Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘I do trust you, my son,’ declared Ӕthelwulf, ‘which is why I shall consult the Witan about making you under-king of Western Wessex. Your oath-men and soldiers could guard our border with Cornwallium and prevent any raids by the Welsh.’ The old King’s tone was conciliatory.

  ‘Yet you still intend to give your wife part of your land?’ Ӕthelbald was not to be mollified, and Ralf watched as he poured yet more wine into his cup, swallowing half immediately.

  ‘It is parkland and forest, my son. Nothing of any particular value, a few farms and tenants, and a convent and abbey. But it will give her an income of her own, so you need not worry that her expenditure comes out of the treasury.’

  ‘And perhaps she might like to embroider altar cloths, or make shirts for the poor.’ Ceolnoth smiled ingratiatingly, and Ralf turned away to hide his own smile; he doubted that the queen would be as docile and biddable as these men thought.

  Ӕthelbald gave a snort of disgust, just before the latch of the door rattled and slowly opened.

  ***

  Chapter 24

  Ghislaine led the way down the tightly-turned staircase to the door of the council room. Judith stopped and listened, hearing the raised voices behind the studded oak door.

  ‘They’ve been much louder than that, Lady.’ Judith looked about her and saw a youth lounging on the ledge of the window at the end of the passage. He was dressed in richly woven woollen breeches and a dark blue tunic, with a copper coloured cloak pinned onto one shoulder. She could see the jewelled dagger at his waist, and that he had soft leather shoes on his feet, so she knew he wasn’t a guard.

  The young man slid from the embrasure and bowed, the sunlight from the window glinting on his long fair hair and closely trimmed beard. ‘Eanwulf of Somerset, Lady. At your service.’

  Judith nodded at the young man, then took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her hair and taking a deep breath.

  Behind the door, the anger seemed to subside, and Judith twisted the large latch-ring and entered, seeing the King studying a map laid out on a huge table. Surrounding him were his two grown sons, Ralf, the Archbishop and several fur-cloaked lords Judith recognised from the previous night’s dinner. Ӕthelberht grinned at her, but Ӕthelbald’s countenance might have been carved from stone.

  ‘Majesty,’ Judith sank into a curtsey with her head bowed, and the three ladies with her copied the obeisance. Judith wasn’t that consumed with her own plans that she missed the blush on Elin’s cheek as she gazed at Ralf, and she also heard the sputter of a giggle from Ghislaine.

  ‘Good morning, my dear.’ Ӕthelwulf stepped forward and raised Judith by her shoulders, kissing her cheek gently. Judith felt her skin tickled by the beard around her husband’s lips and she smiled up at him, dark eyes wide in her face.

  ‘Have I come at a difficult time, Lord?’ She tilted her head and gazed at the men surrounding the King, then blinked back at him innocently.

  ‘We were just beginning to discuss the Danes, my dear. To finalise the plans we shall put forward to the Witan. And thinking of ways to protect the kingdom from the Cornish and the Welsh.’ Ӕthelwulf led Judith across to the map, and she looked down at it as she nodded her head, ignoring the snort of derision from Ӕthelbald.

  ‘And the Witan will be when, Lord?’ She regarded him beneath her lashes and kept her voice low.

  ‘21st December, Lady,’ supplied Ralf, and the King nodded his agreement.

  ‘Then I wonder if I might have your permission to speak to the cooks, Lord. Discuss the types of food we might serve to your Ealdormen and Lords.’ She blinked up at her husband, ‘I presume there will be feasting, Lord?’

  All the men in the room burst into laughter, and the King smiled at her and nodded, ‘Aye, my dear. They will have come from afar, and will want much meat and ale while they are here.’

  Judith nodded sagely. ‘Then I shall make it my task to make sure they are amply provided for. With your approval, Lord?’ She sank into another deep curtsey and Ӕthelwulf boomed a laugh.

  ‘If that would make you happy, my dear, you may organise whatever you wish.’ He waved a hand, not quite a dismissal, more a granting of authority, and she beamed at him, clasping his hand and dropping a kiss on the hard, leathery skin.

  ‘Thank you, Lord. I shall speak to the cook first, and then, if I might, I would ask advice from Ghislaine’s brother regarding my own household?’ Judith shot a look at Ralf, who tilted his head in affirmation.

  ‘After our meeting, my dear. I shall send him to you.’ Ӕthelwulf returned to the table and Judith knew her audience was at an end.

  ‘Now run along, my dear. Your mother will be looking for you, I’m sure.’ The King missed the looks of bewilderment on the faces of his lords, but Judith merely curtsied again and left the room. She knew he had thought she was his daughter, but no matter. She had his permission to organise whatever she chose, and in front of Archbishop Ceolnoth, no less.

  ‘Take me to the kitchen, Ghislaine. I need to speak to the cook.’

  ***

  Chapter 25

  'My father is a dotard.’ Ӕthelbald slammed the door of the council chamber behind him and strode down the corridor. Eanwulf, dozing again in the window embrasure, quickly unfolded himself and hurried after his friend.

  ‘Why, Lord? What has happened?’ Eanwulf fell into step beside Ӕthelbald as they turned the corner and climbed the wide stone steps to the upper floor of the Roman part of the castle. The other set of stairs was at the rear, and twisted around on itself. Eanwulf disliked visiting the dirt and squalor of that part of the palace, and was grateful that his and Ӕthelbald’s apartments were at the other side.

  ‘He is going to tell the Witan that he is giving part of the land to that slattern, to keep her men loyal.’ Eanwulf heard the words tighten in Ӕthelbald’s throat, and knew how much his friend resented the thought that any part of Wessex did not belong to the crown, and therefore eventually would be his,

  ‘Which part, Lord?’ Eanwulf asked the question softly, bracing himself for the tirade that might follow, but to his surprise Ӕthelbald halted his stride and turned to face him. Eanwulf searched his friend’s face, seeing the lines of strain around his eyes and in the quirk of his mouth, and he wondered if the strain was as a result of the Frankian marriage or of the thought that his father was losing his grip on reality. The vagueness of the King upon his return from the pilgrimage was the talk of the court.

  ‘Bishop’s Waltham, so she has a park and some forest and an abbey. That old fool Ceolnoth thinks she will be content making altar cloths and clothes for the poor.’ Ӕthelbald’s tone held contempt, but Eanwulf was unsure who the recipient was.

  ‘And you don’t think so, Lord?’

  ‘No!’ Ӕthelwulf spat the word in disgust, ‘She interrupted us to ask permission to speak to the cook, and then asked about a household of her own. My father didn’t even know who she was. He agreed to everything she asked.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’ Eanwulf could not see the difficulty. If the Queen had a household of her own to run, then she wouldn’t be interrupting council meetings. But with the strength of Ӕthelbald’s dislike of his father’s new wife, he decided not to speak his thoughts aloud.

  ‘It depends on who is part of the household, doesn’t it?’ Ӕthelbald’s tone was derisive. ‘She already has Ralf Edric’s idiotic sister, and those two Frankian maids she brought with her.’ He heaved a sigh and began to walk along the corridor again, and Eanwulf kept pace with the prince as he spoke his thoughts aloud. ‘I shall have to see if Emer will mind joining it, I suppose. I need eyes and ears in there, to make sure I know what she is planning.’

  ‘You think she will be planning something, Lor
d?’ Eanwulf thought the Queen a little young to be hatching plots, but appearances could be deceptive, and she was, after all, from Frankia.

  ‘I would, if I was her.’ Ӕthelbald heaved a resigned sigh. ‘I shall ask Emer when I next see her.’

  ‘And will that be soon, Lord?’

  Ӕthelbald stopped suddenly and gazed at his friend, clasping his arm with an iron grip. ‘Sooner than I might hope.’

  ***

  Chapter 26

  The smells from the kitchen reached Judith while she was still on the stair, following Ghislaine around the spiral with care for her footing. Elin and Alys walked behind, making sure her gown didn’t tangle beneath her feet or drag in the dirt on the stair.

  Judith wondered how many servants were employed by the King. Not enough, if the level of dirt was anything to go by, and she decided to find a way to remedy that. But first the cook. Ghislaine halted a few steps from the bottom of the stair and nodded towards the next room.

  Standing in the middle of the room was a very large man, sweating beneath his grimy shirt and scratching his belly. His bushy beard was liberally spattered with clumps of fat and streaked with flour, and beneath the stained linen tied roughly around his middle, Judith could see ragged breeches and broken boots.

  ‘You are the cook?’ Her voice startled the man, and he gave her a bewildered look, glancing at the girls behind her, and then at Ghislaine. Judith realised he didn’t understand her, and she spoke to Ghislaine.

  ‘Can you translate, Ghislaine? Do you speak a language he will understand?’

  ‘Yes, Highness.’ The girl grinned brightly, and spoke to the man in the guttural language Judith had heard the previous evening, and he nodded at Judith, then bowed and kept his head low.

  ‘Who else works in here?’ Judith gazed around the large room. She saw two huge fire pits, over which were joints of meat skewered with a metal spike and suspended on forked props at either end. Juice and blood from the meat dripped onto the hot coals, making the embers hiss and spit. Two enormous tables, one white with a coating of flour, took up much of the floor space and over these hung rack upon rack of pans and utensils, most burnt black from use. In one corner another fire, this one burning merrily, had a steaming, bubbling cauldron suspended above it.

  The man looked up as Ghislaine spoke Judith’s words, and he began wringing his hands together, twisting the corner of his apron in anxiety. He spoke to Ghislaine, and she translated as closely as she could.

  ‘He says his wife works with him, but last night her sister went into labour, so he had to watch the bread and cook the meat. He’s never had so many guests to cook for before, and he apologises if the food wasn’t to your taste, Highness.’

  ‘But the bread was fresh this morning. Has his wife returned?’ Judith addressed the man directly, and tried to give him a reassuring smile as his eyes flicked from her to Ghislaine and back again.

  ‘Yes, Highness. She’s in the still-room, showing one of the kitchen maids how to churn the butter.’

  ‘Does he have any chickens? Can he roast a chicken for our meal tonight?’ Judith gazed around the room, noting that several bunches of dried herbs hung between the utensils. As she breathed, the scent of sage briefly tickled her nose.

  ‘He says yes, Highness, if that’s what you want. But the King only eats mutton and beef. And he’s set that to cook yonder.’ Ghislaine titled her chin towards the fire pits where a couple of young boys turned the handles of the spits to rotate the meat.

  ‘And will there be as many guests tonight as there was last night? Does he always have to cook for that many?’ Ghislaine shook her head without translating Judith’s words.

  ‘No, Highness. Last night was about the King’s men and their wives greeting you. Tonight there will only be the immediate household, about twenty of us.’

  ‘I still want chicken for us, even if we have to eat before we join the King. Can he make pastry, do you think?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty, his wife makes pastry for the pasties the King has for his mid-day meal.’ A broad-shouldered man loomed at the doorway, and spoke to Judith in Latin. The light was behind him, and in the gloom Judith couldn’t see his face, but his accent and voice proclaimed him as learned and intelligent. He moved forward, and she saw he had lost his left hand.

  He drew closer and bowed. ‘Majesty.’ Judith held out her hand, and he brushed her knuckles with his lips.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Adal, Lady. I was a soldier for your husband, but alas,’ he held up his left arm, the shirt sleeve pinned closed, ‘no more.’

  Judith was relieved to be able to hold a conversation in Latin without waiting to be understood, and she smiled at Adal. ‘So what do you do for my husband now, Lord?’

  Adal laughed and shook his head, his face creasing into lines around his eyes and mouth that told her he laughed a great deal. ‘I am no lord, Lady. I supervise the brewery. Before I was a soldier, I was a monk.’ He grinned at her astonishment.

  ‘My parents wanted me to have an education, Lady. They had a farm, yet lost much of their livestock and crop to the Danes. I had older brothers who helped on the farm, so the local monastery seemed the way to have me educated without cost. I wanted to be a soldier, but I spent my youth learning to read and write in Latin, and assisting the monks who made their own ale and wine to sell.’

  ‘Until you were a soldier?’

  Adal grinned ruefully. ‘The call went out for men to join the fyrd. The army of the common folk, Lady. So I ran away from the monastery and joined the fyrd, and fought Danes in the shield wall until I lost this to a Danish seax.’ He tipped his head at his lost hand.

  ‘The King was married to the Lady Osburtha and needed men for his household. The Danes retreated back to their lands and the fyrd returned to their families. I came here.’

  Judith nodded, fascinated by the man’s story and oblivious to the heat and smell of the kitchen around her. A shuffle from the cook attracted her attention back to the situation at hand, and she slid her gaze up to Adal, not a particularly tall man, yet still taller than she.

  ‘Would you like to be the Queen’s steward, Adal? Work for me? Help me organize my husband’s household?’ In her head, Judith was making plans, and the fact that this man could both read and write, as well as speak Latin in an accent she could understand would make her plans easier.

  ‘It would be an honour, Lady.’

  ‘Then I shall speak to Ralf later. He will know how these things are done, and then I shall send for you.’ Judith beamed at Adal, and then at the cook.

  ‘Roast chicken tonight, if you please. For me and my ladies, with onions if you have them.’

  ‘I shall see to it for you, Lady.’ Adal bowed, then nudged the cook who did the same. Judith nodded a smile and then turned back to the stair as Elin and Alys picked up the train of her gown once more.

  ***

  Chapter 27

  Judith sat in the room Ghislaine has assured her was the solar used by the King’s wife. Accustomed to her mother’s huge airy room in one of the towers, this second-storey chamber with narrow, grimy windows seemed very different. Nevertheless, there were embroidery frames ranged around the walls, as well as a spinning wheel and several spindles. Judith could see that it had been in use since the death of Osburtha, and she didn’t have to wait long until she knew who had been using it.

  Lady Emer swept into the room, and was taken aback to see Judith already seated at one of the windows sorting threads into groups of colour.

  ‘Lady! I had no idea you would be here.’ She shot a venomous look at Ghislaine, who smiled brightly and continued to untangle skeins of thread.

  ‘No matte
r, Lady Emer. There are plenty of seats, and the Queen’s ladies usually sit together in the solar, do they not? My mother’s demoiselles used to stitch together every day.’ Judith kept her voice steady, although she could feel a flutter of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. She rubbed the ring on her thumb and thought about swans.

  With a tight smile and a nod, Lady Emer took a seat at another window and pulled a frame towards her, speaking in a low voice to the girl who had accompanied her. They all worked in silence for a while, before Emer spoke.

  ‘Archbishop Ceolnoth said you went to see the King this morning, Lady.’

  ‘I did,’ smiled Judith, a wave of trepidation making her mouth dry. ‘I wanted the King’s permission to speak to some of the servants.’ Judith laid some skeins of thread across her lap and began to pull the darker ones from the lighter ones, gently teasing them apart with tiny fingers.

  ‘The Archbishop asked me to speak to you about your hair, my dear.’

  Judith looked up sharply at the informal endearment, and saw the semblance of a smile on Emer’s thin lips.

  ‘My hair?’ she laughed. ‘Why would the Archbishop be concerned about my hair?’

  ‘He asked me to remind you of the words of Saint Paul, who said a woman should cover her hair and obey her husband in all things, so she earned the grace of God.’ Emer tilted her lips upwards in what Judith thought was a patronising smile.

  ‘But God likes me to wear my hair like this, Lady Emer. And my husband gave me permission this morning, so I am obeying his wishes too.’ Judith beamed at the older woman, and saw the tension around her eyes as she struggled to maintain her smile.

  ‘Why ever do you think God likes your hair, child?’

  Judith clenched her teeth; in one conversation she had gone from ‘Lady’ to ‘my dear’ and now ‘child’. She straightened her spine and regarded Emer levelly.