‘The Fords have a farmhouse near Roussillon,’ Emma put in. ‘They showed us loads of pictures. It’s very pretty.’ Normally she would have been elated at the idea of going somewhere clearly so desirable, but it seemed Simon’s little cottage in the Welsh borders had somehow gained precedence. ‘I’m not going. I think she’s behaving really badly. I’m not going in the summer and I’m not going back to London now. In fact, I might not go back at all. I can do my exams in Hereford or somewhere.’
‘Ah, now, Em, that’s not a good idea,’ Simon put in hastily. ‘Sweetheart, I know you’re distracted, and I know Bea is helping you with everything that has happened here, but you can’t just change schools like that.’ Val was going to kill him.
Felix had obviously decided to adopt the role of peacemaker. ‘Let’s have a drink and think about cooking those pizzas,’ he said quietly. ‘We don’t have to decide anything at this moment. I’m sure there’s some way round this, but if Mum gets cross she won’t shift, we all know that. We need to do some negotiating and that’s easier on a full stomach.’ To his relief, he saw both his father and his sister smile. His famous fondness for food was often a teasing point in the family, but on this occasion it was something to bring them together. They trailed back into the kitchen and Felix dug in the fridge for a lager for his father and two cans of cider for him and Em. As he handed one to her, he saw her hands were shaking. He bit his lip. He didn’t want to go home any more than she did, but he could tell this was a huge deal for her and one that was not going to be negotiable. He reached into his hip pocket and touched his phone. Should he ring Bea now or later?
35
The Kingdom of Wessex by Simon Armstrong.
Sandra pulled off the cardboard packaging and dropped it on the floor. It had been left with her upstairs neighbour while she was out. She turned the book over in her hands and looked at the picture of the author inside the back cover. Yes, that was him. It was a big book, heavy and serious looking, with footnotes on every page, but with lots of illustrations too. She had googled him several times but, to her intense frustration, short of telling her that he was married and had two children and lived in London, there was nothing of a personal nature in the information she could find, and that was all there was on the flyleaf as well. She already knew about the children, but the fact that he lived in London was interesting. And he was married. She sat down, the book on her knee, and considered the matter. The wife did not appear to be around, at least not when he was in the cathedral with the kids. Was it possible, she wondered, that there was something going on between Beatrice and him. If there was, it might explain the hold Beatrice had over the family.
She had a good idea where they were staying. She had laboriously looked through masses and masses of holiday lets in the area and researched them until she found one owned by someone called Christine. Isolated; beautiful; idyllic historic setting in the hills between Radnor Forest and Offa’s Dyke.
She sat still for a long time, thinking, the book in her hands, and then she smiled. She stood up and put the book on the table. Tomorrow she would drive up to the isolated idyllic cottage and take a look.
‘You have got to be joking!’ Val had arrived before eight. ‘I set off before dawn to get here early so we can get a good start, and you tell me Emma isn’t here!’ She looked from Simon to Felix and back, her face set with anger. ‘Why isn’t she here? Where is she?’
Simon was cursing to himself. He should have guessed Val might arrive early, and he most definitely should have guessed Emma might pull a stunt like this. ‘I’m sorry, Val. I do know she was very unhappy about the change of plans, but I’ve no clue where she is.’ He cast a pleading look at Felix, who shrugged moodily.
‘I don’t want to go back early either,’ he said. ‘Why on earth couldn’t we stick to the arrangements and then go on the train? That way we could revise all the way back to London!’ He kicked at his rucksack. He had packed it, Simon had noticed, but then there hadn’t been much to pack. Emma’s bedroom still had most of her possessions scattered round it. They had found the note on her pillow. ‘I’m not coming back until my mother has gone. Don’t even think about looking for me.’
Val sighed theatrically. ‘Well, be it on her own head. Get everything together, Felix. At least you’ve got some common sense. I’m not waiting for the stupid girl. She’ll have to take the train on her own.’
‘No. I’ll stay and come back with her.’ Felix looked completely distraught. ‘Please, Mum.’
‘Out of the question. You have your GCSEs to revise for. The last thing you need is to waste your time in this godforsaken place.’
‘Val, darling.’ Simon caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. ‘Please, don’t be cross. It’s not really a big deal, is it, if she comes later? I’ll put her on the train in Hereford. She’s working well here. It’s a good place to concentrate.’ He kissed her gently. Glancing over her shoulder he caught Felix’s eye. The boy gave his father a conspiratorial wink.
‘I’ll come with you, Mum. It would be nice to have some special time together, just you and me.’ Felix was in diplomatic mode. ‘If you make Emma come now, she’ll be a pain all the way home, you know she will.’
Val sighed. She knew when she was beaten.
‘Come and have a cup of coffee before you set off,’ Simon cajoled her.
Sipping coffee outside on the terrace she was forced to admit that the cottage was, far from being godforsaken, the possessor of the most beautiful view, and very cosy. It wasn’t its fault it was small.
As Simon watched the car drive down the hill he thanked the gods of every pantheon that as they sat up there outside the cottage the sun had chosen to come out and flooded the unfolding mountainscape with beguiling golden light. The last thing he saw was his son looking back over his shoulder, and Felix’s thumbs up as he waved out of the window. He was going to miss him. He turned and walked back in through the gate. Behind him a small red car had driven up the hill. It must have had to pull in to let Val drive by. He didn’t bother to turn to look as he walked up the steep path to the cottage door. He was too busy wondering how long it would be before Emma showed up, and in the meantime he was going to have to ring Bea and tell her about the developments.
‘I did wonder if she’d been in touch with you,’ he said as he wandered round the kitchen, the phone to his ear. He looked forlornly at the three plates laid out on the table. Val may have stopped long enough for coffee, but poor Felix had not been given the chance to have some breakfast. No doubt he would persuade his mother to stop at the first motorway services they came to for a hearty fry-up. He had put the kettle on and was spooning coffee grounds into a jug when Bea picked up.
‘I switched off my phone last night. I had things to do.’ She sounded exhausted. ‘Oh dear. I’m so sorry, Simon. But I can’t say I’m surprised Emma didn’t want to go. Do you want me to come over?’
‘Wait till she shows up. I’ll get her to ring you.’
Mark was reading the paper. He put it down as she ended the call. ‘Trouble?’
She nodded. ‘Simon’s wife announced last night that she’d be taking the kids back to London this morning. Felix has gone with her, but Emma was absent when Val arrived, so she’s gone without her. All does not seem to be well with the Armstrong family.’
Mark grimaced. He reached for the muesli and poured a large helping into his bowl. ‘Hasn’t Emma got exams coming up?’
‘A levels. And Felix is sitting his GCSEs.’
‘Stress all round then.’
‘But not as much as one might have expected, at least as far as the exams are concerned. I was a bit worried, to be honest,’ she paused thoughtfully. ‘Well, I did wonder if Emma was going to cry off. She’s been so disturbed by everything that’s happened. Apparently she tried to ring me last night.’ She reached for her phone again: three missed calls.
Mark poured out some muesli for her and added milk. ‘Eat that, or you’ll collapse.’
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nbsp; She gave him a fond smile. ‘Thank you. Don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He smiled. ‘Do remember, Emma is not our daughter.’
‘Oh Mark.’ Bea gave him a fond smile. It wasn’t the first time she had thought this man was telepathic. ‘I know she’s not ours. Of course I do. If there is anything personal in this at all, it’s because I see myself in her when I was her age. One feels everything so acutely. One is so open. Vulnerable.’ She leaned across and took his hand. ‘I am being careful. I promise.’
Mark had a Chapter meeting and then he had calls to make on the far side of town, so she would have the whole day to herself.
She sat for a long time in silence, not climbing up to her study, but going into the bedroom and sitting down on the end of their bed. Not trying to contact Nesta. Not trying to eavesdrop on Eadburh. Just waiting to see what would happen. The clock in the tower struck the quarter, then the half hour and the sun shrugged itself behind a cloud. Rain drifted across the Close, soaking the walls of the cathedral, turning the stone dark. Outside, people had raised their umbrellas and were hurrying towards the lights of the shops.
The great Charlemagne was a generous man. She had her own guest house next to the hall of the princesses and the hot springs and she had servants to wait on her every whim. The king had given her gifts each time he had seen her. She smiled to herself, but this time it was one of his sons who bowed before her. A handsome man, far more her own age than his father, he had pressed a small book into her hand. It was a beautifully copied book of psalms, illustrated with coloured illuminations and capitalised in gold, the fine vellum of the pages stitched and bound in white silk.
She was enjoying the attention from the two men enormously, well aware that they were vying for her admiration. They had given her jewellery and silks, books, her own musician, a puppy sired by one of the king’s two great dogs, and now this man, this the eldest son of the king, even more charming than his wily father, was suddenly paying her far more attention than before. She liked him. A lot. By her calculations he would make a good match and he obviously liked her. She was thoughtful as he raised her hand and brushed it with his lips. The question was, would the great Charlemagne see her as a good match for his son? He had held back when Offa suggested her brother as husband for his daughter, Bertha, and her sister, poor Ethelfled, had waited in vain to be betrothed to his son, Charles the Younger. He was notorious for dangling his offspring before prospective suitors and then snatching them away, keeping them waiting, keeping them always at a distance but still allowing them to hope for the ultimate prize. Of his three legitimate sons, Louis, Peppin and Charles, Louis was by far the best looking, the most important and now, here sitting at her hearth, the most charming, the most desirable and the most eligible. Now her father was dead she had to handle this situation herself. She had to play this cleverly, match the king move for move, but this man she could like. If she was clever, she could outsmart even the great emperor of the Franks at his own game and win the prize she sought.
The women’s hall was warmed by the fire, and in the corner two young men, brothers from somewhere in the southern lands of Aquitaine, were singing together, their hands moving in unison over the strings of their instruments. It was a love song they sang. Sad and beautiful. She threw a quick look across at her suitor. They sat opposite one another, the gaming board between them, the pieces carved from stone, one set red agate, the other black tourmaline. She was winning. Her eyes sparkled as she saw his hand hover over the king. Perhaps it would be better to let him win. Behind them several of the ladies stood together watching them. It was the first time in a long while, she realised, that she was actually thinking about Hilde and Nesta. What had happened to them, she wondered? Both had been loyal, both ready to lay down their lives for her. She hoped Nesta had escaped the furore that must have followed the death of Beorhtric and her departure. Too many people would have guessed the poison came from her; too many people feared the cunning woman who was the queen’s adviser and friend. Once they would all have gone to Nesta for her services, revered her for her healing skills and for her glimpses into the future, but increasingly they had abandoned her, frightened of her reputation of service to the hated queen. Without the protection of the queen they would all have turned on her and she would have paid with her life for her loyalty. Hilde, her friend of many years, had set off obediently, like so many others, at her request to find the prince she still dreamed of and she had never returned. She would never now know what happened to either of them.
She glanced up at the man sitting opposite her and realised he was watching her. Could he read her thoughts? She profoundly hoped not. She smiled at him. No! She wouldn’t let him win. Never. Reaching forward she whisked his piece off the board and set it aside. An expression of frustrated anger flashed across his face, then it was gone and his smile returned. He enjoyed a challenge, and this woman intrigued him more and more. ‘Next time I shall win,’ he said softly with a chuckle. ‘I always do, in the end.’ Behind them the attendant women clapped and laughed. The brothers finished their song. A servant brought a tray of drinks and they sat back watching as the new puppy played with a toy one of the boys who brought in wood to fill the baskets by the hearth had carved for it. It growled furiously, shaking its little head. She had called the dog Ava.
The summons to the king’s presence came several days later. For the first time she followed his messenger up the broad staircase to his private quarters. As she entered, his entourage was waved away and withdrew to the far side of the chamber. She felt their eyes following her as she made her way towards him and took the chair beside him. It was far smaller than his. Carefully she arranged her skirts, aware that her attendants had remained in a group in the doorway. The atmosphere was tense and she began to feel nervous. Straightening her shoulders, she moved on the seat to face him. His eyes were narrowed and he was studying her intently. ‘I have a question to ask, lady.’
He folded his arms and she found herself gazing down at his hand, counting his array of gold rings.
‘I have it in mind to give you in marriage to my son, Louis.’
Her heart leapt but she schooled her face, careful not to react. She had come to know him well enough to suspect there would be a catch.
‘Normally such matters would be discussed between your father and myself or in the case of your widowhood, your son or your brother, if you had one still living. It appears you have very few surviving male relations, madam.’ She saw the trace of a smile behind his eyes.
She bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Hardly my fault, sire.’
‘And your female relations, such as there are, all appear to be in nunneries.’
‘My daughter?’ Her sangfroid almost deserted her.
‘Is being raised by the Abbess of Wareham.’
Eadburh closed her eyes in relief.
‘It may be that the Church is the best place for a woman without connections,’ he went on, his tone thoughtful.
She frowned. Looking up, she saw that he was smiling again. He was playing with her.
‘On the other hand, you have reigned as a queen and acquitted yourself well I gather, apart from the unfortunate error of killing your husband.’ He fell silent, seemingly deep in thought, then he looked up again. ‘Of course, I myself am without a wife.’
She froze.
He put his head on one side, seeming to consider. ‘I am left with a quandary. You have a choice. Would you marry me and become Empress of the Western world or would you marry my son?’
He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, waiting.
‘Do you offer such a choice in good faith, sire?’
His eyes flew open. ‘How would I not? Choose.’
‘Then, sire, I would choose your son. You do me too much honour to offer me an empire.’
Too late she realised the mistake she had made. His look of fury lasted only a moment but there was no gainsaying her words.
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�You have made the wrong choice.’ He rose to his feet. Behind them everyone in the room stood to attention, watching and waiting. Had they heard the conversation? She thought they probably had, every word.
‘Had you chosen me, I would have offered my son; but you show no discernment. You are not fit to rule an empire, nor the kingdoms I have apportioned to my sons. As I said, the Church is the best place for a woman with no connections. There they are prevented from meddling. So, to the Church you will go. The abbess of one of my most favoured foundations has recently died. You will take her place. You shall keep your dowry – to give to the abbey. Then you will make your peace with God. Perhaps you can explain to him how you came to poison the husband you were given in his presence.’ He raised his hand and beckoned his attendants forward.
‘Sire, you misunderstood me,’ she cried frantically. ‘I only chose your son because you did me too great an honour. I did not think myself worthy—’
‘You thought me too old to be your spouse. So, don’t be afraid. You will not have to lower yourself to accommodate an old man in your bed. You will leave Aachen today. Your belongings are already packed and loaded onto wagons. I do not wish to set eyes on you again.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘So, you never intended to have me. You toyed with me!’ She was furious.
He gave her a pitying smile. ‘Had you chosen rightly I might have succumbed to your wiles. We will never know.’ He turned away and swept out of the room, leaving her standing, stunned, as the men of his elite bodyguard surrounded her. They did not touch her, waiting patiently for her to move, but already her ladies were approaching, one with her cloak, one with her chest of jewels. A third carried the puppy. So, she would be allowed to take Ava with her to her fate. Holding her head high she stood while they wrapped the cloak around her and she stepped proudly from the dais onto the tiled floor, aware of everyone in the presence chamber holding their breath.
The Dream Weavers Page 35
