The Fatal Crown (21 page)

“We? I notice it is I who makes the sacrifice, not you,” she retorted. “As I did when I was nine. Then I had little choice. This time I do.”

The King’s face grew red. “You have no choice, Madam, none at all. You, like myself, like all rulers, must marry where expediency dictates. Our lives are not our own. Agreement and choice don’t enter into it.” His voice became confidential. “Geoffrey will have to spend much of his time in Anjou and keep an eye on Normandy. Rarely, if ever, will he have occasion to come to England. After you have given the realm a handful of sons, you can go your separate ways, eh?”

Maud could not bring herself to reply. Every instinct rebelled at this denial of her power of choice.

“As future queen, surely you see where your duty lies,” the King said, pressing his advantage. “Private need must give way before the public weal. A ruler is as worthy as he serves the needs of his realm.”

Maud stiffened. Duty. Sacrifice. Even thus had the Emperor spoken. She had been serving the needs of the realm, she realized, since she was nine years old, a martyr to duty and sacrifice. Of course she wanted to be queen, but, because of Stephen, she had become fully aware of what that would mean: her private needs never fulfilled; personal happiness forever denied her. Surely there must be a way to escape this trap.

A course of action suddenly presented itself. Did she dare follow it?

“Who knows of this proposed marriage?” she asked.

“Just Fulk, myself, and Geoffrey, I imagine. The Bishop of Salisbury. Why?” The King’s eyes narrowed.

“You can’t marry me to anyone without your council’s knowledge.” Her voice was triumphant. “You swore an oath to your barons, remember?”

The shaft had gone home and King Henry’s hooded eyes assumed the cruel, predatory aspect of a hawk. “I made my agreement with Fulk first. It precedes any later oath.”

“You didn’t tell that to your magnates, did you?” she reminded him. “It’s no light matter to break an oath of this kind.”

“The oath is not binding if I was forced to swear it,” he told her. “It was necessary that all swear to honor you as queen. Nothing else mattered then, nothing else matters now.”

“Normandy and Anjou have always been enemies, and if the council knew of your intention to marry me to an Angevin, they would forbid it.”

“They would try. But all that strife is in the past. Over and done with. I will do what is needful, with or without my barons’ agreement. Does the shepherd ask his sheep wither he should lead them?”

It was just as she had suspected. “You don’t intend to tell them!”

“When you’re safely betrothed—that is time enough for my barons to know. They can do nothing then.”

Maud rose from the stool and walked to the turret window, staring down at the Thames flowing darkly under the slate gray sky, the purple shadows gathering over the courtyard. She had the weapon she needed.

“If you insist on going through with this travesty of a marriage—I will be obliged to tell the barons.” She held her breath. The fateful words of defiance had been spoken. The world had not tumbled apart.

Then, behind her, she heard a choked gasp. She turned quickly. Her father’s face was an alarming shade of purple and he made strangling sounds in his throat. Holy Mother of God, what had she done? Maud ran to the table and poured wine into a goblet. With trembling hands, Henry lifted the goblet to his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he wheezed, taking short, heavy breaths as he sank onto the stool Maud had just vacated.

“Sire, I would do anything to prevent this marriage,” she cried, sinking to her knees in front of him. “Anything. I beg of you, please reconsider. I’m sure we can find an alternative to placate Fulk of Anjou and win his support. There must be someone more suitable I can marry. Even a duke would not be unacceptable.”

Rising slowly, Henry grabbed Maud by the shoulders and shook her so roughly she winced with pain. “You shall not defy me, do you hear? A husband has been found for you, the contract has been signed, and you will marry him! Accept it! Damn you, woman, for a willful, rebellious bitch! If you weren’t so vital to my plans, I tell you I would—” He did not finish his sentence.

Maud tried to tear herself from his grasp but his fingers were like iron hooks digging into her flesh. “You will do it!”

Thoroughly frightened now, Maud stubbornly shook her head.

He threw her away from him with such force, she lost her balance and had to grab the table to keep from falling. For a moment they stood staring at each other, their jaws thrust forward in exactly the same manner. Without a word, she started for the door.

“Wait! Do not leave just yet,” the King gasped, as he lumbered after her. “Perhaps, yes, perhaps I’ve been too hasty. Overzealous.”

Surprised, she turned to face him.

“I’m sure we can find a way to resolve our differences, eh?” Henry’s face, wiped clean of expression now, was returning to its normal color. “Let me fetch Bishop Roger. We’ll all put our heads together and decide what must be done.”

“Rest, Sire, let me fetch him for you. And your physician as well.” Maud put her hand on the door.

Strong fingers shot out to grip her arm. “No need. The air will clear my head. Wait here.”

Alone, Maud walked unsteadily to the window seat and sat down. The waves of resentment and rage that racked her body gradually subsided, to be replaced by a sense of satisfaction. She had held her ground, and, whatever the ultimate outcome, at least bought herself a little time. What an old sorcerer he was, she thought, really outrageous, trying to hoodwink his barons and very nearly succeeding.

Time, Maud realized, was really all she needed. If, somehow, she could stave off this marriage, or any other, then her father might die while she was still free. In that event she could make her own marriage—or, at least, have more of a say in it than she did now. Perhaps she could never wed Stephen but unmarried, at least, she could share part of her life with him. Half a loaf was better than none. A pang of guilt shot through her at the thought of the King’s death. How could she contemplate his passing in such a dispassionate way? Yet it would solve so many problems!

After a while, Maud lifted her head and, glancing out the window, saw that dusk had fallen. The courtyard was brightly lit with flaring torches; men-at-arms paced back and forth.

The chamber had grown cold and the coals in the brazier were nearly gone. Where was the King? She had lost track of time, but surely he should have returned by now. And if he did not intend to return, why had no one come for her? She decided to see for herself.

Opening the door, she saw two guards who had not been there before. As she put a foot across the threshold, the guards thrust their spears in front of the open doorway, barring her path.

“The King’s order, my lady,” one said. “You may not leave.”

F
OR A MOMENT MAUD
was so stunned, she could not believe what she had heard. Had the guards gone mad?

“Let me through at once,” she said, pushing against the crossed spears.

“My lady, I cannot let you pass without the King’s permission,” one of the guards said respectfully.

“But this is preposterous,” she protested. “Did the King say to treat me as a prisoner?”

The guards looked at each other in consternation.

Sensing their uncertainty, she pressed her advantage. “If you don’t let me through at once I will scream so loudly that the castle will be set on its ears.” She opened her mouth widely.

“Please, my lady, I beg you do nothing until I get further instructions,” the guard interjected hastily. “We were only told not to let you leave without further orders.” He sprinted down the staircase while the other guard remained outside the door.

Maud slammed the door shut and walked back inside the chamber. Sweet Marie, she understood only too well what had happened. The King, fearing she would tell someone of his scheme to marry her to the Angevin, hoped to guarantee her silence by keeping her under lock and key.

For the moment he had succeeded, she thought bitterly, but if he believed he could bring her to heel in this way, he was very much mistaken. Nothing would induce her to marry the young count. She ran to the turret window and peered out, but it was too dark to see clearly.

How long would she be kept here? She would perish of cold if she stayed in the chamber much longer.

What would the King do? What
could
he do?

Behind her defiance Maud was aware that she was behaving foolishly. In the end she must submit to her fate, as she always had, but this time she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. When the door opened, she stiffened in sudden fear.

“We are ordered to escort you to the Queen’s quarters, my lady,” the guard said.

Without a word, Maud followed the guards out of the chamber, down the staircase, and into the courtyard where they were joined by four more men-at-arms. Outside it was bitter cold, with little flurries of snow powdering the ground, and a chill wind that cut right through her fur-lined mantle. As she crossed the courtyard surrounded by even more guards, Maud saw Stephen walking toward his horse.

“I was just now asking what had become of you,” Stephen called, catching sight of her.

“Excuse me, my lord,” one of the guards said with a deferential bow, “but we’re on the King’s business and may not be deterred. I must ask you to step aside.”

Stephen looked in astonishment at the men-at-arms. “I don’t understand.”

“Stephen, help me—” Maud began desperately, but two of the guards caught her by each arm, and fairly dragged her across the courtyard. The other four closed ranks behind them.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but you are forbidden to speak to anyone,” the guard said, hurrying her along.

The last glimpse she had of Stephen, he was standing in the middle of the courtyard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face a study in bewilderment.

The guards took her round the side of the castle into the kitchen courtyard and through a small door that led to the south wing of Westminster. It was a part of the castle Maud had not visited before. Inside, dominated by an enormous fireplace, was the largest kitchen Maud had ever seen. She caught a glimpse of iron cauldrons set on tripods over the open fire, a haunch of venison turning on the spit, and ropes of onion and garlic hanging from the blackened beams of the ceiling. Scullions were running to and fro with buckets of water. Agitated cooks shouted at one another as they bent over long wooden tables cluttered with basins, knives, platters, and bunches of herbs. No one paid the slightest attention to Maud and her escort.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her: Here was the future Queen of England being led through the kitchens like the meanest prisoner.

From the kitchens she was marched along a narrow passage, past the buttery and butler, up the main staircase, and down another passage on the second floor until they came to the Queen’s solar. With impassive faces, the guards waited until she had closed the door behind her.

Alix and her ladies were grouped together over a recently born litter of black-and-white puppies lying beside their proud mother in a wicker basket.

“Alix—” Maud began in a choked voice.

The Queen turned, startled. “Oh my dear, what a fright you gave me.” At the look on Maud’s face, she gasped, and one soft white hand flew to her mouth. “Leave us,” she told her ladies, who retired to a far corner of the chamber.

“Do you know what’s happened?” Maud asked in a trembling voice. “My father has made me a prisoner. I’m forbidden to speak to anyone, to go where I will!”

Her face ashen, Alix took Maud firmly by the arm and set her onto a scarlet covered stool. She was garbed in her habitual flowing white gown and tunic, and her eyes were shadowed with fear as she pulled up another stool. Taking Maud’s hands in icy fingers, she kept her voice low and composed.

“Listen to me, Maud. You have greatly angered the King over this matter of the Angevin marriage and I must warn you that when he is in this state he’s capable of anything. He will almost certainly require bleeding to release the foul humors that torment him. I beg you not to cross him.”

“Am I to submit to a hateful marriage so that this tyrant will not have to be bled?”

Alix cast an anxious look at her ladies, whispering together at the far end of the solar. “Oh, my dear, we must all submit to what God sends. And how well I understand what it means to be forced into an unwanted marriage.”

“Well, I’ve no intention of submitting! Not only is it a grave dishonor—he’s only a count, after all—but this Geoffrey is a mere child.”

“That does seem a bit—excessive, if you’ll forgive my saying so. One day you will be queen, surely that is honor enough? Geoffrey of Anjou will not always be a fourteen-year-old count, but your king-consort. And as matters now stand with the King’s health, you may not have many years to wait.” Alix signed herself.

Maud gave the Queen a suspicious glance. “You sound just like my father! Has he primed you to say these things to me?”

Alix grew even more pale in her distress. “As God is my witness, he did not! I truly believe what I have said. How could you think otherwise?” Her lower lip trembled.

Maud could have bitten her tongue in vexation. How could she have doubted the saintly Queen even for a moment? She caught Alix’s hand in her own. “Forgive me, but I’m not myself. The news of the marriage has so upset me that I’m no longer mistress of my tongue.”

Alix nodded her understanding. “When you’re over the first shock, then you will accept your future with good grace.”

“If only I could!” Maud rose to her feet. “The barons will side with me in this matter, you know. The Normans will never stomach an Angevin king.”

Alix regarded Maud with a sad expression. “The King will prevail in any dispute with his nobles, surely that is evident to you by now.” She walked over to Maud and laid a soft white hand on her arm. “Tell me the truth. Would an older husband, even a reigning king, really make a difference?”

Maud flushed. “What do you mean?” she stammered, surprised to see a glimmer of compassion in Alix’s lovely doe eyes. Did she suspect her feelings for Stephen?