trestle tables below.

Flanked by Robert and Brian, Maud sat in the seat of honor. Stephen had been placed at the far end of the table. Two guards stood behind him. Maud could not keep her eyes from straying in his direction.

“The first step is accomplished,” Robert said to Maud following her glance. “Our next opponent to be vanquished is the church. We must gain the support of the leading prelates of the realm.”

“I agree. The most important is Henry of Winchester,” Maud replied. “His influence can swing the English bishops in our favor, and as Papal Legate he is Rome’s representative and has the ear of the Holy See.”

“But will he commit to us?” Brian asked.

“When I rode with him to Bristol he did not reject my offer,” Maud responded. “On the contrary, I felt he was of a mind to join us but waited only for the politic moment.”

“That moment has come,” Brian said. “His brother has fallen and England is without a leader. This is the time to renew your offer, Lady, for he is the key to your being crowned.”

“Tomorrow I will send to Winchester.” Maud turned to Robert. “The Bishop will want to know what arrangements have been made for Stephen.”

“He goes to Bristol where he’ll be placed in honorable confinement. Well guarded, of course, but treated as befits one of his former station. After you’re crowned, when peace is fully restored, we can decide his ultimate fate.”

There was a sudden stir as a Welsh bard made his entrance into the great hall. His stocky frame was covered in wolfskins; a thick black beard obscured his face. Walking up to the high table, he bowed before Earl Robert, greeting him first in Welsh, then in Norman French.

The hall quieted; when there was absolute silence the bard began to sing. In a high voice of piercing sweetness, he sang of how the Earl of Gloucester and the Welshmen had won the battle of Lincoln. The words were so stirring, the melody so plaintive, that Maud felt as if she had been there. Tears sprang to her eyes. The bard would go from castle to castle throughout England singing his tale of glory. A hundred years from now men would still be listening in breathless wonder to the battle of Lincoln, as today men listened to the stirring saga of the Battle of Hastings.

Maud’s eyes were drawn to Stephen. Listening to the bard could not be easy for him, although his prowess on the battlefield was being described in glowing terms. Thank the Holy Mother he would be leaving soon, she thought. It would be a long while before she need see him again, and when next they met she would be Queen of England.

When the church bells rang announcing the midnight hour, Maud was still awake. Unable to sleep, she had lain for hours in the canopied bed, an image of Stephen spinning round and round in her mind. She saw him, hurt and vulnerable, kneeling before her, felt again the familiar exchange of excitement pulsing between them. Without warning she was overcome with a desire so piercing she almost cried aloud. Those feelings she had thought successfully buried now rose up like a flooding river threatening to overflow its banks. How she ached to hold Stephen in her arms, to feel again the pressure of his lips against hers, the caress of his warm hands on her breasts. A host of memories ran like wildfire through her body; the touch of his mouth burning a path down to her bosom, kissing her nipples until she began to gasp with pleasure; his fingers sliding between her parted thighs, invoking wave after wave of rising delight. Then the wonder of his body covering her own as their ecstasy was joined.

Trembling, drenched in sweat, Maud sat bolt upright in the bed. Her heart beat wildly and before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had tumbled from the bed, pulled on a furred robe and leather shoes, picked up the iron candle holder, and run to the door of her chamber. The two women who shared the chamber slept on without waking. She had actually opened the door and started headlong down the passage before a guard came running to inquire if all was well. She stared at him blindly before coming to her senses. With a feeble excuse she returned to the chamber.

Mother of God, what was happening to her? Terrified by her loss of control, Maud removed her robe and shoes with unsteady fingers, then climbed back into the bed. As she huddled under the coverlet she began to weep into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of her deep wrenching sobs. Exhausted at last, her body stopped trembling; she felt drained and empty but her mind was clearer.

She acknowledged that the flame of her love for Stephen burned as brightly as ever. But no matter the urgency of her need, it was her cross to bear and she must bear it in silence and with fortitude for the remainder of her life. If she had to live with the torment of unsatisfied desire and a lonely heart, she would make power as all-consuming as love. It was the price she must pay in order to be queen.

M
AUD WOKE EARLY THE
next morning, attended mass in the chapel, broke the night’s fast, then retired to her chamber to write several letters. She was in the midst of a carefully worded letter to Stephen’s brother when a knock on the door broke her concentration.

“Good morning,” Robert said as he entered the chamber. “Brian, Mabel, and I are ready to leave for Bristol to prepare for our prisoner. We leave Stephen here, in Miles’s care, until full security can be established at Bristol Castle. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

Maud rose to her feet. “That sounds most sensible,” she replied, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of spending another few nights under the same roof with Stephen.

She gave her half-brother a farewell kiss, then continued writing her messages until the steward’s horn summoned the castle inhabitants to the late-morning meal.

Guards patrolled every floor of the castle and lined the walls of the great hall. When Maud joined Miles and his wife at the high table, she asked how Stephen fared. The former king complained of feeling unwell, Miles told her, and he had sent his own personal physician to examine the prisoner.

“What ails him?” Maud asked.

Miles shrugged. “Nothing worse than a case of resounding defeat would be my guess, but we dare not take a chance. How would it look should he become ill while in our care?” Miles grimaced. “Everyone will assume we have mistreated their beloved Stephen. It passes belief how the people can still care about him, ineffective as he is.”

He tore the leg off a roast fowl. “If I had my way, let me tell you, we wouldn’t coddle this poor excuse for a monarch but—”

“Perhaps a nourishing broth could be prepared for him,” Maud interjected, not wishing to hear what Miles would do to her cousin. “We must take every precaution to maintain his health.” Then, lest she sound overly anxious, she added: “It is the politic thing to do, as you have said.”