Daughter of the Last King, page 23
part #1 of Conquest I Series
‘Are locusts really so badly behaved?’ asked the queen innocently, but Master Richard took my meaning and made his excuses to depart soon after.
The queen was extremely pious and spent much of her time in prayer, reading and speaking with her spiritual advisers. At Lent she wore a hair-shirt beneath her royal robes and walked barefoot between the palace and the church. Her deceased mother, Queen Margaret of Scotland, was being mooted as a saint and Matilda had aspirations to emulate her. She commissioned the writing of a Life of Margaret, which she was using to train herself in the offices of good queenship. She corresponded frequently with Archbishop Anselm and Bishop Gundulph of Rochester, but Abbot Faricius, who had seen her through the birth of Maud, continued her favourite, and she showered him with gifts to enable him to repair and expand the abbey at Abingdon.
‘I knew the king for some time before our marriage,’ the queen confided to me and Emma as we sat sewing with her, ‘when he was Count Henry, and we liked each other well.’ She smiled warmly to herself. I kept my own thoughts silenced. Henry, in truth, seemed willing to like any female he encountered.
Her chambers were always bustling with writers, priests and canons who came to discuss new monastic foundations with her or repairs to existing churches and abbeys. She met with masons who presented building plans for new bridges and hospitals. An endless crowd of petitioners waited outside her chambers, hugging gifts for her, hoping for her gracious intercession. The queen loved music and a different musician performed for us each evening. Rahere, who had been King William’s minstrel, and William LeHarpur were both frequent guests.
The royal nursery and the king’s foster children were under the queen’s supervision. Henry’s oldest illegitimate daughter, Mathilde, was eleven and being brought up at court and the queen was affectionate to her. Nobody (but Henry, of course) seemed to know who her mother had been. Ansfride’s three children by Henry were also cared for in the nursery: Richard, Juliane and the newborn Fulk. In addition to this shoal of illegitimate royal children, Henry had a number of foster sons training at the court, including Brian FitzCount, the illegitimate son of the count of Brittany; Olafr Godredsson, younger son of Godfred Crovan, who had been king of Dublin and the Isles; and William, the orphaned son of Robert of Rhuddlan, the Norman lord who had tried to rule in north Wales and had been killed by the men of Gruffudd ap Cynan.
Queen Matilda was anxious to see some integration of her own court with the Norman court of her husband and so she encouraged my friendship with Elizabeth de Vermandois. ‘Let’s walk in the garden,’ Elizabeth said to me, and the queen absent-mindedly nodded her approval, her head bent over a religious book. Elizabeth was vivacious, confident and gorgeous. We were of a similar disposition, and I relished her company. She was excited at the news that the queen’s brother, Edgar, king of the Scots, had received a camel from one of his warriors returning from the Holy Land and King Edgar had sent it in turn as a gift to the Irish King Muirchertach Ua Briain. ‘Imagine the bewilderment of that poor animal, Nest!’ she exclaimed. ‘Taken from the broiling hot desert first to the windy slopes of Scotland, then tied down in a rocking boat across the stormy Irish Sea to their rainy bogs there in Ireland. Henry has one too, you know. A camel. At Woodstock!’
Her sense of fun and reckless mischief reminded me of my brother Goronwy. I asked Elizabeth about her marriage, intrigued at the great age gap between her and her husband. ‘When I was eleven years old, my father was leaving on crusade and married me to his good friend, Robert de Meulan. Robert was forty years older than me.’ She paused, but diplomatically I made no remark. ‘He is so old, Nest,’ she groaned, ‘that he fought at the Battle of Hastings with the Conqueror!’ I smiled but refrained from comment. ‘I am fond of him,’ she went on. ‘Greatly fond. He is intelligent and kind. He waited until I was a woman before he took me to his bed.’
‘I like him a great deal,’ I said honestly, although I could not say I would have felt the same if he had been my husband, and I had to bed with such an old man. Elizabeth’s newborn daughter, Isabel, was also being cared for in the royal nursery. Elizabeth was more engaged with the politics of the court even than the queen and she was close friends with Henry. She became my guide and able teacher in my new milieu.
Toward the end of a hot summer, I was surprised to receive a message from the king, conveyed by Haith. It read: ‘I would be grateful for your aid, Lady Nest, in my current negotiations with the princes of Powys. Please oblige me by coming to me with all haste to Bridgnorth in the company of Haith, who will take good care of you.’ The king’s seal was fixed to the scroll. Henry was besieging Bellême at Bridgnorth. Why did he summon me to a battlefield?
19
The Chase
I supposed that the Welsh princes were siding with one or the other or both in King Henry’s contention with Bellême. ‘But why does he need me?’ I asked Haith, bewildered. ‘He must have Welsh translators and mediators more fit for the task than I? And if I am to take an absence from court, what should I tell the queen?’
Haith wore his usual cheerful expression. ‘Suggest to tell her …’ he paused, thinking. ‘King is sending you on mission to give a gift to Abingdon Abbey. She’s always happy for gifts for Faricius.’ He nodded enthusiastically at his own suggestion.
‘But … you recommend I should lie to her?’
He said nothing, only looking at me and shrugging his shoulders. Then, ‘King’s orders,’ and another shrug.
‘Haith, is my … virtue … threatened? Tell me the truth.’
He coloured. ‘The king likes you, of course. I like you!’ He beamed his huge smile at me, trying to make light of things as always. His expression sobered. ‘He would not force you. He never does that!’ He looked at me and I could not disbelieve him. Haith was loyal to Henry, but I felt he would not lie to me for him. ‘Really does need you for negotiating with Welshmen,’ he added.
I could not find a way to refuse and I was, in truth, curious, flattered, keen to escape the stifling daily habits of Matilda’s court. The idea of riding with Haith to a battleground on the Welsh borders, of speaking with my countrymen, of being important to the king, seemed a great adventure. I packed a saddlebag and told my lie to the queen, who accepted it with a small frown. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘You will be accompanied by Amelina? You will take great care of her, Haith?’
‘For sure!’
* * *
It felt wonderful to be out riding after the months of sewing and praying and always being on my best behaviour. Haith was a ceaselessly cheerful companion and kept us both amused on the journey, although the road was often awash from flooding and full of deep holes that were like deadly small lakes for the unwary. We were riding at dusk through a thickly wooded part of the road when my horse shied and Amelina screamed. Haith turned his horse quickly to us. I looked with horror at what had spooked my horse and maid. On a fence at the side of the road, ten large greying tongues were nailed in a row and beneath, the decapitated bodies of wolves lay on the ground. ‘No worries,’ Haith said. ‘Village and inn just up ahead. We’ll get there before nightfall.’ But even he looked worried.
We reached the king’s encampment at Bridgnorth Castle on the second day. The war camp spread out before the castle walls like a parasitic plant strangling a tree. Haith led us through the camp, with its ramshackle tents, piles of weapons, tethered horses, wagonloads of supplies. Dishevelled women and dirty children moved among soldiers who were eating and cleaning weapons. Small campfires burned everywhere, choking me with the smoke from damp wood, tantalising my nose with the smell of roasting rabbits and birds. Soldiers stood in small groups, many in a state of partial undress, their faces grimed, staring at me. I raised my hood against their stares.
The king’s tent was a splendid architecture of swooping red and yellow brocaded silks. At the top of the tent pole, a red banner with two golden lions whipped in the wind. Inside, the tent had all the comforts of a royal chamber. Henry’s face lit up at the sight of me. ‘Princess Nest! I thank you profusely for answering my strange request. You may leave us Haith, and your woman …’ He gestured at Amelina. Henry was wearing dark battledress and it suited him.
Haith glanced at me and murmured, ‘I am always at your service, lady. Just ask.’ I smiled my thanks to him. Amelina frowned, but I waved my hand to indicate she should go with Haith.
‘Please do sit,’ Henry indicated a cushioned couch beside his own. Wine, bread and cheese stood on a low table. I reached to the water bowl and towels, washing my face and hands, removing the dust of the road. Henry held out a beaker of wine for me, which I took gratefully, shaking my head for now as he indicated the food. ‘You must think it a very strange request to bring you here.’
‘Yes, my lord. I imagine you have plenty of Welsh translators to draw on and do not need my service in that.’
‘I have Welsh translators, yes, but what I need is an astute and knowledgeable head. And someone I can completely trust.’
I tried not to show my pleasure too much at this assessment. I reflected that the enemy was Robert de Bellême, Sybil’s brother, but I had no reason to be loyal to him, whereas the shape of my life was very much in the hands of King Henry.
‘You will recall that Cadwgan’s son Owain has asked for your hand in marriage?’ I reached for the wine goblet to mask my extreme interest. Henry filled it for me again. ‘I make no promises to you on this score, Nest. It’s complicated. You are of great significance to the Welsh princes. My assent would depend on the political situation, but I would consider it.’
‘What is it that you need me to do?’
‘The princes of Powys are allied with Bellême, but Cadwgan has given me his word that he will stay aloof from the conflict. His younger brother, Iorwerth, however, seems willing to commit more in assisting me. I would like you to be present at my meeting with him tomorrow. Advise me. Ensure that I am understanding the nuances of the language.’
‘Yes, I can do that.’
‘There is the matter of your accommodation,’ Henry said. ‘There is a curtained section of the royal tent that might suit you.’ He nodded toward one corner of the tent.
‘I … fear that would not be fitting, sire. I am an unmarried woman and should be accommodated separately, with my maid, and an older female chaperone.’
‘Of course, of course!’ he said, waving an arm, attempting to conceal an expression veering between irritation and disappointment. ‘Haith!’ he shouted, and the knight stepped in through the entrance flap of the tent. ‘Lady Nest is in need of her own tent, and a female chaperone. Sort that out, will you?’
Haith’s face showed his confusion at the thought of where he would find such a female chaperone in the war camp, but he bowed and retreated to set about his task. After I had passed a few hours of pleasant conversation with Henry, Haith returned, having erected a tent and found an elderly widow at a nearby manor who was willing to act as my companion. Henry kissed my hand with a dramatic expression of regret on his face. ‘And must I really part with you, Nest?’ he whispered.
‘I fear so, sire.’ I knew Henry was flattering me, and yet I felt a ridiculous pleasure in it. Haith held the tent flap open, and I followed his lantern across the uneven ground to the comfortable quarters he had prepared, and to the comforting safety of Amelina, and the widow who greeted me but was soon bundled into blankets and snoring on her straw pallet. Amelina stood smoothing out some clothing for me for the next day. ‘Were you looked after?’ I asked her. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Oh organising things here. Haith kept me amused.’ She gave me a complicit smile, and I raised my eyebrows at her incorrigible lust. She pouted. ‘Mind you, he’s more interested in you than me. Did nothing but ask questions about you. If you would be comfortable enough here, and so on and so forth.’
As I lay on my pallet bed trying to sleep, I recalled the touch of Henry’s lips on my hand. I should not have come. Sybil would have counselled me against it. I had hastily conferred with Elizabeth before my departure and she had breezily told me I should go, it would be an adventure, but I realised now I was here and it was real, that I had made myself vulnerable to affront and embarrassment. Haith assured me Henry would not force me, but I recalled the anxious expressions I had seen flitting across Haith’s cheerful face when he thought I was not looking. I had prevailed in securing myself a chaperone and refusing anything improper, however. I turned my thoughts to tomorrow. Perhaps I really could influence the outcome of the conflict, of Henry’s relationships with the Welsh princes, and perhaps he really would allow me to marry Owain ap Cadwgan.
When Haith conveyed me, along with my ancient chaperone, back to Henry’s tent in the morning, Prince Iorwerth had already arrived with a small entourage. They were all seated and rose at my entry. Iorwerth was a man in his late forties, with greying hair and a lined face. ‘You honour us, Lady Nest,’ he told me in Welsh. ‘Tales of your great beauty and grace have not been exaggerated and any prince of Powys would be swooning in bliss if he were rewarded with you as a bride.’
I was confused at his words and my confusion showed on my face because Henry quickly asked, ‘What does your countryman tell you, Princess Nest?’
I conveyed the last part of Iorwerth’s words to the king, passing over his reference to my beauty and grace. ‘Sire,’ I added forcefully, ‘if you are using me, my marriage, as a bargaining token, I should like to know it, and with whom.’
Iorwerth looked anxious at my tone. ‘You are confusing our guests,’ Henry said with a cheerful smile on his face. ‘I assure you I am not about to give you away in marriage right now. Please tell Prince Iorwerth that he will be richly rewarded if he will lend me his aid against Robert de Bellême.’
I translated the king’s words and saw that Iorwerth assumed I was part of this proffered reward. It was a reasonable assumption, given my presence there. I saw now what Henry’s game was in bringing me as his translator. Iorwerth might be important to Henry now, but it was his older brother Cadwgan who had the upper hand in Powys and it was Cadwgan’s son, Owain, I felt, who would make the most appropriate husband for me. The negotiations proceeded smoothly and after an hour, Prince Iorwerth and his retinue left, with many expressions of love to King Henry and to me.
‘Excellent! That went very well.’ Henry beamed at me.
‘I should like to return to the queen now,’ I told him.
‘Already! I thought you might stay another night by my side, bringing me cheer in this bleak time of war.’
‘Your invitation honours me,’ I said frostily, ‘but the queen is anxious for my return.’
‘Very well, very well.’ He was cross at my resistance. ‘Haith! Convey Lady Nest back to Westminster as soon as you can make ready. She is anxious to leave me.’
I decided that no response to his words was my best policy and before long, Haith, Amelina and I were returning on the road we had come along a few days before. ‘All good?’ Haith asked.
I looked at him, wondering what exactly he meant. ‘Yes, all good,’ I eventually responded.
* * *
from Gerald FitzWalter’s Day Book
* * *
Near Cardigan, The Assumption of the Virgin, 15 August 1102
All is lost. I am landless and lordless. The Montgomerys have played treason too far and too many times and they and I suffer wholly for it. They are all disseised of their English and Welsh lands and banished the kingdom: Robert de Bellême, Roger the Poitevin and Arnulf de Montgomery. Their father, the old earl, and King Henry’s father, the Conqueror, would weep to see such an outcome of their own close friendship and ventures in the conquest of 1066, to see such lack of love between their sons. How much the Montgomerys have lost. And tainted with them, I have lost near everything, excepting Moulsford if the king will allow me to keep it. He may not.
The king sent Jordan de Saye as castellan of Pembroke in my place and all my care and work there is of no substance any longer. I was ordered by the king’s courier to wait at Pembroke for the arrival of de Saye and to handover whatever he needed in the way of keys, men, information, to enable him to take command. In return, I was given leave to go free rather than walk into Pembroke’s dungeon. It was a bitter moment to give up everything I have worked for these last nine years. As I mounted my horse to ride out of the castle that had been mine, Lady Nest’s brother, Hywel, came out with a few others to wave me off. He is nine now and a little crooked, but still an affectionate and a capable boy around the kitchen. His identity is still hidden, so he should be safe enough there. I rode out free, but to where and to what?
Of the Montgomery brothers, Bellême and the Poitevin have returned to their rich estates in France. Arnulf, however, has no lands beyond the kingdoms of England and Wales. He should have knelt to King Henry as I advised him rather than support the hopeless case of Bellême’s war, but he was too proud to admit an error, or too afraid of the king’s punishment. The Welsh kings laugh at us, able at last to play us off against each other and see our hold in Wales weakened. In time, King Henry will send in new men, but Wales was in effect the kingdom of the Montgomerys and now that is gone.
My only hope is that the service I have done to Belmeis in sending him copies of Bellême and Arnulf’s correspondence with Normandy will protect me, perhaps even raise me. Belmeis himself has, of course, done well out of the tragedy. The king has rewarded him with lands and made him sheriff of Shropshire with an overview of Wales, filling the vacuum left behind by the Montgomerys. That such a weasel should be so raised up, but I must stay friendly with him for now. I have written to ask for his protection in return for the treacherous favours I did for him.
Arnulf, in desperation, sent me to treat with the High King of Ireland, Muirchertach Ua Briain, offering his sword arm to him against his enemies in exchange for land. I crossed the boisterous Irish sea, sailed up the Liffey and landed at Dublin, where I was greeted by the haunting cries of gulls and a dark grey sky. A large number of longships were moored at the landing place, and a man teetered at the top of one of the masts. The town was established by Vikings and feels so still. It was surrounded on the river bank side by a high wooden palisade atop an embankment. Once I was given permission to disembark and climb the steps up and through the palisade, I found streets made from wooden logs lashed together and laid over the boggy ground as a boardwalk, and a mass of thatched long houses each sitting within its own fenced plot and belching gouts of smoke from the roof holes. A priest walked by, muddied to his knees, clanging a large rectangular handbell, calling people to mass.
