Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  Glancing between his sister and Ralf as he passed, he paused. ‘When Archbishop Ceolnoth has recovered himself, summon me. My father’s funeral should suffer no further delay.’

  His boots echoed around the chapel as he passed through the open door, ignoring the gapes and gasps from those who had followed him as he dragged Judith to the chapel, and she watched as they dipped their head in deference to their king.

  Her heart sank. There would be little help for her in Wessex.

  ***

  Chapter 59

  The feast after King Ӕthelwulf had been laid to rest was a subdued affair. Everyone spoke in whispers despite the amount of wine consumed, and the food was served and eaten in virtual silence. Judith kept her head lowered as much as she was able; she had no words for her new husband and she wanted to avoid the daggers of spite she saw in the eyes of Emer Cuikishe.

  Her stomach twisted at the thought of what was to come; what her life would be like married to such a man as Ӕthelbald. Someone who held her in contempt, who actively disliked her and who might delight in punishing her simply because he could. Judith remembered the affectionate displays between Ӕlswith and her husband, the tender kiss on the wrist that had made her think of Baldwin.

  Baldwin!

  What would he think of her, being married to the son of her deceased husband? Would he still want to be the friend of such a woman as she would be reputed to be? Archbishop Ceolnoth had been unable to meet her gaze during the meal, pursing his lips in ecclesiastical disapproval. The world would judge her harshly, and if Baldwin was informed by his father of what had happened, before she could write him a letter and explain, he might turn his back on her. And how would she bear that, when she loved him?

  Judith gasped. She loved him! She had always loved him. She had wanted him to be her friend so he could learn to love her back, learn what she thought and understand her life. Because she loved him!

  She loved the way he laughed, tipping his head back and showing the strong column of his throat as his hair brushed the back of his jerkin. She loved the way he would take a sup of wine and hold it in his mouth for a moment, his eyes sparkling at her in secret amusement over the rim of his cup. How he walked beside his friends with his long legs striding out, but would shorten his steps when she was with him, dipping his head so he could listen to what she had to say. How he would play with Lothaire and make the lame little boy think he was able to outwit him by stealth, because his damaged foot wouldn’t allow him to keep up with the others. A thousand memories flooded her mind, brief pictures of Baldwin in every situation and season - hunting, wielding a sword, laughing, holding her hand, kissing her knuckles.

  Pressing his kiss into the palm of her hand on a rainy quayside.

  Judith felt her stomach squirm in terrified delight at the memory of his kiss, and her face flood with colour. She lowered her head so her mourning veil thankfully hid her flushed features from those who would spread scandal and rumour about her behaviour. She longed for the quiet of her own room, for a piece of parchment and a quill that she might write and explain to Baldwin that she had no choice.

  But she knew that would have to be left until the morning. She had the wedding night to endure first of all, and despite Ӕthelbald’s protestations, she wondered if he had meant what he said. Judith lowered her head even further and rubbed the ring on her thumb.

  Her thoughts were a jumble, filled with images of Baldwin, and her great grandfather Charlemagne, and her mother. Suddenly her head rose, her back straightened and her shoulders squared. Ӕthelbald wouldn’t make her afraid; she wouldn’t let him.

  She was a Princess of Frankia, she was the Queen of Wessex and she was a swan.

  ***

  At length, when the new King had eaten and drunk his fill, he got to his feet, slightly clumsy with the effects of the thick red wine he preferred, and held his goblet out to the assembled oath-men and their wives.

  ‘My father the King….’ He stopped and took another swallow of wine, and Judith heard the shudder of breath through his chest. He cleared his throat and held his cup out again towards the throng. ‘My father the King is dead. I now require all his oath-men to declare their support for me.’

  As his words rang around the hall, Judith watched as all the warriors who had served her previous husband dropped to their knee. A shriek of steel echoed to the vaulted ceiling as they all drew their swords from the throats of their scabbards and held them in front of their faces, hands clasping the hilt.

  ‘King Ӕthelbald,’ roared a hundred voices. With one exception.

  Ӕthelbald turned his gaze to Ralf, standing tall and not bending his knee in affirmation.

  ‘Ralf Edric. You were my father’s man. Why do you not now kneel to me?’

  Ralf bowed respectfully to the King before he replied, ‘Majesty, I was indeed your father’s man. But at his wedding to the Queen, I gave my oath to her. She yet lives, Lord, so I am vowed to her service.’ Ralf’s voice was firm and his gaze met Ӕthelbald’s levelly. Judith’s heart fluttered, wondering what her new husband’s reaction would be to this insubordination.

  The silence in the hall was absolute. It seemed to Judith that no-one even breathed while they waited for the King’s response.

  ‘As you will, Edric. I do not have the need for your counsel as did my father, so if you wish to become part of a woman’s household rather than serve your King, that is your choice.’ Ӕthelbald gave a shrug and re-took his seat amid a whisper of amusement from the oath-men at the veiled insult.

  Ralf merely bowed once more to the King, keeping his face carefully blank.

  Judith met Ralf’s gaze and gave him a small smile, and he inclined his head slightly in response. It was enough; she had one protector at court at least.

  ***

  Chapter 60

  One by one, the guests at the feast retired to their own rooms or fell asleep face down on the table. Ӕthelbald had ignored her throughout the meal, speaking only to Eanwulf on his right, laughing and whispering with his friend, or calling remarks to Bishop Ealstan who was seated further down the table. He didn’t address his brothers or his sister, and Judith could feel the waves of irritation from Ӕlswith as well as the malevolence from Emer Cuikishe. Then Elin whispered in her ear and her heart jumped.

  ‘Highness, it is time.’

  Memories of her first wedding night assailed her, and she had to take a moment to compose herself before getting to her feet. Ӕlswith rose from her own chair and came forward to envelop her in an embrace.

  ‘He won’t do anything, my dear. He knows the terms of the treaty as well as I. It is only a formality.’ The Mercian Queen kissed her on both cheeks and Judith turned to leave the hall. From the side of her eye she saw her new husband deep in conversation with a flushed and visibly annoyed Eanwulf, but she knew that she didn’t have long to prepare before he joined her in her chamber.

  Alys and Ghislaine lifted the train of her gown from the floor as she stepped quietly along the corridor and up the wide Roman staircase. Elin led the way, but there were no nobles calling out taunts to her husband or ladies giggling behind their hands at the bawdy jokes. She walked in silence; even Ghislaine said nothing.

  Once inside her chamber, the demoiselles helped divest her of the midnight-blue gown, which she had donned that morning for her husband’s funeral. Judith had never imagined that it would also be the attire in which she would be married.

  Elin brought her nightgown, the heaviest linen one she possessed, and Judith held her arms up and shivered as they dropped it over her head. Alys gathered her hair up so she could braid it for bed as Elin grasped her padded brocade robe and swathed it around her shoulders. Ghislaine tightened the belt and nodded to
her firmly, lips compressed into an unfamiliar line.

  The door opened, and Ӕthelbald stood in the shadow of the portal, turning and making a remark over his shoulder. Judith saw Eanwulf hurriedly pass behind the King on his way to his own apartment further along the gallery. She turned to her friends and nodded.

  ‘You may go.’

  Ӕthelbald stepped into the room as the three girls silently passed through the doorway, eyes lowered and hands folded demurely in front of them. Ӕthelbald snorted in disgust and slurped a drink from the goblet in his hand.

  ‘You may take the bed, Madam. I shall sleep in the chair.’ Judith heard the thickness of his words and wondered how much wine he had consumed.

  ‘We observe the proprieties to recognise our marriage, that is all,’ he continued, striding further into the room and setting his cup on the small table beside the padded seat. He gave another snort and regarded Judith, standing silently in front of the fire with her hands clasped at her waist.

  ‘Besides,’ he scoffed, ‘I think neither of us wish to endure the humiliation of pretending this wedding night is the norm, do we?’

  ‘Humiliation, Lord?’ Judith’s voice was hesitant, and she wished she had asked Elin to pour her a cup of ale before she left. Ӕthelbald dropped wearily into the chair and leaned his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closing his eyes.

  ‘You are a maid, are you not?’ Judith nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her nod. But she refused to speak to this man about her virginity. He might be her husband, but she would keep some things private. She heard his voice again.

  ‘My father, I should imagine, was not capable of being a husband, despite the arrangement he made with your own father. Therefore you know nothing about the marriage bed.’ Judith heard a hint of revulsion enter his tone, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was about the consummation of their marriage that disgusted him.

  ‘Why should I put myself to the trouble of teaching you when nothing can come of it in any case?’ He took a mouthful of wine, keeping his eyes closed.

  ‘Nothing can….? I don’t understand your meaning, Lord.’ Judith was bewildered, and Ӕthelbald heaved a huge sigh.

  ‘Madam, I know everything about your life, and I know you are not yet able to breed.’

  Judith felt the flush creep up her skin as she realised that the only way he could have that knowledge was if he had been told. She remembered his threat about having spies in her household, and she knew that Emer Cuikishe would have relished the opportunity to provide such personal information.

  ‘You have not bled yet.’ Ӕthelbald almost shouted the words, and Judith began to tremble, although she was unsure whether it was fear or fury that made her shake so.

  ‘Is that plain enough for you, Madam? And until you do, there will be no heir for Wessex.’ Ӕthelbald’s voice lowered, and Judith was almost sure he shuddered. ‘I have no wish to lie with you until there might be some reward for my efforts. Now get into the bed and go to sleep. I will have left before you wake in the morning, have no fear.’

  Judith climbed into the huge bed, still clad in her robe. She pulled the comforter up as high as she could and turned on her side so she didn’t have to see Ӕthelbald if she opened her eyes. She longed for morning, when he would be gone from her presence and she hoped he wouldn’t seek out her company.

  ***

  Chapter 61

  Judith woke in the same position that she had curled in to go to sleep, muscles aching with cramp and with an urgent longing to stretch. She thought for a moment, listening intently to the silence surrounding her, then risked turning over. The chair by the fire was unoccupied and she sighed in relief. Scampering out of bed to use the commode behind the screen, she had hardly got back under the coverlet before Elin entered the chamber, followed by Alys, Ghislaine and a chain of servants bringing her food and ale to break her fast.

  When the servants had divested themselves of their burden and left the room, Elin swathed her shoulders in a warm shawl, then put another log onto the fire and tried to coax a flame. Alys brought the various dishes to the bed and laid them on the tray Ghislaine had fetched for the purpose. Judith swallowed a mouthful of ale and spread some golden butter onto a piece of bread, biting into it with vigour; she was hungry, having eaten almost nothing at the wedding feast the previous evening.

  Elin seated herself by the bed and brushed wisps of dark hair from the tips of Judith’s lashes with a soft hand. ‘Are you well, Princess?’

  Judith slid her eyes to her friend with a brief nod, then through tight lips she finally spoke, ‘He says he can’t be bothered to lie with me until he might get an heir. Until I bleed.’ Disgust dripped from her tone. She popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and chewed, then spoke matter-of-factly, ‘I shall entreat God and St Genevieve to make me barren, so that I never bleed.’

  ‘Wild carrot seeds,’ said Ghislaine through a mouthful of bread and a scattering of crumbs. The other three girls gaped at her with scandalised expressions as Ghislaine tilted her lips in a cat-like smile and sipped her ale.

  ‘What?’ Elin was the first to find her voice, and she regarded Ghislaine with wide eyes. Ghislaine shrugged and buttered more bread, balancing a morsel of cheese precariously on top before cramming it all in her mouth.

  ‘You should chew them.’ Ghislaine’s words were distorted by her own munching, and she wrinkled her nose in triumph at having stunned her friends into silence.

  ‘How do you know that?’ whispered Judith, both shocked and intrigued by Ghislaine’s pronouncement. The girl finished her mouthful of food and then took a swallow of ale. When she had emptied her mouth, she gazed at their shocked faces with a rueful smile.

  ‘Ha!’ she snorted gleefully, ‘Ralf left me in the care of the ladies of the court to go on the pilgrimage with the King. You would be astonished at what some of them talk about when they think they cannot be heard, or think that those who can hear do not understand.’

  She beamed a secretive smile at the appalled expressions gaping at her, then raised her brows. ‘So, wild carrot seeds will prevent you having your course, Highness. I cannot know when that might start, so you could begin to chew them now, perhaps?’

  Suddenly her face was serious, and a tone of admonishment entered her voice, ‘But you must take some every day without fail. The ladies used it for when their husbands were due home, so they might take their pleasure……’ Ghislaine hesitated, and Judith could see her searching for the right words, ‘uninterrupted by nature.’ The young girl shrugged a smile and began chewing another buttered morsel of bread.

  ‘Pleasure?’ Judith whispered the word, and Elin caught her hand with a reassuring squeeze. Ghislaine nodded solemnly.

  ‘Many of them enjoyed being bedded by their husbands,’ she paused dramatically and wriggled her eyebrows, ‘or their lovers. Otherwise they would be relieved by the interruption, wouldn’t they?’ The girl shrugged and, with a wetted finger, began to scoop up the crumbs of cheese left on the platter, licking them off her finger-end in delight.

  ‘There will be no pleasure for me, being bedded by the King. It can only be Emer Cuikishe who has told him the private secrets of my life. Let him take his pleasure with her, if she is so jealous.’ Judith pushed her platter away, unable to face more food in the throes of her irritation.

  ‘I shall collect the seeds myself, Princess,’ said Elin reassuringly. ‘Lady Emer need not know all your secrets.’

  Judith dimpled at her in gratitude, then turned to Alys with a sigh. ‘Bring me parchment, Alys, and a quill. I have a most difficult letter to write, and I must do it immediately, before I totally lose any courage I possess.’

  ***

  Chère Baldwin
, s’il vous plaît, essayez de ne pas me détester quand vous entendez ce qui s’est passé.

  Dearest Baldwin, please try not to hate me when you hear what has happened.

  It is to my eternal shame that King Ӕthelbald has married me, against the advice of the Archbishop, and to his family’s horror and disgust. But, dearest Baldwin, it was not my choice, and I hate that it is again my fate to be wed against my own will and desires.

  I told you once that I would tell you things in these letters that I wouldn’t even confide to my ladies. So, in that vein I must confess to you, dearest Baldwin, that I love you. I think I have always loved you, but was too young to recognise that my feelings were real. Now, I can tell you, even though we cannot be together.

  I share with you this secret so you won’t hate me. So you will understand that I was compelled into this marriage, as I was forced into my first. And although we might never see one another again, my heart will always be yours. Never doubt that, dearest Baldwin. I am yours, for the whole of my life, just as you promised me you were mine. I didn’t understand then, but now I do, my love.

  Judith. Queen of Wessex, Princess of Frankia, and yours, always.

  ***

  Chapter 62

  The inclement weather had delayed their journey, much to Baldwin’s impatient fury. As they were transported down the river to Harofluet, the climate changed from the crisp winter weather of the estate around the palace to a constant damp and misty drizzle. The ship that crossed the sea to Ferneham was tossed by waves crested with white foam, and Baldwin felt grateful that the brisk wind hadn’t turned into a harsh gale. The captain of the ship, seated at the rudder, had needed to constantly correct their direction as they were blown off course, and they were thankful for the oars to make progress, as the sail was too dangerous to use in such high winds. It was likely to break the mast and they would all drown, the captain told them in answer to their questions.