Daughter of the Last King, page 25
part #1 of Conquest I Series
The duke is a peculiar-looking man – very short and round, like a small wine barrel, but very courteous and genial. I liked him. Warenne is an extraordinarily handsome man – tall, fair-haired, with the pronounced shoulder breadth of a practised warrior. After a few days of bandying accusations and apologies back and forth, Henry finally summoned the duke and Warenne into his presence to explain their business in England.
‘I come to plead with you, brother, to reinstate William de Warenne to his English lands,’ the duke declared, his face wreathed in anxious smiles.
‘Those lands were disseised on good grounds of offence against my laws.’ Henry’s demeanour made no concession to them.
‘I humbly beg your forgiveness and forbearance,’ Warenne told King Henry graciously. ‘If you would accept my fealty, I would serve you faithfully for the rest of my years.’
It was puzzling. Why would Duke Robert allow Warenne to jump ship to Henry? Warenne was a powerful and rich baron with a substantial following. Was it a trick? In the queen’s chambers, we ladies discussed the mystery of it back and forth, along with the looks of the duke and the earl. ‘I do believe that we need such a looker as Warenne at the court of King Henry!’ Elizabeth declared, making us all laugh and even the queen suppressed a small smile as she kept her eyes fixed on her embroidery.
The duke and Warenne’s audience with King Henry continued the issue on the following day. ‘You plead for Warenne?’ the king asked his brother.
‘I do.’
‘What compensation is offered to me should I agree?’
‘I will give up the 3,000 marks annuity you previously promised. I make this offer on the advice of my goddaughter, your queen, your peacemaker.’
Henry struggled to keep the delight from his face. He bent his ear to Meulan’s advice. He must have known of this in advance. It seemed unlikely that the queen would act in this matter without consulting with her husband and Meulan.
‘We will think on it,’ Henry pronounced.
The duke stayed at court for some time and proved to be good company. He was an excellent conversationalist, enthralling us all with his tales of the Holy Land. He appeared affable to the point of foolishness, for a duke, especially given the self-interest he was surrounded by. The queen was pleased with his company and he spent a good deal of his time with us in her chambers. Alas, we did not see so much of Elizabeth’s ‘looker’, Warenne.
After a few days, Henry indicated he would accept the deal offered and Warenne was allowed back into favour and restored to his rights in England, and the duke returned to Normandy, inexplicably impoverished by his own hand. I asked Elizabeth what she made of it. ‘The duke is a fool, I’m afraid, Nest, simply a fool. It’s possible he meant it as an olive branch to Henry.’
‘But they are not at war. Why would the duke need to offer Henry an olive branch?’
‘They are not at war yet,’ she said. ‘But the duke does, at least, understand the measure of his own brother and what his intentions might be. I suppose that Henry, Warenne and my husband had it all worked out beforehand and simply manipulated Duke Robert and Queen Matilda to their desired course. The duke is no match for our Henry. And delightfully, now we have the addition of the unmarried Warenne to our court!’ She grinned naughtily at me and I shook my head at her. ‘Well! You did ask me to think on who a good husband for you might be …’
The queen was sick constantly with her pregnancy and then hankering in the afternoons for sweetmeats. One morning she sent me to the merchant’s shop to stock up the supplies of her favourite treats – marzipan tortes, quince paste, sugar-coated almonds and anise seeds. Returning, I rounded a corner of the garden wall fast and bumped into the king. Instead of disentangling himself, he made a deliberate effort to entangle himself further with me and my packages. ‘Off you go,’ he said to Amelina, waving her to continue past us alone. ‘How is my queen, Nest?’ He juggled my packages behind my back with me in between his arms.
Disconcerted, I blurted out, ‘A little pained, I fear.’
‘Pained?’ Something like pain appeared in his own expression.
I said nothing further and Henry shifted my packages to one hand, cupping my chin. ‘Come now, Nest. You may speak freely. What pains her?’ I had more sense than to speak freely on the matter. When I simply shook my head, he started guessing. ‘Is it Ansfride? Or Sybil Corbet?’ and then laughing, ‘Or you perhaps?’
I flushed scarlet and made another attempt to extricate myself, but the more I pulled away, the more he pulled me into an embrace. Flustered and irritated by his playful grappling, I blurted again: ‘Sire, you think the queen is oblivious to your mistresses, but I fear she does suffer because of it.’
Now he let go of me and his face became serious. He bent down to pick up one package that had dropped to the ground and handed it to me. I was regretting my forthrightness. ‘I’m sorry, sire, to mention it, but I …’
‘I’m sure you are right, Nest. Thank you for saying this. I don’t want to make Matilda suffer, you know. I keep meaning to mend my ways. Forgive me, will you?’ He took my hand, turned it over and one fingertip stroked back and forth gently across my palm. My face and neck felt heated and looking down at myself, I saw that the exposed skin above my neckline was blotching red.
‘It’s not I who should forgive you, sire. It’s the queen.’ Reluctantly, he let me pull my hand from his and I moved swiftly back to my duties.
At Westminster, I usually slept with the queen’s other ladies in her chambers. On the occasions when the queen received the king in her bed, we all had to be ushered out to sleep in the outer chamber. Henry would saunter in wearing his nightgown, lean to me and whisper, his breath hot on my ear, his skin fragrant, ‘The queen will need some privacy’. He enjoyed my embarrassment, and it was always me he singled out from the ladies for this communication. Here at Windsor, however, I had been given the luxury of my own small bedchamber, and I revelled in this rare solitude. Even Amelina was accommodated elsewhere. I was sleeping soundly and startled awake. There was scratching at the door. I could see nothing. The room was pitch black. I sat up in my nightdress and shivered in the cold air after the warmth of my bed. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet. The scratching came again. I moved toward the door. But what if it were Henry? I took a step back.
I would ignore the sound, but then I heard my name whispered in a woman’s voice through the keyhole. ‘Nest! Please!’ Quickly I reached out, unlocked the door and heard, rather than saw, for I could see nothing in the darkness, Elizabeth hurtle in, fumble for me and find my arm. Softly, she closed the door behind her and pulled me to lean against it with her. She was giggling close to my cheek. I could feel the heat of her body through my thin nightdress, the round of her pregnant stomach pushed against mine. ‘Elizabeth?’
‘Sshh! Lock the door again, quickly.’
I fumbled at the lock. ‘I can’t see anything!’
‘I know!’
The key finally found its slot and clicked into place. ‘It’s locked. What’s happening?’
‘Sshh!’ She was shaking with suppressed laughter.
‘What on earth are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.’
She pulled me to the bed, and we both fell in. She pulled the covers up over our heads and began laughing in earnest. ‘Oh Nest! I was so nearly caught there, flitting in my nightdress! If you had failed to open the door!’
‘Caught?’
‘Oh, Nest, you won’t believe it. He’s so wonderful!
‘Who is wonderful?’
‘William!’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, Nest. Don’t you notice a thing?’
I was bewildered. ‘Noticed what? William who?’
She groaned at me and rolled in the bed, drawing her knees up and then rolling back against me. ‘William de Warenne, of course! We are lovers! Just now. It just happened!’
‘But … I had no idea.’ My eyes had grown a little accustomed to the gloom now, or perhaps the light of dawn was starting to seep in. I could make out her eyes dancing with delight close to my face.
‘Nest, he loves me! And he is gorgeous. To make love with a young man. Darling, it’s entirely a different act, I assure you.’
I gaped at her. ‘But Elizabeth …’
‘Oh, don’t scold me. If you knew, if you had felt it in your own body, you would understand me.’
‘But the child …’
‘… is Meulan’s, don’t worry.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘That’s the wonder of it, Nest. I can rut with my dear William, as he puts it, and nothing can come of it since I’ve Meulan’s child already in my womb. What do you think of that?’
‘I think, I think …’ I shook my head. ‘I think if you are found out, you will both suffer terribly.’
‘We won’t be found out. And in any case, who is going to make us suffer? Henry?’
‘Well …’
‘I assure you, not.’
‘It is a sin.’
‘I will gladly do penance for it.’
‘Your husband might discover it and punish you.’
‘He won’t know. And Henry will protect us.’
‘Does Henry know?’
‘I think he does. He knows most everything.’
I held her, desperately anxious for her. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, Elizabeth. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.’
‘You always look on the bleak side of things. I’m not hurt. My whole body is singing with glee, I assure you! If my uncle, the king of France, may bed whom he likes and ignore censure, why should not I?’
‘I don’t think much of your methods of matchmaking for me!’ I told her with a smile, reminding her of the earlier suggestion that Warenne might make me an appropriate husband.
I entered the queen’s chambers the following morning with little Maud in my arms. Henry was standing there with his wife, and Haith. ‘Ah Lady Nest, there you are!’ the queen said. Henry tickled the child under her chin, managing to ‘accidentally’ press the back of his hand overlong against the exposed skin above the neckline of my dress. He looked at me with a playful expression, challenging me to object. I stepped away from him. ‘I have a commission for you,’ Matilda told me, unaware of the mute exchange between me and her husband. ‘Hand my daughter over to one of my other ladies.’ I did as she commanded, carefully rolling the child into Christina’s arms. ‘As you know, Nest, I have been very ill with this new pregnancy and my lord commands that you go to his physician, Abbot Faricius in Abingdon, to fetch some medicines that he is preparing to assist me in this travail.’
I looked at Henry, wondering why it was necessary to send me. The abbot could simply send one of his monks with the medicines.
‘You would be assisting us both greatly, Nest,’ he said. ‘We are in hopes that the queen is carrying a male child and we must all do everything in our power to safeguard an heir to the kingdom.’
I bowed my head. ‘Of course.’
‘Haith here will escort you,’ Henry said. ‘And your maid.’
Haith stepped forward with his enormous grin surrounded by the buttery sheen of his mane of hair. ‘I know that river, Thames, very well, lady,’ he said. ‘You don’t need no fear, no way, with me besides.’ He thumped his chest. I couldn’t help but smile at him.
‘Can you leave straightaway, Nest?’ the queen asked.
‘Yes, my lady.’ Perhaps it was her ploy to get me away from her husband. I felt she might be aware of the king’s ‘attentions’ to me.
* * *
Our short river journey from Windsor to Abingdon took us through Wallingford. Haith, Amelina and I shared boat space with messengers, merchants and pilgrims. At Wallingford, a party of revenue collectors joined us and when one of our fellow passengers heard we were heading to Abingdon Abbey, he told us Faricius was renowned for his skill as a physician. ‘Getting gifts left, right and centre he is, not just from the king who favours him, but from all the noble folks round about who’ve benefited from his skill – a son saved, a wife aided in a difficult birth.’
When the three of us had some privacy again, I asked Haith, ‘Have you been in the king’s service long, sir?’
‘Forever,’ he said with characteristic brio. ‘Henry and me always like brothers. Years. I was first serving him in Normandy. We both pretty much boys then, and his fortunes very up and down in those days. Good to see him now.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. Whatever one might think about some aspects of Henry’s character, it was clear he was making a good job of being king.
At the end of our journey, the abbey came into view. It had been one of the wealthiest foundations in England but was destroyed by Danes more than a hundred years ago and now was in the process of major restoration. Haith and I stepped off the boat and I wobbled a little so that he grabbed my waist, reminding me of the first time we met at Westminster. ‘Careful! Need land legs. They are coming now … steady, steady. Yes!’ He reached out a hand and hauled Amelina onto the quay. She simpered her thanks to him. Despite her lascivious hints, I noticed Haith did not seem to reciprocate her fascination with him. Amelina was a good-looking woman, but he seemed oblivious to the display of her charms.
Porters on the quay unloaded our two small travelling chests onto a donkey and Haith took its reins. We walked the short distance, skirting the edge of a busy market, to the abbey portal. Our entrance was considerably delayed by having to wait for a long line of wagons, each drawn by twelve oxen that were being coaxed through the archway, carrying stone from Wales for the abbey building works. I listened with pleasure to the carters’ banter and surprised them by calling out a greeting in Welsh, which they returned with a flourish of their caps and cheerful smiles.
The abbey consisted of a vast complex of buildings, housing around fifty monks and sixty or so household staff. The buildings included an exchequer, the guesthouse, bakehouse, hospital, stables and church. Abbot Faricius came out himself to greet us. He had a heavy Italian accent and a fleshy face with intelligent, small black eyes. He was younger than I had expected him to be – perhaps somewhere in his late thirties. After welcoming us, he left Haith, Amelina and I with the monk in charge of the abbey’s guesthouse. Haith waved to me and led the donkey off in the direction of the stable. ‘This way, Lady Nest,’ said the monk, and we followed the swish of his brown habit. ‘We have just one other female guest here at the moment.’ I thought I detected a hint of distaste in his voice.
In the guesthouse, I was surprised to find a young girl hurling herself affectionately at me. ‘Oh, thank the Lord you’ve arrived. I’ve been so bored here with these monks fussing about and bells ringing all the time and what have you. How is Henry?’
The guesthouse monk raised one eyebrow at me and left me to it. I dropped my leather bag onto a bed and turned back to her. ‘Henry? Have we met before?’ I asked, bewildered, taking her in. She was a beautiful girl with a long, pale, oval face, perhaps sixteen, with light brown hair and large grey eyes. The most noticeable thing about her, however, was her enormous belly. I looked back and forth between her childish face, her thin arms, and the unlikely mound of the child she carried.
‘I feel that we have,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Henry mentions you quite often. The dimpled one he calls you!’ She laughed. ‘I’m Sybil. Sybil Corbet and this is little Henry.’ She softly patted the side of her rounded stomach. I kept my surprise at her, and my irritation with Henry for duping me again, to myself. The three of us settled down to talk together before dinner.
Haith stayed at the abbey for one night. With his easy humour and stash of stories about escapades involving Henry, he made Sybil laugh helplessly, holding her hand to her side. He headed back to the river the following day with the medicines for the queen provided by Abbot Faricius carefully packed into a pouch at his waist. My journey had been a ruse all along for Henry to send me and Amelina to take care of his mistress as she approached the time of childbirth.
The abbey had a very fine library and when the abbot discovered I could read he gave me a key to go in and out as I pleased, which I did as often as I could to escape Sybil’s chatter and her constant questions about the queen, which I did not want to answer. I wandered around exploring the abbey complex. Inside the Church of Saint Nicolas, there was a golden wheel hung from the high ceiling on long, fine chains, with twelve lamps and innumerable little bells and a tablet of gold and silver was carved with the twelve apostles. An aqueduct brought water into the abbey from the river, and fountains ran in a series of courtyards. The water mills nearby churned ceaselessly. The abbey gardens were flourishing and well ordered, with one part set aside for the fruit orchard, another for vegetables, and a third for the medicinal plants for the abbot’s cures.
Faricius took me on a tour of his medicinal garden. ‘Rosehips to ward off a cold, elderflower for a chesty cough, willow for a headache, thyme to clean away grease from your fingers and bowls,’ he told me. ‘Some of the clergy complain about me, I know. They are suspicious about my experiments and the medical work I do, especially that involving my female patients. They are jealous of my friendship with the king and other nobles. I take no notice. Innovation is always resented. You are a curious young woman though, I believe, and not a foolish one. Perhaps I might show you something?’
I smiled my assent, gratified by his compliment and intrigued by his invitation. He led me to his study and when he opened the door, I was astonished to see a room littered with books, drawings, models. As I advanced further into the study, I began to make out the drawings, but could not understand what I was looking at. ‘This is a preliminary version of a flying machine,’ Faricius told me, pointing out a curious contraption with several flat wings and a basket. In a sketch pinned to the wall above the contraption, birds were shown drawing the structure into the air and a man sat dangling in the basket. ‘And this is a new siege engine for hurtling stones and this here is a drawing for an artificial giant iron hand that can be used to grapple soldiers on the battlements of a castle during a siege.’ He pointed to the illustration, imitating the grappling action with his own hand so that I could envisage it at work quite vividly.
