‘I am, Lady,’ breathed Judith, wide-eyed.
‘Call me Ӕlswith, my dear. We queens must become fast friends, mustn’t we? Help one another in this world of men. And if you need my help, please write to me and I’ll do what I can, I promise.’
‘Thank you, La…. Ӕlswith.’
***
Chapter 38
Ralf huddled into his cloak and tried to survey the quickest, driest route into the castle. The damp day followed a wild night of wind and rain, and there were huge puddles between the chapel and the doorway to the palace kitchen.
He thought longingly of the straight, paved paths at the palace of the Frankian king, the symmetry of the lawns divided by slate and stone. Ralf pondered why the legacy of the Romans in Wessex had been shunned by those left behind in favour of something far worse. Peeping through the gobbets of mud churned by feet and hoofs, remnants of dressed stone pathways could be seen radiating out from the palace to the chapel, to the stables and to the lake. He wondered why they hadn’t been kept in good repair, and had been allowed to sink beneath centuries of filth and mire.
Lost in thought, he abruptly pushed open the kitchen door and almost knocked Elin, carrying a pile of folded linens, off her feet. Ralf held her arm to steady her, and then frowned to see her so burdened.
‘You shouldn’t be carrying such a heavy load, Lady. There are servants for such tasks.’ He lifted the pile from her arms and looked about for a suitable maid. ‘You, girl. Take these for Lady Elin.’ A grubby-looking urchin clad in a plain brown gunna, tied at the waist with a braided rope, held out her arms for the linens and then waited patiently to be given further orders.
‘Why did you not ask for someone to carry them, Lady?’ asked Ralf with a furrowed brow. The linen had been heavy, and Elin’s gown trailed on the floor; she might have fallen and… Ralf made himself listen to Elin’s words and quieten his thoughts.
‘Merci, mon seigneur,’ Elin laughed and bobbed her knee, then changed to speaking Latin. ‘I did not have the words, Lord. It was easier to carry them myself than try and make myself understood in the laundry. Ghislaine is doing her best to teach us, but it is a slow process.’
Ralf nodded his understanding. ‘I can appreciate that, Lady. And I would be happy for you to teach me some French, when you have the time.’ He quirked his mouth ruefully at her raised eyebrow and pursed lips. ‘And when I have time to learn.’
‘You are usually with the King, Lord. Yet you are not with him at the moment?’ Elin stepped forward, beckoning the serving girl to follow her, and Ralf fell into step beside them.
‘I walked him across the mud path to the chapel, Lady. He wishes to make his confession to Archbishop Ceolnoth, and I know he will be at least an hour. I had no wish to wait in the damp, so I thought to come back here for a while.’
‘Surely the King can’t have that much to confess, Lord, that it takes over an hour?’ Elin began to climb the stairs to the gallery which housed the royal apartments. The maid was struggling to carry all the linens and climb the stairs, so Elin took one fold of linen from the girl, and Ralf relieved her of another, receiving a bright grin for his kindness.
‘He likes the quiet, Lady. Being alone in the chapel with the Archbishop helps him concentrate his mind. And he does not have so very much to confess now, but he prays for absolution from things in his past that still prick his conscience, I feel.’
Elin nodded, and Ralf was relieved that she didn’t ask anything further. He gazed at his burden and raised an eyebrow. ‘What are the linens for, Lady? If I might be so bold as to ask?’
Elin smiled at him brightly. ‘Adal has found a large barrel for the Queen, and has cut it in half. The linens are to line both halves.’
Ralf regarded her quizzically. He knew he was missing something, but couldn’t imagine why the Queen needed a barrel cut into half and then have it lined with linen sheeting. Elin laughed at his puzzlement.
‘The Queen has wanted to have a proper bath ever since we arrived, but there seems to be no tubs around the palace. So she spoke to Adal, and he came up with the solution. And I found these sheets in the linen room downstairs. I have asked the kitchen workers to heat some water and bring it to the Queen’s chamber. She and Queen Ӕlswith will be bathing shortly.’
‘In warm water?’ Ralf was amazed.
‘Of course, in warm water. My Princess always bathes in warm water, Lord.’ Elin looked at him askance, ‘Why, should she dunk herself in the lake, in full view of the palace guard?’
‘No, Lady. Of course not. It’s just….’ Ralf stopped and shrugged helplessly. He had no idea how the ladies bathed, royal or otherwise. He knew the soldiers and oath-men swam in the lake when they felt the need for a wash, as did he. But other than a jug and a basin, he had never given a thought to the females in the palace.
‘Well then, both ladies will enjoy having their warm bath, and washing their hair in soft soap.’ Elin beamed, and Ralf saw her dip her head to hide her laughter as he snorted incredulously. They washed their hair as well? He wondered if Ghislaine also washed her hair, and decided that she must; it was such a lovely colour and texture, and always shone. Another thing he had never considered when he brought her to live with him after the death of their parents. He determined to ask her if she had everything she needed next time they spoke.
They arrived at the door to the Queen’s suite of rooms, and Elin lifted the linen from the arms of the little maid, who bobbed her knee and scurried away. Ralf laid his pile on top of the others, and then turned the handle so Elin could enter the room without dropping the sheets.
‘Thank you, Lord,’ she smiled. ‘And when you have some time to yourself, come and find me, and I would be happy to teach you some French.’ Elin slid along the door and then around the jamb, so no-one could see inside. Ralf latched the door behind her, and then turned to go back down the stairs once more. He would have to go and collect the King soon, and he wanted a bite to eat before that happened.
Ralf smiled to himself. He thought he might enjoy learning French.
***
Chapter 39
The numbers of people attending the evening meal dwindled by the day.
At the huge feast after the Witan, Judith had served venison and pork along with the ubiquitous beef and mutton, much to the apparent delight of the diners. There had been chicken, duck and pigeon for those who preferred poultry, and Judith had asked the cook’s wife to produce some pies containing fish beneath a crust flavoured with wild garlic. There had been mushrooms tossed in butter, and platters and dishes of wild onions and carrots, as well as the more usual turnips. As a dessert, Judith had ordered huge lattice tarts of baked apples, and she had shown the cook how to glaze baked plums with honey, and serve them with freshly whipped cream.
The feast was magnificent, and Ӕlswith asked her to write down the things they had eaten and how to make them, so she could introduce them into Mercia. The feast following Christ’s Mass was well-attended, but after that the Lords and Ealdormen and Reeves began making their way back to their own lands for the start of the new year, although Ӕlswith and her older brother decided to stay longer.
Judith found Ӕthelstan to be a younger version of his father, tall, broad and loud; she saw what her husband must have been like in his youth, and to her own surprise, regretted that she had never known him thus. Ӕthelwulf seemed to enjoy the company of his older children, and managed to keep his wits about him most of the time. When he tired, and asked where Osburtha had gone, Ralf would gently persuade him to go to bed. More than once, he kissed Judith on the cheek and urged her to go and find her mother and send her to him. Ӕlswith’s eyes filled with tears at the shell her father had become.
‘Does he often mistake you
for me, Judith?’ she asked after a family supper when the King had completely lost track of his children, thinking his older sons were his siblings and the younger ones the start of his own family.
‘Sometimes, when he is tired,’ Judith nodded at her friend sadly. ‘At other times he thinks I am a younger daughter, because although he knows you are grown and married, he can’t place me in his mind.’ She shrugged and gave Ӕlswith a wan smile.
‘It’s that bloody pilgrimage,’ boomed Ӕthelstan from the other end of the table, where he was speaking with his two youngest brothers. ‘I told him not to go, that Ceolnoth could affirm these two on the Pope’s behalf, but the stubborn old bugger wouldn’t listen. He had to go to Rome and see Benedict himself, show him how devoted he was to ridding his land of Danes,’ he snorted in disgust and poured himself some more wine, ‘and it cost him his wits.’ Ӕthelstan drained his cup and thumped it down on the table.
‘Then we must be grateful that you are ruling Kent, brother, and Ӕthelbald will rule West Wessex while Ӕthelberht keeps his eye on things here. Ralf Edric will take care of our father, and I am sure Ӕthelred and Ӕlfred will be safe under Judith’s watchful eye.’ Ӕlswith beamed at Judith and nodded hopefully.
‘I had three younger brothers in Frankia. These two princes are far better behaved than they were, I assure you. Ӕlfred is becoming very learned, according to his tutors, and Ӕthelred has a magnificent sword arm, I understand.’ Judith grinned at the two youngsters, straightening their backs under her praise, and Ӕthelstan ruffled their hair roughly, as only older brothers can, and sparked off a bout of play fighting that got louder and louder as both boys piled onto Ӕthelstan and forced him to the ground. The dogs thought it a grand game and enthusiastically joined in, licking and jumping into the fray. Judith shook her head with a smile and turned to speak to Ӕlswith.
‘When does your husband plan to return to Mercia, Ӕlswith?’ Judith dreaded the answer, thinking how dull her days would become once Ӕlswith returned to her kingdom. Elin, Alys and Ghislaine would keep her company, she knew, but she would again have to deal with Lady Emer and Archbishop Ceolnoth trying to poison Ӕthelbald against her. And he needed no encouragement.
‘In a few days, sadly. I must return to my children, my dear, but not until after your birthday.’ Ӕlswith beamed at Judith excitedly, ‘I have a gift for you.’
Judith blinked in surprise; she had not expected any gifts for her birthday this year. Her husband was too confused to realise, and the other people who loved her were far away. Unbidden, a picture of Baldwin entered her mind as she had last seen him, vowing his protection. She pushed down the urge to weep and turned sparkling eyes on her friend.
‘I hadn’t expected anything, Ӕlswith, so I thank you for the kind thought.’ Judith made her lips turn upwards in a smile, as Ӕlswith gestured to her servant. The woman brought a fold of bleached linen tied with a golden cord, and Judith unwrapped it with care, gasping at what lay within the folds of fabric.
‘It is the belt I wore the first time we met,’ grinned Ӕlswith. ‘You admired it so, and it will suit you, my dear.’ She shrugged as Judith smiled her gratitude and slid the golden links through her hands with a soft hiss. ‘And I can always persuade Burgred to have another one made for me.’ She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively as she lowered her voice so her brothers couldn’t hear, ‘Men are always so grateful, my dear. You will find that, as you get older.’ She burst into a raucous laugh that brought a blush to Judith’s cheeks, and she pressed her hand onto Ӕlswith’s arm.
‘I shall miss you so much, Ӕlswith. It has been such a relief for me, having you here.’ Judith beamed and then folded her gift back into the linen to keep it safe.
‘As I will you, my dear. You are not at all what I expected, and I am glad my father has you to look after him and the princes.’ Ӕlswith looked down the table at her brothers, still play-fighting with their older siblings and grunting with the strain of trying to best muscles trained in sword-craft. ‘And speaking of my brothers, where is he this evening?’
Judith knew she was speaking about Ӕthelbald, who hadn’t joined them for the evening meal, much to Judith’s relief. Any evening spent without Ӕthelbald’s obvious distaste for her looming large at the supper table made it feel like a celebration for Judith, and she hadn’t enquired about his whereabouts. Ӕthelberht stopped trying to arm-wrestle with young Ӕlfred to supply the answer.
‘He said that he had an appointment, sister.’
Contemptuously, Ӕlswith snorted a chuckle and raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really? And is Richeld Cuikishe still at court, or has he already returned to the troops guarding our borders?’
Judith dipped her head in an agony of embarrassment; it was one thing to listen to Ghislaine gossip about Lady Emer and her supposed assignations with Prince Ӕthelbald, but quite another to hear it discussed by his siblings. She felt her cheeks growing hot, and she grasped her cup of ale, taking a deep swallow to try and cool herself down.
‘Sister!’ Ӕthelberht answered in a shocked tone, although Judith thought it was a pretence. The secrets of everyone’s bedchamber were often common knowledge at court, whether that court be in Wessex or Frankia. ‘Sir Richeld is with his wife, as far as I know.’
Ӕlswith wrinkled her brow as she gazed at her younger brother. ‘Then with whom does he have an appointment?’
Judith watched as Ӕthelberht availed himself of another cup of wine. He turned his back as he poured, instead of summoning a servant, and Judith felt he was giving himself time to think of a suitable excuse. He turned back to face his sister, his eyes carefully blank and with a winning smile on his handsome face.
‘Sister, I don’t care enough to ask.’ Ӕthelberht’s mouth twisted in a smile as he took a long gulp from his cup, and Judith saw Ӕlswith shrug her shoulders and pick up her own cup. They both knew he was lying, and Judith wondered why. What secret of his brother’s did Ӕthelberht keep?
***
Chapter 40
Baldwin watched as his father greeted the Prince as he stepped off the ship from Wessex, bowing deferentially and leading him towards the King, seated on a temporary throne at the top of the jetty. His eyes scanned the crew as pleasantries were exchanged, the fur-clad Prince introducing a shorter, more slender man to the King, who extended his hand to be saluted by both.
‘Eighty men, Goz,’ he whispered to his friend. ‘Is that all they have sent? Have we exchanged our Princess for a mere eighty men?’
Gozfrid glanced at Baldwin’s darkening face, and put his hand on his arm. ‘Perhaps the others are still at sea, Win. God knows that winter is hardly the best time to set sail. There might be more on the way?’ Baldwin snorted in the face of Gozfrid’s hopeful tone.
‘The Wessex King will have sent as few men as he can spare, Goz. They’ve got their own borders to protect, and he’ll know that Charles will have his brothers and their armies by his side, for a while at least. This is a mere sop, to prove he isn’t reneging on the deal. That’s why he’s sent his son, to command such an army. If the Princess’ letter is anything to go by, this Prince is better away from her court.’
They watched as the King rose from his throne and walked down the path towards the castle, the Wessex prince by his side. Baldwin saw his father bow courteously to the prince’s companion, allowing him to precede him. Then the other soldiers began to disembark, unloading the shields and armour and provisions they had brought with them.
Baldwin and Gozfrid followed the royal party towards the castle at a safe distance. Baldwin wanted to assess this prince that hated Judith, according to her letter. See what manner of a man he was, that he could inspire such fear.
Upon entering the hall, Baldwin’s father, Count Audacer, bustled towards them, a sheen of perspiration on his for
ehead. The Count led them towards the King, who was making conversation with the Prince and his companions. Charles was as tall and elegant as ever, in a bright blue tunic with sapphire clasps and a sumptuous grey cloak held with a brooch which featured a cabochon sapphire as big as a bird’s egg. With the crenelated circlet on his brow, he appeared every inch a King.
Baldwin gazed at the Wessex Prince, dressed in fur and leather and looking like a warrior, then at his companion who was making the King chuckle in amusement. This man was attired in a fine green cloak and brown woollen breeches, appearing to be more cultured and royal than the Prince.
‘Come and meet them, Baldwin. The Prince is keen for knowledge about fighting Danes.’ His father beamed at him enthusiastically, and Baldwin regarded him with scepticism.
‘Is he not well-versed in fighting Danes in his own land, then?’ asked Baldwin as his father ushered him eagerly forward, followed at a more reluctant pace by Gozfrid.
‘No, he says they have not had any major raids for many years under his father’s rule. It is why he has come, Baldwin. He is curious to see how they fight.’
Baldwin picked up a cup of wine from a passing servant and swallowed the contents swiftly. ‘Tell him they fight like real men, Father. Bravely, in the open and with weapons. They don’t spread malice and rumour and frighten little girls.’
Baldwin turned on his heel and walked away as his father gaped in amazement. Gozfrid twisted his mouth in a rueful smile and gave the older man a helpless shrug before following his friend.
***
Chapter 41
They heard the Danes before they saw them, a thunderous tumult that shook the ground and seemed to ripple from one end of the hillside to the other. The mist was thick and heavy in the valley-bottom, and Baldwin wished that the weather would clear soon, that they might view the enemy before the battle began.
Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex Page 14
