Dawn streaked the sky and sea with pearl and silver. A brisk wind mined the seams of light and bellied the sails of the Norman fleet, thrusting it towards the smudge of England's shoreline.
Simon stood on the deck of his galley and watched the land drawing closer. His leg was aching, but he was so accustomed to the sensation by now that it only bothered him when his mind was unoccupied. For the moment, he was too full of exhilaration to give the pain much heed. He had scarcely slept at all during the night - just a couple of hours rolled in his cloak. Most of the time he had lain awake, gazing at the stars as they appeared and vanished behind fine tresses of cloud. His mind had turned with the turning of the heavens, dwelling on the adventure to come.
Duke William had put down the rebellions in England; the Danish threat had been avoided by diplomatic negotiation, and he had summoned his family to come to him. This Eastertide Duchess Matilda was to be crowned Queen of England in King Edward's great abbey of Westminster. Simon had pleaded with his father to be allowed to make the crossing as part of the entourage, promising vehemently to be a help, not a hindrance. He could walk, he could ride, he never complained. When his father had frowned doubtfully, Simon had started making plans to stow away on a supply vessel, but it had not come to that; his father had finally agreed to let him come. If only to prevent my ears from being nagged off,' he had said with a reluctant smile.
De Rules had found Simon light fetching and carrying duties within the household. When his leg grew tired he was made to sit and keep tallies of the goods being transported, or given employment greasing armour and mail ready for the voyage.
Yester eve they had sailed from the port of Dieppe and headed out into the Narrow Sea. Simon had been boarded on the Duchess's galley, its strakes painted a moon white and rows of overlapping kite shields protecting the deck from the exuberant salt spray. The ladies had recourse to a canvas deck shelter and had spent most of the time inside it, the flaps pulled tight. Duchess Matilda was not fond of journeying across water, although for her husband she would have braved sailing over the edge of the world itself.
It was Simon's first sea voyage. His stomach was queasy, but he had not succumbed to outright seasickness. On the galley that held the Duke's sons he had several times seen Rufus puking over the side. There was no mistaking the pale sandy hair and thickset body. Simon felt sorry for Rufus and was glad that he was not sailing on that particular ship. Jeers from the Duke's older sons and their companions floated on the wind, laced with the malice of too much wine. The ringleader however, was not of William's brood, but Robert de Bêlleme, a son of the great Earl Roger of Montgomery. The youth was extraordinarily handsome and outwardly of a charming and debonair mien, but Simon knew from bitter experience that De Bêlleme's deeper nature was twisted and cruel. Inflicting pain and humiliation were favourite pastimes of his, and Simon, with his damaged leg, was often on the receiving end of pranks and taunts. Today he was safe, but Rufus, with his lack of grace and his stammer, was not.
Simon inhaled the salt tang in the air and watched the band of dawn widen and spill across the sea like the glitter from an open treasure chest. Turning slightly, he saw the Lady Judith had emerged from the women's shelter. She nodded to him without speaking and went to look out on the approaching land.
Simon knew that she did not like him much. He would always be grateful to her for giving him that hanging when he was confined to the tiny wall chamber in Fècamp, but he knew she had done it from guilt, not kindness.
Lord Waltheof was smitten by her. She seldom laughed or smiled, and Simon thought that the Earl pursued her in the hopes of making her do those things. He was hoping that Waltheof would be at court. He wanted to show him how far he had progressed since their last encounter. From halting steps to strides, from blotted scrawl to fluent script, and from uncertain notes on the bone flute to twinkling tunes.
He had been standing in one place for too long and as he moved vicious pain stabbed through his leg, making him stumble. He stifled the instinctive cry of pain and managed to grab a stay rope and remain upright. Lady Judith half glanced, then swiftly averted her head.
Turning his back, pretending he had not seen her look, Simon limped stiffly towards the red-faced sailor at the steer-board. The man greeted him with a grin and let him try his hand at operating the large wooden rudder. Simon's discomfort immediately diminished as he tackled the challenge of learning a new skill. The wind tangling his hair, a mist of salt droplets narrowing his eyes, he became a bold sea-reaver with the blood of the Vikings surging in his veins.
Judith hated crossing the Narrow Sea. The knowledge that all that lay between her and fathoms of drowning green water was a flimsy layer of wood was terrifying. She would not disgrace her blood by showing her anxiety, but within her, that blood ran as cold as the ocean beneath the keel.
She wished that Simon de Senlis had not been assigned a place on the women's vessel. The sight of his stiff gait was a permanent reproach to her conscience, and the way he looked at her with those knowing fox-coloured eyes made her want to shriek at him to go away and leave her alone. She wanted to bury that moment in the stableyard and forget it had ever happened. And she could not do that with the evidence always before her eyes.
Judith was relieved when the boy went to join the steersman and left her line of vision. She made an effort to banish him from her mind by concentrating on the matters uppermost in her mind. England and Waltheof.
Her mother muttered privately and out of the Duchess's hearing that England was occupied by a gluttonous, uncivilised rabble and that given a choice she would rather remain in Normandy. Judith suspected that half her mother's grumbling was caused by the journey itself, since Adelaide hated travelling and disruption of routine with equal amounts of vehemence. Even the grand prospect of a coronation had not sweetened the vinegar of her mood.
Judith turned her thoughts to Waltheof. In the three months since his leaving, her memory of him had both faded and clarified. She could not recall his features clearly, but his vibrancy and vitality had stayed with her as surely as the memory of his glossy red-gold hair and the touch of Ins mouth on hers. Those things were indelible, no matter how she strove to obliterate them. She would wake in the night from dreams that were sweet and heavy with a longing she had no experience to name, but which set her on edge and brought the uncomfortable dull ache like menstrual pain to her loins.
There had been no word from England to indicate that he had pursued his declaration to have her. Judith knew that for her own sake she should stay as far from the fire as possible. Only a fool stepped too close and risked being burned. And Judith prided herself on her pragmatic common sense.
The fleet docked in Southampton and, after the royal entourage had rested there overnight, they travelled on to Winchester and thence to London. Gazing upon the April landscape as they rode, Judith thought that England was not much different from Normandy. The same pastoral scenes in the countryside; the same industry in the towns. The only signs of unrest and struggle were sporadic - charred marks on the ground where a building had burned, a farmstead worked solely by women whose husbands had not returned from the great battle, the rising earthworks and palisades of motte and bailey castles, dug by the English and supervised by the Normans.
She could almost see the peace, laid down as heavily as slabs of stone between lines of mortar. No one dared rebel lest they were crushed beneath a mailed Norman fist, but Judith could feel the resentment. It was there in the way that folk bowed to her, concealing their hostility beneath downcast lids and making obscene gestures under the cover of their doffed hoods. She rode past with a raised chin, her shield one of Norman hauteur, but it was not sufficient to protect her entirely from the pierce of their side-cast glances.
They arrived in London just before dusk of the second day and travelled by barge up the Thames from the wharves at Queenhythe to the royal palace at Westminster. Sequins of sunset dazzled on the water and turned the sky to molten gold beyond the towers of King Edward's abbey. Judith folded her arms within her cloak, glad of the fur lining, for it was cold on the river and the water was choppy with a glittering cold spray.
'Are we almost there?' her cousin Agatha demanded petulantly. 'I feel sick.'
Judith regarded her with dislike. Agatha was convinced that her parents were going to announce a betrothal between her and Edwin of Mercia at the coronation celebrations. Throughout the journey to England she had been primping and preening, her eyes aglow with anticipation. Although Judith would not admit it to herself, jealousy was a potent ingredient in her antipathy towards her cousin.
The barge bumped along the side of the wharf and the barge-master secured his craft with a stout mooring rope. Willing hands reached down to help and steady the occupants as they disembarked.
'My lady,' Waitheof said and, taking Judith's hand in a sure, warm grip, he pulled her onto firm ground. The sunset burnished his hair to fire. He was wearing a tunic she had not seen before, of sky-blue wool richly embroidered, and the famous bearskin cloak was clasped at his shoulder by an enormous ring-brooch set with chips of lapis lazuli.
'Lord Waltheof!' Her greeting was a gasp.
'Why so surprised?' He flashed her a smile. 'We are all here to swear our oaths of fealty and witness the coronation of Duchess Matilda. I thought I would be the first to bid you welcome.' Leaning in closer, he breathed against her ear. 'I also intend to ask your uncle for you in marriage.'
His words shook her, as did the danger of being so close to him in public. She took a back-step.
So did he, and at the same time he bowed. 'Countess,' he murmured.
Judith's mother inclined her head in a tepid response and as she swept past him beckoned Judith with a terse forefinger.
'Waltheof!'
He turned at the cry and Judith saw his smile widen until it split into a broad grin.
'Well look at you, Simon de Senlis!' he cried. Striding forward, he clasped the lad in an exuberant embrace. 'I told you that you could do anything if you set your mind to it. How's the leg?'
Adelaide swung to look at the scene and gave a cluck of irritation. 'I am reminded of the dogs your father used to keep,' she said contemptuously. 'Huge, enthusiastic and tiresome.'
Judith gnawed her lip. She dared not tell her mother that Waltheof was intending to ask for her in marriage - at least not while Adelaide's mood was tetchy from travelling. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Waltheof and Simon were walking together, the former tailoring his pace to the latter's uneven gait. The boy was chattering and Waltheof was leaning to listen with every indication of interest. She felt a surge of jealousy and, opposing it, feelings of tenderness and pride. Her mother had disparagingly compared Waltheof to one of her father's dogs, but Adelaide had omitted to mention the unconditional love and loyalty of which such animals were capable. Such traits, surely, were worth their weight in gold.
The evening meal served an hour after their arrival was a relatively casual affair. No one had known the precise hour at which the Duchess would arrive at Westminster and so no formal arrangements had been made. Agatha and Edwin were permitted to sit side by side and share their portions of squabs in wine sauce. Their blonde heads leaned close and Judith could almost hear them cooing like lovebirds.
Judith was seated next to her mother, her sister and her stepfather, Eudo of Champagne. He was stocky and robust, balding, but still handsome with a determined cleft chin, high cheekbones and shrewd blue eyes. Adelaide had married him out of political expediency. There was little love or attraction between them, but there was pride and unity of purpose, and the ever present bonds of duty.
Waltheof sat at the same trestle but at some distance from Judith, separated by various magnates and their families. Judith noticed how confident he was amongst them and thought she perceived a change in him. To say that he seemed more responsible or more of a man was wrong. His ready laugh still rang out with too much exuberance and his tongue still ran away from the governance of his mind, yet, something was different. Assurance? Authority? Perhaps it was because he was now on his own soil instead of being a hostage in a foreign land. Whatever the reason, it was a change for the better.
The meal finished, the company broke up into smaller groups, men gathering around friends and acquaintances to exchange news, play dice and tafel, or listen to the bards sing tales of praise for whichever lord they served. Her mother prepared to retire to the small chamber that Eudo had secured for them, but Judith begged permission to linger awhile and listen to the tales.
Adelaide raised her brows. 'You are not usually so fond of song,' she said suspiciously.
'The English music is different, and I'm not tired.'
Her mother frowned and began to shake her head.
'Yes, stay,' spoke up her stepfather with a brusque gesture. 'And your sister too. I scarcely think that listening to a few tales in the open hall will compromise your virtue.'
'I don't…' Adelaide began, but her husband squeezed her hand in his strong, swordsman's fist.
'Peace, wife,' he said brusquely. 'Let the girls have their pleasure, and let us have ours.'
Adelaide's face flamed at his implication, made all the more obvious as he began tugging her purposefully towards the stairs. 'Do not be too long,' she said somewhat desperately to Judith.
'But not too soon either,' Eudo said with an eloquent eyebrow and a swift smile. 'Your mother and I have much to talk about.'
Judith's own complexion reddened. She knew that their activity would not involve much talking. At least if she and her sister were in the hall they would not have to lie on their pallets and listen to the stealthy sounds of coupling coming from the main bed.