The Bastard King (33 page)

He would be a harsh master but a just one, he hoped.

There was another request. This time it came from Gytha, who was Harold's mother.

This woman, weeping bitterly, threw herself at his feet. The wife of Earl Godwin, a Danish Princess no less, and the mother of brave sons.

‘This day,' she said, ‘I have lost three sons. Harold the King and his brother Gurth and Leofwine. My nephew Haakon whom you knew well is also dead. My son Tostig died but a short while ago. Have pity on me. Give me the bodies of my sons that I may bury them. It is all I ask of you.'

‘You ask too much,' said William.

‘I beg of you. Have you no feelings? Have you no pity?'

‘I have no pity for perjurers.'

She wept; she entreated. But he was unmoved.

He is a hard man, thought those who looked on.

‘I will give the weight of my son Harold's body in gold if you give me my sons.'

‘All that you have could belong to me if I wished to take it,' William reminded her.

She lifted her face to his and he saw the hatred there.

I shall see it often in this land, thought William, so I must needs grow used to it.

‘Take the woman away,' he said.

She cursed him as she went. Another brave woman! he thought. When I am crowned King of England, when I have
subdued these people, Harold shall have a decent burial, but it shall be in my good time.

These people would learn fast enough what manner of man he was. They would learn that more than a new reign had begun. He had a kingdom to govern; he had long had plans for it. He would give good government but it might seem stern and often harsh.

He cared nothing for that. He was going to build a great country as he could not in Normandy. This country should be his and he and his sons would beget a royal race to rule it. So that in years to come people would look back on that October day in the year 1066 and say: That was the day when England was born. There was the beginning of a new great age, and the father and creator of it all was William, bastard yes, and conqueror too.

IT WAS EASTER.
Six months had passed since William had sailed for England; and his family now awaited his return to Normandy.

He had written to Matilda. ‘These are a stubborn people. I am determined to subdue them. I am leaving them to my most trusted supporters for I must see you. I have been too long away.'

Matilda, delighted that he should feel the need of her, as she had of him, prepared a great welcome. She knew what had been happening in England for he had kept her well informed. She had heard of the difficulties he had had to encounter, the intransigence of the Saxon people, of his coronation at Westminster which had taken place on Christmas Day; and how he had ordered that there should be great celebrations and rejoicing in the cities of London and Westminster to celebrate the coronation of the new King on the birthday of Christ.

‘We gave them such a spectacle as they had never seen before,' he wrote, ‘and there is nothing the people like better than spectacles. We were acclaimed as we rode to Westminster, but alas, there was a rising of certain Saxons and I ordered the burning down of a number of houses to reward them. I must show a stern hand with these people. Well, I am coming to you, Matilda, for I have much to tell you, and I shall not be content until I have seen you crowned with me as sovereign of England.'

So they waited his coming.

‘We must be at the shore to greet him,' Matilda told her family, ‘so we will go to the coast.'

The family were excited. Robert now fourteen, impatiently waiting to be of age that he might take his inheritance. Richard handsome, tall and restrained in contrast to his brothers, for Rufus had never grown as tall as William would have liked. Adelisa had not lost her listlessness; she still mourned for Harold. The little girls were obedient and now showed signs of mingled pleasure and apprehension, for
William had always inspired a certain admiration as well as fear in his children.

And how proud was Matilda to see the
Mora
approach the shore. Her ship! There never had been such a one. A true vessel for a conqueror.

He was the first to leap ashore, wading in to land where his children, standing a few paces behind Matilda, waited.

He seized his wife in his arms and kissed her.

‘Matilda, my love! It has seemed such a long time.'

‘I have followed your actions whenever possible. I have been there with you in my thoughts.'

‘I shouldn't have left those rebels . . . but I had to come back to you.'

She laughed triumphantly. What an admission from such a man.

‘The children are here . . . eager to greet you.'

He looked at them. Young Curthose had not grown at all, he noticed, nor had Rufus. Richard! There was a Norman if ever there was, a true descendant of Rollo!

Richard, by God's Splendour, should be King of England to follow him. Robert could have Normandy, the lesser prize.

And Rufus . . . well, he would see about Rufus, but he was a younger brother.

What was wrong with Adelisa? The child was like a wraith.

‘Here, daughter, what ails you? You are nothing but skin and bone.'

She lowered her eyes and did not answer.

Brooding for that traitor still! They would get a husband for her quickly.

And the little girls. He embraced them, but they were too young to interest him. Later he would make marriages for them. Marriageable daughters of kings made good bargaining counters.

But it was Matilda who claimed his interest.

‘Come, let us leave here. There is much we have to speak of.'

He had much to show them too – rich treasure which he had brought with him. The spoils of war.

‘These Saxons have some skills, Matilda. Look at this gold and silver plate. They surpass our workmen. They have a delicate touch which we lack. Look at these embroidered garments. You will be interested in those. Are they not fine?'

She agreed that they were.

‘I shall make a great country of England, Matilda. But first I must subdue the rebels. They are not a meek people. They will not accept the fact that they were conquered. We shall have uprisings here, there . . . everywhere, and we have to be prepared. I intend to show them with fire and sword who is their master. It's the only way. They are stubborn and proud and they will rebel against me. How good it is to be in Normandy . . . with you and my family and the forest and good hunting.'

‘Is there not hunting in England?'

‘The forests are magnificent there, but this is my native land. I shall make England like it. I am going to insist that they speak Norman instead of Saxon.'

‘Will that be easy?'

‘For the young ones, yes, for the older ones more difficult. But there is much Danish in their tongue and you know ours is a mixture of Danish and French. There are words which are similar and our Normans do not find it difficult to make themselves understood. Now I want our people here to understand what a great victory this is, and I plan that you and I shall ride through Normandy to let them know that we are here, and although I am King of England I am still their Duke.'

Matilda, who had always enjoyed excitement, was pleased at the prospect. They discussed it at length.

A less satisfactory subject was the children.

‘Robin Curthose was a little sullen I thought,' William remarked. ‘He looked at me as though he were hoping I might not long delay my departure from this life.'

‘You are hard on Robert.'

‘As hard as you are soft.'

‘He is your first-born. Remember how proud you were when you first saw him.'

‘I did not know then how he would turn out.'

‘But he is a brave boy.'

‘A braggart. Too much ambition.'

‘Can you blame him for inheriting such a quality from his father?'

‘When I was his age I had inherited a dukedom and had perforce to keep it. He has not inherited a dukedom . . . yet, although it seems to me that he longs for one particular circumstance which would give it to him.'

‘That is not true, William. He admires you so much.'

‘He admires my possessions,' growled William. ‘But let us talk of happier things. Richard is growing into a fine young Norman.'

‘He'll be as tall as you are, William.'

‘He has a good pair of Norman legs. How did Robert and Rufus mislay theirs?'

‘Because you married a Flemish Princess who was not over tall but still to your liking.'

He gave her his tender smile and then went on: ‘And our daughter? I was shocked to see her so. What ails the girl?'

‘She took it into her head to regard Harold as a hero, the love of her life. I wish we had never affianced them.'

‘We could not know then what a perjurer we should discover.'

‘Now that he is dead and killed by you . . .'

‘By God's Splendour,' cried William, ‘to what have I come home! To a son who wants my dukedom and can scarce wait for me to relinquish my hold on it, and a daughter who blames me for the death of my enemies.'

‘This is not true,' retorted Matilda. ‘Robert takes his duty seriously and if he were of age you would make him Regent of Normandy. He longs for that day. As for Adelisa, Harold with his Saxon fair looks beguiled her. She is but a child and children set up their heroes and enshrine them in their hearts.'

‘You are right, I doubt not. I will find a husband for Adelisa and set that matter to rights.'

‘She is over young for marriage.'

‘As yet. But she can go to some court where she will forget what has happened to her and be brought up with her future
family. That will turn her mind from the false Saxon. As for Robert, I can do nothing for him. He must perforce wait for the years to pass.'

The triumphant progress began. Everywhere they were acclaimed. Their Duke was now known as the Conqueror; he had set sail on an enterprise which many had believed would fail. Hadn't his father tried before him and not succeeded? And he had been Robert the Magnificent. But their Duke had succeeded and he was now more than a Duke. He was a King.

He had conferred with Lanfranc. He had plans, he told him, of bringing him to England. He did not trust their Archbishops, neither of Canterbury nor York. He wanted to replace them by Normans, and he had decided that Canterbury should be for Lanfranc. At the moment though he was needed in Normandy.

‘When my son is of an age to be my Regent, then, Lanfranc, you must come to England.'

Lanfranc replied earnestly that his only object would be to serve his King as faithfully as he had served his Duke.

‘Why,' laughed William, ‘I deplore Curthose's lack of years even as he does himself.'

He could not endure the looks of Adelisa. She reminded him of that beautiful woman who had come to claim Harold's body and the look of hatred she had given him – cursing him no doubt in her thoughts. She had loved Harold as Adelisa had. What had these Saxons, he wondered, that women seemed to care for them. Even Matilda had enjoyed those late night talks with him far more than she had admitted.

The opportunity arose. He was no longer a Duke merely, he was a King and as such a greater power in the world. He would not have difficulty in finding matches for his children.

He heard that a bride was being sought for the King of Galicia. Adelisa was eleven years old . . . too young for marriage. But perhaps in two years, three certainly . . . and such marriages were made in advance.'

He entered negotiations and to his delight they were received with enthusiasm.

‘Send for our daughter, Matilda,' he said. ‘I have news for her.'

She came and stood before her parents. She was more like a shadow than ever. Did she not eat? William wondered. She should be forced to. He would not tolerate disobedience in his children any more than he would in his subjects.

Matilda, who could on occasions be as harsh as he was, was gentler with her children. She seemed to be over-indulgent with this folly about Adelisa's love for a Saxon enemy.

Adelisa stood, eyes downcast, looking meek; and, although he expected meekness, he did not admire it.

‘Daughter, here is good news,' he said. ‘You are to go to Galicia to finish your growing up in the court there. You are to have a bridegroom.'

Adelisa raised frightened eyes to her mother's face.

‘It will be best for you,' said Matilda gently.

‘No,
please
. . .' began Adelisa.

‘What nonsense is this?' cried William. ‘You are fortunate. You will be Queen of Galicia. Does that not please you?' She was silent and he roared: ‘Answer me.'

She said in a whisper: ‘No, Father.'

‘No!' he shouted. ‘You say
no
to an offer like this!'

‘I would rather go into a convent.'

‘Convent! Your sister is in a convent. One daughter is enough for the Church. You will be pleased by your great good fortune or by God's Splendour . . .'