Lady of the English

Twenty-nine

Argentan, May 1139

Matilda watched with a mingling of amusement and sadness as Robert the hauberk-maker covered Henry’s russet-red hair with a linen bonnet, and then fitted over it a child-sized coif of lightweight mail rivets. There was one too for Hamelin, Henry’s half-brother.

“I’m a great knight now.” Drawing his toy sword, Henry struck a pose. He was wearing a miniature version of the quilted tunic sported by the serjeants and men-at-arms.

“Indeed you are.”

“Just like my papa.”

Matilda quirked her brow, but forbore to comment. One day her son was going to be greater than his father, and his grandfather. She intended to make sure of that.

“I’m going to be just like Papa too,” Hamelin said. He was two years taller than Henry and sturdy. His hair was not as vibrant as his younger brother’s and his eyes were a wide-set mottled hazel like his mother’s. Matilda had accepted him into her household without malice. The child would be what he was moulded into. A companion, help-meet, and loyal military servant for Henry was her intention for him.

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Henry said. “You will have to promise to obey me and fight for me, and I will give you lands and gifts in return.” Hamelin frowned. “What sort of gifts?” Henry waved his hand. “Castles, and swords, and horses, and armour.”

Hamelin fingered the coif and the green glints shone in his eyes. “I want a big black horse,” he said. “Like Papa’s.” They ran off to play their game of capturing a pretend castle and were joined by some of her brother Robert’s younger sons.

Matilda pursed her lips. She would have to watch Henry and quash any inclination to profligacy. She did not want her son growing up to become a weak man at the mercy of barons who would milk him dry and then desert him. He needed to learn how to be shrewd and build affinity, and how to divide and conquer as necessary. She curled her lip, thinking of Stephen.

He had no notion of how to rule a kingdom. All the wealth her father had accumulated was pouring out of the coffers like blood from a slashed artery as he strove to hold together the factions at court. Being a king was not about pleasing people.

It was about controlling them.

A messenger was ushered into her presence and, kneeling, presented her with a bundle of parchments. Her eyes lit on the seal of Ulger, bishop of Angers, as she dismissed the messenger.

This was the news she had been waiting for, and her breathing quickened. The bishop had been in Rome at the Lateran Council, petitioning to have Stephen overthrown. Matilda had sent rich gifts to the delegation along with her pleas: reliquaries, a gold pyx, boxes of frankincense, and a robe woven with cloth of gold and embroidered with rubies from the treasure store she had brought with her from Germany. Stephen had sent his own delegation there to argue his case under the auspices of the dean of sees and she knew he would have sent similar gifts and left nothing to chance. She read rapidly, repeating the words to 255

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herself. It was written in Latin, in which she was fluent. As she read, her cheeks began to flame and she felt so sick with rage that she heaved.

“Sister?” Robert, who had entered the room in the messenger’s wake, hastened over to her. “What is it?”

“Have you seen Stephen’s argument?” she choked. “Have you seen why he says I have no right to be queen of England?” She thrust the parchment at him. “He argues that my parents were never legally married—that my mother was a nun, a bride of Christ, who had taken the veil! I expected him to make much of the lie that my father absolved men of their vows to me on his deathbed, but this…this reeks of the gutter!

Yes, she dwelt in a nunnery before she wed him, but she did not take vows.”

Robert read the letter and his expression grew grim. “That is a desperate argument,” he said with contempt. “The marriage was performed by Archbishop Anselm, and he would never have sanctioned it if he believed for one moment your mother had taken the veil.” Robert read further and then said bleakly,

“The pope has upheld Stephen’s claim to the crown.” She controlled her anger. “I did not expect any different from Innocent.” She gestured to the letter. “Many of his cardinals disagreed with his decision. It is they we must foster, and we shall look to the next pope for a better outcome.

Innocent is an old man and not robust. This only makes me the more determined. All the time my father was heaping largesse and privilege on Stephen, he was fostering a viper in his bosom.”

“Stephen would not have done it without advice from his inner council,” Robert said. “He allows men of stronger will to govern him, and in turn they fight among themselves over who is going to be the power behind the throne. The Beaumonts are trying to undermine the bishop of Winchester’s influence 256

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with Stephen. You know how much our cousin wanted to be an archbishop, but they’ve stopped him in his tracks.” Matilda exhaled with bleak amusement. Cousin Henry had supported Stephen all the way to the throne of England, expecting to become his chief adviser and archbishop of Canterbury in due course, but his plans had been thwarted by the Beaumont brothers Waleran and Robert. It was their candidate, Theobald of Bec, who had been elected to the arch-bishopric. Adeliza had written that Bishop Henry was fuming at what he saw as an insulting slight.

“So you think he can be further weaned away from Stephen?” Matilda asked, thoughtful now. Her rage had become a dark sediment in her blood. “I would not trust Henry of Blois further than I could throw him in all those glittering robes of his, but he could be useful to us.”

“I will write to him in general terms,” Robert replied. “A little diplomacy to grease the wheels and some flattery to soothe ruffled feathers will not come amiss, and may even be of great benefit.”

Matilda gave a curt nod. “Do what you can.” She tried to put the news from Rome aside. She had always known the road would be strewn with obstacles, and each time she came across another one, she set herself to clear it because right was right and she had a son to fight for. Stephen’s use of underhand tactics and false oaths merely put iron in her soul and made her even more determined to bring him down.

ttt

At Arundel, Adeliza sat on the window seat in her sun-filled confinement chamber and stroked the wonderful curve of her belly, round as a full moon. Even now, in the middle of her ninth month, she still had to reassure herself that she was not dreaming, that there really was new life growing inside her. She had conceived within the first weeks of her marriage during the 257

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honey month. God indeed must be shining His light on them, she thought. After fifteen barren years with Henry, Will had got her with child at a glance. Her fluxes had ceased straight away. And the strange thing was that Will had no bastards to his name, and Henry had had more than a score.

Will was due home from court any day, having attended a gathering at Oxford to discuss matters of government with the king.

Adeliza’s belly hardened under her palm and a small pain lodged in the small of her back. She shifted her position in the window seat to make herself more comfortable, easing her spine with a large pillow. A pile of sketches lay on the cushion beside her and she picked them up to study again. Now that Will had a substantial income through their marriage, he had embarked on various building projects. Arundel had received a new round keep of stone that had reached completion a fortnight ago, its foundation having been laid in the first month of their marriage, and work had begun to build an ornate castle on his manor of Rising in Norfolk. The latter was mainly sheep pasture and park land because the agricultural soil was poor, but Will thought it an ideal place for a hunting preserve and retreat that would also be fit for a queen. They had visited Rising on a freezing January day to study the ground and discuss plans. The first stones had been laid in late February as the evenings started to lengthen, and work, so she heard from regular reports, was continuing apace.

She shifted again as the pain returned, meandered vaguely around her hips and loins and vanished again. Turning her head, she looked out of the open window and saw two of Will’s outriders cantering through the gate. That meant he would not be far behind. She stood up, intending to send one of her ladies with a message to the steward, but as she turned in the window seat, she felt a strange sensation deep inside her body, followed by a gush of biblical proportions between her thighs, drenching 258

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her chemise and gown and puddling the rushes. The pain strengthened and her belly grew as hard as a drum.

She cried out to Juliana who dropped her sewing and hastened to her, while Melisande ran to fetch the midwife.

ttt

“You will wear out the floor,” said Joscelin of Louvain. He was Adeliza’s younger half-brother, born out of wedlock, and had joined Will’s household at Christmas, arriving from Brabant to take up the post of castellan. He was lithe and slender like Adeliza, with laughing grey eyes.

Will swung round and paced back the way he had come. “It has been a full day and night,” he said. “Why does birthing a babe take so long?”

Joscelin shrugged his shoulders. “You would need to ask a woman that,” he said with a rueful grin. “They always take their time whatever they decide, and then they’re apt to change their minds on a whim.”

“I always thought I was a patient man until now. It’s almost as bad as being at court,” Will said. The waiting, the pacing, the not knowing what was happening behind closed doors. There were many similarities. He began to pace again, then stopped himself and unclenched his fists.

Joscelin eyed him thoughtfully. “What will happen now that the bishop of Salisbury has been attacked by Waleran de Meulan’s men?”

Will grimaced. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s an enormous mess and no mistake. I am glad to be here and out of it.”

“Stephen lost control, didn’t he?”

Will shook his head. “Not exactly. The bishop of Salisbury has been stockpiling riches for himself and his relatives for many years, even back in the time of the old king. Something should have been done long ago. When it happened, it just got out of hand, that’s all.”

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Joscelin arched one eyebrow. “That’s an understatement.”

“Stephen knows what he is doing,” Will said hollowly. In Oxford, there had been a quarrel over lodgings between the household knights of Meulan and the bishop of Salisbury. A vicious fight had broken out, blood had been spilled, and the bishops of Salisbury, Lincoln, and Ely had been accused of fomenting a riot and subjected to arrest and arraignment.

“I wouldn’t call laying hands on a bishop a good way of garnering support from the Church.”

“It could have been done with more finesse, I grant you, but the amount of silver Salisbury has been creaming off is beyond a jest.”

“I agree, but Church discipline is a matter for the archbishop of Canterbury and the rest of the bishops, not the king.” Will heaved a sigh. “Done is done. It is not the wisest move the king has ever made, but we have to go on from here. I—” He looked up as a midwife entered the room with a wrapped bundle in her arms.

“Sire,” she said, “you have a son.” The words struck Will such an emotional blow that it was hard to breathe. “And my wife, the queen? Is she all right?” The woman gave him a broad smile as she placed the baby in his arms. “Your wife is well indeed, sire, and sends you her greetings and your heir.”

Will gazed into the tiny crumpled face amid the folds of soft blanket. Suddenly there was a tight lump in his throat. “I have a son,” he said in a choked voice to Joscelin. “A prince because his mother is a queen. A son to carry my line.” The feel of the baby’s weight took his breath away and filled his chest to bursting. He passed him to Joscelin, who took his nephew gingerly and having murmured appropriate words, and held him long enough to be polite, returned him to Will with relief.

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Will was torn. He was so proud and besotted that he could have carried the baby round with him all day, but he also knew that the child should be kept safe in the haven of the women’s apartments, not in the public arena. With great care he returned him to the midwife. “Give him to his mother,” he said, “and tell her I will visit as soon as she is ready to receive me. Tell her also I will arrange to have him baptised tomorrow morning.” When the woman had gone, the blanketed bundle cradled along her arm, Will put his head in his hands and wept a little with pent-up joy and release. “The world has changed,” he said to Joscelin, who was looking at him askance. “I have a son in it now, and I must safeguard his future as much as my own.” ttt

Later in the day, he visited Adeliza in her confinement chamber.

She was sitting up in bed looking radiant, her hair a gleaming braid falling forwards over her shoulder. Her gown had a deep opening secured with brooches so she could feed the child herself, which she intended to do until she was churched, after which she would employ a wet nurse. Her face was tired, but her eyes were glowing and her smile was radiant.

Will leaned over and kissed her very gently, feeling big and awkward. “I am so proud of you, and our beautiful son,” he said.

“And I am so grateful for God’s great mercy that we have him,” she answered with a tremble in her voice.

Sitting on the low chair at her bedside, he presented her with the small carved box he has been hiding under his cloak, and looked at her with anxiety and expectation.

Mystified, she took it and ran her fingers over the exquisitely chiselled leafwork on the top and sides, before unfastening the clasp. Inside was a book, its jewelled ivory cover a stunning contrast to the red silk lining. “Aesop!” she exclaimed with bright pleasure. “I love those stories!”

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saw how you engrossed everyone.” He gave a wide smile at her delight.

She turned the pages, marvelling at the illuminated capitals and illustrations. The crow dropping his cheese for the fox to gobble; the ant and the grasshopper; the fisherman piping.

“I had the monks at Wymondham make it for you. I thought you could read it to the little one when he is older.” Adeliza’s eyes were suddenly brimming.

“Ah, beloved, don’t cry,” Will said, alarmed. “You will make me weep too. What will my men say if I come from your chamber red-eyed and sniffling.”

She laughed and wiped her eyes. “They would not dare say anything, and a strong man’s tears are perhaps the strongest thing about him.”

He clasped her hand in his, marvelling again how small and fine-boned she was. The sight of her fingers encompassed by his large paw filled him to the brim with protective love. She had been through such an ordeal.

“I never thought I would be this happy,” she said. “You do not know the gifts you have given to me.” She reached her free hand to touch the soft cheek of the slumbering baby. “This is worth more than any earthly crown.” They sat in contented silence, neither of them inclined to talk in depth, because what was felt was enough without words.

Although he had been apprehensive at first, Will was now reluctant to leave this wonderful, incense-scented room. He could have gazed at his Madonna-like wife and son all night, but he had duties elsewhere and the women were becoming restless at his lingering presence. It was time to leave. He kissed Adeliza again and the baby on his soft little brow, then reluctantly departed.

As the door closed behind him, Adeliza gave a contented sigh and, settling down in the bed, opened the Aesop, her fingertips exploring the intricate carving and smoothing over 262

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the small cabochon gemstones. It was a rare and beautiful thing.

Will was not a man of many words, but he could be thoughtful and delicate when the occasion arose, and sometimes, as now, he was capable of surprising her deeply. He did not always understand her, nor she him, but they had enough to live on, and sometimes, as now, a glittering feast.

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Thirty

Arundel Castle, Sussex, August 1139

A deliza stood by the double arch of her chamber windows at Arundel. It was late August, the harvest white in the fields and the dusty scent of high summer hanging in the air. The wet nurse sat in the window seat rocking little William and crooning to him. Adeliza was momentarily distracted by her son’s gurgles and turned to look at him, a sunburst of pure love lighting her from within. He was her little miracle and she still found it difficult to believe that God had granted her such grace.

After a moment, a smile on her lips, she turned back to the window. Will was in the courtyard, hands at his hips, the wind ruffling his dark curls around his head as he discussed the building work on the keep with the master mason. Adeliza felt blessed by the depth of his steady affection. It was like balm on a wound that had been raw and open for a very long time, and only now was healing.

Will was about to leave to attend a council at Winchester to discuss the issue of the bishops of Salisbury, Ely, and Lincoln.

Roger of Salisbury and Alexander of Lincoln were under arrest and Nigel of Ely was in rebellion in the Fenlands. Adeliza thought it disgraceful for a king to take up arms against God’s representatives. There were better ways of resolving issues between Church and State.

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Her expression grew pensive as she dropped her gaze to the letter a messenger had recently brought to her chamber. The oval wax seal on a green cord was Matilda’s. She hadn’t told Will about it yet and was toying with the idea of not showing him until he returned from court because she was worried about what the letter might contain. With all the unrest brewing in England, Stephen was keeping a close watch on the coastline because he feared an invasion from Normandy.

Adeliza knew a storm was coming, and she would either have to act or look away.

Making a decision, she left the window, broke the seal on the letter, and began to read. The writing was in Matilda’s firm personal hand and in German, which they both understood, but which denied the casual observer, Will included. Matilda expressed her delight that Adeliza had borne a son and praised God that she and the child were well. She added that her own sons were growing apace and she was much pleased by their progress, especially Henry’s. He was so clever and astute. The next words bore signs of having been erased many times, for the surface of the vellum was thin and rough, which was out of character for the usually decisive Matilda, but as Adeliza read, she began to understand why, and her hand went to her mouth. Matilda wrote that it was a long time since she had seen her beloved stepmother and she would like to visit her at Arundel if Adeliza would bid her welcome. She also wanted to enter into discussions with Stephen concerning the future of the crown of England and the ducal coronet of Normandy.

“Dear God,” Adeliza whispered. The letter was like a burning brand between her fingers. What was Will going to say from his position as a staunch supporter of King Stephen? If she agreed, she would be welcoming the king’s mortal enemy into her household. Yet it was a queen’s duty to be a peacemaker, and Matilda was her kin, her daughter by marriage. And Stephen was a usurper, whether Will served him or not.

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Hearing Will’s voice on the stairs, Adeliza swiftly folded the parchment and stuffed it into her writing coffer. She needed time to consider what to say.

Will was breathing strongly from his climb, but not out of breath. He went to his son, kissed him, and chucked his chin, making him crow, then turned to Adeliza and took her in his arms. “The men are ready,” he said. “Will you come down and bid us farewell?” Then, with a frown, he stepped back and touched her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She forced a smile.

“Look, we’ll be back in a few days and you are well protected here. There is no need for concern.” Adeliza felt terrible, knowing he had misconstrued her guilt as worry. “I know I am safe. Have a care to yourself, my husband.” She gave the whiskery side of his face an affectionate pat and kissed him.

When she had seen the men on their way like a good and dutiful wife, she returned to her chamber, took out Matilda’s letter, and pored over it for a long, long time. And then she put it in the fire and watched it burn until she was certain that it had all turned to ash.

ttt

It was teeming with rain when Will returned from court four days later. “It has been like riding through pottage these last few miles,” he told Adeliza as he shook himself like a wet dog.

“A good thing we didn’t take a baggage cart or it would have bogged down.”

She chivvied the servants and hastened him out of his wet garments and into dry replacements. Sitting him down before the fire, she brought a towel to rub his hair.

Will leaned back and closed his eyes. “You will never guess what the bishop of Winchester has been hiding up his sleeve,” he said.

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“I do not suppose I will,” she replied. “Henry of Blois is a man of great cunning and knows how to hide things he does not wish people to see.”

“Indeed,” Will said grimly. “You know how angry he was about being passed over for the see of Canterbury in favour of the Beaumonts’ candidate?”

“Yes.” She finished drying his hair and fetched a comb to tidy his curls.

“We all sat down to discussion and suddenly he produced a papal bull he’d been sitting on since April, if you please, to say that Innocent has granted him the position of legate, which effectively puts him over and above Theobald of Bec.” Adeliza lowered the comb, her gaze wide and astonished.

“Since April?”

He nodded. “For four months the king’s own brother has been biding his time, and now flourishes this thing like a tumbler producing fire in his hands. There is no one above the king but God, and who is God’s representative on earth but the pope, and directly beneath him are the cardinals and the legates. If Stephen is a secular king, then his brother has set out to match him, and not in a harmonious way. Winchester says Stephen must make reparations for arresting the bishops and that he had no right to do what he did to Salisbury, Lincoln, and Ely.”

Adeliza left his side to bring him a cup of hot wine and a platter of wafers and pastries. “What does Stephen say?” Will shrugged. “Stephen says maybe so, but that the castles held by Salisbury and the wealth within them is a matter for the Crown, not the Cross.”

She made her voice casual. “Is it a serious rift then?”

“Difficult to say. If Henry of Winchester can keep his appointment as papal legate secret for four months, then what else does he have up his sleeve? His nose has been put out of 267

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joint by the Beaumont brothers. They are becoming a danger to Stephen because their power games are dividing the court.”

“Are they a danger to you?” she asked with concern.

Will took a pastry and bit into it. Honey oozed out and he licked the golden stickiness off his fingers and took the napkin Adeliza handed to him. “They have no interest in me because I keep my distance and I have no desire to seek power by whispering in the king’s ear. The Beaumonts have their eyes upon others who are far greater rivals than I will ever be—men who support the archbishop, and men who would follow Robert of Gloucester if he were in the country. The Beaumonts think I do not have the wit to cause upheaval. That you are my wife amuses them—as if a pet dog has stolen a juicy marrow bone off a butcher’s stall. I am nothing to them. All that matters is that I am loyal and steady and wag my tail like a good hound.” He looked at her. “If the Beaumonts ignore me, it is because I make sure I am no threat to them. But others are in deep danger and that is a pity, because they are strong men whom Stephen should retain in his service rather than cause by his inaction to take their swords elsewhere. FitzCount at Wallingford has as good as declared for the empress and now it looks as if John the marshal will turn rebel too. The Beaumonts begrudge him Marlborough and Ludgershall, and think that Stephen values him too highly.

If they push him further he will rebel and cause great damage.

They are doing the same to Miles FitzWalter, because, again, he is a threat to their power. In the end, they will ruin all.” Adeliza allowed the food and drink to mellow his humour; he was never out of sorts for long. Then she sat on his knee and played with his hair and stroked his face. “After what you have said, I hardly dare speak, but I have something we must talk about.”

“Surely it cannot be anything that bad,” he replied, his tone indulgently amused as he settled her more comfortably in his lap.

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Adeliza drew a deep breath. “Matilda has written to congrat-ulate us on the birth of our son. She wants to visit us and asks us to welcome her to Arundel.”

His body had been loose and relaxed, but now she felt him tense. “Have you given her an answer?” She wrapped a curl of his hair around her index finger. “It would not be fitting without consulting you first.”

“I doubt she wants to pay us a visit for the sake of love alone,” he growled. “All the south coast ports are on alert against assault from Normandy.”

“But she is hardly going to arrive wearing a hauberk.” He snorted down his nose. “You think not?” She curved her arm around his neck. “She has never been able to mourn at her father’s tomb. She should be granted permission to visit Reading at least. That is only Christian and decent.”

“But it is not the reason she wants to come to England, and you know it. Do not play me for a fool.”

“I would never play you for a fool!” she said vehemently.

“What harm can she do if she comes to Arundel? You are Stephen’s man and not about to change that stance. What better surety could there be?”

He shook his head. “It would be dangerous and foolish to agree to her request. The best surety is keeping her the other side of the Narrow Sea.”

“But she will be under our eye and Stephen can watch her movements.” She gave him a pleading look. “Now I am settled with a husband and a baby son, I want her to see that life can still be good. I have a duty to her, one I took on when I wed Henry, and it does not end because he is dead. I do not expect you to understand, but it is about the ties of women. Matilda is like a jewel in my crown—part of what made and still makes me a queen. Would you deny me that?” 269

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“You would have me risk all for the ‘friendship of women’?” he asked on a rising note. “Are you mad? What do you think Stephen will say when he is doing his best to keep her and Robert of Gloucester out of the country?” She raised her chin. “What do you think my first husband, Henry the King, would say if he knew I had refused to admit his daughter to the castle he gave me when I became his queen and Matilda’s stepmother? That bond is sacred.” She moderated her voice. “I am not fomenting war or rebellion, but I want to see Matilda and talk to her, and perhaps talk sense into her.

We can act as mediators. Stephen trusts you, and Matilda is my daughter and my friend.” She curved her body round his so that she could press a kiss to the frown between his eyebrows, and then another on his set lips.

“I do not know what to say.” Will’s tone was bleak. He had either to believe that Adeliza was being naive and ruled by her womb, or that she was playing the game of politics with an agenda of her own, and neither option was palatable. He could refuse her, but there was some truth in what she said. There had been many time over the past few years when he thought Henry must be turning in his grave and this was one of them.

What Henry would have made of him marrying Adeliza in the first place, he preferred not to contemplate.

“She will find a way to come to England whether we refuse her or not,” Adeliza pointed out. “I ask this as a boon of your love for me…I have asked little enough until now.”

“It is more than a boon,” he muttered. “I do want to please you, and I love you dearly, but I must consider the consequences. Do you think Stephen will stand by and not act if I do agree?”

“But I am within my lawful rights to welcome her.” Abruptly, he put her from his knee and stood up. “I need to think about this, because I have to keep everyone safe.” 270

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He dug his hands through his hair, rumpling the curls she had just untangled. “If I do agree, then the moment she arrives at Arundel, I will send to the king and tell him she is here, because it is my own duty and obligation to do so. I will have no subterfuge and no secrets.”

“No, my lord.” Adeliza swept him a deep curtsey and bowed her head. She knew she had won, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. She was playing a role, to influence a man who was no actor and she felt as if she were cheating him. She knew that when Matilda came, there would be repercussions. But what else could she do? Will owed his fealty to Stephen, and she owed her wifely duty to Will, but beyond those oaths, older loyalties and vows had their claim, sworn on the finials of a royal crown, and they were the greater.

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Thirty-one

Domfront, Normandy, September 1139

M atilda drew a deep breath as she rose from her knees before the devotional in her chamber and blew out the candles in their enamelled stands. Then she instructed her servants to set about dismantling and packing the items she needed for her imminent journey. Within the hour she was setting out for England to make a play for the crown that was hers by right.

Going to the table near the bare bed frame, she picked up the letters she had earlier been reading and tucked them away in a satchel to peruse again later. There was one from the constable at Bristol, assuring her that all was in readiness for when she and Robert chose to arrive. Another was from Adeliza at Arundel, with the all-important confirmation that she was welcome as kin should she choose to visit. And then there was Brian’s letter, assuring her of his support at Wallingford—to the death if necessary. His words were like a strong steel rod down her backbone, stiffening her resolve. Others were waiting to rally to her cause, promising their commitment when she had landed safely in England. Miles FitzWalter, constable of Gloucester, Humphrey de Bohun, John FitzGilbert. With good fortune, the south-west and the Marches would soon be hers. Then too, there was the bishop of Winchester, her cousin Henry.

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Too wily to commit anything to parchment, he had sent a messenger with a few cryptic words that might mean anything or nothing. He spoke of conciliation and the role of the Church as mediator. Matilda was wary. A man who went behind his own brother’s back was not to be trusted.

“You can’t go there, you’re trapped!” piped a child’s voice.

Matilda turned and fixed her gaze on her eldest son. He was sitting in the window seat, playing a board game of fox and geese with his half-brother Hamelin and he was concentrating on defeating his opponent. She felt a surge of fierce maternal pride as she watched him. He was fully focused but not in an exclusive way. He was observing all the activity around him, even while engaged with the game. It was a formidable trait in a child just six years old, and what it would be like when nurtured to manhood gave her cause for optimism. He was tenacious too, because Hamelin was a bright boy, older, and determined not to give ground. She had to swallow as her throat tightened. She might never see him again after this morning because who knew what was going to happen if and when she reached England. She had put everything possible in place to support him and her other sons in her absence.

The best women to care for them; the best pages and squires as companions. Excellent priests and scholars to nurture their education and teach them to walk a true path with God.

She could do no more, and still she was anxious. She was going to miss them so much, especially Henry. She had even considered staying in Normandy and seeing it conquered first, but knew she had to make her challenge in England before it was too late

Geoffrey entered the chamber and looked round, hands on hips. He had ridden to Domfront to see her on her way and to take charge of their sons, something Matilda did not want to think about. She could not deny that Geoffrey was a good 273

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father, but she had had the greater part in raising their boys and it was a wrench to hand them over to him.

“Everything is ready for you,” he said, stepping aside to let the servants carry out the box containing the last items.

She waited impatiently while her maids clasped a thick cloak around her shoulders, and then she turned towards the light streaming through the open shutters. “Henry,” she said.

“Henry, come here. It is time for me to go.” He left his game and crossed the room, following the path of the light, until he stood in front of her, looking up solemnly.

His eyes were grey, but flashed with green in their depths like Geoffrey’s.

“Attend to your lessons and do as your father tells you,” she said. “I need you to be big and brave and grown up.” Henry gave a stout nod. “Can I come to England soon too?”

“As soon as you are old enough. One day you will be king there, and it will be very important for you to know the place and the people.” She stooped to his level and smoothed his vibrant hair. “Look after your brothers. I will write to you often and your father will tell me of your progress.” She kissed him on both cheeks and stood up, her pride swelling to almost unbearable proportions because Henry was not crying or making a fuss. Even in the small boy, she could see the king he might one day become—but only if she gave him that chance.

She went to make her farewells to his brothers. Today, they were all present to bid her farewell, but usually little Geoffrey was with his tutors in Anjou. It had been a conscious decision not to keep the children together; that way there was more chance of survival if there was sickness or foul play. Thus Geoffrey was a solemn stranger and the farewell kiss she gave to him was tinged with sadness that she did not know him. Her third son, at only three years old, was not really sure what was happening and accepted her hug with a grimace and a wriggle.

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Matilda knew if she let emotion in, she would weep and grieve, and she made herself as hard as stone. She had learned as a child herself that life was a series of partings governed above all else by duty.

She turned to her husband, who was watching her with an enigmatic look in his eyes. She half expected him to mock, but he said quietly, “You are an empress and a true queen. Only you can do what has to be done. Now is your opportunity to prove yourself.” He took her hands in his and gave her a formal kiss of peace on both cheeks, as she had done to their sons. And then his grip tightened and he claimed her mouth in a lingering, hard intimacy. As the salute ended, he said with a strained smile, “I will miss you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she retorted, more disturbed than she cared to admit, not least because she could see he was guarding against emotion too, “but I will hold you in my prayers.”

Geoffrey snorted. “As you should. You might not want me, beloved wife, but you do need me to conduct your affairs in Normandy and raise our sons. I will hold you in mine also.” Drawing herself together, Matilda went down to the courtyard and allowed Alexander de Bohun to assist her into the saddle. When she picked up the reins, it seemed as if she were picking up her destiny too. She gazed at her children in final farewell, her eyes lingering on Henry, then she faced forward and although her heart was aching, did not look back.

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Thirty-two

Arundel, September 1139

T he autumn tide was running fast onshore and surging up the estuary of the river Arun as Matilda’s fleet navigated the channel at full flood. She gazed at the approaching shore, land of her birth, ignoring the sting from the hard, salty wind. It had been eight years since she had last set foot here.

Then her father had been alive and men had knelt at her feet and sworn to uphold her as future queen of England. Now she came to claim her crown from them.

She looked round as her brother Robert joined her. “Soon enough the warning beacons will be lit, and Stephen will know I am here,” she said.

“Already he is too late.” Robert gave a confident smile.

“There is nothing he can do.”

Matilda compressed her lips, feeling queasy. She told herself it was seasickness, but in truth she felt she was being dragged into the deep by riptides of doubt. Supposing Stephen was waiting for them close by? He had his spies, after all, even as they had theirs. Supposing Adeliza had been unable to prevail on her husband to open Arundel’s gates for them? What if William D’Albini forbade them to land the troops, horses, and equipment they had brought from Normandy?

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Adeliza’s silver hair ribbons. Although autumn was advancing, the grass was still green and the fields were full of grazing sheep.

In other circumstances, Matilda would have taken interest and pleasure in the journey, but for the moment she was too tense and impatient.

By the time they moored at the wharf near the castle mound, the silver of the river had become sunset gold and a party was waiting to greet them. Matilda stiffened as she saw the soldiers lining the bank, spears held at the upright and shields bearing the Albini rampant lion on a red background. Beside her, Robert came to attention. As the mooring ropes snaked out to the bollards, a bellowed command from the shore sent the men to their knees as one in a clatter of mail and weaponry. Matilda saw Adeliza, and her new husband kneeling at the front, and her heart leaped with relief. The first barrier was down; they had an uncontested landing.

The moment she disembarked, Matilda went straight to Adeliza, raised her to her feet, and tearfully embraced her. “I am in your debt,” she said against her ear. “Thank you for keeping the faith.”

“Nothing would have stopped me,” Adeliza said fiercely.

“You are kin, and I have missed you so much, and been so worried for you.”

Will D’Albini turned from greeting Robert and knelt again to Matilda. “Empress,” he said. “Be welcome at Arundel.” Matilda gazed down at his broad shoulders and glossy dark curls. She knew little of this man personally beyond the detail that he had given his oath to Stephen. Yet his honour was unquestioned and she was certain that while she was under his roof, he would protect her with his life. But beyond these walls and the etiquette of the kinship bond, it was a different matter, and she suspected he was already wondering how soon he could be rid of her and Robert.

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ttt

The chamber appointed to Matilda was comfortably luxurious, furnished with embroidered cushions on the seats and benches, fine wall hangings, rich textiles, and clean, clear light from beeswax candles and oil lamps. A subtle scent of incense filled the air and there was even fine pale glass in the windows.

Adeliza might no longer be queen of England, but she still surrounded herself with regal trappings and an atmosphere of tranquil grace.

Matilda walked around the room, familiarising herself, and then paused by the painted cradle that a maid had brought in.

A swaddled baby lay on a soft lambskin cover, its face pale rose-pink, its lips making small smacking sounds as it slept. Matilda felt a pang at the sight of such innocence. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she said, smiling at Adeliza. “I am so pleased for you. I know how much you grieved for your childlessness when you were married to my father.”

Adeliza’s own smile was full of tender pride. “I was in doubt about leaving Wilton, but God answered my prayers and showed me it was the right decision. I have such cause to bless His bounty.”

“And your husband?” Matilda’s voice held a note of caution.

Adeliza’s complexion grew rosy. “I am content,” she said.

“Married to your father I was queen and Lady of the English, but Will has given me what I could not have—and he loves me.” She looked at Matilda. “He has opened our gates to you on the understanding that you are visiting as my kin, and that somehow a peaceful settlement can be negotiated from this.

While you are under our roof as a guest who is stepdaughter to his wife, he will succour and defend you, but do not expect more. Even this was a great step for him to take and I had to fight very hard to persuade him. That he admitted you at all is as much a miracle as that baby lying in the cradle.” 278

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“Then how do I make men such as your husband change their minds?”

“I am not sure you can,” Adeliza replied.

Matilda went to the window and touched the panes of pale green glass with their wavy stretch marks, and gazed at the luminous tinge reflected on her skin. “Stephen stole my throne, and no one tried to stop him—save Baldwin de Redvers.

Now others are thinking twice about following Stephen, but only because they dislike the politics of his court and that they must play underdog to other men. They will come to me to punish Stephen, not because they honour me and the oath they swore and then cast away like latrine rags. They will come because they think to have greater influence at my court and that I will give them the rewards Stephen will not. After all, I am a woman and can be more easily manipulated—no?” She grimaced. “I can use such men, but I can never trust them.”

“Some will honour you,” Adeliza said. “You spoke of Baldwin de Redvers. There is your brother Reynald too. He will stand firm. You can look also to Wallingford for aid that will not waver.”

Matilda turned round, her heart quickening, and met Adeliza’s quiet stare. Her stepmother said, “I have seen little of Brian FitzCount since your father’s funeral, but you have in him a loyal servant unto death.”

Matilda felt warmth rise in her cheeks and turned again to the window, seeking a cool draught. She had to guard her heart from all blows. She dare not let Brian inside because he would break it from within. “I should be downstairs with Robert,” she said abruptly.

“No,” Adeliza said firmly. “There is time for all that in a while. It has been so long since I have seen you and soon you will be fully occupied with the business you have come about. We have so much catching up to do. I want to know 279

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about your sons and everything you have been doing. Just for a moment, let everything be as it was before. I will send one of my women to prepare you a warm footbath. I refuse to let you play the warrior queen for this moment with me.” Matilda gave a strained smile. “As you wish, ‘Mother.’ I will not deny you.”

“Indeed not, for then you would gain a reputation for being contrary,” Adeliza said with a mischievous twinkle.

The curve of Matilda’s mouth grew less strained. “We couldn’t have that, could we?” she replied as she joined Adeliza at the hearth.

ttt

Will felt a pang of trepidation as he watched Robert’s troops and their supplies march into Arundel. This was not the baggage of a friendly visitor on a diplomatic mission, but the spearhead of an invasion. But what else had he expected—that they miss the opportunity and come with nothing?

Robert turned to him. “We are grateful for your succour,” he said. “It will not be forgotten. We will repay you in full measure when we are in a position to do so.” Will gripped his belt either side of the buckle. “I have taken you under my roof out of love for my wife and obligation to her kin. I do it so that negotiations may be opened to discuss a lasting peace. I am not your enemy, as I know some members of the court are, but my fealty is to Stephen. I guarantee your safety under my roof because of the kinship tie, but I must tell the king you are my guests. In truth, it is safe for neither of us if you remain here.”

Robert nodded curtly. “That is understood, but we are still indebted to you for this landing and for your hospitality. I will not abuse or outstay my welcome, be assured. Only let me rest here and organise my men and I will be on my way to Bristol as soon as I may.”

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A feeling of sweet relief ran through Will. “And the empress?”

“Let her stay for a few days more with your lady wife. She is under your protection, and since she is visiting her stepmother, the king has no legal grounds for objection, and it is no detriment to you. I know she has missed Adeliza’s company.” Will suppressed a grimace. He would have been greatly pleased to see the empress depart as soon as possible, and he was less sanguine than Robert about the damage her presence might to do. “So be it,” he said.

Having shown Robert to his quarters to refresh himself after the journey, Will returned to the courtyard. He felt like a grain caught between two millstones. He was Stephen’s vassal, but was giving houseroom to Stephen’s enemies, including the commander of Matilda’s troops. He knew he should be playing the host with Robert, and that Adeliza would be annoyed with him for shirking that duty, but he could not in good conscience be the welcoming host. He told the groom to saddle up his horse, and rode out to check the fields, the river, the roads, fixing them in his mind’s eye as they were, because it seemed to him that everything was going to change and that he was about to lose things that were very precious to him.

ttt

Two days later, at dawn, Robert left Arundel. A wet sea mist was rolling off the coast and cloaking the land. Watching the low grey clouds swallow him up as he rode out of the castle, Matilda thought that it was almost as if he had disappeared into another world.

She had not accompanied him. She knew Stephen dared not harm her while she was under Adeliza’s roof, and was determined to exercise her right to visit her kin. She had expected a warmer welcome from her stepmother and her new husband. She had thought they might offer military 281

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aid or at least promise moral support, but William D’Albini had made it clear that she was welcome as a domestic guest, nothing more.

“I cannot make Will change his mind,” Adeliza said as they sat before the brazier in Matilda’s chamber when Robert had gone. “He is sworn to Stephen and I am bound as his wife to obey him. I will do what I can for you, but Will has a sticking point beyond which he will not go, not even for me. I would not have you think I love Stephen. He has taken so many things not rightfully his. He only consented to this match between me and Will because he wanted one of his own men in control of Arundel. He wants to render me powerless—or his wife does.” Matilda grimaced at the mention of Stephen’s dumpy little wife. It was going to be a long battle to dislodge the usurpers.

The warning notes of a horn blared from the battlements and the women looked at each other in alarm. Moments later, Joscelin came to the chamber door and announced that King Stephen was pitching his tents outside Arundel’s walls. “My lord is going out to speak with him,” he said and, message delivered, hastened out again.

“Stephen would not dare besiege us.” Adeliza’s eyes were wide with anxiety. “I still hold the title of queen and I am his aunt through my first marriage. He will not breach that etiquette.”

“But your husband sent for him in the first place,” Matilda said curtly.

Adeliza flushed. “He was honour-bound to do so, even as he was honour-bound to grant you entrance and succour. You know that.”

A nauseating brew of anger and pain churned Matilda’s stomach. She rose abruptly to her feet and started towards the door.

Adeliza said sharply, “Let Will deal with this. Stay here.” Matilda turned. “How am I to be queen of England and 282

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regent for my son if I shut myself in this chamber and let a man speak for me?” she demanded with icy contempt.

“You have no choice. Do you think I want any of this?” Adeliza’s chin wobbled. “Do you not know how frightened I am? Not for myself, but for my child, for my husband, and most of all for you—for what will become of you, and what you will become.”

Her words struck Matilda like a slap. “I am an empress and a queen,” she snapped, “and I will be no one’s pawn.”

“But I am a queen too, and you are my daughter,” Adeliza pressed. “And you are God’s child and His subject above and beyond all.” She reached a slender hand towards Matilda.

“Please, leave it to Will—for my sake.” Matilda felt like screaming at Adeliza, but knew it was pointless. “Very well.” She made a determined effort to control her frustration. “But I will have the maids pack my baggage, because whatever happens, it seems I have outstayed my welcome.” ttt

Will dismounted outside the king’s recently pitched campaign tent and handed his reins to an attendant. The morning mist was slowly clearing to expose a fuzzy halo of sun, although there was no warmth in the atmosphere. Will inhaled deeply to steady himself and followed an usher into the king’s presence. Stephen was standing by a brazier, warming his hands and drinking hot wine, steam curling from its surface.

“Sire.” Will knelt on the thick fur rug. The king’s brother, Henry, bishop of Winchester, was also present and extended his hand for Will to kiss his sapphire ring. He too must have recently arrived, for he was wearing silver spurs and the hem of his cloak was muddy.

Stephen gestured Will to rise, irritation obvious in the abrupt waft of his hand. “What do you mean by succouring Robert of Gloucester and the Countess of Anjou at Arundel?” he demanded.

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Will cleared his throat. “The Earl of Gloucester is no longer at Arundel, sire.”

“And you did not see fit to detain him?” Stephen’s gaze was dark with displeasure. The bishop looked down and fiddled with his episcopal ring.

“Sire, I deemed it honourable to let him go on his way without interference.”

Stephen’s brows arched in astonishment. “Did you indeed?”

“He is my stepson by marriage and the son of King Henry.

I am honour-bound to respect the kinship bond and give him houseroom. It would have been dishonourable to make him my prisoner. Had you arrived while he was still under my roof, I would have had to choose between my oath to you and my duty to a family guest.”

“But why grant them houseroom in the first place?” Stephen snapped. “Why in God’s name give them a safe landing place and admit them into the castle? What is the point of having everyone on alert, watching the coast, if you are going to open the back door? Either you have soup for wits, my lord, or I should add you to the list of the faithless.” Will’s shoulders tightened. “They would have landed no matter what precautions you took. My wife thought that by talking to the empress as a mother to a daughter, she could make her see sense.”

Stephen looked sceptical. “And has that happened, my lord?” Will grimaced. “She has fixed notions, but Adeliza is continuing to counsel her.”

“And may as well talk to the wall for all the good it will do.

You should not have let Robert of Gloucester leave Arundel.” Stephen drained his wine and banged his cup down. “If I order you to hand over the empress will you defy me?” Will was alarmed, but remained outwardly impassive. “Sire, if I give her to you, I will be breaking a sacred bond.” 284

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“If you do not, you compromise your loyalty to me,” Stephen growled.

Henry of Winchester stepped forwards. “You cannot afford to besiege Arundel,” he said to Stephen. “It will take too long, and while we are pinned down here, Gloucester will be carving himself an empire with Bristol at its hub. He is the one you should pursue. If you lay siege to Arundel, you will lose respect and men. The dowager queen was much loved at court and everyone knows she would not act out of defiance to you, but from the softness of her heart—and she is within her right. My lord D’Albini’s only sin is that of being too fond a husband.”

Stephen glowered at Winchester. “Then what am I to do, because I dare not leave Matilda here, whatever you say about womanly visits and the role of honour. I cannot ignore this threat and just ride away.”

Will wondered why the bishop of Winchester was giving Stephen a dove’s advice when usually he was all for seizing the moment.

“Give her safe conduct to Bristol to join the Earl of Gloucester,” the bishop said. “Return her to his custody. While she remains here, she is a woman acting of her own volition.

Sent to Bristol, men will see that she is in her brother’s keeping, and will be reminded that he is the power behind her presence, and would rule England in all but name. How many will bow to that? I will gladly go as her escort. That will leave you free to deal with insurrection elsewhere. With the Countess of Anjou and Robert of Gloucester pinned in one place, you will only have to focus on one objective—and men will commend you for your great chivalry.” He gestured to Will. “It will also liberate my lord D’Albini of the burden of his obligations.” Stephen’s mouth twisted. “Men might also commend me for great folly.”

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Winchester shrugged. “Since the alternative is a long siege that might see you surrounded in your turn by Gloucester, you have no choice.”

“It is a way out, sire.” Will had never thought to find himself grateful to the bishop of Winchester. “Otherwise we are at an impasse.”

“Very well,” Stephen growled, “but I will have renewed oaths of fealty from you and your wife, my lord D’Albini, before I ride from here.”

“Gladly, sire.” Filled with relief, Will knelt to Stephen; but he felt as if he has been bruised and battered in a hard fight and that he was still on the battlefield.

ttt

Matilda stared at Will in disbelief and contempt. “You are giving me up to him?” In that moment she could have killed Adeliza’s upstart dolt of a husband, standing there in his muddy boots, legs planted wide, telling her of the deal he had made with Stephen.

He reddened. “I am doing no such thing, domina. You are being offered safe conduct to Bristol where you will be protected without causing harm to your stepmother and those beholden to her. I ask you to see sense and agree to the truce terms the king has offered.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you destroy us all and you leave me no room for manoeuvre.” He extended an imploring hand. “Please, I ask you to accept the terms and go to Bristol. The bishop of Winchester and Waleran de Meulan will escort you.”

“It seems I have no choice,” Matilda said bitterly, hating to be powerless. She faced Will with angry pride but inside she was weeping with frustration.

He shook his head. “I do not have a choice either, and for that I am sorry.” He bowed to her, exchanged an unhappy glance with Adeliza, and left the room.

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Thirty-three

Arundel, September 1139

T he following morning, Matilda dressed for travel in a red wool dress embroidered with thread of gold and sparkling with jewels. A gold cross set with rubies lay on her breast, and her fingers glittered with rings of sapphire, ruby, and pearl. “I will not leave here as a fleeing woman, but as a queen and an empress,” she said to Adeliza as her ladies fastened her ermine cloak with gold clasps.

“You must see that we are caught between two millstones.” Adeliza’s gaze pleaded Matilda to understand.

“Had everyone followed my father’s wishes, there would not have been any millstones,” Matilda said curtly.

“I agree, but since they did not, everyone has had to make unpalatable decisions.” Adeliza bit her lip. “You must write to me. I will worry about you.”

Matilda was tempted to ask if Adeliza would share the letters with her oaf of a husband and pass the notes on to Stephen, but she bit her tongue. “If I can,” she said shortly, and turned to the door. “No,” she said. “Do not come with me.” Adeliza’s eyes filled with tears. “I cannot bear to part like this. Will you not at least let me embrace you?” Matilda was still angry but allowed her to do so, and as she felt Adeliza’s arms around her, a sudden tug of emotion made LadyofEnglish.indd 287

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her hug Adeliza in return. Before the feeling could turn to tears, she pulled away and stood upright like a soldier.

“God keep you safe,” Adeliza whispered. “I will be praying for you.”

In the courtyard, the bishop of Winchester and Waleran de Meulan were waiting for her with Will D’Albini. Since Henry of Winchester was not only a bishop, but also a papal legate, Matilda had to kneel to him. She knew he was sizing her up like a spider with many flies stuck on his web, his own brother among them, and wondering if he could entangle her too.

Waleran de Meulan on the other hand was a wolf, ready to run down his enemies and rip out their throats.

“Cousin,” said Henry of Winchester. “Would that we were meeting in happier circumstances.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Matilda said. She did not acknowledge Meulan beyond a curt nod. He knelt to afford her the courtesy due her rank, but rose again immediately so that his knee barely skimmed the ground. Matilda compressed her lips.

Will assisted her into a covered wain that had been part of the negotiations. It contained her baggage and was covered by a rich tent cloth painted with golden lions that had belonged to her father. It meant she would not be seen by Stephen’s soldiers as she journeyed past the enemy camp and was a symbol of peaceful travel rather than military briskness.

Will knelt to her again, with full honour, and then stood up.

She expected him to look away in embarrassment or shame, but he met her gaze with a troubled, steady look. “God speed you, domina. I wish you no harm.”

“But you do wish me gone, do you not? Well, you have your way, my lord, may it not trouble your slumber.” She climbed into the wain and dropped the curtain, then sat down amid the cushions and furs padding the sides. Light filtered through the red covering, dipping everything in dark crimson 288

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like the back of a closed eyelid on a sunlit day. Briefly Matilda put her face in her hands, and a tremor shook her body, but she made no sound.

ttt

Will found his wife standing in the room that had been Matilda’s for her brief stay. He was uncertain how she was going to receive him, but when she turned at his entrance, there was no anger in her eyes, just troubled sadness. “I fear for her,” she said. “I fear for us all.” He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“When I married you, I swore I would protect you and keep you safe, and no matter what happens, I will do that.” His voice strengthened with a hint of anger because he felt as if his word of honour had been impugned. “I am a man who keeps my promises.”

Adeliza leaned her head against his chest. “I know that, but I am sorry you cannot protect her in the same way you protect me.”

“She can look after herself,” he muttered, remembering her wide grey eyes on him in the moment before she climbed into the wain. The contempt. The pride. The anger.

“No,” said Adeliza. “You are wrong, my husband. She cannot, because she is her own worst enemy.” ttt

The escort party stopped for the night at Rowland’s Castle, a small keep on the road to Winchester. The lord was not in residence, but his bailiff and steward, forewarned by outriders, had lit fires and prepared chambers. Matilda’s room, set two floors above the main hall, was draughty from the ill-fitting shutters over the window loops, but heat from braziers kept the worst of the chill at bay and her ermine cloak was heavy and warm. She felt as if she had been shaken about in a bag of logs after her day in the cart.

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Her women made up the bed in the chamber with good linen sheets and woollen blankets. When the legate’s usher came to request that she attend on his lord, Matilda was tempted to refuse for the pleasure of putting Winchester’s nose out of joint, but she was intrigued too, and wondered what he was up to. He was not the only one who could spin webs.

When she arrived at the legate’s chamber, he was standing by a brazier reading a piece of parchment but looked up as she entered. A youth was setting out a flagon and cups on a sideboard, and arranging a white cloth containing small stuffed pastries. Patting the lad on the head, the bishop dismissed him with a pastry for each hand and gestured the other servants to leave too.

“Is my lord of Meulan not joining us?” Matilda enquired as the door closed.

“The Earl of Worcester has retired to his chamber with some wine and an accommodating companion,” Henry said with a wave of his hand, making sure the light flashed on the intaglio ring adorning his middle finger. “I see no need to disturb him.”

“You have done well for yourself despite Stephen’s efforts to hold you back,” she said. “It must gall him that you have acquired the position of papal legate.” He gave her an assessing look. “I would not say that. My brother accepts that it is so.”

“But you left it many months before you told him.”

“A man who exposes everything inside his jewel casket is asking to be robbed and deceived,” Winchester said over his shoulder as he went to pour wine for both of them.

“It seems to me your brother is just such a man, and in consequence his jewel casket is almost empty.”

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delicate political issues. “No, I am not.” Her gaze hardened.

“But I have been robbed and deceived anyway.”

“That is a matter for debate. Some would say oaths made under duress have neither validity nor value. Some would say being absolved of an oath is reason enough not to retake it.” He handed her a cup so smoothly that the surface of the wine barely rippled.

“Some would also say that the Church should know its place and not involve itself in secular affairs,” she said. “Those who speak of absolution have robbed and deceived me and will continue to feather their own nests at the expense of others.

Your brother’s coffers are woefully light these days and he has had to rob the church to keep himself from penury. In my father’s day, the treasure chests were always full. Now it is the Beaumonts who drip with gold, and the mercenaries who have been paid for their loyalty who wear the jewels and the power.

Who rules your brother’s court, my lord? Not your brother, for certain, and not you.”

Henry’s cheeks reddened above his thick bush of beard. “I admit that my brother has been misled by bad advice, but as papal legate, I have influence to deal with such matters.” He put delicate emphasis on the word “influence.” Now they came to it, she thought. Here was the spider. A man who would be king in all but name. A man who would play both sides to his own best advantage. She took a sip of the wine, noting its quality. The bishop did not believe in stinting himself even when travelling. “So.” She set her cup down.

“You have not asked me here to socialise before retiring. Let us be frank. What do you want?”

He looked slightly pained. “You are my cousin whether we stand on opposite sides of a divide or not. And you are my daughter because of my position as a priest. I am worried about you on all counts.”

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Matilda arched her brow. As far as she was concerned, the family feeling could remain in its crypt. “But that is not the sum of it. I do not believe my lord of Meulan would be pleased to know we are having this conversation.” Henry made a gesture of dismissal. “He will know anyway in the morning. His spies are everywhere.”

“And Stephen will know too.”

His expression said without words that he was not unduly bothered. “He would expect me to report back all that I can find out.”

“Or all that you are willing to tell him, because even with his spies, Waleran will not know what was said between us.” Amusement curled his lips and she realised how much he thrived on this intrigue.

“So, what are you willing to do for me and at what price, my lord legate?” she said. “Let us be precise on this. What would be the price of a crown?” She reached for her wine again, took a deliberate sip and swallowed slowly. “An opportunity to weave policy? Or the head of Waleran de Beaumont on a platter perhaps?”

He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

“I am here to fight for that crown. Some have already risen to join me, and others are waiting their moment. Your brother may have followers, but how many will remain loyal when he has spent all the money in the treasury—some of it stolen from the Church? I have a son, my lord; he is growing fast and he will be a king. I see it in him; it is not just a mother’s fondness. You have more reason than one to look to the future.”

Henry pursed his fastidious lips. “We both have matters to consider, I agree, but let us not be hasty lest we repent at leisure. My brother is not well versed in policy, but he is still an anointed king and nothing can change that.” 292

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Matilda said quietly, “I have often thought that changes cannot be made, and often been surprised.” She did not trust her cousin; indeed, without him, she suspected Stephen would not have been king in the first place, but he would prove useful as long as he thought there was something in it for him. She knew he was probably thinking the same about her. Her task was to play upon his self-importance and his desire for power. Stephen was his own worst enemy and the Beaumont twins were busy digging him into a deep pit while he stood by and let them. Sooner or later he was going to fall in—either by accident or design—and when that happened, she wanted no one throwing him a ladder.

ttt

The mist was still low the next morning as they continued on their way, and it was like travelling through a swathe of grey cerecloth. The bishop exchanged an eloquent glance with Matilda as she climbed into the covered wain, but he said nothing. Waleran de Meulan was keeping himself to himself and plainly nursing a headache to judge from the frown between his eyes and his greenish pallor. Of his nocturnal companion there was no sign. Matilda suspected that the key to dealing with Waleran lay in his extensive Norman lands and that it would be her husband’s policy to deal with the issue by seizing them and holding Waleran to ransom. For the moment, however, let him cause unrest at Stephen’s court.

Shortly after noon they arrived at the boundary marker where it had been agreed that Robert would meet the party and escort Matilda the rest of the way to Bristol. Leaving the wain, Matilda alighted on to dank, straw-coloured grass. The marker was a stone in the shape of a bent old man with calluses of yellow lichen growing on the long curve of his back and she shivered as if ancient fingers had traced a pattern along her own spine.

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Within moments she heard the jingle of harness and the soft thud of hooves. Riders appeared out of the mist, wraiths becoming solid shapes. Matilda saw Robert at the head of a group of knights and nobles. As one they dismounted and knelt to her in the wet grass beside the marker stone. The hair rose on the nape of her neck and her eyes filled. Suddenly being a queen did not seem so far away, yet they were in the middle of nowhere with the mist swirling around them and the sodden grass soaking into their shoe soles and cloak hems, when all this should be taking place in a hall filled with candle glow, incense, and the bright gleam of regnal gold.

She drew herself erect and raised her voice. “I have come to claim what is rightfully mine and that which my father willed to me. You all swore to me thrice, and if what a man says three times is true, then how much more when uttered by a king? I am your sovereign lady, and I thank you all for your true support.”

Waleran de Meulan made a sound in his throat. Ignoring him she went to Robert, took his hands, and gave him the kiss of peace on either ruddy cheek. Let Meulan and Winchester stare their fill and report back to Stephen as they chose. The fight for England’s crown had well and truly begun.

She turned to take the oath of the next man, who was kneeling awkwardly because he was so tall. His head was bowed and a few fine strands of silver threaded his mist-dewed hair. The sight of that silver when before it had been midnight-dark sent a pang through her. He took her hand and kissed the ring upon it, and then pressed his forehead there.

“Forgive me, domina,” he said. “You must do with me as you see fit; my life is yours. I did not have enough faith.” The pang intensified as affection mingled with exasperation.

“Certainly you are of no use to me down there,” she said and gestured him to rise.

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He shook his head. “Not unless my queen tells me she forgives me. Otherwise treat me like a traitor and strike me dead.” Matilda tapped him briskly on the shoulder. “Get up, you fool.” Her voice was terse with the effort of concealing her emotions. “There is nothing to forgive. I need every sound man willing to swear to my banner and what use are you to me dead?”

Slowly, he unfolded to his full height, and now she had almost to crane her neck. There was a sheen in his dark eyes and his throat was working. “None, unless you profit from it, domina,” he said hoarsely.

Her lips twitched. “Can you still put up a tent?” He answered with a faltering smile. “With the best of them, domina.”

“Then for the moment, that is all I need to know.” She looked round. “I will ride now,” she said imperiously. “I have had enough of carts.”

A groom brought Matilda’s mare from the back of the wain.

Henry of Winchester and Waleran de Meulan turned their party back to Arundel, the bishop saluting both her and Robert with a meaningful look as he reined his horse around.

Brian assisted Matilda into the saddle and saw her feet securely settled on the riding platform. His touches were brief and impersonal, but there was an underlying restraint that gave them greater meaning. Without looking at her, he bowed his head and turned to his tall black palfrey. She was glad that he still had Sable. In a world of shifting quicksand, it was good to have anchors of mundane familiar detail.

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