“Certainly,” Stephen replied.
My cousin then departed to undertake his charge, leaving only myself, the king, and brother Robert in the room. I recognized that I needed to make my next moves carefully, looking for common cause. For the moment, my father’s anger was aimed at William Clito and the French king, and I wanted to keep it there. I had barely survived his wrath before, and if I came under it again, there was no telling what the king might do: marry me to the Angevine imp or someone even worse, rob me of my inheritance, or have me strung up by the thumbs. Perhaps he would not stoop to the thumbs, but I had no desire to find out.
“Such awful news!” I said, walking toward them slowly. “To think that a man of such high birth should be cut down by his own countrymen!”
“He was no true friend of ours, though I admit he was better than the last count,” Robert replied.
“Even so, such a fearful example! How did this happen?”
“Charles was never the great ruler that men claimed,” the king said. “He had plenty of enemies.”
“Wasn’t his father also murdered?” I asked.
“Yes, when he was king of Denmark,” said Robert. “But the son, Count Charles—he was a poor administrator. Their crops failed, so they sent the Jews away. Little good it did them! When men began hoarding, he tried to stop it, all to no avail. He reduced some of the lords until they were little more than common peasants. One of these families took special offense and killed him while he was at prayer.”
“Yes, it’s all a very sad tale, but we are not going the way of Count Charles!” the king declared. “Every man will look to his own gain now. We have no choice. Mathilda, you must be married to Geoffrey of Anjou as soon as possible. It is the only way to ensure that they remain in our camp.”
My heart sank. Here was the very thing I had hoped to avoid! Indeed, avoiding this thing was all that had impelled me for the past few months. It was the reason I had made a kind of peace with my father, even though I had never forgiven him in my heart. It was the reason I had borne his presence and spoken to him with kindness, when my true desire was to curse him and never stand beside him again. For the right to marry a better man, to sit on the throne as his heir, to have some power over my own life—in short, to be free—I had sacrificed my freedom to protest abuse: the right that is given to every man and woman by God.
In that moment, I saw it slipping through my fingers. I had to stop it! He wanted Anjou as an ally. Might Anjou prove to be of no use to us as an ally? No, that seemed unlikely. However, it was possible that they could prove a false ally. This was my only hope: the only form of reason that might save me.
“They did not remain in our camp when Prince William married an Angevin. Why should they do so now?” I objected.
“It will be different when you marry the male heir. A daughter is nothing,” the king said. “A son is everything: I should know.”
Here he looked at me very directly and glared, and I knew there was nothing I could say to change his mind. He would marry me to the Angevine imp, not only to save Normandy, but to make a point. I had stood against him, and I must be punished. I must learn my place. Yes, there was nothing that I could say to alter his opinion, so I turned to the one person who had been able to influence him on this matter.
“Robert!” I entreated, my words desperate, my soul overwhelmed. “Tell him that I cannot do this! I know you do not support it.”
But there was no light in my brother’s eyes. They were sad and downcast.
“That may have been the case, but all is changed now. The king is right. I’m sorry, Maud,” he said quietly.
If my heart had sunk before, now it sunk doubly. I could hardly believe that things had changed so suddenly. Half an hour earlier, I had hoped that the king would be talked out of the Angevin marriage—that if I was on my best behavior, my brother could bring him round. The murder of Count Charles had changed everything, so that even Robert was unable to help me.
Think, Maud, think! I commanded myself. Think of something else! Quick, before the death knell sounds!
“What of the lords? What do your counselors have to say?” I asked, looking to them each in turn.
“The king has not spoken of this with anyone but myself,” Robert replied.
This truly surprised me. How could the king proceed with such an enormous decision without discussing the matter with his advisors? I couldn’t decide whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
“Not Bishop Roger of Salisbury?” I asked in surprise. “Not Chancellor Geoffrey? Not his precious Stephen?!”
Robert began to open his mouth to speak, but the king beat him to it. “It would not do to tell the lords. They all have their own opinions, and I will not have them gainsaying mine!”
“But this will only lead to calamity!” I argued. “Remember the lesson of Count Charles! When they find out, they will rise up against you.”
“Is that what you think of me? I cannot defend my own throne?!” the king asked, clearly perturbed. He had that look in his eyes again: a look of fire, with which I was playing a dangerous game. He had pressed his right hand down on to the table and leaned in closer to me. His manner was such that I would not have been surprised if the table broke under the pressure of his grip. My only comfort was that the two of us were not alone.
Be bold, Maud, I told myself. This is your last chance!
“I think you are desperate men seizing at a desperate chance. Pray, have some patience! God only knows what is to come,” I begged.
“I have made my decision, and it is final!” my father declared, pounding the table with his palm.
“No!” I cried. I stood up as straight as I could, breathing in deeply to keep the tears from falling. “You cannot force me to marry him. You can drag me there, but you cannot pull the words from my mouth.”
“Sister!” Robert said. “Consider what you are hazarding by your obstinacy! Is it really worth sacrificing the king’s love?”
I turned my eyes toward him and finally allowed the tears to drop. “As if I ever had it,” I whispered.
“Enough!” the king cried, placing one hand on his hip and using the other to point at me. “You forsake your duty to this kingdom and place your own contentment above that of the commonwealth. History will not judge you kindly!”
“I love England, but this is folly!” I contended. “It will not save her!”
“Maud, you must see reason!” my brother argued. “Perhaps if you took some time—”
“I could take all the time in the world, but it would never change my opinion that this is a travesty. My mind is set.”
The king was in a rage and wished me to feel it. He moved his head from side to side in frustration, and he slowly curled his fingers into his palms until they became a pair of fists.
“God cursed me on the day of your birth!” he bellowed. “Were you not all that is left of my line, I would say that we should have thrown you out with the rubbish!”
That was surely one of the most awful things anyone had said to me in my life, and it came from my own father. I wanted to throw his curse back at him, but the pain he had caused was so great that I could hardly breathe. I had lost not only my chance at freedom, but any chance I ever had at gaining the love of my father. There was nothing I could do or say to change things. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “I am very sorry to disappoint you, my lord. Now, if you please, I must be going.”
I turned to leave before the fall of tears became a flood. I would not grant him that satisfaction. As I departed, I could hear Robert say, “You did not have to be so harsh.”
The king’s response was as one might assume. “Quiet! Fetch me some strong drink! I’ll have done with that bitch.”
Five steps, ten steps. I ran down the stairs to the lower level, my skirt flowing behind me. I fled from that place as quickly as I could, but not quickly enough, for as I approached the front gate, Brian made his way in, having just arrived from Wallingford. Apparently, he had
no need of Stephen’s summons. I halted at once in the middle of the foyer, a thousand thoughts and feelings passing through me. My face was still covered in tears, and the man who had made a fool of me—whom I still loved, despite all my efforts to the contrary—was standing there in front of the threshold, staring at me with a look of concern. He had evidently noticed that I was upset.
Why, God, why?! I prayed. Why now of all times, after I have tried to avoid him for weeks?! Why when my heart is broken anew and I simply want to run—to hide far from the watchful eyes of men?!
He was standing between me and the way of escape, and I had to consider whether it was better to go back the way I had come and possibly face another conversation with my father. Before I had time to decide, Brian bowed and addressed me.
“Empress Mathilda!”
“Lord Brian,” I replied none too cheerfully, quickly wiping the tears from my eyes and striving to gain control of myself.
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” he began. “My wife wished me to tell you that she was sorry she could not speak to you more at Wallingford when you passed through, for she had looked forward to making your acquaintance more fully. She invites you back to our home to enjoy the use of our estate for as long as you like. She would very much like to become friends.”
I had never known the word “wife” to be so repugnant. I hated the very sound of it from his lips. I might not have hated it so much had I not been scorned by the king moments before, but such is life. My anger was shifting from my father to Brian.
“She told you to say that, did she?” I replied. “Well, please inform Lady Mathilda that I have no idea when I might travel near Wallingford, for that is not my usual path, but if I am in the neighborhood, you will be the first to know. Does that satisfy you?”
“Not quite, my lady. I wanted to ask you: is all well? I heard about the count of Flanders, and I feared for you.”
“Why should you do that?” I snapped.
He shook his head slightly in confusion. “Simply because this has caused such tumult, and I know it might affect your future.”
“As far as it concerns you, I am perfectly content. Things will work themselves out soon enough.”
Inside, I was screaming. Can’t you see that I’m dying?! I still love you, and I’m being sent to marry someone unworthy while you are married to the Lady of Everything Perfect, and I hate it! I loathe it! You will never love me again, and I cannot bear it! But I remembered Robert’s words to me, and I refused to let Brian feel he had power over me: not after everything that had taken place.
He approached me slowly. “My lady—”
“I’m not your lady!” I cried, stopping him in his tracks.
“Your Highness, then. Are you still so angry at me that you must remove yourself from my home?”
“Ha! You would like that, wouldn’t you? You must take special pleasure in the thought of me pining after you.”
“Not at all!”
“What does that mean?” I asked, suddenly hurt. Why was I hurt? Because of course, a part of me hoped that he still cared for me as well, although I was unwilling to admit it to myself, for that would have also meant he had power over me.
“I mean that my dearest wish is to see you happy, not miserable,” he explained.
“Don’t make me laugh!”
“You may not believe me, but it is true.”
“You made your choice, Lord Brian. You cannot have it both ways. When you married that woman, you forsook my love. Now you shall never feel it again. Also, I am not afraid to set foot in your house, or any house for that matter, but I have better things to do! I am an empress, after all,” I said, as if he did not remember.
“I hope in time to earn your forgiveness,” he told me earnestly.
“Ah, so you have hope yet. Beware! That is no blessing, but the last of Pandora’s curses! Now, if you will excuse me, I must go devise some means of avoiding marriage to the Anjou boy, though I begin to despair that such a thing exists.”
“Geoffrey of Anjou?” he asked, the look on his face one of clear surprise. “But he is still a boy and far below you in rank! That is the king’s choice?!”
“Yes, and I intend to fight it by tooth and by claw, not that it’s any of your business.”
“If I can make the king change his mind, will you forgive me?” he asked almost desperately.
“If forgiveness is what you seek, then I recommend you find yourself a priest. I have no time for this. My God! Why do you always have to be so … so … incessant?!”
With that, I stormed off to my chamber, where I hoped to shut myself off from all men.
Over the next few days, the news grew worse. The French king had entered Flanders and summoned all the barons to himself. William Clito—the traitor to whom he had already gifted the Vexin, the phantom kept alive daily through their mutual plotting—was his man of choice. No one could have been ignorant of this. King Louis would force that choice upon the barons, even if Clito’s claim was weaker than some of the others.
And what could we do about all of this? Next to nothing! Our position was not to be favored. King Louis was there on the ground, even as we struggled to influence matters from afar. Never cease to respect the importance of being on the ground! I have seen this time and again to my own hardship.
Even so, King Henry used every weapon at his command. He paid a pretty sum to Count William of Ypres and Duke Thierry of Alsace, two men he hoped could win support. He bribed the local lords, flattered their wives, and praised their children. He even attempted to stake his own claim to the county through his mother, the late Mathilda of Flanders.
By this time, I had made several efforts to gain an audience with my father and protest the Anjou marriage again, but I was always refused. Hardly a word passed between my father and me in those days. Once, I tried to address him at dinner, but he replied, “Not tonight!” and rose to get another glass of mead. It was a sorry state of affairs. I walked by him in the passage one day, and he pretended not to see or hear me. That is the game of a small child!
I dearly hoped—yes, I hoped and prayed—that someone other than Clito would be made count of Flanders, and that this would change things on the Continent in such a way that a different marriage would be sought by my father. In truth, this was the only way his will could be changed: not by any words of mine. His will was harder to breach than the highest bulwark. So after a week or so, I stopped seeking an audience. I simply waited and hoped.
One day, the king went off hunting with the lords and Queen Adeliza, while I stayed behind in the lodge with only a few members of the household. Around midday, I became quite hungry and decided to walk down to the kitchen to see what was left from the feast the night before. I descended a small spiral stair to the lowest level, which was partially buried in the earth. Here I entered the kitchen through a door so small that I felt the need to duck, although I am not an especially tall person.
The room was large and open, with the hearth almost covering the east wall. The great spits sat mostly idle, waiting for the lords to deliver their latest kills. Only a poor old goose was making the rounds for supper. The western wall was covered with an array of pans and knives hung with care. There was a large water basin for cleaning the dishes on the far wall, and two long tables placed beside one another. On one, a cook was grinding grain for bread, and on the other a servant was slicing garlic and leeks. I noticed the remnants of a cheese wheel at the end of the table nearest me.
“Excuse me, but may I take some of this?” I asked the cook.
The woman had been so intent upon her work that she evidently had not heard me enter the room. When she looked up, her head snapped back slightly in surprise.
“Empress!” she said, bowing, wiping her hands frantically on her apron, and adjusting her cap. “We happy sees you.”
This was a very odd comment, but I quickly recognized that the woman must have little knowledge of the Norman tongue. Upon hearing her words, the ot
her servant, a young man, recognized what was happening and appeared to fumble his knife as he moved quickly to remove his cap and bow his head. He opened his mouth but seemed to struggle to form any words. I could almost see his mind straining to remember any bit of Norman he had been taught. I wanted to spare them both the trouble, so I reached back into my own memory for some words of the native tongue my mother had taught me in my youth. It had been so long since I made regular use of the language, but I was determined to try.
“Wesaþ hale!” I said in greeting. “Forgiefe mec. Bidde—” Here I pointed to the cheese and then myself.
“Gea! Gea!” the woman said, picking it up and handing it to me.
“Ic þancie þē!” I said, thanking her.
I then moved through the small door to my right, next to all the pans. I knew this led to the cellar. The only light in the room came from a small window near the ceiling that was so covered in grime that it hardly deserved the name. I could see at least that the center of the room was full of barrels, while the bottles rested on wood shelves along the walls.
“Where in God’s name are the candles?” I muttered.
I had only just spoken the words when I heard the noise of approaching steps behind me and turned to see that it was the young man from the kitchen come with not merely a candle, but a torch.
“Thank you!” I said, without thinking.
Fortunately, he seemed to understand at least that much, for he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
With torch in hand, I was able to move into the cellar and examine the bottles. I was hoping to find more of the wine from Cluny, but no matter how many hastily written labels I read, I did not find the object of my search. I did, however, breathe in quite a bit of dust, which caused me to sneeze. I then heard the pounding of boots upon the wood floor and turned back to see Drogo’s form in the glow of the fire.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Sir Drogo,” I replied. “Do you happen to know if they keep any of that stock from Cluny here?”
The Forsaken Monarch Page 34
