The Forsaken Monarch

by Amy Mantravadi

  “Lord king, I wanted to say how very sorry I am for any act of defiance. You took me by surprise, and I was not certain how to act. It seems that I chose poorly.”

  “I’ll say!” he scoffed.

  In truth, my choice of actions was only poor because of how I was treated and not because I committed any moral wrong. No, I was entirely in the right. Yet, if I was to have any chance of averting the Angevin marriage I detested, I needed to somehow reclaim the king’s good favor. And if I was to do that, I needed to allow him to feel superior, even if it meant apologizing when I alone was righteous.

  “I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, because I truly desire the benefit of this kingdom and your rule,” I continued. “You are, after all, not only my king but my father, and I respect you on both accounts.” My insides seemed to protest against these words, for I no longer respected him on either count. “Please know that you have my loyalty.”

  “I pardon you,” he said, making the sign of the cross in the air. “Now get to the point.”

  There was the first hurdle cleared, no doubt with the aid of some guilt on his part, but another awaited. I worked up my courage once again.

  “I have given much thought to your demand that I marry the count of Anjou’s son,” I said. “In many ways, it makes sense. Indeed, I can see why you should favor it. And I would not balk at any match that might help to ensure the future of this house. However, my concern arises because some of the lords might object to the idea of an Angevin ruler.”

  “Yes, that was Robert’s concern.”

  “You spoke of this with Earl Robert?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

  “Just yesterday, yes.”

  “And he was opposed to the idea?”

  “He had some reservations.”

  “I see,” I said, hoping to disguise my pleasure at this revelation. If my brother was with me, then perhaps I had a fighting chance after all, for he had the king’s love.

  “Yes, you ought to erect a monument in his honor for the good service he has done you, for after speaking with him, I am less certain of how to proceed. Don’t be too happy!” he commanded, perhaps having seen a hint of a smile on my face. “I still favor Anjou, but I think it best that we have all the lords and magnates swear to you first. Let them pledge their fealty to our line. Then we will decide how to act.”

  I was a bit surprised to hear that despite how he had treated me just a few days earlier, my father still intended to make me his heir. I had not thought it safe to assume that this would be the case. While I was still quite afraid of my father, I allowed this news to grant me just a bit of boldness: enough to ask another question.

  “But my lord, if they are to pledge loyalty to me in the case of your demise, might they not demand to have some say in whom I wed? I have no children at the present, and it is those descendants to whom they will make their pledge as much as to myself.”

  “Yes, I thought of that, but if you are betrothed now and then they take the oath, after which point the marriage falls through, then they will claim that they are no longer duty bound. Worse yet, they may reject the oath entirely. Therefore, we must make the case for your person—let them be faithful to you alone. And if any refuse, we shall know how to deal with them.”

  “So they would pledge fealty to me? But I am—”

  “A woman? Yes, but you are still the true heir, and in your sons the throne will be vested. These are extraordinary times, and you know what they say: extremis malis extrema remedia. Of course, I will require sons from you. Should you fail in that, all our efforts come to nothing.”

  At this point, my heart was somewhat torn. On the one hand, I was pleased that my father was willing to have the lords of the kingdom swear to me, his daughter. On the other, I knew that this decision was not on account of any perceived merit in myself. Rather, he was placing his hope in a son that I may or may not have—one who would be an altogether more proper human being. His opinion of me had not changed, but merely his perception of my utility. He had declared his true belief when he said that he owned me, and he believed that I would surely acknowledge that at some point. It was a grim situation, and one in which I took no pleasure. I was still reeling, uncertain of my purpose. The one thing of which I was sure was that I had no interest in marrying the Angevine imp. I therefore continued to play his game in the hope that I might one day be free.

  “Thank you, my lord, for the faith you have placed in me,” I said, with all the gentility I could muster.

  “You might consider yourself fortunate if you end up in Anjou,” he replied. “They say this Geoffrey is the fairest youth man ever did see.”

  “Who says that?” I asked, still amazed that he would think I only cared about appearance and not character.

  “I don’t know. This kind of thing gets around.”

  “How old is he, my lord?” I asked, afraid to know the answer.

  “What does it matter how old he is?”

  “I am simply curious.”

  “Twelve? Thirteen? Old enough to do the deed, I should think.”

  “Ah …” I said, but inside I was screaming.

  Twelve years of age? He was a boy, not a man! How could I be bound to such a person: I who had seen far more of life than was usually fit into two dozen years? I had been an empress! Indeed, I still bore that title. The idea of being joined for ever to someone who was in no way my equal was truly dreadful. Not that many people believed that even the greatest woman was equal to a man, but the very laws of nature seemed to testify that Geoffrey of Anjou was my inferior. What was I to do? I kept my anger to myself yet again, hoping that by appearing docile I might escape that awful future.

  We had made our way back to the green, where the earl of Surrey had continued his game with the chancellor.

  “Get your hands off my bow!” my father bellowed, and with that he left us.

  “Come, Drogo,” I said. “Let’s head back.”

  We started to make our way back up the hill toward the palace, and I was relieved to at least be out of my father’s presence.

  “Thirteen?” Drogo asked, when we were far enough away to not be heard. “At that age, he would be lucky to even find … well, you know.”

  “Watch yourself, Drogo,” I said, glaring at him.

  “Are you sure nothing is wrong?” he asked, his features growing soft. “That is, nothing besides your father’s plot to marry you to that child?”

  “You are sweet, Drogo,” I said, touching him on the arm. “What would I do without you?” With that, the conversation dropped.

  As we approached the entrance, I allowed myself to feel a very small sense of accomplishment, although the greater part of me still despaired. I had been sorely afraid to return to the company of the man who treated me like an ant to be crushed. I was forced to suppress my own sense of justice in order to speak with him in such a manner. Even so, I had passed the test, and thanks to the apparent intervention of my brother, there was a chance that I might at least be spared the very worst outcome.

  We climbed the main stair on to the second level and entered the great hall. I had almost forgotten my troubles, when I saw Brian fitz Count standing there in the middle of the vast room, plain as day, with his new wife, both of them surrounded by members of court.

  “Oh, Drogo! Let’s go back the way we came!” I whispered.

  Fortunately, he did not ask why, but simply turned on the spot along with me. Perhaps he really did guess more than I let on to him. We had almost made it back to the double doors that led into the newer part of the palace, when brother Robert burst through them. Both Drogo and I instantly halted to avoid colliding with him.

  “There you are!” Robert said, a smile on his face. “I heard about your fall. Are you on the mend now?”

  “I’ve felt better,” I answered, desperately hoping to avoid a long conversation.

  “Look! Sir Brian is here with the lady of Wallingford, and I am sure you want to meet her,” my bro
ther declared.

  How wrong you are! I thought, but there was nothing that could be done. He had already grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a conversation I wished desperately to avoid. For the life of me, I could not think of an excuse that would free me from what was about to take place. Lord, give me strength, and keep me from slaughtering someone! I prayed.

  “Lady Mathilda,” Robert called out, “here is my sister, the Empress Mathilda!”

  As she turned, I received my first good look at the lady of Wallingford’s face. To my eternal dismay, she was far more comely than myself. Nevertheless, I chose to look at her rather than Brian, who was standing just to the side.

  “How wonderful!” the lady said. “Empress Mathilda, I have heard nothing but your praises since I arrived here. How magnificent that you are back at court again!”

  “Yes, most magnificent,” I replied.

  Actually, it was anything but magnificent. It was hell—pure hell. I strove to look into her beaming eyes, even as I longed to cast my gaze on the man who had rejected me. Or did I? I could not decide. I feared seeing him, and yet I struggled to look away.

  “Your father, the king—he is so good to us,” she continued, oblivious to the misery she was causing. “I never thought to have a husband who is so caring, so honorable—”

  “Well, that’s the king,” I agreed, hoping to put an end to it. But no, she would continue.

  “You know, he has given us such a position of honor here at court. I never would have dreamed!” she said, clinging to her new husband’s arm. “You must feel fortunate to have a father who is not only royal by birth, but also royal in spirit.”

  “Indeed, there are few people with such fortune as I,” I said, with no little irony.

  “Perhaps we should let the empress be about her business. She must have many things to attend to,” Brian said.

  That led me to look at him directly for the first time. To my surprise, his beard was completely gone. Was this something his new wife had demanded? It made him seem almost alien to me. He was wearing blue again. That had been my favorite color, but now he was wearing it for someone else. Maybe he had never really worn it for me at all. I looked into his eyes and hoped to see some sign of remorse—something that would explain the tumult of the past week—but I saw nothing. He simply stared back at me blankly.

  I pulled my eyes away from him and looked back at the lady of Wallingford, her fair skin so perfect, her lovely golden locks peeking out, her blue eyes radiant. What a bitch, I thought. What an utterly perfect bitch.

  “It is good to have you both at court,” I concluded quickly, then turned to leave.

  I walked past the others, ignoring some poor lord who was seeking to gain my attention. I sought only the double doors that would safeguard me from my pain. Not waiting for Drogo, I opened them and stepped through, rushing into the passage to the right, where no one else was standing. I leaned back against the wall and rubbed my left side, which was still in pain from all the times I had been kicked—or perhaps the pain was inside me. I knew not. I was simply praising God that I had survived without saying something truly worthy of regret, when Robert walked through the doors to my left.

  “Maud! Where are you?” he called.

  For just a moment, I remained silent, hoping I would not be visible. However, he quickly saw me, and I was forced to say something.

  “Honestly, what now?” I replied, a bit lacking in courtesy.

  “I know that was awkward, but it was necessary,” he said, walking toward me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When you saw Brian just now.”

  “Why would that be awkward for me?” I asked, suddenly afraid of what he might have discovered and repeated to everyone at court.

  “Forgive me, but I saw something once or twice that implied a bit more than friendship between you.”

  So Robert apparently knew as well. Did everyone know of my shame? I made one last attempt to avoid it.

  “Honestly, brother, you are imagining things—”

  “I saw you kissing!”

  There was little point in denying at that point, but I had a question. “Fine, there was something between us. If you knew that to be the case, then why did you have to be so cruel?!”

  “Because you will have to be around him day and night, and the sooner you get this first pain behind you, the better. That is why you have been hiding, no?”

  I had not guessed that my brother gave so much thought to my situation, not because I thought him a man without compassion, but because I had not imagined he knew of it.

  “Robert, is this why you advised the king against Geoffrey of Anjou?” I asked.

  “No, I honestly think him a bad choice, but it helped, didn’t it?”

  Surprising even myself, I smiled. “Yes, I must admit that it did.”

  “You are my sister,” he said, grasping my shoulders lightly and then patting the sides of my face. “I actually do want what is best for you.”

  “And I for you,” I said, “but is that the same as what is best for the kingdom?”

  “One question too many,” he concluded with a wag of his finger.

  “Very well,” I said with a nod. “I thank you for your efforts on my behalf. Nevertheless, I must beg you, brother, do not speak of this to anyone! What’s done is done. There is no point in repeating what ought to remain in the past.”

  “You have my solemn oath: not a word!” he assured me.

  Then he surprised me yet again: he reached out and embraced me for a good minute. Again, I had not doubted that Robert cared for me, but he was a man of war, and while he may have shown all manner of affection to his brothers in arms, he had not held me since I was a little girl. It felt wonderful. It felt like … family.

  Later that same day, I was notified by one of my ladies that Brian had requested an audience. I was not quite ready for that, so I had her return with a letter.

  Sir Brian, it has been brought to my attention that you wish to speak with me. Sadly, I am not at my leisure today, but if you have some message to remit, you may do so through my knight, Drogo. Yours faithfully, MATHILDA IMPERATRIX

  Those final words were most proper, as it was his lack of faith that had created our predicament. The next day, I received a reply.

  Gracious Empress Mathilda, I thank you for your magnanimity. You were no doubt surprised to hear of my marriage, which has taken place in accordance with the king’s command. Though I acted out of necessity, I regret any pain this has caused you and beg your pardon. I remain as ever your servant—Brian fitz Count

  I was standing at the time in the room connected to my bed chamber, which simply had a table for eating and a few chairs placed by the hearth for receiving guests. Drogo alone was with me as I read the words over a few times, my frustration increasing with every line.

  “Drogo, what is this?” I finally asked, holding up the piece of parchment.

  “A letter.” He had a knack for stating the obvious.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “What was Sir Brian’s mood when he gave it to you?”

  “Serious, I suppose. Why?”

  I looked back at the words on the page. There was much that Brian had not said. How could he have sent such a letter without any feeling, as if we were merely discussing the weather? No, I would not allow him to get away without explaining his behavior: without telling me why my hopes had been destroyed.

  “Bring him here at once,” I said to Drogo.

  “But I thought you said—”

  “Never mind what I said!” I snapped. “I am saying: bring him here.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he replied, leaving the room quickly.

  He departed and I spent the next few minutes pacing back and forth on the floor boards, trying to control my anger. At one point, I picked up the iron poker sitting by the hearth and began stirring up the fire, allowing the sparks to fly even as the fire burned inside me. How could he offer up such a reply? I could see
that I must address him, but what should I say? I was still trying to make up my mind when Drogo opened the door, and in stepped the object of my discontent.

  “Lord Brian of Wallingford,” the knight announced.

  I threw the poker to the side. Although Brian bowed, I said nothing in acknowledgement. I simply pushed aside the chest of treasured objects that was sitting near the edge of the table and leaned back against it with crossed arms, as if doing so could block him out.

  “I’ll leave you then?” Drogo asked, or rather pleaded, for he was gritting his teeth a bit and looked very much as if he longed to be anywhere but there. He recognized I was in a fury and Lord Brian was the subject of my wrath, even if he did not know why. Whatever respect he may have had for Brian, he was not about to get between a lioness and her prey.

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied quietly.

  As my knight made to leave the room, I locked eyes with Brian. He took a deep breath in, no doubt in preparation for the onslaught he knew was coming. He had broken faith with me, and he would be made to feel it. I suppose I desired to transfer some of the shame within myself to him: to place it on the rejecter rather than I who was rejected. Either that or I was simply so angry that I had to berate someone, and I could hardly say such things to the king.

  We continued to stare at one another until I heard the thud of the door and click of the bolt.

  “Coward!” I yelled.

  “Maud,” he began, taking a step toward me.

  “Don’t you dare!” I cried, pointing my finger at him. “Don’t you dare pretend to be what you are not! I am your superior, sir. You have no right to use the name given to me by my mother!”

  He froze in place and his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “Forgive me, Empress Mathilda. You received my note?”

  “I received a beating.”

  “What?!” he stammered, his expression changed to one of shock. “What do you mean? They said you fell down the stairs.”

  “Help me understand,” I continued, avoiding his question. “Had you been plotting to betray me all those months, or was it a sudden decision?”