Authors: Ellen Jones
How she longed to tell the Queen of her love for her cousin, that the thought of leaving him was unbearable, but she felt too ashamed to admit to anyone that this was the main reason behind her refusal to marry.
Alix sighed, and Maud sensed she chose her words with care. “You must not ask so much of life, Maud. You cannot take the world by storm and force your will upon it. You’re far more fortunate than most women. Accept your place in the natural order of things. Yield to your fate. Bloom where you’re planted.”
“Next you will tell me to be fruitful and multiply. Who can bloom in a wasteland?” Maud shook her head. “I’m not like you, Alix, if only I were! My nature is to fight for what I want until I have it.” She took a deep breath. “Had you held firm with your father you would now be serving Our Lord in the convent, not forced to deal with a headstrong stepdaughter.”
Alix’s eyes filled with tears and she clasped Maud in her arms. “Yes,” she whispered, “to seize life by the throat is the Norman way, and perhaps you will prevail in the end. I’m the last person to judge you, my dear. We must each follow our own nature wherever it leads us.”
Maud’s heart surged with affection for the gentle queen and she warmly returned the embrace. After a moment they broke apart, slightly embarrassed by their mutual display of warmth.
“What is to happen now?” Maud asked.
“You’re to remain here in my care until you agree to go to Anjou. There’s a small chamber attached to this one being readied for you now.” She pointed to a closed door at the far end of the solar. “You may neither leave nor entertain visitors. Food will be brought to you. Each day you are permitted to take the air upon the battlements, accompanied by guards. Aldyth may join you, should you desire her, but if so, she must suffer the same conditions.” Alix glanced toward her ladies. “Not even my women may talk to you alone.”
Maud clenched her fists. “And if I refuse to abide by these outrageous rules?”
“If you seek to violate them, the King says he will hold me responsible and act accordingly.”
A dart of fear shot through Maud. “He wouldn’t dare to hurt you.” But she was not really sure what her father might do if sufficiently roused.
Her eyes enormous, Alix said: “You threatened to tell the barons of the Angevin marriage, Maud, and when directly opposed the King can be merciless, ruthless!”
“But he breaks his sworn oath if he forces me to wed the young Count,” Maud countered.
“Do you imagine he will let that stand in his way? It is madness, madness to defy him!” Alix wrung her hands. “Surely you have heard the tale of how his own grandchildren were blinded?”
“That is a tale I have not heard,” Maud said slowly, “nor do I wish to hear it.”
“You must hear it, for your own good.” She led Maud to a corner of the room where a brazier burned brightly. “The King married Juliana, one of his illegitimate daughters, to the Count of Bretuil in Normandy,” Alix began. “After a time the King had reason to suspect that his daughter’s husband planned rebellion. The Count denied this and as an act of good faith, your father persuaded him to surrender his two young daughters as hostages. Henry’s grandchildren, mind you. In return, the Count was given another child as hostage. In time Juliana’s husband rebelled, even as the King had feared, and, as an act of defiance, blinded the child in his care.” Alix’s voice faltered. “Then—then at the King’s instigation, the father of that child blinded Henry’s grandchildren in turn.”
Maud was speechless with horror. Her father had a notoriously cruel reputation, but this—the bile rose up in her throat, almost choking her.
“What happened to my half sister, to Juliana?” Maud whispered.
“She went totally mad.” Her eyes brilliant with tears, Alix’s face began to crumple like a piece of old parchment. “Please, Maud, I beg of you, in God’s name, do as he wishes.” She fell to her knees. “I beg of you!”
Maud quickly pulled her to her feet. “Peace, peace. Do not fret,” she said, deeply shaken. “I cannot agree to the marriage, but I’ll abide by all the conditions and not cause any trouble.”
She held the weeping Queen in her arms, inwardly filled with rage and terror, sickened by the tale she had just heard. What a very devil of cunning was the King to have made Alix her jailer, for he knew full well that Maud would do nothing to put the Queen in jeopardy.
Several hours later, in the comparative safety of her newly readied chamber, Maud told Aldyth what had happened.
“Who would believe the future Queen of England a prisoner in her father’s castle?”
Aldyth gave Maud a bewildered glance. “In truth I cannot blame your father. By the Rood, you knew you’d have to marry someone. Now that you’re to be queen, what sense is there in resisting him? The Count’s only a lad, ’tis true, but you’ll have the molding of him this way, and that’s all to your advantage, I would have thought.” She looked around the cramped chamber, furnished with a large bed, a small trundle bed, an oak chest, and two threadbare stools. “The sooner we’re out of this wretched mousehole the better.”
Maud set her jaw in the stubborn manner Aldyth knew so well. “I want a grown man, already knowledgeable in the ways of the world! Someone of equal rank.”
Aldyth, who had begun to unpack a large box containing Maud’s belongings, shut the lid with a bang. “I know very well what you want, but you’ll never have him, not in this world, my lady, so make the best of what is offered. You need someone to make a woman and a mother out of you, and the sooner the better.”
“Why must you reduce everything to—to matters of midwifery?” Maud walked over to the tiny window and peered out. It was totally black, not a glimmer of moon or stars.
“Because for a woman, of low birth or high, that is all there is!”
“The Emperor never thought so.”
Aldyth planted her forearms on ample hips. “The Emperor was a monk, not a man, and you were his pupil, not his wife. When a woman behaves like a bitch-hound in heat, mooning about with lovesick dreams, then she is ready to be wedded and bedded.”
Her face scarlet with embarrassment, Maud turned on Aldyth. “Such talk is unseemly. If I continue to refuse, the King must give in.”
Aldyth sniffed. “Indeed? Stubborn he is, just like you.” She threw up her hands. “How far does the apple fall from the tree?”
The bells rang for Compline; in stony silence, the two women went to their separate beds.
Sleepless, Maud tossed under the fur coverlet, Aldyth’s words repeating over and over in her mind like a trouvère’s rondelet. She could not deny their truth. She was ready—more than ready—for love. But only one person could give her what she craved. Impossible to give herself to another. Tears coursed down her face, and she stifled her anguish into the goose-down pillow. It was almost dawn before she finally slept.
Next morning it was still snowing, the ground outside the window a blanket of white. Maud broke her night’s fast in the Queen’s solar, disappointed that the weather made it impossible to walk upon the battlements. She was already chafing against the unaccustomed inactivity.
“I must leave you again for a while, my dear,” Alix said, coming into the chamber from morning Mass. She wore a heavy brown cloak lined with gray fur and her face was pink with cold. “It’s the day my women and I go to St. Giles, founded by your sainted mother, to give alms to the good monks who care for the poor lepers.” She kissed Maud on both cheeks. “I’ve left you my tapestry to work upon, should you care to keep occupied. I find such work very soothing in times of inner upheaval.”
Maud smiled weakly, and looked with distaste at the tapestry frame set up on the floor.
Alix watched her with worried eyes. “I don’t like to leave you alone. Where is Aldyth?”
“She has gone—accompanied by an army of guards—to my old chamber to pack up the remainder of my belongings.” Maud paused. “I would see my father, Alix. Can you arrange this?”
“He told me he wouldn’t see you until you agree to his wishes.”
“I still don’t agree,” Maud replied, “but I wish further converse upon the matter.”
“He was adamant.” At the look of defeat on Maud’s face, Alix clasped her hands to her bosom. “I shall talk to him for you. Perhaps he will be more accessible today. Of course, I cannot promise—” She smiled bravely, and Maud could see that it would require all Alix’s courage to approach her formidable husband.
“Say nothing if it does not seem the right moment,” Maud said, noting the look of relief in Alix’s eyes.
“You must hear Mass, my dear, and then you will feel better. I will ask the King to send you a priest. Surely he cannot deny you the comfort of confession.”
Maud nodded absently, doubting whether a priest would provide any comfort.
Alix and her women left; Maud was alone. She walked from the solar into her own small chamber and back again. Charcoal braziers burned brightly in both rooms. A flagon of wine and a platter of honey cakes stood on the table in the solar. Nothing had been spared for her warmth and comfort, yet she was heartsick and confused. She knew her resolve was weakening, that she could not prevent the inevitable forever. Sooner or later she would be forced to accept her father’s command.
She stroked a sleeping puppy and looked at the tapestry: It appeared to be another religious work, the Crucifixion this time, portrayed in bright blue and red and green wools. Near the tapestry lay Alix’s psalter. Bound in an ivory and metal cover mounted on wood, the vellum pages were beautifully inscribed with gold and purple ink. Although Alix, like almost all women, was unlettered, her chaplain often read aloud to the Queen and her ladies. Maud, who read Latin fluently, sat down on a stool and picked up the psalter. She had just settled back when a loud knock interrupted her. A guard cautiously opened the door.
“A priest is here, my lady,” he said. “Sent by the King.”
“Oh, yes.” Maud shut the book and stood up.
It must be two hours yet before the noon Mass. Did her father hope to hasten her capitulation by sending the priest earlier so he could reason with her?
A shapeless figure cloaked from head to toe in black entered the solar.
“Come into my chamber,” she said over her shoulder, leading the way into her room. “Here we will not be disturbed should Queen Alix return.”
The cleric followed her silently. Once inside the chamber, he closed the door behind him and carefully bolted it.
“That is hardly necessary—” Maud began, surprised, then stifled a scream as the cleric threw back his cowl to reveal the green-gold eyes and flushed face of her cousin Stephen.
S
TEPHEN!” MAUD COULD HARDLY
believe it was her cousin, “how did you manage to get past the guards?”
Stephen slipped out of the black cloak. “I make a very convincing clergyman. Perhaps I missed my true calling?” He gave her a mischievous smile. “I met Alix as she left Westminster and inquired about you. She mentioned that when she returned from St. Giles she would ask the King to let you see a priest.” The smile faded from his face. “When I saw you last night, held captive like a common felon, I was most concerned for your welfare.” He scrutinized her face. “What is happening here? No one seems to know and Alix revealed nothing. The King has spread it about that you are unwell and in the care of the Queen until you recover. No one questions it, and if I had not seen you for myself—” As she turned away, he grabbed both her hands. “What is amiss? You must tell me.”
Aware of her too ready response to the touch of his hands on hers, Maud wanted to blurt out the whole story but, unaccountably, held back. Stephen dropped her hands, took her firmly by the shoulders, and sat her down on one of the stools.
“Now then,” he said, pulling up the other stool to face her, “you must tell me the truth. I will not be put off.”
Maud looked anxiously at the door. What if Aldyth should return to find her alone like this with Stephen when she was supposed to be with a priest?
“You’re with your confessor, remember?” Stephen said, reading her thoughts. “And the door is bolted. We won’t be disturbed.”
Maud watched him uneasily. The door bolted made her feel as anxious—in a different way—as the door unbolted. Flushing, she thrust away the thought that for the first time she and Stephen were truly alone with no immediate threat of interruption. Her heart began to beat faster.
“I have displeased the King,” she began carefully, “and he has made me a virtual prisoner confined to Alix’s care.”
Stephen looked at her thoughtfully. “You have told me nothing I did not already know. How have you displeased him?”
Now that the longed-for opportunity to reveal her father’s plans had arrived, Maud found herself reluctant to violate the King’s intent to keep the matter secret. Aware she had little talent for dissembling, Maud stared at him helplessly.
“Have you promised not to speak of it?” He picked up her hand, lazily stroking her fingers.
She smiled in relief. “Yes, I’m bound to keep silent.”
He pressed her hand, but did not release it. “I see. Very well, I will not push you further.” His eyes smiled tenderly into hers. “You do know that should you need me—for anything at all, no matter the circumstance—I will always be ready to serve you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Unable to find the words, she nodded, overcome by a rush of gratitude.
Letting go of her hand, Stephen reached out and lifted her to her feet, cradling her body in his arms as if she were a frightened child. Her father, the threat of the Angevin marriage, the fear of losing contact with Stephen, slowly faded from her mind. All that existed was the protective comfort of his embrace, a wall of safety shielding her from the terrors of the outside world.
Maud did not know how long a time had passed before she became aware that the current of feeling between them had changed. One moment she was lapped in a comfortable security, and in the next all her senses began to come alive. A growing warmth slowly pervaded her body. Her pulse leaped; her breath began to quicken.
She knew that Stephen also perceived the change, because he immediately started to withdraw, his arms dropping to his sides. For the space of a heartbeat Maud hesitated; she felt as if she teetered on the edge of a precipice, and one move further would propel her over the edge. As Stephen took a backward step, Maud reached out and clung to him.