Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  He threw the letter down on the desk, and the Count flicked his hand to the scribe by his side, wide-eyed at the sudden commotion.

  ‘Leave us.’

  The clerk gathered up some of the papers strewn across the table, darting concerned looks at an obviously distraught Baldwin as he prowled the room in agitation.

  ‘I can assure you I didn’t, my son. I knew what it contained, but I didn’t write it.’ Baldwin heard the sympathy in his father’s tone, but didn’t feel like being mollified quite yet. He was far too angry.

  ‘You probably despatched it though,’ he snarled, pacing in front of the desk to the window and then back again, rolling his neck to try and ease the tension across his shoulders. Abruptly, he stopped and levelled a look at his father, who was perusing the letter in silence.

  ‘Can I go and get her?’

  The Count’s mouth tightened slightly and he shook his head. ‘No, my son, you cannot. Gaston has already left with a cohort of troops to meet her at Ferneham with one of her father’s ships and bring her safely back to Harofluet.’ He laid the letter down and spread his hands, gazing at Baldwin sympathetically. ‘From there he will accompany her to Senlis, where he will leave guards to ensure her safety.’

  ‘Gaston will guard the convent?’ Baldwin’s voice was tight.

  ‘No, that’s not what I said. You are not listening.’ Audacer gave Baldwin a meaningful look. ‘He will leave guards, and return here. We still need soldiers to fight the Danes, so Gaston will return with his best men.’

  Baldwin considered his father’s words for a moment, as the Count rose and poured them both a cup of wine from the table pushed against the window. He held a goblet towards his son as he gazed out over the formal garden to the fountain, sipping quietly and waiting.

  ‘Leaving the men he doesn’t consider the best to guard Senlis.’ Baldwin murmured as he contemplated the information his father was subtly trying to impart.

  ‘Indeed,’ Audacer inclined his head and Baldwin tasted his wine.

  ‘And knowing Gaston, the men he leaves behind are the ones he doesn’t want with him in the shield wall.’

  ‘Now you are listening, my son.’

  They were silent for a moment, then Baldwin turned to his father with a raised brow.

  ‘If I rescue her, will the King give us permission to marry?’

  Audacer shook his head sadly and met his son’s eyes. ‘I doubt it. If he doesn’t want her married to someone else to bring power to his arm, he will want her to remain where she is. He is a traditionalist, our King.’

  Baldwin watched the birds flutter towards the fountain, thinking about how he and Judith used to sit on the grass beneath it, discussing their futures. The birds took tiny beaks-full of water and then flew away, roaming about the skies as they wished. He envied them their liberty.

  ‘I will rescue her anyway, Father. And I will marry her, without the King’s permission if I have to.’ Watching the birds enjoying their freedom had solidified an idea in Baldwin’s mind; he and Judith would pursue their own destiny. They had served duty long enough.

  ‘Then ask permission from a higher authority, my son.’ His father’s words disturbed the reverie he had fallen into, and he gazed at the Count with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Pray?’ Baldwin spat the word. ‘You are asking me to pray, when she……’

  Count Audacer held up his hand to interrupt before Baldwin could give voice to more anger, and shook his head in admonition.

  ‘I didn’t say anything about prayer, although it couldn’t hurt. Again, you hear but you don’t listen. You have to learn to listen, my son, to what the words mean.’ He looked expectantly at Baldwin, who took a few heartbeats to consider his father’s advice.

  ‘The only higher authority than the King is God, Father.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Baldwin stopped and regarded Audacer, who wore a quizzical smile as he returned his son’s gaze with equanimity. Baldwin wracked his brain for the meaning behind the declarations. A higher authority than the King? That was God. The King was anointed by God.

  The King was anointed by a man, representing God.

  The man representing God on earth was the Pope.

  ‘I can ask the Pope for permission. He can overrule the King.’ Baldwin grinned triumphantly as he solved his father’s riddle.

  ‘Exactly.’ Audacer tipped his wine-cup towards Baldwin in salute at finally divining the meaning behind his utterances. ‘You could ride for Rome straight away, and return with a Papal dispensation giving you permission to marry the Princess.’

  Baldwin shook his head. ‘No, Father. I shan’t leave for Rome without her by my side.’ He replaced his cup on the table and strode purposefully towards the door. ‘I’ll not give her father the chance to marry her off or force her to take vows. She will go with me.’ He snatched the door open, turning as his father spoke.

  ‘But…’

  ‘I won’t argue this with you, Father. The Princess goes with me.’

  He closed the door quietly and then thundered down the tower stair towards the stables. He had much to organise and he needed to find Gozfrid. They would need to take their horses and some spare clothing, weapons and coin. Baldwin didn’t know how much silver they would need for accommodation, or for how long they would need to wait, or whom they would need to bribe. But whatever it cost, however long it took, he would have Judith with him at last.

  His mind absorbed with working out the details of their journey, as well as trying to formulate the beginning of a plan to rescue the Princess from the convent, Baldwin clattered through the door to the courtyard, and cannoned into Prince Louis who was coming from the opposite direction.

  ‘Forgive me, Highness. I did not see you.’

  ‘N..n..no forgiveness n..n..needed Baldwin. You are in a h..h..hurry?’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’ Baldwin gazed at the Prince, a tall, gangly youth at fifteen. He had his father’s regal bearing but not the ruthless streak of nastiness that so characterised Charles. The stammer he had developed as a child was proving difficult to shed, particularly when he was off guard or under pressure, and Baldwin found himself wondering what sort of King he would become.

  ‘A h..h..hurry to w..w..where, I w..w..wonder?’

  ‘I have had a letter from your sister, Lord. Your father is sending her to Senlis rather than allowing her to return home.’

  ‘And y..y..you intend to g..g..go and s..s..see her?’

  Baldwin silently met the Prince’s eyes, and Louis gave a short laugh.

  ‘You intend to r..r..rescue her.’ The young Prince made it a statement, not a question.

  ‘Yes, Lord. And it would be a great service to me, and to your sister, if you would say nothing to your father.’

  Louis felt on his belt and untied his leather purse. Holding it out towards Baldwin he shrugged and smiled, ‘Take t..t..this, Baldwin. I know y..y..you have y..y..your own coin, but it m..m..might help.’ He took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nostrils, levelling a hard gaze at the older man. ‘I would like to help m..my sister. She has suffered enough.’

  Baldwin heard the note of determination in the Prince’s voice, and the lack of stammer in his final sentence leant extra weight to his words. Baldwin gave a small bow and accepted the purse. He did indeed have his own coin, but he wouldn’t refuse the Prince the opportunity to help Judith. They might need all the support they could muster.

  ‘My thanks, Lord.’

  ‘And have no f..f..fear, Baldwin. I v..v..vow you have m..m..my s..s..silence. And m..m..my help, should you n..n..need it.’

  ***

 
Chapter 87

  Judith accepted the farewells of her ladies in her solar, each one bobbing their knee and gazing at her despondently. To each, she gave a small purse of silver. Ӕthelberht had been generous with the settlement he had made on the land, and she was taking a number of chests full of silver and gold with her. She knew that it might have to be used to buy her freedom, but she still wanted to give her loyal ladies a gift to remember her by.

  When she got around the semicircle to Sibyl, she pulled the girl into an embrace, despite the fact Sibyl was a good head taller than she.

  ‘I shall miss you, Sibyl. And I wanted you to have this.’ Judith pulled from her thumb the ring that Ӕthelwulf had put there on their wedding day. ‘It belongs to King Ӕthelberht and his family, and if you have a son and name him for his grandfather, you could give it to him.’

  ‘Highness, that is so generous of you. I know the King will be touched. And I shall miss you too. I have wanted to tell you for such a long time that I never spied on you, Highness. I was asked to, but I never did.’ The girl gazed at Judith with honesty in her eyes, her almost non-existent brows raised in emphasis. Judith clasped her fingers and nodded her understanding.

  ‘Thank you.’ Judith’s grateful smile turned into a look of caution. ‘But be warned. I don’t think Lady Emer will ever stop wanting to be the most important woman at court, so I counsel you, Sibyl, take care.’

  Sibyl beamed a light-hearted smile and laughed softly, bending slightly to whisper in Judith’s ear. ‘The King has banished her, Highness. I don’t ever have to see her again if I do not wish to. She will not be received at court due to her lewd behaviour and loose morals.’

  Judith felt the laughter bubbling up, and she struggled to keep her face straight as she finally took her leave.

  ***

  Chapter 88

  All of Judith’s possessions, everything that comprised her life as a former queen, were packed into chests and onto carts, along with the settlement Ӕthelberht had paid to her. They would be loaded onto the barge which would take her to the port of Ferneham to meet the cohort of soldiers sent by her father. Judith had mixed feelings about her return, combined with dread that she would be consigned to the convent if Baldwin couldn’t find her. But part of her looked forward to seeing Frankia again, the green fields and fragrant orchards and sparkling streams instead of the stinking mud and seemingly interminable grey skies of Wessex.

  She gazed at the barge, dozens of oars spiking outward from the hull and the huge mast rising from the deck. The vessel was wide across the bows, and had a wooden structure towards the stern that would provide shelter for her and her party. The crew would endure whatever the heavens sent, but she herself and her attendants would be dry.

  Judith had donned the plainest kirtle and gown she possessed, and had shrouded herself in her fur-trimmed cloak against the vagaries of the weather. They were all bundled up in preparation to face the elements, Ralf and Adal organising the loading of her chests and her ladies rearranging the cushions and throws so they might have a modicum of warmth and comfort on their journey.

  The thunder of hoofs and rattle of a timber carriage along the quay made Judith look around, and as the horses shuddered to an abrupt halt, snorting vapour and stomping the ground, she could hear the screams and wails of a child from within the vehicle. The door burst open and Judith saw a blur of blue fabric and golden curls hurtle towards her through the mud.

  ‘Aunt Joodith, don’t go!’ Frytha ran heedlessly through the mire, boots sodden and gown muddy, flinging her arms wide and catching Judith around the knees as she sobbed and screamed. Judith blinked in surprise and then looked up to see Ӕlswith descending more circumspectly from the carriage and gazing at her with a shrug.

  ‘I’m relieved to have caught you, my dear. She has shrieked ever since we told her you were going.’ Ӕlswith stepped up to kiss Judith’s cheek, her daughter still clinging and weeping into Judith’s skirt.

  ‘Frytha,’ Judith spoke quietly to the child, trying to unclasp her arms so she could look into the little girl’s swollen, tear-stained face. ‘Frytha, stop crying, Chèrie. I can’t understand what you are saying when you cry.’

  Frytha gave a huge sniff and looked up in anguish, enormous blue eyes brimming with tears. ‘Mama said you were going away, Aunt Joodith, but I want you to stay.’ The child choked on her last words, lip trembling and tears cascading down her cheeks.

  Judith dipped her knees so she was level with the little girl, and Frytha flung her arms about her aunt’s neck in a stranglehold of a hug.

  ‘Highness, we must sail shortly. I want to catch the tide.’ The Captain’s loud voice drifted down from the deck, and Judith glanced up at the man.

  ‘We will be a few moments yet, Captain.’ Judith tilted her head at Frytha, still clinging to her.

  ‘The tide won’t wait, Highness. You must get aboard.’ The Captain’s voice was commanding, and Judith stood, lifting Frytha into her arms regardless of the mud. She regarded the man coldly as she lifted her chin.

  ‘There will be another tide, Captain. If not today, then tomorrow. My father’s soldiers can spend another night getting drunk in the port while they wait for me to arrive. But I will say goodbye to my friends. And you, Captain, will wait.’ Judith held the man’s gaze until he glanced away with a bow and a mumbled agreement, then she turned back to Ӕlswith and Frytha, the child now quiet in her embrace.

  ‘That was well-said, my dear,’ smiled Ӕlswith, and Judith quirked her mouth in a rueful smile.

  ‘I am tired of being told what I must do, Ӕlswith. I find within myself a simmering anger that I struggle to suppress. And being given orders like that brings it to the boil.’ She shrugged and turned to Frytha.

  ‘Let us go and have a seat yonder, Frytha. You are growing so tall I can barely hold you now.’ Judith nodded to a ramshackle bench beneath one of the loading sheds, and she walked slowly towards it, still burdened with the little girl as Ӕlswith followed behind, lifting her own cloak clear of the grime.

  ‘So, you wanted to say farewell?’ Judith sat down and adjusted Frytha in her lap. The child shook her head, blinking at Judith with starry wet lashes.

  ‘I don’t want you to go, Aunt Joodith. Why do you have to go? Mama says it is because you aren’t queen any more but you could be queen, couldn’t you? You could marry Uncle Afberht and be his queen and then you could stay here and I could come and see you all the time.’ Frytha blinked and sniffed and then wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tunic. Silently Ӕlswith handed her daughter a linen kerchief and Frytha blew her nose then wiped her eyes.

  Judith smiled at the little girl, and shook her head sadly, ‘But your uncle wants to marry someone else, Chèrie. And my father has sent for me to come home.’ Judith’s voice became tight, ‘You understand that we princesses have to obey our fathers, don’t you?’

  Frytha nodded, sniffing again. ‘Mama says that. But I don’t want you to obey him, Aunt Joodith. I want you to stay here with us.’ Sobs began to escape from Frytha’s chest and she buried her head in Judith’s shoulder. Judith rubbed the child’s back and regarded Ӕlswith helplessly.

  ‘She screamed from the first moment we told her, my dear. That’s why we had to come and find you. We’ve really come for Ӕthelberht’s coronation, but she simply wouldn’t stop shrieking. So I left the baby with her wet nurse and brought Frytha here to you.’

  Judith beamed at her friend. ‘You had a daughter?’

  ‘I did. We named her Osburtha, after my mother, but Frytha calls her Betha, so I imagine that’s what she will stay.’ Ӕlswith smiled at her older daughter, still buried in Judith’s embrace but calmer now.

  ‘And you are fully recovered? I heard you were ill with this babe.’ Judith
regarded Ӕlswith with an anxious expression and the Queen nodded with a quirk of her lips.

  ‘The physician says I should… delay… having more children.’ Then she laughed and gave Judith an arch look with a shrug of her shoulders beneath her padded velvet cloak. ‘But who knows, my dear? My husband loves me very much, and very often.’ Ӕlswith burst into a low chuckle that made Judith’s face flood with colour. As she searched her mind for an appropriate response, she heard the shouts of the crew drift towards them on the breeze and a flock of geese honk loudly somewhere behind the loading shed. Life was continuing in Wessex and she was leaving it behind. The thought both saddened and cheered her.

  Judith lowered her voice, rocking Frytha backwards and forwards in her arms. The child was quiet, snuggled into her shoulder, having exhausted herself with sobbing. ‘Try chewing wild carrot seeds, Ӕlswith. To delay your next pregnancy, I mean.’ Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her face closer to her friend, and Ӕlswith’s loud reply made her jump back.

  ‘What?’

  Judith felt her face grow hot, and she wished she hadn’t spoken. She would hate Ӕlswith to think less of her for the things she knew, but neither did she want her friend to embark on yet another dangerous pregnancy. Judith gave a little shrug and a rueful smile, and tried to push her embarrassment away.

  ‘Lady Emer told Ӕthelbald I could not breed, that I had not yet started my course. But I was delaying it by chewing wild carrot seeds to keep him from me. He told me he would not bed me until I might give Wessex an heir.’

  To hide her humiliation, Judith gathered Frytha’s blonde curls away from the slumbering child’s face, still feeling the shudder of little sobs as Frytha breathed gently against her shoulder, soft arms around her neck. Ӕlswith snorted a disbelieving chuckle.