The Fatal Crown (56 page)

“I will see a broth is prepared, Lady,” Miles’s wife offered.

The day and night passed without incident. The next morning Miles, ever chafing for action, decided to go hunting.

“I saw Stephen,” he told Maud after morning Mass, “and he feels somewhat improved but not fully recovered. As I suspected, the physician can find nothing wrong with him. I’ll only be gone for a few hours.”

Miles left with a party of his knights, his wife retired to her solar and Maud to her chamber. She found she could put her attention on nothing but Stephen. She felt as if an invisible thread led from his chamber to hers and, slowly, inexorably, she was being pulled toward him. If only Aldyth were here, she mourned, or someone to whom she could unburden her conflicted emotions.

What
was
the matter with her? Here, at last, was the opportunity she had been waiting for: the chance to teach Stephen what it meant to totally abandon hope, to experience firsthand how it felt to have your dreams shattered, the very fabric of your life torn to shreds. She should be jubilant, intoxicated by her victory, which she was, of course she was, but some key ingredient was missing, some—all at once Maud realized what it was: She needed to confront Stephen directly; to accuse him to his face. Why hadn’t she recognized it before? She rose from the table, grabbed several rolls of parchment, and resolutely marched out of her chamber.

Her heart pounded like a drum as she approached the chamber where Stephen was confined and saw six guards, armed with lances, standing outside the thick oak door. Assuming a regal air, Maud held up her parchments.

“I’m here to see the prisoner. He must sign some important documents,” she said in an authoritative voice, wondering why she felt the need to explain her actions.

The guards bowed and immediately opened the door. Two of them made a move to accompany her inside but she held up her hand.

“That will not be necessary, thank you. If there is need I’ll call you.”

Maud stepped inside the chamber and the door closed behind her.

Stephen, dressed in a white linen shirt, blue hose, and threadbare tunic that looked like someone’s castoffs, was lying on a wooden frame bed, seemingly asleep. He raised his head and opened his eyes, then quickly sat up in astonishment. She was surprised to see that he looked rested and in good health; the purple bruise on his temple was healing nicely.

“Were you asleep? I will return later.” Suddenly panicked, Maud turned to open the door.

“No, wait. I was not asleep. Please—don’t go.”

She paused, forcing herself to remain calm, then turned back to him. “I don’t like to disturb your rest when you’ve been unwell.”

He gave her a crooked smile as he swung his long legs off the bed. “Where I am going there will be much opportunity for rest, I doubt not. I would have you stay, though I’m afraid these cheerless surroundings do not offer much inducement.”

Maud looked around the sparsely furnished chamber. Besides the bed there was a rickety table holding a basin of water, a pitcher and wooden cup, two threadbare cushioned stools, and an oak chest. Dried rushes covered the floor, and a charcoal brazier burned in one corner.

“Have you sent word to my wife?” Stephen asked, pointing to the scrolls of parchment in her hand.

“Yes, and to your brother as well. A courier leaves this evening for London and another for Winchester.” She walked slowly over to one of the stools and sat down.

Stephen’s lips tightened. “I see you have wasted no time in contacting Henry.” He paused. “You assume now that my fortunes are at their nadir he’ll abandon me.”

“Why should he remain loyal after the loss of Canterbury? I’m not the only one to suffer from broken promises. Treachery appears to come as naturally to you as breathing.”

He had the grace to flush, she noted, pleased that she had discomfited him. After all, this was what she had come for: to hurt, to wound, to taunt. There was a deep sense of satisfaction in venting her spleen to his face, as if, in so doing, she was able to take back what he had stolen from her in terms of pride and esteem.

“I presume you seek Henry’s aid in wooing the church?” he asked in a low voice.

“Naturally, I must have the goodwill of the clergy and the Bishop is most influential.” Maud paused. “Once I gain ecclesiastical support I shall know how to keep it.”

“Even if my brother agrees to help your cause, you will not tread an easy path, Cousin. I do not say this out of spite or vindictiveness.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fully aware of the pitfalls ahead.”

“I doubt if you are.”

“Your mistakes glow like a beacon in the dark,” she countered. “All I need do is avoid them.”

To her surprise, Stephen suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “By God’s birth, when you tilt your lance you draw blood.”

“Then we are quits,” she said fiercely, determined not to be disarmed by him. “Though the wound you dealt me is far deeper and will not fully heal until I’m on the throne, and you have paid for your crime.”

Stephen reeled back as if she had struck him with a spiked mace. How often she had wanted to hurl recriminations, confront him with the enormity of his betrayal, and pierce through the armor of his charm to the vulnerable spirit beneath. By the look on his face, Maud saw that she had succeeded. She should have felt heady with triumph, and she did, of course she did. Yet underneath the triumph her treacherous heart responded to him as it always had.

Unable to meet her gaze, his eyes roamed the chamber like a cornered animal, darting here and there, seeking escape. At last he passed a trembling hand across his ashen face.

“Dear God, you cannot know how I’ve dreaded this moment,” he whispered in a voice hoarse with misery. “In truth there is nothing whatsoever the matter with my health. I simply did not have the courage to face you again, to see the hurt and anguish in your eyes. I would sooner slay myself than cause you pain.”

“Liar, liar! Then why did you do it? Why? You swore a sacred oath to serve me. You owed at least that much to my father, who had given you everything. But even more important, I believed there was so great a love between us that I would gladly have lived the rest of my life in the afterglow of such a flame—” Her voice became so choked she could not go on. Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. To her shame she began to cry in deep wrenching sobs.

Stephen slipped from the bed and knelt before her in the rushes. “There
was
so great a love between us. There still is and always will be, I cannot deny it. Please, please do not weep. I am not deserving of your tears.” He grasped her ice-cold hands and held them tightly between his own. “I bitterly regret that I hurt you so deeply and forswore my oath, but—but—” He paused as if to marshal his thoughts. “But the unpalatable truth is that my uncle made a fatal mistake when he named you his heir, against all reason and judgment, against time-honored custom, against the will of his subjects and closest advisers. No, let me finish,” he said, as she opened her mouth to protest. “The Norman barons will never allow the crown to rest on the head of a woman married to an Angevin who will become their king. Never. What I did, however vile, was done in a just cause.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard treason and ambition called a just cause,” Maud managed to say. “You think that exonerates your actions? That you were justified in your act of treachery?”

“I justify nothing,” he said softly. “You have every reason to condemn me, to revile me. If I could scourge myself, wear sackcloth and heap ashes on my head, I would gladly do so.”

He wiped away her tears with the back of his hand. “
Mea culpa. Mea summa culpa.
I have no right to ask your forgiveness for I’m not worthy of being forgiven.” He sighed. “Console yourself with the fact that your star is in the ascendant now,” he continued, “while I will be a captive, denied my friends, my family, even the power of choice.” He dropped her hands and rose to his feet. “In truth I dread what lies ahead. I’ve never been imprisoned before and the prospect is unbearable. I fear nothing in battle, not death or maiming, but to be shut up for months, perhaps years—” His voice broke and he turned away from her.

Her sobs subsided and the tears began to dry on her cheeks as she watched him struggle to gain control. Her heart was moved to unwilling compassion and a sudden impulse took hold of her.

“You need not go to Bristol,” she said to his rigid back. “You can be free.”

Stephen turned, his eyes blazing with hope.

“All you need do is confess to the world that you committed an act of treason and that Hugh Bigod perjured himself in order for you to gain the throne. State that you recognize me as the rightful heir and relinquish all claim to the crown. I swear that you will be put on a ship for Boulogne where, in time, Matilda and the children will be permitted to join you.”

The light died from his eyes. “Is this why you came?” he asked in a harsh voice. “To ask me to betray those who have sworn to serve me in good faith as king?” He drew himself up proudly. “I may be your prisoner but in the hearts of my subjects I am still their sovereign and will remain so until the Archbishop of Canterbury crowns you—if he ever does. You are not wanted, Cousin, that is what you refuse to face.”

“You dare to speak of me of betrayal?” she cried. “The people may have welcomed you once, but now? After what you have done to their land? Here is your opportunity to make amends, to undo the damage you have caused. If you are truly sorry you will accept my offer.”

“I long to do just that but cannot.” His face took on a stubborn look. “I reject your offer. Do not try to overwhelm my intention or bend me to your will.”

A hot surge of anger instantly coursed through her. “Bend
you
to
my
will? A poor jest when you know I have always been your vassal, so drunkenly in love I was no longer mistress of my own heart.”

“The arrogant, self-willed Empress my vassal?” He laughed shortly. “Obedient? Yielding? Submissive? Now that, like the second coming, I would witness with my own eyes. By God’s birth, how little you know yourself! Sick for love of me, were you? But you would not come away with me when I asked, no, the crown was more important! You were not willing to give up anything, if the truth be told. When you have set your heart on something, Cousin, you are like a tempestuous, imperious storm that seeks to flatten all before it.”

The last remnant of control snapped; incensed, Maud leapt at him, striking out with her fists, hammering at Stephen’s chest and face in a red haze of fury. He caught her wrists and she kicked out savagely with her feet, the toe of one shoe cutting into his ankle.

“Ouch! Vixen! Bitch! Stop this, do you hear? Stop this at once.”

He shook her violently, the grip on her wrists tightening. Maud gasped in pain. “You’re hurting me.”

“I intend to, vixen. Jesu, it is like holding a spitting wild fox—”

Maud bent to sink her teeth into his wrist and with an oath Stephen suddenly lifted her up into his arms and flung her onto the bed with such force that her skirts flew up to her knees and the breath was knocked out of her body. He threw himself over her, pinioning her arms so that she lay spread-eagled beneath him. She struggled and squirmed but to no avail.

“Virago, you badly need to be taught a lesson,” he said between clenched teeth, his face white. His green eyes blazed down into hers, then, almost within an instant, anger turned into desire.

For a moment Stephen gazed, transfixed, at her parted lips, then bent to cover her mouth with his own. To Maud’s shock, the touch of his lips plunged her into a dizzying whirlpool of feeling and her mouth opened under his. As his kiss grew deeper and deeper, her body, so long thirsting for his touch, began to quiver; she felt her senses drowning in the raging current that flowed between them. He let go of her arms which, with a life of their own, had twined around his neck. Breathing heavily, he continued to kiss her as if he could never have enough of her mouth. His hands sought her breasts, caressing them with a rough urgency until Maud felt her nipples spring to life under his touch. But when he tried to remove her tunic, she found the strength to hold him off.

“No,” she whispered, “it is too dangerous. I dare not.”

He groaned aloud then, in an agony of impatience, and buried his head between her breasts. He slid his hand down her hips until his fingers met the bare flesh of her thigh above her knee. Afire now, blazing with her own all-consuming need, her body arched upward and her legs parted. Stephen pulled down his drawers and hose and pushed up her skirts.

When he entered her, his whole body shuddered, and Maud heard his labored breath in her ear, his heart pounding against her own.

The feel of him inside her once again was so exquisite she wanted to savor the moment, prolong the enchantment, but her passion was too overpowering, the sense of danger unbearably heightening every sensation. Together she and Stephen swept upward on a rapturous flight, soaring ever higher before exploding into a thousand shooting stars.

When she came back to earth, Stephen was cradling her in his arms.

“Sweet Cousin,” he murmured, his eyes dreamy with the aftermath of their lovemaking. “Surely it is a cruel fate that has conspired to make us enemies instead of the true lovers we were meant to be.”

“Yes,” she whispered, wishing never to leave the safe haven of Stephen’s arms, but already anxiously glancing toward the door.

Maud gave Stephen a warm kiss on his forehead, then quickly slipped from the bed, settled her skirts, and smoothed her hair. Stephen pulled up his drawers and hose, and slid off the bed. He stooped to pick up the parchments that had fallen to the floor in their earlier scuffle and handed them to her. Just in time.

There were voices outside the door and Miles of Gloucester strode into the chamber. He looked questioningly from Maud to Stephen, almost as though he could perceive what had passed between them. Terrified, Maud gaped at him in horror. She knew she must explain but she was struck dumb.

“The lady has tried to suborn me, insisting that I sign away my kingdom in her favor and promising me freedom in Boulogne,” Stephen said with his usual aplomb. “Naturally, I refused.”