Crusade (13 page)

‘Does she prefer women, as the rumours suggest?’

‘My Lord, I don’t know. She never has any suitors because she never encourages anyone – Emma and Edgiva seemed to be able to subdue the memory of Bourne, but Adela never could. They are now happily married with children, whereas Adela has chosen the life of a warrior. I suspect vengeance still burns in her heart.’

‘So, what are we to do? Robert is being generous and suggesting that he will offer a small landholding to a suitable candidate.’

‘Sire, I suspect that steed won’t gallop. Adela is not without funds of her own, and the thought of her marrying a stranger would be out of the question.’

‘Then you’ll have to marry her.’

Edwin looked stunned.

‘You’ll make a handsome couple. You’re close enough in age; it’s perfect.’

‘With respect, my Lord, it is not perfect. My regard for her is like that of a brother. I can’t marry her.’

‘Well, someone is going to have to marry her, or she will be using the gift of a steed from Count Robert for a long ride home. He’s given me twenty-four hours to resolve it.’

I sent Edwin to get Adela and Sweyn the next morning. The encounter was not one I relished.

‘So, that’s the situation. I’m sorry, Adela, but the Count is adamant. I think he’s very sympathetic, but there are many in his retinue who are set against you continuing to Scotland. This expedition is crucial to his future and he can’t afford doubts about his judgement getting back to the King.’

Adela tried to grit her teeth, but her eyes filled with tears and there was nothing she could do to stop them streaming down her face. Her chest began to heave and she bit her lip to try to contain her emotions, to no avail.

‘They think I am queer, I know that. But that’s not the real reason – the real reason is, I frighten them. Weak men fear strong women, and weak women are jealous of those who stand up for themselves in a man’s world.’

‘Adela, forgive me …’ I hesitated. ‘But I have to ask you this – remember, we are comrades, brothers-in-arms – is it women you desire, rather than men?’

‘My Lord, I desire neither.’ She shrugged. ‘All that was extinguished in Bourne a long time ago.’

‘Would you consider a marriage proposal from an upstanding knight in the Count’s retinue? That would give the Count a way to let you stay with his army.’

‘No, sire, I would not.’

‘Adela, the army marches in the morning and you will have to return to Aquitaine if we cannot resolve this.’

‘So be it. I will find another way to follow the Code of Knights and fulfil my destiny.’

She had now regained control of her emotions and the look of steely resolve had returned to her face.

‘I will marry you.’

Sweyn had said nothing until this point, but his sudden intervention stunned all three of us.

‘If you’ll have me.’

Adela did not respond; her face remained set, free of emotion. It was Edwin who broke the silence.

‘Sweyn, you’re not yet seventeen and only just dubbed a knight.’

‘On the contrary, Edwin, I am an ideal suitor; I am a knight of Normandy and I have land and money in Aquitaine. I think I’m a pretty good catch for any lady, even someone as discerning as Adela.’

‘But you’re like brother and sister.’

When it came, Adela’s blunt reply was as astonishing as Sweyn’s offer had been.

‘I accept. You’re right; you are a fine catch, any woman would be proud to have you as a husband.’

‘Then it is agreed, we will be married today. I’m sure one of the Count’s clerics will conduct the service.’

I was rendered speechless; I just sat and listened.

Adela took Sweyn by the hand, her expression still stern.

‘I know why you are doing this and I’m very grateful, but this marriage can only be a cloak. If I ever see your little prick poking out of your smock with an evil look in its eye, I’ll dice it up like minced meat!’

‘Thank you, my beloved. Worry not, I will try to keep my “little prick” under control. If its needs become too great, I’ll take comfort in one of the baggage girls; that’s what they’re there for.’

Edwin and I looked at one another, not entirely sure how much of the exchange was serious and how much
was banter. Either way, although not exactly made in heaven, it seemed to be a match that served its purpose.

The four of us agreed that the terms of the marriage would be known only to us, to be kept in the strictest confidence.

I went to Robert to give him the extraordinary news.

The wedding ceremony was organized within hours. Adela managed to borrow a linen dress from one of the few Norman women in Durham and made for herself a lovely circlet of wild flowers. The overall effect was very fetching, and she looked like any other bride on her wedding day – serene and striking. Her dress was an abrupt reminder of her femininity. The pleasing curves of her sexuality, previously hidden by the smock, leggings and hauberk of a warrior, were plain to see. Her hair, washed and brushed, fell in gentle ash-blond waves and her skin shone with the rosy glow typical of her Englishness. She seemed smaller – indeed, petite – without her male garb and weapons. It was an image that must have challenged many prejudices about her sexual preferences.

Sweyn stood by her side, proud and handsome, a young man who had, within just two days, become a knight and a husband. Not surprisingly, he now looked older than his years. He had always had the bearing and manner of a knight, but now he was one. With his dark-brown hair and tanned skin, in contrast to his fair English bride, he could easily have been the haughty son of a Count of Aquitaine; he looked the part and had the self-confidence of a young man born to wield power. I was proud of my brother- and
now my ‘sister’-in-arms. They were, to everyone’s agreement, an eye-catching couple.

Sadly, that was not the end of the matter. Even before the happy couple could retire for the non-consummation of their marriage, several of Sweyn’s fellow knights were determined to cause trouble.

The taunts were predictable. Sweyn was ten years younger than Adela so, inevitably, the mocking suggested that she was the real ‘man’ of the partnership and that at the bedroom ‘tilt’ it would be Adela who would do the ‘tilting’ and Sweyn who would be ‘speared’ in the joust.

Adela tried to pull him away from the insults, but Sweyn’s anger could not be assuaged and pandemonium broke out. He drew his sword with lightning speed and lunged at his barrackers before any of them could unsheathe their weapons. They retreated rapidly, some falling over one another as they did so. Sweyn managed to get his blade firmly under the chin of one of them, who happened to be Alan of Sées, the youngest son of one of King William’s most powerful allies and one of Count Robert’s most capable young knights.

As Sweyn spoke, the razor-sharp tip of his sword drew blood, which began to trickle down the blade.

‘If you ever insult my wife or me again, I’ll kill you. And that applies to any other man here.’

Adela was at his side in an instant. She had hitched up her dress beyond her knees and pulled out the seax concealed inside the ankle straps of her leather shoe. Now she was holding it towards their goaders, crouched in the pose of a knife-fighter. Suddenly, she was a warrior again.

Sweyn glared at them all with a fiery look in his eye that
had real menace in it, then calmly put his sword in its scabbard, took Adela by the hand and walked away.

She, in turn, sheathed her dagger in its improvised scabbard, dropped the hem of her dress, smoothed out its wrinkles and curtsied sweetly to Count Robert, who had arrived to see what the commotion was. Their assailants dispersed sheepishly as the many onlookers began to mutter to themselves.

The speed and ferocity of Sweyn’s reaction had certainly mesmerized me. Whether it had won him respect among his and Adela’s detractors, or created enemies for life, was difficult to tell. Notwithstanding that, he had certainly made an impression.

At dinner that night, Robert was full of admiration for Sweyn.

‘That boy put the fear of God into Alan of Sées today.’

‘Yes, he did. It was quite extraordinary.’

‘Let’s hope he can break Adela as easily as he can tame my knights.’

I smiled to myself, remembering the terms of the marriage, and thought, ‘If only you knew, my friend.’

For a long time after the wedding, I pondered on the wisdom of what the four of us had contrived. Old-fashioned ways and simple prejudice had led us to create a perverse mock marriage and a deceit that we all had to live with – in particular, Sweyn and Adela. It was a clever disguise to solve a problem, but a disguise all the same. As with all subterfuges, it ran the risk of ridicule for all concerned should the ruse ever be discovered.

Much as Sweyn and Adela’s well-being was a great
concern for me, my anxiety about our expedition to Scotland was growing. Although I was delighted at the prospect of seeing Margaret again, I feared that Malcolm would be much more difficult to deal with than in the past.

I was compromised in more than one respect. Not only did I have a high regard for both sides, but they both knew of my split loyalties, suggesting little room for manoeuvre when trying to steer them away from conflict. However, I resolved to use my openness as a strength, rather than a weakness, and to appeal to both sides to use me as an intermediary.

It sounded like a good approach, in theory. I prayed that it would work out that way, in practice.

10. Grief at Launceston

At the end of September we crossed the Tyne at the ruins of Hadrian’s ancient wall and moved rapidly towards the Tweed. As Robert and I had agreed in Rouen, once we crossed into Lothian I took my conroi on the shorter but more difficult route north across the hills of Lammermuir to begin the negotiation with King Malcolm. Robert took the long way round, along the old coastal road, laying waste to everything he found.

Unfortunately, the Lord of Dunbar, Gospatric, one of Malcolm’s major allies, decided to make a fight of it. Robert was ruthless, the garrison was destroyed, his heavily fortified tower by the sea burned to the ground and Gospatric taken prisoner.

Robert considered executing him, but decided it would be a more powerful message to use Gospatric as a courier to Malcolm. He was stripped of his armour and fine clothes, had his head shaved, was dressed in the crude woollen smock of a peasant and given charge of an ox wagon. Robert’s men then loaded the wagon with two dozen severed heads from the Dunbar garrison and told Gospatric to deliver them to Malcolm’s forces at Musselburgh.

It had the desired effect. By the time we reached Dunfermline, Malcolm was in a rage.

My conroi was billeted outside the King’s keep. His steward took us through his great hall, where Edwin,
Sweyn and Adela were required to wait, while I was taken to a small private hall next to his and Margaret’s chamber.

Autumn was beginning to come in on the westerly winds and a large fire roared in the hearth. Malcolm swung round when I entered and was about to launch into his tirade when Margaret stopped him.

‘Let me greet my brother, Malcolm!’ She rushed towards me and enfolded me in a warm embrace. ‘How are you, Edgar? And how is Duncan?’

‘I am well and so is your son. The Normans are good to him and he prospers at court in Rouen. He speaks the language well – although, to the amusement of everyone, still with a heavy Scottish lilt – and he thrives. I don’t see him often, but he sends his love to you both.’

Only the last part of my account was untrue. I had hardly seen the boy, but I knew him to be well and treated with respect.

Malcolm could not contain himself any longer and launched into his onslaught, an attack only made worse by my admission.

‘You know I am loyal to Count Robert.’

‘And that includes leading his army to ravage my kingdom?’

‘I came to explain the situation and to try to avoid bloodshed.’

‘Then you’re too late! Dunbar has been destroyed and its lord is sitting in Musselburgh with only the heads of his garrison for company. The misbegotten son of that Norman bastard is marauding all over my kingdom.’

‘Because you’ve been plundering his.’

‘It’s not his kingdom, it’s mine!’

‘That’s not what you agreed at Abernethy.’

‘So, whose side are you on?’

‘In this instance, neither. Robert has allowed me to come here as a neutral party, out of respect for the friendship you have shown me for many years.’

Queen Margaret tried to soothe her husband.

‘Malcolm, listen to Edgar, instead of shouting at him. The situation is just as it was eight years ago at Abernethy. You broke the agreement with William by rampaging over the border. It’s your own fault.’

‘Be quiet, woman, and go and tend to your sick and needy!’

‘Indeed, I am – you’re the one in need of help! For pity’s sake, listen to Edgar.’

‘Margaret is right; Robert’s army is too powerful for you. You will have to concede.’

‘I will not! I will send this upstart home with his head in a cart, just as he did with the men of Dunbar!’

Malcolm then stormed off, shouting at his stewards to summon a Council of War.

Margaret looked just I remembered her, perhaps even more serene and beautiful. How lucky Malcolm was to have her as his queen; and how lucky were her people to have her benign influence on their tempestuous monarch.

‘Don’t worry, Margaret, I’ll talk to him later when he’s calmed down.’

‘He’s been much better recently, but he gets restless and likes nothing better than riding south with a band of cut-throats intent on plunder and savagery. All I can do is pray for him.’

‘You’re too good for him, Margaret. Why do you put up with his boorish ways?’

‘It’s my lot. He’s the father of my children and it is my calling to redeem his soul from eternal damnation. Besides, he’s not all bad. He can be good company and is very generous. He also warms my bed at night.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘He’s very good at that too.’

So, as I had always suspected, beneath that saintly facade, hot blood did run in my sister’s veins.

‘Who are the young people you have brought with you?’ she asked.