‘Their daughters then? Surely some of them will have daughters who want to come to court, perhaps find a husband?’ She twisted her mouth ruefully, ‘Lady Emer had a young woman with her when I last saw her. She looked considerably older than me, so why does she have no husband? A fair girl with blonde brows and freckles. And a curiously startled expression.’
Ralf began to laugh, and Judith giggled at his amusement. Behind her, she could hear Ghislaine trying to subdue her own mirth, the girl’s peals of laughter reverberating around the empty room.
‘That is Sibyl, Lady. Her husband’s niece. She’s nineteen and Lady Emer allows her to live at court as her companion.’ Ralf’s shoulders still shook at Judith’s description, and she gave him a puzzled look.
‘Really? Her companion? She looked scared to death, if you ask me,’ Judith paused and met Ralf’s gaze curiously, ‘And why does she not have a husband, at nineteen?’
Ralph shrugged and spread his hands again. ‘Anyone asking for her hand would have to contend with Lady Emer as a relation, and therein seems to lay the problem. Lady Emer is not liked.’
Behind her, Judith heard Ghislaine snort disdainfully. ‘The King liked her well enough once. And that liking seems to run in the family, if what I have heard is true.’ Judith turned to look at the girl in surprise, and Ghislaine blushed and turned her eyes down to her stitching.
‘Sister!’ exclaimed Ralf, evidently appalled by his sister indulging in court gossip. The girl wrinkled her nose at her brother and shrugged, keeping her eyes lowered.
‘Well, Ralf, it’s all round the court. I can’t think what her husband will say when he returns for the Witan.’ Ghislaine’s voice had lowered to a scandalised whisper.
‘Knowing Sir Richeld, he won’t be much concerned, as long as he doesn’t have to stay here too long.’ Ralph shrugged and met Judith’s eyes. ‘But, to get back to your original point, Lady, I shall inform those nobles who have daughters of your invitation. And I shall find out why the servants aren’t doing their jobs properly. And I shall meet with your new steward whenever you wish.’
Judith beamed at him in gratitude. ‘Thank you, Ralf. And if he works in the brewery, I shall ask about the ale, and the wine.’
Ralf laughed, and with twitching lips he asked, ‘Not to your taste, Lady?’
Judith shuddered and shook her head vehemently. ‘No, one is too bitter and the other far too sweet and heavy. I shall have to see if I can change the recipe somehow, even if it is just for my ladies and myself.’
Ralf shook his head incredulously, and Judith raised her brows to prompt him to give voice to his thoughts.
‘May I say, Lady, you have a great many ideas for….’ His voice trailed away as Judith’s mouth twisted into a smile.
‘For such a young girl, you mean?’ she laughed, and Ralf nodded.
‘Yes, Lady,’ replied Ralf, beginning to squirm uncomfortably on his stool, and Judith leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm.
‘My father thought I would become a nun, Ralf, as is the custom in my family. But my mother intended me to be an Abbess.’ She smiled as she remembered the determination of her mother. ‘While my brothers received instruction in sword craft and horsemanship, I was taught how to feed a large establishment, how to delegate tasks, what was needed to support a community. How to be in charge.’ She gave a small smile and shook her head. ‘I cannot think there is much difference between running a convent or a castle. I know what to do, Ralf. I just need people to help me do it,’ she paused, and a slight shadow passed over her face, ‘or help me face the opposition.’
‘I will help wherever I can, Lady, as will Adal, I vow.’
‘Thank you, Ralf. I have every confidence. And….’ Judith hesitated and looked at Ralf, then took a huge breath, ‘are there any messengers taking communications to Frankia? I have letters for my mother and….other friends. I wondered how I would send them.’
Ralf rose from the stool and bowed his head again before settling his sword back at his side. ‘Let me have your messages, Lady. I will have them included in the packet going to Frankia from the King.’
Judith held out her hand in farewell, and this time Ralf brushed his lips across the back briefly. She pressed his fingers as he held them. ‘Thank you. I feel so much better now I know things can be managed.’
‘Lady.’ Ralf bowed briefly and left the room.
***
Chapter 32
Baldwin read and re-read the sloping lines of script, then flung down the parchment and began to pace his chamber.
‘She’s afraid, Goz. What in God’s name can I do to help here, when she is afraid there?’ He nodded at the page and Gozfrid lifted it, eyes scanning the words, then shook his head.
‘If it had been in Latin, my friend, I might have been able to pick out one word in ten. But it is a language I cannot read, so you will have to tell me what she says.’
Baldwin looked aghast at his friend. ‘It’s in French, Goz. Can you not read French?’
Gozfrid laughed and poured himself another cup of wine, swinging his leg over the arm of the chair in Baldwin’s bedchamber. He toasted his friend and sipped. ‘No, my father never thought I would need to write the language, although I can speak it. He had enough trouble getting me to learn Latin, and even then, I can recognise a contract but couldn’t read all the words it contains.’ He raised one eyebrow and chuckled, ‘Besides, why do we keep scribes? If not to read things to us?’
‘I prefer to read things for myself, Goz. Then I know I’m not being cheated.’ He gestured to the parchment. ‘She says it is damp and dirty, and the King’s older son doesn’t like her.’
‘But he won’t do anything about that, Win. She is a princess of Frankia, and a valuable commodity.’ mumbled Gozfrid, burying his nose in his wine cup. ‘And when she learns to behave like her mother, God help them all.’
Baldwin stared out of the window, pushing down the irritation he felt hearing Judith referred to as a commodity. To him she was the most beautiful, most gracious of princesses, who deserved to be married to a man who would love and cherish her, not an old King who had wed her for her father’s army.
He saw that the land was beginning to show signs of the winter to come. Leaves were falling rapidly and many branches were reaching towards the sky completely denuded of green. The hedgerows were glowing with winter berries, the evergreen shrubs glossy with leaves that would not fall, and the song birds were hopping in the dirt, trying to find food in the earth before the first frosts made it harder to peck with their tiny beaks. He wondered if the view from Judith’s window showed the encroachment of winter on the land.
‘You’re probably right, Goz. She is the Queen after all, and as such will be protected by the King and his oath-men. They seemed devoted to him, and willing to welcome her under their protection.’ Baldwin spoke as much to reassure himself as answer his friend’s question.
Baldwin watched as the kitchen cat tried to stalk one of the birds, who was concentrating on pulling a large fat worm from out of the grass, heedless of the creeping feline behind it. He clapped loudly through the open casement, suddenly seeing a parallel between the defenceless bird and Judith, in danger from a force she hadn’t been aware of, and smiled as the bird took flight.
‘But I wish I could help her, Goz. That I could have gone with her.’
Gozfrid shrugged and shook his head. ‘That wouldn’t have been possible, my friend. I am sure when she is settled, she will find friends amongst the Saxons, and she will be less afraid. Whereas we have to go and defend Frankia from the Danes. It should be we who are afraid.’
Baldwin sputtered a laugh at Gozfrid’s words and flexed his arms, stretching them over his head.
‘I’ve never seen a Dane I am afraid of, Goz. Our armour and our weapons are the best in Frankia, and when they see us, they will run back to their ships screaming in terror.’
Gozfrid laughed and handed Baldwin a cup of wine. ‘To terrified Danes and happy Princesses then, my friend.’
Baldwin gulped his wine in two swallows. He was happy to terrify Danes, but he hoped when Judith next wrote to him, she had found something to like in her new life.
***
Chère princesse, Ne t’inquiète pas.
Dearest Princess, do not worry.
It will take them some time to get used to you, but I am sure you will win them over. You are your mother’s daughter, and I have no doubt they will find your influence a positive one.
Speaking of your mother, she has been safely delivered of a son, whom your father has named Carloman in honour of your great grandfather. He is a strong child, and I am sure once she is fully recovered, you mother will write with news of him.
We are preparing to take an army to repel the Danes that intrude on the lands to the north, which your father calls Flanders. His brothers to the east and south are leading their armies to join us, and no doubt your husband will also send us troops. Your father has decided that all your brothers will accompany us. Not to fight, of course, but to observe and learn. Gozfrid and I look forward to sending the Danes beyond our borders, and showing your father we are brave and resourceful soldiers.
Your brothers are well. Lothaire has been assured by your father that he will not depart from the court until he is ten, so no matter how much Charles teases him, it causes no upset. Charles, you will be pleased to note, is covered in bruises from training. All the soldiers enjoy practicing with the young princes, but Charles brings out the worst in them all with his truculence and ill-temper, so they knock him down as often as they can. Gaston has had to forbid them wagering on how many times they can make him eat mud, but it doesn’t stop them trying.
I assure you that you are always in my mind and my prayers. I will send a special prayer to St Genevieve on the occasion of your birthday, to ask her to watch over you for me, and keep you safe. Your life there will become more enjoyable, as you establish yourself and your preferences, and they will soon be singing songs about your court as they do that of your mother’s.
I will write again after our campaign to the north, and tell you of our victory. Until then, know that I miss you too, and hold you in my heart.
In loyalty and unswerving friendship
Baldwin D’Audacer
***
Chapter 33
Over the next days that followed, one or two at a time, the wives and daughters of the nobles came to serve at the pleasure of the Queen. Judith instructed Adal to find some wall hangings for her solar, her one stipulation that they were cheerful; the stone walls were cold and drab, and she wanted to recreate the warm, positive atmosphere that pervaded her mother’s court.
Adal made sure that the floor was swept, the windows cleaned and that there were fresh candles and torches in the sconces. He developed a way of lightening the brew of ale that was served in the Queen’s chambers and had the wine watered so it was thinner and not as heavy.
Judith wrote out some of the recipes her mother’s cook had invented, and the food she and her ladies ate was more appetising than the endless bread and meat that was served to the King. Adal had instructions for the meals to be prepared for the Witan, and the palace kitchens were a hive of activity. She was also determined that her ladies would not be idle in the solar, and embarked upon a programme of instruction for those who wished to learn.
Queen Ermentrude had encouraged her ladies to read from copies of the scripture that the local monastery produced, and Judith saw no reason why her ladies should not read aloud to the others, or play the lyre or practice their dancing. It dismayed her to learn that only a very few of those that joined her could read, and she organised Elin to teach some of the others while Ghislaine played some music and she and Alys showed those that were able to read some new appliqué techniques.
The door to her solar opened, and Judith looked up from her needlework in surprise. Standing before her in his golden cloak, with his mitre trembling on his balding head was the Archbishop. He bowed perfunctorily, and Judith pushed a giggle away at the precarious manner in which his mitre rested on his brow.
‘Majesty,’ he addressed her abruptly, blinking at her with watery blue eyes. By his tone, she knew he was going to try and censure her, and she wondered absently what she had done now to earn his disapproval. Her lips tilted upwards coldly.
‘You wish to speak to me, Archbishop Ceolnoth?’ She resisted the temptation to invite him to sit down or to partake of refreshment. If he was going to rebuke her, he could stand.
‘Lady, I have been informed that you are teaching your ladies to read.’ He gazed around the solar at the groups of women and girls. Elin had three pupils sounding out a prayer in Latin while Ghislaine showed two of the younger girls how to pick out a tune on the lyre strings. Judith opened her eyes wide in surprise. Of all the things she had expected criticism about, it hadn’t been this.
‘And is there something wrong with that, Archbishop?’
The old man hooked the legs of a stool with his foot and pulled it towards him, sitting with a whoosh of breath. Judith’s eyes hardened that he had taken a seat without waiting for permission, but she studiedly kept her expression blank and waited for his response. He leaned over and extended his hand ready to pat her arm, but the icy look in Judith’s eyes made him retract quickly. He shook his head and adopted an avuncular tone.
‘It simply isn’t something that is done in Wessex, Lady,’ he said patronisingly, with a smile and a shake of his head. ‘Some of their husbands won’t be able to read, and for a wife to be more accomplished than her husband, well…’ He spread his hand in a helpless gesture, as if Judith should understand the rest of the sentence without the need for words. She regarded him coldly and raised one eyebrow.
‘Do husbands not expect their wives to run their household, particularly while they are away fighting Danes, Archbishop?’ Judith kept her voice light, even though a spark of irritation twisted in her stomach.
‘Well, yes, Lady, but….’ Ceolnoth gazed at her in confusion, appearing unsure of why she had asked such an obvious question. Judith allowed herself to smile, remembering how her mother had always dealt with challenges to her reign.
‘And their daughters too will be expected to marry and make a home?’
‘That is correct, Lady, but…’ Judith kept the smile on her face, although she wanted to laugh out loud as the old clergyman grew more confused at her relentlessly good humoured logic in the face of criticism.
‘Then I am sure the Lords will be grateful that they are relieved of worry while they fight, knowing their wives won’t be cheated by some foreign merchant or some unscrupulous steward, Archbishop.’ Judith beamed at him and tried not to giggle. ‘That their wife can add and subtract so that she can ensure bargains are struck, and write sufficiently well to send a message to the authorities should some foreign invader come unexpectedly onto their land.’ She paused and took a breath, smiling sweetly. ‘Don’t you, Archbishop?’
‘Well, er…. I suppose, well, when you put it like that, Lady, I…’
‘I knew you’d understand, Archbishop.’ Judith finally leaned forward and patted the old man’s arm with a smile. ‘And, of course, the ladies are learning their scripture, so they can be better, more devoted and humble wives to their husbands, Archbishop,’ Judith stopped and beamed at him, opening her eyes as wide as she could, ‘and to serve God. Which is what you want them to do, isn’t it, Archbishop? Serve God?’
‘Of course, my child.’ The Arc
hbishop hauled himself to his feet with difficulty from the low stool and made the sign of the cross over Judith, who bent her head piously and hid her smile of triumph.
‘Bless you, my child. I shall tell the King you are spreading the word of God. He will be gratified, I am sure.’ The Archbishop crossed the room and the guard opened the door for him. When she was certain that the cleric had departed, Judith beamed widely at the assembled ladies.
‘We are blessed for our endeavours to spread God’s word, ladies. Good for us.’
***
Chapter 34
Chère Baldwin. Ne meurs pas. Vous ne devez pas mourir!
Dearest Baldwin, do not die. You must not die!
I could not bear it. Knowing I have you to speak with when it gets too much for me here, when I am unsure or afraid is often the only thing I cling to. It is full of treachery, lies and deceit here, and I need to know that you are there, on my side. You are, aren’t you? On my side, I mean? We too are preparing for war with the Danes, and my husband is sending a ship of oath-men to help my father. His son Ӕthelbald will lead them, so you might meet him. He hates me. He thinks I want to cheat him out of his place in the succession; I most certainly do not.
That would mean I had borne a child with my husband, and I could not countenance that. The thought terrifies me. I thank you for your prayers to St Genevieve on my behalf. As my birthday is on her saint’s day, I pray long and hard to her, hoping that she takes special care of me. The King treats me well, like a favoured pet or an indulged child. I am allowed to order my household as I see fit, and I want for nothing.
Nothing except the chance to return home, to a place where I feel safe and loved.
Write and tell me about your success on the battlefield, Baldwin. Of your bravery and skill. But don’t dare die, or I might die too.
Your loving friend, in affection and loneliness
Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex Page 12
