Lady of the English

Thirteen

Rouen, September 1129

A deliza was horrified when she set eyes on Matilda.

Her face was a patchwork of fading yellow and purple bruises and she moved with the hunched care and slowness of an old woman. Her eyes, though, were fierce with challenge and reminded Adeliza of a wounded wildcat she had once seen, backed into a corner, but still spitting defiance through her terror and pain.

“Oh, my love!” Still wearing her cloak and riding boots, Adeliza crossed the chamber and took Matilda in her arms.

“What has happened to you?” When Matilda stiffened in her embrace and gasped, Adeliza stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

“My ribs…” Matilda grimaced. “They are still healing.”

“Your ribs?” Adeliza stared at her in growing dismay.

Matilda shrugged. “They are no worse than any other part of me.”

Adeliza was lost for words. She could not believe that Geoffrey of Anjou had done this to her, yet the evidence was before her eyes, and she was aware of a terrible feeling of guilt for pushing Henry’s wishes on to Matilda. “Oh, my love!” she said again, and tears welled in her eyes.

Matilda’s eyes remained dry. “I suppose my father has sent you to talk to me.” She gestured Adeliza to a seat and eased LadyofEnglish.indd 106

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

herself down on to a padded bench against which leaned a walking stick with a knob of polished jet.

Servants brought Adeliza perfumed water to wash her hands.

Someone removed her boots and slipped delicate embroidered slippers on to her feet. She was offered wine and small cakes.

“Indeed he has, but that is only part of it.” Leaving her chair, she came and sat beside Matilda, curving towards her so that their knees touched. “I am here because I am worried about you—the more so now.” She held Matilda’s hands. “You are not wearing your wedding ring.”

Matilda raised her chin. “I am not going back to him.” Adeliza turned and dismissed the servants with a graceful but peremptory gesture.

“I mean it,” Matilda said as the door closed behind the last one.

The fire ticked in the hearth as the logs settled. Externally the scene was one of two women sitting together in companionable harmony, but Adeliza felt as if she were being blown about in a wild storm. What was she going to do? Henry had ordered her to persuade Matilda to reconcile with her husband, but she had no idea how to begin, or even if she should.

Adeliza noticed how rough and dry Matilda’s hands were—

uncared for and untended, which was so unlike the Matilda she knew, who was always well groomed and used her appearance to commanding effect. She fetched a small ivory pot of salve from her baggage and removed the lid. A faint herbal scent drifted up from the surface. Taking Matilda’s hands in hers again, she began rubbing the unguent into her skin, concentrating on the cracked, dry webbing between the fingers. “Tell me,” she coaxed softly. “I cannot help you if you will not speak to me.”

Matilda did not answer. Adeliza looked up from her task and saw that her stepdaughter’s chin was trembling. “You will feel better if you cry.”

107

LadyofEnglish.indd 107

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

Matilda shook her head. “It hurts to cry.” Her voice was a tight whisper, but the dam had broken and a sob was drawn from her, then another and another, in reluctant painful heaves that gave little respite, and she had to clutch her rib cage, certain it would shatter.

Adeliza folded her in a compassionate embrace and tears swelled her own throat, yet she had to swallow them and not think about her personal situation, knowing if she did, she would find it unbearable. “Tell me,” she said again, fetching a napkin from the food table to dry Matilda’s eyes. “Otherwise, I will have to ask others, and they will not give me the truth, either because it does not suit them, or because they do not know.” Matilda swallowed and with an effort controlled her breathing. It was difficult to speak at first. She had told no one beyond Uli and Emma, although she was certain that the gossip had spread far and wide and Adeliza must have heard a version of the story already. She did not know how Adeliza would take the tale, because although she was loving and kind, she was also her father’s wife. Matilda spoke in a low voice, and it was as if her words were about someone else, or of a vivid nightmare that wasn’t real. Her bruises were proof that it had happened, but how could it be true when she was an empress and the daughter of England’s king?

Adeliza held her hand, listened in shocked silence to the litany of abuse, and grew pale.

“I care not,” Matilda said when she had finished. “It is no longer of concern to me.”

“But it is of concern to everyone else, especially your father,” Adeliza said. “Nor do I think it true that you do not care. That is not the woman I came to know when you dwelt at court.”

“Perhaps I am no longer that woman,” Matilda replied, tight-lipped. She looked down at their joined hands and when she spoke again her voice was more conciliatory, but still 108

LadyofEnglish.indd 108

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

determined. “I cannot make peace. I know it is what you want from me, but it is impossible.”

“You need to heal; I understand that,” Adeliza soothed, “and you need time. There are many wrongs here that must be set right.” Her voice strengthened with emphasis. “Your father will do all he can, but I tell you now, he will not allow you to annul this marriage.”

Matilda withdrew her hand from Adeliza’s. “I will not go back to that…that preening boy,” she said flatly.

“Perhaps if you treated him like a man, he would act like a man.”

Matilda rose and walked away to the window. “You do not know,” she said, her back turned and her arms folded. “You cannot begin to imagine…My father has never beaten you, or fondled you in public before his barons, or left the bedchamber door ajar while he enjoys your body. Am I supposed to submit to this?” She swung round and pointed to her fading bruises.

“To curtsey and smile and say, ‘You were right to beat me, my lord.’ When I was married to Heinrich, I was treated with deference and respect and decency. Now look at me. Would you walk in my shoes? Would you?”

Adeliza rubbed her temples. “In truth I would not,” she said wearily. “We should not speak of it any more tonight. I want to talk to you of ordinary things and I do not want to lose your friendship…please.” She made an imploring gesture, tears filling her eyes.

Matilda’s expression softened. “Do not,” she said in a trembling voice, “or I will cry again and drown us both.” She returned to the bench and embraced Adeliza. “I am truly glad to see you, and I want to talk of ordinary things—you do not know how much.”

“I have brought you something from England,” Adeliza said as they parted from the embrace. “Something that belongs 109

LadyofEnglish.indd 109

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

to you and that you need.” Once more she went to her baggage, returning this time with a painted leather case. Inside was Matilda’s crown of sapphires and gold flowers. “I sent to Reading for it,” she said as she gave it to Matilda. “It has lain on the altar under the protection of the monks, but I felt…no, I knew I had to bring it here for you.” Matilda swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered and wiped her overflowing eyes. This time the tears came more easily and gave more relief.

“This is what you are,” Adeliza said. “And no one can take that away from you—ever.”

ttt

It was a late November afternoon, the sky red and cold and the trees bare, the last of their leaves strewn in a crisp golden tapestry under the hooves of the horses as Matilda and Adeliza rode along the forest paths of Henry’s manor at Le Petit-Quevilly on the outskirts of Rouen.

Drawing the frozen air into her lungs, Matilda felt invigorated and alive. Her bruises had faded and her body had healed in the days of busy tranquillity spent in Rouen. She had begun to find her sense of worth again and to think about her future—

a future her younger brother had not had. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his drowning in the seas off Barfleur, and tonight she would attend a vigil in the cathedral to pray for his soul.

“I must soon think of returning to England,” Adeliza said. “I must be there for the Christmas feast. Your father expects it of me and I have duties, much as I wish I could stay longer.” She glanced at Matilda. “You are sure you will not come with me?

I would welcome your company.”

Matilda had expected Adeliza to return to England sooner than this, perhaps to be with her father for the anniversary of William’s death, but her stepmother had chosen to stay in Rouen and be her companion and support, for which Matilda 110

LadyofEnglish.indd 110

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

was deeply indebted. She and Adeliza were very different, but there was friendship, even affection between them, and the bond of kinship. Matilda knew Adeliza was not only here to support her, but to glean information for her father and act as peacemaker, but since each woman knew where the other stood, there was mutual understanding.

“My father will keep Christmas at Westminster with you,” Matilda said. “I will do the same in Rouen, thus both England and Normandy will be served by our family. The Church and the barons will grow further accustomed to my authority as my father’s deputy here.” She spoke fiercely because she knew many would take persuading.

“As you wish,” Adeliza said, “but I will miss you.” Suddenly she exclaimed and drew rein because her gelding had started to limp on its offside hind foot.

“Madam.” Will D’Albini, who had been heading their escort of serjeants, dismounted and hastened to look. He ran a competent hand down the horse’s leg and picked it up. “Stone in the frog,” he said and, drawing his knife, proficiently winkled out the offending piece of flint. A sharp edge had bruised the inside of the hoof. “He’ll need to be led.” D’Albini looked at Adeliza.

“Madam, you will need to ride pillion.” Adeliza looked startled for a moment, but then nodded.

“Help me down.”

D’Albini did so, his face and throat suffusing with colour.

Eyes lowered, he put her horse on a lead rein attached to his mount’s crupper and returned to boost her on to the handsome grey. Adeliza remained gracious and proper, thanking him with detached courtesy, and expressing concern for the injured horse. Having made sure she was secure, he mounted in front of her, his face still red.

They returned to Le Petit-Quevilly with the winter dusk gathering around them like a grey woollen cloak and their 111

LadyofEnglish.indd 111

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

breath clouding the air. Matilda’s thoughts strayed to Brian FitzCount doing the same for her on the road to Rouen and her own complexion grew warm. Remembering Brian was like the winter ache in a wound. Time and distance had removed them from each other’s proximity, which was perhaps a prudent thing, but there remained a quiet pain. She missed him. He had written letters offering his help should she need it and she had replied in formal words thanking him, not daring to let anything of self find its way from her mind to the vellum.

On their return, William D’Albini helped Adeliza to dismount, bowed, and went to deal with the lame horse himself.

Adeliza glanced in his wake, appreciating his kindness, and then she dismissed him from her thoughts to focus on the messenger who was standing at the manor door, drinking from a pottery cup, his satchel slung at his shoulder while he talked to an usher. Seeing the women approach, he hastily knelt. Matilda recognised him. Absalom of Winchester was one of her father’s busiest couriers.

“What news?” Adeliza gestured him to rise.

Absalom looked uncomfortable. “Madam, I am on my way to England with letters under seal from the Count of Anjou. I will rest here the night and be on my way tomorrow.”

“And do you know what these letters say?” Matilda demanded.

Absalom cleared his throat. “Only the gist, domina.”

“Which is?” The frosty air was chilling Matilda’s bones, but she would not enter the hall until she knew. “Tell me.”

“The Count of Anjou says that he is considering his position…and that he is content for you to make an extended visit to Rouen.”

Matilda snorted. Considering his position indeed! “As I am content not to be in Anjou,” she snapped. “I will have letters of my own to send with you to my father on the morrow. Come to me before you leave.”

112

LadyofEnglish.indd 112

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

“Yes, domina.”

She eyed him. “How did the Angevin court seem to you?” Absalom shuffled his feet. “I saw no difference to any other court ruled by a young lord, domina. There is much sport and hunting and boisterous play of an evening…” Matilda winced at the memory.

He hesitated, and then said, “I will tell you because you are bound to find out anyway. The count’s mistress is with child and flaunts herself at court as if she is his countess.”

“His mistress?” Matilda stared.

“Her name is Aelis of Angers, domina. She parades around court with her hand on her belly and the count lavishes her with silks and jewels.”

“It did not take her long to usurp me,” Matilda said with contempt. “Let her make her bed and lie in it. They deserve each other.”

Dismissed, Absalom bowed and went to find food and a place to sleep. The women continued to their chambers to prepare for their vigil in memory of the drowned young prince.

“Something must be done,” Adeliza said angrily. “This is a disgraceful state of affairs. Your father has mistresses; he is a man of strong appetite in that part of his life; but none have ever been allowed to behave like that at court, even if they have borne him children.” Her voice wobbled on the last word and she raised an index finger to silence Matilda as she started to speak. “Do not say you care not, because it is a lie. You do care and you should, because of the slight to your honour and your standing.”

“Truly it does not matter,” Matilda replied shortly. “I have told you; I am not going back to him. Let him kennel with whores as much as he likes.”

ttt

In the cathedral at Rouen, the women attended a mass for the soul of Matilda’s brother, dead nine years now, his bones fathoms 113

LadyofEnglish.indd 113

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Elizabeth Chadwick

deep under the seas off Barfleur harbour. Matilda pressed her lips to the filigree cross that the archbishop presented for her to kiss. She was struggling to keep her own head above the waves as she struck out for the shore, but she did not know where the shore was. Her own boat had been wrecked when Heinrich died, and when she thought of getting into the one crewed by Geoffrey, she knew she would rather drown, because it wasn’t rescue he was offering.

Her prayer beads slipped through her fingers like smooth, cold pebbles. Beside her, she could hear Adeliza murmuring under her breath and the soft click of her own beads. Was Adeliza in the water too? Counting through her hands the months and years that she had failed to conceive? Moisture glistened on her stepmother’s cheeks, illuminated like clear pearls in the candle glow. Drowned sorrows. Matilda put her head down and closed her eyes.

114

LadyofEnglish.indd 114

6/9/11 5:35 PM