Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  They were still chuckling when the carriage pulled around in front of the huge studded portal of the palace and drew to a halt.

  ***

  Chapter 111

  Judith and her ladies, accompanied by Baldwin, Gozfrid and Ralf followed the Captain of the guard down a long stone gallery. One side was solid stone walls, and the other an arched set of uncovered windows looking out onto a large square of grass. Beyond this, on the one open side, was a courtyard leading to the stables. Their wagons could be seen curling around the thatched buildings, and drifting on the wind, they could hear Adal barking orders at the troop of sentries that had accompanied them.

  The Captain opened the huge door at the end into a vast room with a vaulted timber ceiling and large windows fitted with coloured glass. Enormous tapestries and colourful hangings were suspended from metal bars bolted into the stone walls. Finely carved pieces of wooden furniture were arranged in front of a deeply-set fireplace.

  A large florid man, clad in a fur-trimmed velvet cloak, got to his feet and waddled towards them, grinning and holding out his hands.

  ‘Welcome, welcome. I am so pleased to see you safely here, Cousin.’ He clasped Judith by the shoulders and pressed a kiss on her forehead. ‘Oh, my, but you are beautiful. As beautiful as your mother was at your age.’ He beamed at her and then looked around at the others in the group.

  ‘Such a delightful child you were, but now you are astonishing. And your husband!’ He stepped towards Baldwin and clasped his arm in greeting, nodding and smiling as he feigned a whisper towards Judith. ‘He is your husband, my dear? You did have a ceremony, yes?’ King Lotha beamed at her and answered his own question. ‘Yes, of course you did. Dear Baldwin wouldn’t whisk you away from under your father’s nose without the wherewithal to back up his impetuosity.’

  The King gave a rueful laugh. ‘You have grown too, Baldwin. I see the youth I knew in the man now before me.’ He dropped his voice slightly, ‘Your father writes to me with pride in your achievements.’ Lotha grinned again, nodding enthusiastically. ‘Yes, yes, he does. He is very proud of you, my boy.’ He patted Baldwin’s arm, ‘And your sainted mother would be too.’ Lotha flicked his gaze back to Judith as all the party stood silent in the face of his conversational onslaught.

  ‘You never met her, did you my dear. No, of course not, you are far too young. My, but she was a beauty.’ He shook his head in regretful remembrance. ‘The most beautiful woman at court in those days, and she chose your father, when she could have married any one of a dozen far nobler than he.’ Lotha beamed at Baldwin and clapped him on the shoulder, then shrugged with his hands opened wide towards Judith. ‘But she fell in love, and what was she to do? You will understand that, my dear. I can see from the look of you that you are very much in love with your husband.’

  ‘Yes, Majesty, I am.’ Judith felt compelled to answer as silence fell over the group. Such was the power of Lotha’s ebullient personality that they were all overawed with his chatter.

  Lotha moved to the table against the wall where a jug of wine and a tray of pewter cups had been set. He poured some into each vessel and then brought them over, smiling a greeting to Elin, Alys and Ghislaine, as well as Ralf and Gozfrid. Judith wondered where the King’s servants were; she couldn’t imagine her father serving wine to his guests himself.

  ‘You must stay as long as you like. There is plenty of room for you and your household, as well as your guards. And we would love to hear your stories about your life in Wessex, my dear.’

  Suddenly the door opened and in walked a round-faced woman of middle years, her pregnant belly swathed in a gown of copper velvet over which she wore a bronze-coloured surcoat with fur at the neck and hem. Lotha beamed at her and hurried to her side, leading her towards his guests.

  ‘Ah, Waldrada, do come and meet my cousin Judith and her new husband Baldwin.’ He looked at Judith and then, with a wave of his hand, indicated the newly-arrived woman proudly. ‘This is Waldrada, my dear. Mother to my children, three sons and two daughters and more to come, I hope.’ He grinned at Waldrada’s prominent belly, and shrugged.

  ‘I petition the Pope monthly to allow me to marry her and legitimise my children, but he fails to reply.’ Lotha sighed and shook his head. ‘And it isn’t as if my wife Teutberga would object. She has her own life at the other end of the estate, friends, servants, plenty of money. She has no objection, but the Pope won’t grant me a divorce so I might marry my love.’ He pressed Waldrada’s hand to his lips and gazed at her lovingly for a moment before turning back to Judith. ‘I hope he is more understanding with you two, Cousin, truly I do.’

  Lotha led Waldrada to a seat near the fireplace, and swept his arm for Judith and Baldwin to sit with them. The other ladies, along with Gozfrid and Ralf, remained standing although Ghislaine, mouth open, stared unashamedly around the room as she sipped her wine.

  ‘Your father has also written to me, Judith. My, my, but he is angry.’ He leaned forward and patted Judith’s clasped hands. ‘He has forbidden me to give you shelter, so of course I will do exactly the opposite. He was always unnecessarily pompous.’ Lotha snorted a laugh, and then extended his hand towards the windows.

  ‘Live your whole lives here if you choose, my dear. Once His Holiness has blessed your marriage, and I can’t think that he wouldn’t, because you are such a beautiful couple, anyone with eyes to see can tell how much you love one another.’ He beamed and nodded at Waldrada, and she stroked his knee and nodded back, dimpling a silent smile. ‘Then you can return here and I will find you your own chateau if you wish. Somewhere to raise your family.’

  ‘Thank you, Majesty. That is very kind of you, but we don’t want to invite trouble for you.’ Baldwin briefly bowed his head in gratitude, and Lotha reassuringly patted Judith again.

  ‘I am under no threat from your father, my dear, so don’t worry about that. Even if your brother Charles tries to chance his arm, my troops are skilled and ready.’ Lotha gave a contemptuous snort, and then grinned at Judith. ‘It would seem that your brother Louis is the peacemaker of the family. He has sent me a letter for you, which I will find for you in a moment, and of course, you may send as many messages to your family as you wish. There is always someone willing to ride to your father’s palace for a slice of hack-silver.’

  Judith smiled gratefully and sipped her drink in silence as Lotha took another breath. ‘And there is plenty of space for you to train your troops, Baldwin. You can make use of any one of the courtyards for your drills. We have a lot of space here, and are so pleased to have you.’

  A tap at the door heralded the entry of a grey-haired man in a knee-length tunic, with a heavy silver chain around his shoulders. The man bowed and Lotha grinned around the room. ‘This is Guy, my steward. He has arranged the accommodations for you, and will show you to them. If you don’t find them comfortable, we can find others, can’t we. Guy? Plenty to choose from. And if you want anything special to eat, tell Guy. He arranges the menus too, don’t you Guy? The main hall is where we eat; this is just my private chamber, isn’t it Guy? I only see family and close friends in here.’ Lotha fell silent and blinked at them, then Guy cleared his throat.

  ‘If the Princess and her party would like to follow me?’ Guy walked towards the door, and Judith got to her feet, placing a grateful hand on Lotha’s sleeve.

  ‘Thank you, Cousin. I can’t tell you how grateful we all are.’

  Lotha stood and swept her into a bear-hug, and kissed her soundly on the cheek. ‘It’s wonderful to have you here, my dear. All of you. I love having someone different to talk to.’ He beamed delightedly at them all as they trooped silently out of the room, following Guy.

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  Chapter 112

  Judith and her household were given an entir
e wing to themselves, swept clean and well-appointed with feather-stuffed mattresses on the beds and tapestries on the walls. The windows in each room had heavy drapes that could be pulled across or held back, and Judith’s chamber had an adjoining dressing room where Guy assured her she would be able to bathe as she wished.

  ‘I shall look forward to bathing in the morning then, Guy,’ she smiled as the old man bowed gracefully. ‘It seems so long since warm water was available to me.’

  The steward closed the door behind him and Judith could hear through the door the delighted shrieks of Ghislaine and muted giggles of Elin and Alys as they were shown to their own chambers. Gozfrid and Ralf also had rooms on the same gallery, but Adal had requested quarters with Sigram and the other troops. Guy had simply smiled and bowed and made the necessary arrangements.

  Judith had forgotten how smoothly a castle could run when the staff were well-trained and willing, and the contrast between the opulence of the court of her cousin and the uncouth nature of life in Wessex was not lost upon her.

  After the excitement and exhaustion of the day, Judith had dismissed her ladies to their own beds, and she offered Baldwin her back so he could unlace her blue mourning gown. Brushing his lips along her shoulder, he pulled the fastenings loose and then stepped back, tugging his shirt over his head and lying on top of the fur coverlet clad only in his leggings. Judith knew it was so he could watch her undress, and smothered a smile.

  She stepped out of the gown as it pooled on the floor, hanging it on the hook behind the dressing screen in the corner; Elin would put it away properly in the morning. Clad in her linen shift, Judith sat on a low stool in front of the table which held a piece of beaten copper as a mirror, to take down her hair. Without Alys’ nimble fingers it was a complicated process, and Judith had to feel with her fingertips into her curls to find all the hidden pins, dropping them into a dish so they weren’t lost.

  As she combed down the length of her hair, some of it coiled in her lap so it didn’t brush the floor as she sat, Judith took a deep breath and glanced across at her husband on the bed, his head propped on one hand as he gazed at her.

  ‘Baldwin, while we are here, I want you to teach me how to use a dagger.’ That thought had been racing around in her mind ever since she had seen him ride towards the ridge that morning, and listening to Lotha chatter on had wound her nerves even tighter, no matter how well-meaning her cousin was.

  Baldwin chuckled. ‘Don’t concern yourself, my love. I will protect you.’

  Judith tried to hide her irritation, knowing that he wasn’t meaning to summarily dismiss her request. She took another breath and forced a smile. ‘I’m sure you will, when you can, Baldwin. But watching you ride up that hill to face God knows what made me realise that if those soldiers indeed had evil intent, I had no way of protecting myself or my ladies.’

  She swallowed hard, forcing away the remembered panic that threatened tears to bubble into her throat, and concentrated on keeping her voice steady. Baldwin furrowed his brow as he gazed at her, seated with her back straight and determination apparent in every line.

  ‘But I had given orders to the other guards that they look after you. And you had Adal, my love. He would have given his life for you, you know that.’

  Her jaw tightened, but she forced her voice into softness. ‘Yes, Baldwin, I do know it. And I know you would too.’ She shrugged. ‘But I still want to learn how to wield a blade. I don’t mean use a long sword, but a seax or a dagger wouldn’t be too heavy for me, I’d hazard.’

  ‘I still think….’ His words were cut off when Judith slammed the hairbrush down on the table in fury, and she spun around on the stool to face him, her expression grim and voice hard. Panic had turned to anger, and tears were but a memory.

  ‘Baldwin, if you think I am ever again going to sit in a carriage and wait to be taken prisoner, by my father or anyone else, you are very much mistaken.’

  Judith jumped to her feet and began to pace, rounding on him again as he regarded her in silent surprise at the vehemence of her tone.

  ‘What sort of a creature do you take me for, Baldwin? A pet? Am I a kitten or a caged bird, to be kept indoors until you are ready to allow me some freedom, yet always to be under your supervision?’ She saw him spread his hands and take a breath to answer, but she didn’t give him the opportunity.

  ‘I assure you, Baldwin, I am not.’ Judith shook her head, and concentrated on keeping her voice level when what she really wanted to do was scream her rage.

  ‘Had they attacked and you had been….. killed,….’ she paused momentarily and steadied her breathing, ‘then I would not have allowed either me or my ladies to be captured. I would defend myself should you live, or end myself should you die, because without you alongside me, Baldwin, there is no life for me in this world.’

  Judith met his eyes with determination, their brown depths stormy and filled with fury.

  ‘Never again will I be sold or bartered or taken without my consent. So you will teach me, Baldwin, or I will ask Ralf.’

  ***

  Chapter 113

  Prince Charles’ booted feet echoed along the gallery. The servants flattened themselves against the walls as he passed. From the look on his face they could see he was in a fury and they did not want the brunt of his temper to land on them. Reaching the door to his father’s suite, he didn’t stop to knock, crashing the door back on its hinges with a violent shove of his hand.

  ‘Father, did you know Louis took them some coin?’ Charles didn’t care who else was in the room. If his father didn’t want them to hear their conversation, he could dismiss them. The Prince went to the table and slopped some wine into a goblet, heedless of the drips and splashes falling on the scrolls of parchment. He supped deeply and then topped up his vessel with yet more wine.

  Turning to face his father, Charles saw the King gesturing to the scribes as they scurried to gather up their tablets and quills and hasten from the room.

  ‘No, my son. But I am not surprised. Louis will want to help your sister.’ The King sat back down at his desk and regarded his son enquiringly when Charles sputtered an angry noise through pursed lips.

  ‘She doesn’t deserve to be called my sister.’ He took another swallow of wine and gestured to his father with the cup. ‘We should send troops to Lorraine and bring her back.’

  The King raised his brows at his younger son’s fury. ‘She is under the protection of King Lotha, my son. We cannot attack another realm. We are not savages.’ He took a sip from his own wine cup, resting among sheets of parchment awaiting his signature and seal, and shook his head. ‘Were we offering our protection to someone, we would not expect to be attacked for so doing.’ Charles heard a hard warning note enter his father’s tone. ‘I will not start a war, Charles. I will wait and see if the words of His Holiness and Archbishop Hincmar have the desired effect.’

  Charles closed his eyes and took another drink, trying to suppress the fury his father’s words wrought in his mind. The King must be losing his grip on reality, he thought, if he imagined Baldwin would give a damn about what the Church thought. Baldwin was a soldier first and foremost, and understood the battlefield. Charles longed to show Baldwin exactly what havoc stealing away his sister could wreak. He steadied his voice to answer his father.

  ‘And you think she will relinquish her harlotry for a few words from a clergyman, Father? And that the bastard who defiled her will let her go? You are a fool if you think so.’

  His father’s face made Charles briefly regret his final words, but only momentarily. He dropped his eyes to his wine so he didn’t have to see how angry he had made his parent. Hearing the King’s loud, hard tone was bad enough.

  ‘I am your King, boy. Never forget that. I migh
t be your father, but first I am your King. And if I say wait, then we wait.’ His father paused briefly and Charles risked a glance, seeing the King’s face suffused with an angry flush. The Prince dropped his eyes again, to mask the resentment he knew must show in his gaze.

  ‘Your sister is a dutiful daughter of the Almighty, and once she realises His face will be turned from her if she persists in her wanton behaviour, she will return to us, the family who love her and want the best for her.’

  Charles couldn’t prevent the derisive snort that escaped him as he drained his goblet and poured himself some more. Absently he wondered if the wine he had consumed prior to seeking out his father, after one of his companions had told him of his brother’s perfidy, had given him false courage. Then he dismissed the idea; he didn’t need courage from alcohol. He was a Prince of Frankia and had mettle enough of his own, and he would make sure his father understood that.

  ‘You might be King, Father, but you are going soft. When I am King, I will show my subjects what a firm and resolute temperament can achieve.’

  As soon as the words left his lips, Charles knew he had gone too far; he should not have spoken his thoughts aloud. His father rose from his chair and strode over to where he was standing. The sunlight through the window caught his father’s wispy fair hair and the jewels on the gold circlet he wore, flashing shards of coloured light around the room, and his father suddenly seemed taller and broader as he loomed over him. Abruptly, the King knocked the goblet from his hand and thrust his face towards him, his voice tight with his contained anger.

  ‘Louis is my heir, Charles. He will be King before you.’

  Swiftly, Charles turned for the door before he was tempted to strike his father. Striking the King was an offence punishable by death, and Charles was uncertain, with the furiously unreasonable mood his father was displaying, whether his royal blood would save him. He placed his hand on the latch and couldn’t resist a parting response.