The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean (список книг txt) 📗

A pity! Her daughter Matilda had been different. Matilda was knowledgeable of the world and this would doubtless help her in her relationship with her husband.

She wondered whether the marriage had been consummated or whether the Emperor had taken pity on his young bride and delayed that part of the marriage. He could not delay too long, for he was growing old.

Life was strange. One must needs learn all one could of it and adjust oneself to its demands.

She tried to impress this on her special friends, the two women who had been with her all her married life, and the other, Christina, who had joined them a little later.

‘When I am gone, what will you do?’ she asked them.

‘Gone, my lady!’ cried Emma in bewilderment.

‘I mean when God has called me from this earth.’

‘You mean...dead,' said Gunilda shocked. ‘Oh, my lady, do not speak of such things.’

‘Come and sit beside me.’ said Matilda, ‘and you too, Christina. You must know that I am going to die.’

‘No, my lady.’ said Emma firmly, ‘except that one day that is something we must all come to.’

‘My time is not far off.’

‘No, my lady. What will the King say?’

‘Life and death is something the King himself cannot control.’

‘He will be desolate.’

She turned her face away from them and a sad smile played about her mouth. Would he be? How much had he loved her? Never with the over-powering love which she had been ready to give him. She had believed theirs would be the greatest love story of their times, because she was young and innocent, and he had cared for her in a certain way, though not as he had cared for Nesta. Or did he care for Nesta? He had desired Nesta as he never desired any other; and he wanted Matilda for his wife. One was sensuous, able to slake his sexual thirst; the other was the daughter of a royal house who could give him the support he needed from his Saxon subjects.

We both had our uses, thought Matilda a little sadly.

And when she was dead would he mourn? A little. But not for long. He would say: ‘I will marry again. There is still time left for me to get a son.’

‘The King will recover from his grief,’ she said. ‘But I speak of you.’

Emma, the soft-hearted one, wept surreptitiously.

‘I beg of you, my lady,’ whispered Gunilda, ‘do not speak of these matters, for we should never go from here while you needed us and if you did not...’ her voice broke. ‘It could mean but one thing.’

‘It is in fact that of which we speak.’ said Matilda. ‘We must perforce look into the truth. You could not marry now.’

‘Nay.’ said Christina, ‘we would have no wish to, were it possible.’

‘Stay together then. You are good friends and will have the friendship of each other. Perhaps you would be happy in a priory or an abbey.’

Emma had started to weep so heart-brokenly that Matilda agreed not to discuss the matter further at that time. But that did not mean that it was not uppermost in their minds.

For their sake Matilda attempted to bestir herself, but it was difficult, for with each passing day she grew more feeble.

* * * * *

It was November when Henry returned.

When he saw Matilda he was horrified by her appearance.

‘Why, you are ill I’ he cried.

‘It will pass.’ she told him.

‘Why was I not told?’

‘Blame no one. It was on my orders.’

‘I would wish to know it you were unwell.’

‘You had your campaign in Normandy. I did not wish to disturb you with unpleasant news from home.’

‘I wish to know all that is going on in my kingdom.’

‘You are kept informed of all matters of importance.’

‘And you think your health is of no importance to me?’

He took her hand and kissed it. Remorse struck him. She was a good and gentle creature; and perhaps he had not always been a good husband. But she must understand that he was a king and that duties weighed heavily on him. Other women? How could he help that? They were as necessary to him as breathing and how could he ever make Matilda understand that he saw his relations with other women as something apart from marriage?

He would stay with her, he told her, and they would have merry revels at Christmas time. When he left—for alas his stay could not be extended over more than a few months for the situation in Normandy was far from secure—she would be as well as she ever was.

‘I long to see William.’ she told him.

‘Alas, William is not with me. He remains in Normandy.’

Alarm seized her. Her son in Normandy without the protection of his father I

‘It was necessary.’ said Henry. ‘If I had brought him home with me there would have been reproaches. It was necessary to leave him as a kind of hostage.’

‘A hostage!’

‘Oh, not in the usual sense. But to leave him there gives those of my men who must remain a sense of security. They know I will be back soon since my son is there.’

‘So we shall not have William for Christmas?’

‘Let us content ourselves by knowing that he is doing his duty.’

Matilda in Germany, and William in Normandy. Even Stephen no longer here.

She wondered: Shall I ever see them again?

* * * * *

It was scarcely a gay Christmas. In spite of Henry’s insistence that Matilda rouse herself and enjoy the festivities she was unable to do so. As for Henry, he was concerned most of the time with what was happening in Normandy.

He talked to Matilda about the perfidy of the Norman barons and that he could not trust them; and that immediately his back was turned he knew they would be brewing trouble.

‘We must get William married to Fulk’s girl as soon as possible.’ he said. ‘It’s the only way to ensure his loyalty. I would not trust him but for the bait of this marriage.’

‘And how is William at the prospect? Does he like well his bride?’

‘William is eager to do his duty. And when the marriage is celebrated it would be well if you could join us in Normandy.’

The thought of crossing that unpredictable strip of water so appalled Matilda in her state that she could not suppress a shudder.

‘My mother crossed often from Normandy to England.’ he reminded her. ‘I was born here.’

‘When William is married then,’ she said.

‘That will be this coming year.’ said Henry.

This coming year I It was a long way away. Where would she be then? It would not surprise her if she had left this earth by then.

Soon after Christmas Henry sailed for France, and making a great effort, Matilda accompanied him to Dover.

She was rather relieved when she had waved him farewell and the ship which carried him disappeared from view.

Now she could give herself up to the comfort of accepting the fact that she was a very sick woman.

* * * * *

All through the spring she was in decline. She became so tired that she did not leave her room.

Gunilda said: ‘The King should be told of your illness, my lady.’

‘The King has much with which to occupy himself.’

‘Should not the sickness of his wife be his first consideration?’

‘Not if he is a king with a dukedom to hold.’

‘Madam.’ said Emma, ‘would you not like to see your son?’

‘More than anything.’ she answered.

‘Then should you not send for him?’

‘How could he come and the King not know it?’

‘I think the King should be told.’ said Christina.

‘My dear friends, you must not say such things. The King must not be disturbed. He has great tasks to perform. He must not be worried by these domestic details. I have lived for nearly forty-one years and eighteen of those I have been married to the King. I know him well.’

‘But, my lady...’

She silenced them. ‘I know and you know that my end is near. But the King has affairs of great moment which require his attention. He must be in Normandy. What do you think would happen if he were to leave the battle there for the sake of a sick wife?’