‘After my mother died he went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There he joined the Templars.’
‘He was in Jerusalem? Among the Knights of the Temple?’ Raife’s interest had sharpened.
‘Not a knight, and I do not know if he was at the Temple. He was a sergeant, involved only in coin counting, and I believe he soon became disenchanted with the Order. He returned home, where he died soon after.’
‘The Order is rigorous, and not for all.’
‘I think he missed his home.’
Raife had lost his interest in my father now, and began pointing out the devices on some shields hung on the walls. I asked him if he had enquired of the king why he was at the Conqueror’s Tower rather than the palace at Westminster, and Raife said that the king had felt it necessary to stay in London while the plague threatened the country.
‘To show his people that he does not run and hide,’ Raife said. ‘And also, probably, because if there is civil unrest in London, as there has been in the south-east of the realm, then Edmond is more directly placed to respond to it.’
We talked a while longer, and then left the chapel and returned to the king’s privy apartments, where Alianor introduced me to her husband, and the four of us sat chatting in a quiet corner until it was time for us to proceed in to dine.
Chapter Six
I accompanied the king in to dinner, which was a great honour, and then sat at his side to eat, sharing a platter with him. I was cautious of what I said, and possibly over-watchful of my table manners, but Edmond was a calming companion and, unlike his son, I did not feel I had to watch every word I said.
I would lie if I denied that sitting at the king’s hand to eat and sharing his platter while the eyes of the court were upon me, did not give me some small pleasure and thrill of excitement. I looked at the lower tables, at the many noble men and women, dressed in such richness, eating from the gleaming gilt and pewter of the king’s plate, and wondered how it was that I had come to this means.
Raife sat down the end of the high table with a bishop and Henry (I did not envy my husband his company, and was grateful that Henry was seated so far from me), while on my side of the table sat the earls of Warwick and Pembroke, Roger de Beaumont and Gilbert de Clare, and their wives, who were pleasant company.
I soon relaxed and ate daintily, both through not wanting to appear the pig before Edmond (and the watching eyes) and because my stomach had recently become queasy, and I did not want, as Evelyn had once so delicately put it, to spew across high table. Most of the time, I used my old silver eating knife to cut my meat into ever smaller pieces, moving them about the plate, and occasionally lifting a tiny morsel to my mouth.
The initial stages of the meal were spent sipping wine and sharing general conversation with those near me, the earls and their wives to my left, and Edmond and a bishop (I forgot his name and titles as soon as I heard them) to my right.
But, as the platters of food began to arrive in earnest, Edmond became my exclusive conversational companion.
Our conversation was of the most ordinary kind at first, then Edmond asked me to describe for him what it was like at Pengraic when the plague struck.
I had just sipped from my cup of wine. Now I put it down and, my eyes gleaming with tears, told him as much as I could without veering onto the nightmarish subject of Stephen’s, Rosamund’s and John’s deaths. Edmond was a sympathetic listener, stopping me occasionally to seek further detail from me.
I felt comfortable with him. Edmond’s manner was warm and sympathetic, and he had a way of putting me so completely at ease that the fact he was also King of England receded completely from my mind. All the gossip I had heard about him — and had intuited about him previously — as a man always on the hunt for a new mistress, also receded completely.
I felt as I did with Owain. That he was a friend and that I could say to him anything I wished.
Still, I was careful.
‘I cannot imagine the pain you have been through, Maeb,’ Edmond said. ‘The terror. Pengraic thought the castle safe, as did I, and when the news came …’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘It cut many hearts open, Maeb.’
‘It has been terrible for many people, my lord. On the ride to London Raife and I saw so much suffering, the burned villages and towns, the deserted fields, the people on the road. In the south-east of the country, I believe it was also bad?’
‘Yes. Devastating. The counties from Dovre through south of London … by God, Maeb, in some areas there is nothing left save the burned stubble of crops that will never be harvested, and of homes and churches that will never have foot step in them again. Those people left may not ever recover.’
‘You had to send my husband there to quell unrest?’
Edmond nodded, signalling to the servitor to replenish our cups with more wine. ‘There was panic and commotion as people tried to flee the plague yet only spread it further. Thank sweet Jesu it did not reach London. By God, I do not know what will happen if it strikes again, or if it travels further. The harvest will be small this year as so many crops have burned, or have been left to perish unheeded because there is none left to harvest them.’
He stopped, fiddling with his wine cup, his eyes roaming over the hall. ‘Much of this autumn and winter court, Maeb, will be spent trying to plan and prepare for spring and summer, when the plague is likely to rise again. It is why I wanted your husband here so badly. Pengraic commands much land in England, and many men, and he is a wise man, and moderate and unambitious when I am surrounded by many immoderate ambitious men who offer me advice designed only to advance their own means.’
He gave a small grunt of amusement. ‘Whatever you may have heard, Maeb, I trust your husband as I do very few men.’
‘Yet others say you distrust him, and fear his power.’
Edmond looked at me, his gaze keen. ‘I think your husband has his eye set on other prizes, not my throne, Maeb. I need not fear him.’
‘What other prizes?’
‘Ah,’ Edmond smiled, and supped at his wine, ‘he is your husband. Ask him yourself. Some men covet forgiveness, some sainthood, some have dreams that exist nowhere but their own minds. All I am sure of is that Pengraic is a driven man, but not, praise the saints, driven to acquiring my throne. He has secrets I cannot know, but I do not feel threatened by them.’
He pulled off a few tender bits of swan breast and put them on my plate. ‘You should eat more.’
‘My lord, it is the child. I dare do little more than nibble.’
‘You know, Maeb, when word came to me that Raife had married you, I, as many people, was somewhat surprised. I would have bedded you, I would not have married you. Pengraic could have had any great heiress in this country. Why you?’
Now, suddenly, the conversation had turned very personal. I said nothing, pushing the pieces of meat about my plate with my fingers.
‘Your beauty, that I can understand. But that can be enjoyed with a bedding, it does not demand a marriage. Pengraic has had mistresses in the past, why not yet another one? So I asked myself — why Maeb? And I have finally found that reason, through my conversations with you tonight, and with others.’
Alianor, I thought. Edmond sent me off with Raife so he could talk to Alianor.
The thought that she had been used to discover information about me made me feel somewhat sad, but not particularly surprised.
‘And that reason is … my lord?’
‘You do not realise?’
‘No.’
‘Well, no, you wouldn’t.’ Again that smile, those warm eyes radiating friendliness. ‘It is your complete artlessness, Maeb. Your trueness and honesty. You say what you think. Ah — I see the disbelief on your face, for I am sure you have secrets, as does everyone. Secrets aside, to have the freshness, the lack of guile, the honesty and the spirit, all combined with great beauty, is a heady mixture indeed. You do not come from a noble background and your elevation to countess must have been difficult for you,
yet you sit here and converse with a king with ease.’
He paused, fingers tapping slowly on the table. ‘You are a complex woman, Maeb. An unexpected treasure. Did Stephen want you as well?’
That sudden question startled me. I opened my mouth, but did not know how to answer.
Edmond narrowed his eyes. ‘Your reddened cheeks and your wordlessness answers me well enough, Maeb. Is there any man who has not yet fallen under your spell?’
‘Many, my lord,’ I answered.
‘My son among them,’ Edmond said, surprising me with his honesty. ‘Be careful of him, Maeb. Try not to be artless about him.’
I wondered what Henry had been saying to his father, and it made me wonder why Edmond had asked me to describe what had happened at Pengraic when the plague struck. Was he seeking to trap me over some minor detail? Discover a means to make me confess to Stephen’s, Rosamund’s and John’s murders?
‘Thank you, my lord,’ I said.
Edmond studied me seriously, then gave a nod. His eyes, normally so warm, were now watchful, wary.
‘Be careful, Maeb. I am not your enemy and I will protect you as much as I am able. But even I cannot guarantee your safety.’
‘Why do some hate me, as you intimate?’
I knew the answer even before he spoke it.
‘Because you are the route to Pengraic, Maeb. Many covet, or fear, his wealth and power. Pengraic loves you. That may well prove his downfall.
‘Ah, but why do we discuss such bleak matters? Tell me, do you like the minstrels who entertain us this day? They have come from Normandy, and are reputed to be among the best.’ Then he gave a sigh. ‘But, oh, how I wish they would sing of something other than the Holy Grail and those who quest for it. I am heartily sick of quests and grails.’
After that Edmond and I fell back to discussing inconsequential things, and eventually he turned to the bishop on his other side and I to Pembroke and his wife who were closest to me on my left. The afternoon wore on toward early evening and the atmosphere in the hall was convivial as diners consumed more wine and the music livened. Benches were pushed back from tables, and people moved about the hall, talking to others sat distant from them.
I saw Raife move down to talk earnestly with the Earl of Chestre and a woman who must be his wife, and had a nasty jab of surprise when Henry rose from his seat and walked behind his father to the back of my chair, laying a brief hand on my shoulder. But he moved on immediately, not saying a word, and I watched him walk down the right side of the hall to talk to none other than the two Templars, Gilbert de Lacy and Fulke d’Ecouis. The three men talked for a few minutes, their heads close, then as one they turned and looked at me.
My stomach turned over as I instinctively shifted my eyes away, and I wondered what they were talking about. Why had d’Ecouis reacted so strangely when I’d mentioned my father’s name? Was Henry telling them of his suspicions regarding my part in some of Raife’s children’s deaths?
‘My Lady Maeb.’
Edmond had turned to me again, and I blinked and smiled at him, trying to forget the other three.
‘The musicians are going to play an Estampie. It is time we had some dancing, eh? Will you join me?’
I smiled somewhat wanly, and rose, taking Edmond’s hand. I did not know the Estampie well — it was a new dance from France that several of the minstrels who had played at Pengraic had taught me, but I had never performed it save in the relatively safe atmosphere of the great hall at Pengraic.
I prayed that the dance those minstrels had taught me would prove to be the same dance the king’s court knew — the same dance the king knew.
The Estampie, like so many dances, was a line dance, save this differed in that it involved two lines, and each dancer had a partner in the line opposite them with whom they began and ended the dance. During the dance each of the lines interwove, people moving in and out, catching hands with those dancers from the other line they met along the way. It was not a particularly fast dance, for which I was grateful, but one of grace and elegance — and one where the dancer had to concentrate, lest they find themselves out of step and out of place.
The twin lines formed, and each dancer bowed or dipped in courtesy to their partner. No one else seemed surprised that the king had joined the dancing — he must do it routinely — but again I found eyes directed my way as I took my place opposite him.
The horns, pipes and drums began, and we all dipped and bowed again and the dance began. To my relief it was the same as I’d been taught, and as the dance moved forward I began to enjoy myself. Alianor was among the dancers, and we smiled widely as we passed each other briefly, clasping hands as we did so. People at the tables called encouragement, or clapped in beat with the music, and I allowed my smile to remain, taking pleasure in the moment.
Finally it was over, and the twin lines reformed facing each other, the dancers miraculously finding themselves opposite their partner again. The music ended in a series of wild chords, and yet once more we bowed or dipped to our partners.
Then, suddenly, came the difference with the Estampie I’d been taught. All the dance partners stepped toward each other and kissed, in a final display of courtliness. Edmond smiled at what must have been a look of panic in my eyes, and he came to me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply.
‘I hope Pengraic takes good care not to lose you,’ he said, very softly as he raised his face from mine, ‘because then I shall have to come find you and keep you myself.’
I was somewhat breathless from both dance and kiss, and I excused myself to go to the privy where, for a short while, I could have some time to myself. When I returned along the north gallery, Henry and the Templar d’Ecouis were waiting for me.
I stopped, my heart thudding. I would have turned and sought to escape into the eastern gallery and thence into the chapel, but they were too quick for me.
‘My Lady Maeb,’ Henry said, grabbing my wrist and pushing me roughly against the exterior wall of the gallery, ‘how fortunate to find you.’
D’Ecouis took position at my other side and together the two men pressed me against the wall.
‘I discover from my lord d’Ecouis that you had a most adventurous father, Maeb,’ Henry said.
I did not reply, so fearful I could barely draw breath. Their nearness, their tone and the way they held me against the wall was not merely discourteous, it was immensely threatening.
‘To Jerusalem and back,’ Henry murmured. ‘And I’d always believed he was a man of no spine. He joined the Templars, d’Ecouis tells me.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ I managed. I looked about, but even though the music and conversation and laughter of the great hall wafted out into the gallery, the gallery was deserted apart from the three of us. There was no one I could appeal to for aid.
‘During his time with us,’ d’Ecouis said, his mouth close to my face, ‘we think Langtofte became privy to secrets he should not have discovered. He was a money sorter, nothing else, but we think he listened at too many doorways.’
‘My lords, I do not know what —’
‘The Templars are privy to many secrets,’ Henry said. ‘They are trusted by His Holiness the Pope when no other is. What my friend and I would like to know is … did your treacherous father pass these secrets to you?’
‘I have no idea of what you speak!’
‘The Order think that perhaps your father made off with … some of their wealth,’ d’Ecouis said. ‘With the Church’s wealth. We can think of no one else who may have taken it. Such a sin, my lady. What did he leave you after his death, Lady Maeb? Some gold, perhaps? Jewels? A bauble or two?’
‘He left me nothing save rags and his blessing,’ I said. ‘I had nothing from him. All his property went to the Order, as you should know.’
‘And yet how sweetly you have done with that “nothing”, Maeb,’ Henry said. ‘From destitute waif to Countess of Pengraic in less than a half year. Now, we are sure Pengraic was taken with yo
ur pretty face, but we wonder why else he married you. What dowry, Maeb, what secretive dowry did you use to buy yourself into Pengraic’s bed?’
‘None save my sweet charm,’ I snapped, ‘of which you evidence little.’
‘The Templars want back what was stolen,’ said d’Ecouis. ‘We —’
‘I say again, I have no idea of what you speak!’ I said. Then, miraculously, a knight appeared from the east gallery, walking toward the door to the great hall.
‘Good sir!’ I called out, wrenching my wrist from Henry’s grasp. ‘Can you escort me back to table?’
As I was walking off, I heard Henry say to d’Ecouis, ‘Do you think she knows?’
I was struggling not to cry from shock when I sat down at the table. The servitors were handing out sweet custards, but I knew that if I so much as put a spoonful to my mouth I would vomit it forth again.
‘Maeb?’ said the king, who had turned to me as I sat down. ‘What is the matter?’
‘Nothing, my lord king.’ My hands, resting in my lap, gave the lie to my words by their treacherous trembling.
Edmond glanced at them. ‘Maeb?’
‘Nothing, my lord king.’
I saw a movement, and then Raife was with me. He also must have seen my face as I had sat down although he was further along the table.
‘Edmond,’ Raife said, and I registered through my shock how familiarly my husband addressed the king. ‘Edmond, my wife is unwell with her child, and is over-tired from her first day at court. May we have your permission to retire?’
Edmond gave it with a nod, then reached out with one of his hands, laying it over mine, still a-tremble in my lap. ‘Maeb?’
My tears spilled over now, both from my continued upset and from the care in his voice.
‘I am tired, and unwell,’ I said, ‘as Raife has said. I am sorry, my lord, that I —’
Edmond put his hand briefly to my lips, silencing me, then looked to Raife. ‘Rest a while in my privy chamber. I will send a man to get your horses saddled and to collect your retinue.’
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