by K. M. Ashman
‘I agree,’ said Henry, ‘and in different circumstances I would have taken that road, but alas it is not so simple. To secure the throne I needed the support of the clergy, and to get that I needed the barons on my side. This was a difficult situation and I had to concede to some conditions before they agreed to offer me their support.’
‘What conditions?’
‘Peace on our northern borders,’ said Henry.
‘Now I am confused,’ said Nesta, ‘how does peace in the north have any effect on whether you and I get married?’
Henry looked down at the floor in silence.
‘Henry,’ said Nesta, ‘please, I am waiting for an explanation.’
‘Because in order to secure an alliance with our northern allies,’ said Henry, looking back up, ‘I am to marry the Princess Matilda.’
Nesta stared at Henry in horror as his words sunk in.
‘Who is Matilda?’ she asked eventually.
‘She is the daughter of King Malcolm of Scotland.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ said Nesta, ‘I may not live the life of a queen but even I know Malcom died many years ago.’
‘Indeed he did, but there still exists many family ties and the union will provide a link by which peace can be secured.’
Nesta sat back in her chair, aghast at the revelation.
‘When is this union to take place?’ she asked quietly.
‘Within months,’ said Henry, ‘and the clergy have already sent for her.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In Romsey Abbey in Southampton.’
‘She is a nun?’ gasped Nesta. ‘But surely that is against the laws of God.’
‘She is no nun, Nesta, but was sent there for education by her aunt.’
Nesta got up and walked around the room.
‘You knew of this last night,’ she said, ‘before you took me to my bed.’
‘Yes but—’
‘So all the time you were telling me that you loved me, another woman lay in your thoughts?’
‘No, Nesta,’ said the king, ‘you were and are the only woman to occupy my mind. The marriage is one of convenience only.’
‘Convenient for whom?’ shouted Nesta. ‘For you, for her, for the church? Because it is certainly not convenient to me.’
‘For the country,’ roared Henry, storming to his feet. ‘In the name of God, woman, can’t you see I am as hurt as you in this affair? Of course I would rather have you at my side but I had no choice in this matter. It was agree to this or lose the crown.’ He slumped back down in his chair and looked over at Nesta.
‘So where does this leave me?’ she asked quietly. ‘Am I to be thrown out as I once was by your brother?’
‘Of course not,’ said Henry. ‘This is your home and you can stay here as long as you want. In fact, I can’t see why this situation need change. I won’t be able to stay here often but I can visit.’
‘You want me to stay here?’ said Nesta in a lowered tone. ‘Waiting for the occasional visit whilst most nights you sleep alongside your queen?’
‘I know it’s not ideal,’ said Henry, ‘but at least we can still share what we have.’
‘So you want me to be your mistress?’ said Nesta. ‘Available at your call to satisfy your lustful needs while this Matilda reaps the benefits.’
‘It is not unusual for a king to have mistresses, Nesta, surely even you must know that.’
‘I do,’ said Nesta, ‘but I thought you were different. I thought we had something special.’
‘And we do,’ said Henry, ‘and that is why I do not want it to end. Yes, this marriage is unavoidable, but the love we two have for each other should not be abandoned for a simple matter of state.’ He stared at Nesta for a long while before speaking again. ‘I have to go back to Westminster,’ he said eventually, ‘but will return tomorrow evening. Perhaps you can have your decision by then.’
Nesta simply nodded and when Henry walked over to kiss her goodbye, she offered him only her cheek.
‘Until tomorrow,’ said the king, and he left Nesta alone to fight the deluge of heartbroken tears welling up behind her eyes.
The following day was the longest that Nesta could remember. The choices before her were difficult but finally she made her decision, and after bathing and taking her evening meal, she dressed in her best gown to await the king. Eventually he arrived and after handing his horse over to the grooms, headed straight to Nesta’s house in the grounds of the castle.
Nesta stood to greet him as he closed the door. They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Henry broke the silence and spoke gently.
‘Nesta,’ he said, ‘as promised, I have returned for your decision. Whatever path you decide, I promise you my lifelong love, whether it is by my side or not, so, if I may be so rude, please share your mind for my heart yearns to know whether it is to be broken or not.’
‘Henry,’ said Nesta with a sigh. ‘I have fought this decision every moment since you left and in the end, it was obvious I was fooling myself. The matters of kingship are greater than I and I was a fool to think I could keep you to myself. I know this now, so I will treasure the few years we had. I pride myself in being as independent as circumstances allow and vowed I would never be beholden to any man, but that was before I met you. Nobody has touched my heart as you have and I have invested too much to just walk away now. I will stay, my king, and if you so desire, will happily be your mistress.’
Henry smiled and stepped forward but Nesta stopped him with a raised hand.
‘But,’ she continued, ‘there are conditions.’
‘Only you would dare impose conditions on a king,’ said Henry with a smile. ‘What chains would you place around your monarch’s neck?’
‘Only one,’ said Nesta. ‘I will happily be your mistress and take what time you can spare. I will not, however, hide amongst the shadows as a guilty secret. If you want me as much as you say you do, then it must be with the full knowledge of your wife-to-be.’
‘What are you saying?’ asked Henry.
‘I am saying that my position must be made known to Matilda, in every sense. I will never embarrass her with my presence at any function she attends and will keep myself to the realms of Windsor; however, it is important she knows of me. If you promise me this, then we can proceed together.’
‘It is quite a boon you ask,’ said Henry. ‘I am not yet wed, but you want me to tell my would-be wife that I will often sleep with another.’
‘You said that kings are known for infidelity, and if this is indeed the case, as the daughter of a king herself she will understand the situation.’
‘Yes, but to rub it in her face before the vows are made is a little harsh.’
‘You said she was an orphan and this union is for the greater good of two countries, is that correct?’
‘It is,’ said Henry.
‘Then trust me,’ said Nesta, ‘she will not call off the union. A woman without prospects will never forgo the attentions of a king, just because he has interests in another.’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Henry.
‘Because, that is exactly the situation I have been in these past two days. If Matilda and I can share the quandary you have set upon the both of us, then we can equally share the bounty.’
Henry stared at Nesta before nodding and holding out his hands.
‘You are a very special woman, Nesta ferch Rhys,’ he said eventually, ‘and if that is the toll that must be paid, then so be it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nesta, ‘now if you don’t mind, I am feeling a little emotional and seek my own company. When the task is done, let me know and I swear we will not talk of this again.’
Henry nodded and smiled.
‘I understand,’ he said, ‘and will do as you ask. Fret not, my love, for though this is the end of one era, another awaits before us.’ Without another word, he turned and left the room, passing Carla on the stairs.
The servant entered Ne
sta’s quarters and saw her mistress on the verge of tears.
‘Is there anything I can get you, my lady?’ she asked quietly.
‘Yes, Carla,’ said Nesta as the tears started to flow, ‘bring me a new heart for this one is torn in two.’
The Island of Ynys Mon
August 7th, AD 1100
Gruffydd stood upon the hill, surveying his lands, with Cynwrig the Tall. The past few months had been brutal but with the aid of Cadwgan’s rebels and the forces of Magnus Barefoot’s Vikings, not only had they driven the invaders from Ynys Mon but also from most of the northern half of Wales.
‘My lord,’ said Cynwrig, nodding towards the main track leading down to the palace ruins. ‘It seems they may have enjoyed a better passage than we thought.’
Gruffydd looked the way Cynwrig indicated and saw the long-anticipated wagon train from Ireland. A column of mounted Irish mercenaries flanked the six wagons rocking along the uneven track – a strong force but one that was needed in such dangerous times.
‘This is a great day, Cynwrig,’ said Gruffydd with a smile, ‘for today is the first time my family has occupied Aberffraw in many a year.’
Angharad handed Gwenllian and Cadwallon down to Adele, who placed them on a grassy bank at the side of the muddy track.
‘I can do it myself,’ said Cadwaladr, shunning his mother’s offer of help and she watched nervously as her oldest son climbed clumsily from the wagon.
‘He is a child of five who thinks he is ten,’ said Adele from the bank.
‘Indeed,’ said Angharad, ‘but they need to learn and as long as they are not in danger, then we will suffer the knocks and bruises together.’ As if reinforcing his mother’s words, Cadwaladr fell from the last rung of the ladder into the mud.
‘Cadwaladr.’ Angharad sighed. ‘You are now all muddy. What will your father think when he sees you?’
‘I will think my little boy is already turning into a man,’ boomed a voice.
Angharad turned to see her husband slide from his horse.
‘Father,’ shouted Cadwaladr and escaped his mother’s clutches to run to Gruffydd.
The king swung the boy into the air; an action quickly repeated with his other two children as they too joined the father they hadn’t seen for many months.
‘Whoa!’ Gruffydd laughed, entangled within his children’s arms. ‘I have been captured yet again.’ For several minutes he listened to his children’s excited chatter until eventually, after a nod from Angharad, Adele relieved him of each child, ably aided by Cynwrig.
‘Come,’ said Adele, when they were once more upon the floor, ‘let’s go and explore.’
When the children had left, Gruffydd turned to his long-suffering wife and gave her a warming smile.
‘Hello, my love,’ he said, ‘welcome home.’
For the next hour or so, Gruffydd walked Angharad around the site, explaining what was happening regarding the repairs. The palace had been burned to the ground and though its replacement was only half built, the carpenters had already constructed a temporary house for the royal family. The walls were formed from vertical logs with each joint packed with mud and straw to keep out the sea winds while the roof was thatched and swept down almost to the floor. In comparison to the stone building under construction, their temporary home was quite small yet it still comprised of a small hall for daily life and several bedchambers for the royal family and servants.
‘Actually,’ said Angharad as she stood in the centre of the hall, ‘when I read your letter regarding this place, I had my doubts but now I am here, it’s better than I had hoped.’
‘And it’s only temporary,’ said Gruffydd. ‘A year from now the new palace will be complete and you will have a home fit for a queen.’
‘Will you not build a castle?’
‘Castles I have aplenty,’ said Gruffydd, ‘but this will be our home. Yes, there will be a palisade, but the building itself will be made of stone, with a slate roof. We will have arrow loops at low level but any windows will be on the higher levels and protected by stout shutters. Our home will be as strong as any castle, my love, but should there be a need to use such a place then there are others in Gwynedd that will suit. So no, I will not build a keep here, this place will be a centre of trade, discourse and family.’
‘It sounds idyllic,’ said Angharad, ‘and an ideal place to bring up our four children.’
‘Three children,’ corrected Gruffydd.
‘Four,’ said Angharad, ‘a springtime baby next year.’
‘You are with child again?’ gasped Gruffydd.
‘I am.’ Angharad laughed. ‘For it seems that every time you come to visit me in Ireland, you leave more than just a memory.’
‘This is wonderful news,’ said Gruffydd, ‘my kingdom is restored, our palace is being rebuilt and now another child to add to our family.’
‘It has been a long time coming, my love,’ said Angharad, ‘but at least it now seems like we have a future.’
‘Indeed we do,’ said Gruffydd, ‘and one in which we can bring up our family safely.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Angharad, voicing the fears that had plagued her ever since Gruffydd had become more active in the rebellion. ‘Is it not the case that we could be attacked at any minute?’
‘It seems not,’ said Gruffydd, ‘for since the death of William Rufus, there has been a warming in the relations between Wales and England. Henry has a lot on his plate settling into the role of monarch, and has sent representations to all the Welsh kings, myself included, seeking a cessation in hostilities from all parties. Only yesterday his messengers left this place with my agreement and it seems that all the Marcher lords have withdrawn their forces back to their strongholds.’
‘What terms does he command?’
‘None that I can see as yet.’
‘There will be terms, I can assure you that.’
‘Of course, but until they are drawn up, the only agreement is that both sides sheath their swords. I have no doubt the terms demanded will benefit the English Crown more than us but by that time we will be in a far better position to negotiate.’
‘So it is not yet over?’
‘We are in a better position than for many years,’ said Gruffydd. ‘Anyway, why are we discussing politics before you have even unpacked? Let’s get you settled into the house. There has been a deer on the spit since this morning and I have had the kitchen staff fill tubs of hot water to wash the dirt of the road from your beautiful skin. Retire to your room, my love, and I will have the servants bring you what you need.’
‘What about the children?’
‘Fret not for I have a longing to hear their laughter and once I have done chasing them around the manor, I promise they will be worn out. With a hot meal inside them, I’m sure they’ll sleep until dawn, leaving us time to be alone.’
‘Then I will take advantage of this respite,’ she replied, ‘no matter how fleeting, for the journey has taken my strength and it will be good to bathe in hot water.’
Gruffydd kissed his wife on the cheek.
‘Go, I will wake you when we are ready to eat.’ He watched her disappear through a door in the far wall before leaving the building and striding out to find his children.
‘Defend yourself, heathens,’ shouted Cynwrig, waving one of the toy swords in the air, ‘for I am a hideous ogre and love to eat the children of kings.’ With an almighty roar he jumped down from a wall and chased the squealing children around the garden. Adele laughed at their antics, touched to see the children happy again after such a long journey. Gruffydd walked up beside her and she turned to curtsey.
‘My lord,’ she said in greeting.
‘Adele,’ said Gruffydd, ‘it is good to see you again. I thought you were to stay in Ireland?’
‘It was going to be that way, my lord, but alas my husband died several months ago – he fell from his horse. I have no other family so when Lady Angharad invited me along, I was only too ha
ppy to accept. That is of course, if you are agreeable.’
‘My condolences about your husband, Adele,’ he replied, ‘and as for whether I am agreeable or not, I think it is one of the best things she has done. She sees you as a friend, rather than a servant and truth be told, I am sometimes quite envious of the trust between you.’
‘You underestimate her love for you, my lord,’ said Adele, ‘and no matter what advice I may give her, she always knows her own mind.’
‘And have you ever advised her to leave me?’ asked Gruffydd with a twinkle in his eye.
‘On many, many occasions, my lord,’ said Adele with a wicked smile.
Gruffydd smiled back and looked over at his children.
‘They seem happy,’ he said.
‘They are wonderful children,’ said Adele, ‘but will benefit from spending time with their father.’
‘A father who perhaps needs some lessons in how to play,’ said Gruffydd thoughtfully, as he watched Cynwrig pretend to die upon the grass.
‘It’s not that hard,’ said Adele with a smile, ‘all you need is one of these.’
Gruffydd looked down at Adele’s hand and with a smile he took the toy sword.
‘Truly, a weapon fit for a king,’ he said, and turning away from the servant, strode out into the garden, holding the wooden sword above his head.
‘I am King Gruffydd of Gwynedd,’ he roared across the gardens, ‘and I have been told there is an ogre to be slain.’
The children squealed in delight as their father joined the fray and as battle ensued, Adele left the games to walk back to the manor.
Early the following morning, Gruffydd walked out of the manor and sat on a bench alongside the stable to watch the sun come up. Inside he could hear the sounds of a horse being prepared and soon a man emerged leading his steed behind him.
‘My lord,’ said Cynwrig, as the king stood up, ‘I am surprised to see you here.’
‘I just wanted to say my goodbyes, Cynwrig,’ said Gruffydd, ‘and to pass on my gratitude for everything you have done for me and my family.’
