The Fatal Crown (28 page)

Dismayed, Maud watched him race out of the chamber before she could speak. She was relieved to have the ordeal over, but concerned that the marriage had not been consummated. With a chill, she remembered the Emperor’s infrequent fumbling attempts to bed her, attempts that rarely met with success. Holy Mother of God, would she be subjected to that horror all over again? Like Geoffrey, she prayed that time would take care of the difficulty, for producing a child was the only purpose of the marriage. Otherwise … otherwise she could not bring herself to imagine the consequences.

T
WO WEEKS AFTER MAUD
had arrived in Angers, she approached Geoffrey with several suggestions as to how she might aid him in the running of his affairs. It was a warm afternoon in early July, and Geoffrey had taken Maud on a tour of the lands surrounding the castle. It seemed a propitious moment.

“Besides helping supervise the household staff, I can assist you with both legal and financial matters,” Maud began tentatively. “I know something of canon law, and the Emperor always said that I had an excellent head for—”

“As you’re no longer in the Imperial Empire your late husband’s opinion is hardly relevant,” Geoffrey interjected, giving her a cold look. “Nor does the castle steward require assistance in managing the household. He served my father before me and his father served my grandfather and
his
father—you understand?”

“Yes. I only wanted to be of some use—”

“The staff would not welcome the interference of a stranger,” Geoffrey continued as if she had not spoken.

“Your wife is hardly a stranger.”

“A Norman is bound to engender distrust at first. After several years, of course, when the Angevins get to know you, it may be a different matter.” He paused. “I’m quite capable of handling whatever the steward cannot. My mother taught me many things, including details of the kitchen. Canon law is ably dealt with by the Bishop of Angers, who would not welcome your presence in his diocese.”

“What am I to do with myself?” she cried, hurt by Geoffrey’s attitude. She hardly needed to be reminded that she was in a land that distrusted all things Norman.

Geoffrey scowled. “My mother, God rest her soul, always seemed able to occupy herself. She was an expert needlewoman and her tapestries were the pride of Anjou. Of course, it is to be hoped that you will soon have your hands full raising a brood of sons.”

The moment the words were out he looked as if he could have bitten his tongue off.

Maud carefully avoided looking at him, not wishing to be reminded that their attempts to consummate the marriage invariably ended in a frustrating sense of mutual inadequacy. Although neither was willing to discuss the subject of Geoffrey’s impotency, Maud knew that Geoffrey blamed her, while she, in turn, believed he was at fault.

There was a strained silence. Geoffrey only sees me as a breeding sow, Maud thought in despair and revulsion, wondering if she would have to wait until she was queen before gaining some measure of control over her life. She recalled Aldyth telling her that Geoffrey’s youth was an advantage, for she would be able to mold him. Neither she nor Aldyth had realized that Geoffrey was already a strong character with a mind of his own.

Maud swallowed her pride, determined not to offend him. “Until such time as I … find my hands full, or am called upon to ascend the throne, I must have something to occupy my time, something that will help me to prepare for my future as queen. I’ve worked enough tapestries and embroidered sufficient altar cloths to last a lifetime.”

She must have gotten through to him for she saw his face soften. “Very well, that seems sensible enough. Certainly there are duties you could perform.” Geoffrey thought for a moment. “If anyone falls ill, naturally you will see to such matters. In addition you may take charge of the reception and entertainment of visitors to the castle. Let us start with that.”

Maud gave him a smile of gratitude. It was hardly what she wanted, but something.

The first time they had important guests, two months later, Maud was going over the seating arrangements with the steward when Geoffrey walked into the great hall.

“By God’s death, you have used the gold saltcellars,” he said, aghast, after one look at the table. “And the jeweled goblets are not to be drunk from unless royalty arrives!”

“It’s an important occasion, I only thought—”

“The gold cellars and goblets are for display only, not to be used.” He turned to the steward. “Take them up at once.”

“But—”

“This isn’t the Imperial palace, Madam, but simple, down-to-earth Anjou. Such ostentation is frowned upon. What would people think?”

Mortified, Maud watched as the steward and several servitors quickly picked up the gold saltcellars and goblets.

“What dishes have you ordered?” Geoffrey asked.

“Eels in a spicy puree, loach in gold green sauce, a meat tile—”

Geoffrey gave her a suspicious look. “Meat tile?”

“I brought the recipe with me from Germany. It consists of pieces of chicken or veal simmered, served in a sauce of pounded crayfish tails, almonds and toasted bread, then garnished—”

“Totally unsuitable. My guests wouldn’t like a German dish. Nor do the eels and the loach complement each other. I’m familiar with my mother’s handling of these matters and I think it best if I consult with the cooks myself. You need not trouble yourself further.”

“If you’ve never tried these dishes,” Maud said, holding on to her temper, “how can you know if they’re unsuitable?”

“They’re foreign, what more is there to know?” Geoffrey walked down the length of the table. “Tell me the seating arrangements.”

“I’ve put the Sire de Faucon next to Lord d’Anduze and—”

“What? They’re always quarreling and should be seated as far apart as possible. Girard knows that.” He glanced at the steward, who paled visibly. “Never mind, I’ll rearrange the seating myself.”

“If you’ll just explain to me—” Maud began.

“In future, I intend taking care of all these arrangements,” Geoffrey said, cutting her off. “You cannot be expected to know how things are done here. No one blames you.”

Crimson with humiliation, Maud watched as Geoffrey and the steward walked out of the hall together, Girard busily explaining why he had done as the Countess ordered.

From that time forward Maud took no active part in the running of the castle, leaving everything in the hands of Geoffrey and his steward.

Seething and frustrated, she retreated to the well-stocked library and the company of Geoffrey’s old tutor, Master Adelhardt, with whom she discussed history, law, and literature. She played chess and backgammon, studied the books in the library, and when she was not daydreaming of Stephen, began to think more and more of what she would do when she was queen, cautiously trying out her theories on the tutor. Each time she received a message from England or Normandy, she found herself wondering if the King was ill and she would be summoned to his bedside. Such thoughts were invariably followed by pangs of guilt and remorse, for on the one hand, despite her annoyance with her father, she did not want him to die. Yet his death would open the doors of her prison, which is how she had come to view Angers.

Once, in a moment of acute loneliness and despair, she wrote a long message to Stephen, pouring out her heart. She had sealed the parchment and actually given it to a messenger, when she suddenly snatched it out of the man’s hands. Perhaps Geoffrey had all her messages read. Surrounded by her husband’s people, whose first loyalty was to the Count, she did not feel entirely safe in Anjou, she realized.

One winter day she returned to the castle, having spent the afternoon hawking with the head falconer and several grooms.

“Why did Lord Geoffrey not go with you?” asked Aldyth.

“You know Geoffrey only goes riding with me when there are guests and he wishes to present a picture of domestic harmony.”

Aldyth gave a glum nod. “I hoped matters were improving.”

“Geoffrey has never forgiven me for that incident in Normandy, when his wretched gyrfalcon was outdone by my peregrine,” Maud said. “He still refuses to allow a Welsh bird within the borders of Anjou. The Count holds on to a grudge as if it were a priceless jewel.”

“A child, my lady, a child is the answer to all your problems,” Aldyth told her.

Unfortunately, matters between Geoffrey and herself continued to worsen in this regard. At no time during the past nine months had he been able to consummate their union: He remained as impotent as he had been that very first night.

“I’m at my wits’ end,” she told Aldyth in despair. “I’ve tried everything I know, which, admittedly, is not very much. All to no avail.”

“You could ask someone who is informed on such matters,” Aldyth said cautiously. “A midwife?”

“You cannot expect me to discuss the intimate details of my marriage bed with a stranger,” Maud responded. “Suppose she gossiped? Can you imagine the scandal?”

If she had been in England she could have consulted with Alix, Maud thought, although she suspected Alix was even more ignorant than herself. In Angers, there was no one she trusted. Those women she did meet, wives of the neighboring lords, were simple, good-natured creatures, but hardly her equal, and certainly not to be used as confidantes. If matters had only proceeded further with Stephen and herself, she thought, she might be in a position to know what to do.

Aldyth sighed. “I cannot advise you, I fear.”

They looked at each other helplessly.

That night, after having drunk several goblets of wine at supper, Maud decided to change her tactics and act as the aggressor for a change. She would go to Geoffrey. It might help—certainly it could not make matters worse. Her women brushed her hair until it shone like polished amber and scented her body with oil mixed with rose petals. She donned a fur pelisse under which she wore nothing at all.

The bells had rung for Compline when she left her chamber, carrying a horn lantern, and walked down the passageway to Geoffrey’s quarters. Shivering with cold, she paused before knocking on his door, surprised to hear sounds coming from within: a grunt followed by a squeal. Without thinking, she opened the door, then stopped short, dumbfounded at the sight that met her eyes. Geoffrey lay on his back stark naked, while a young girl rode astride him, and another girl watched. Her presence apparently unnoticed by the absorbed participants, Maud stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from the scene before her. Obviously her husband was having no trouble whatsoever with his manhood. Maud did not stay to see the final results of this coupling, but quietly closed the door, trembling with outrage and humiliation.

It was not uncommon for a husband to amuse himself with any number of other women, she knew, and if she were now pregnant, it would not have mattered to her at all. But the dynasty of England and Normandy was at stake. Geoffrey’s duty, however distasteful to both of them, was to honor her bed—as her father might have put it—until she was with child, then do as he pleased.

Maud told no one what she had discovered, but her relations with Geoffrey deteriorated even more rapidly than before. It was all she could do to submit to his vain, frantic attempts to penetrate her, which became more and more infrequent as the months passed. She knew she must do something about the disastrous state of her marriage but found herself powerless to act.

Their unfulfilling encounters at night now turned Maud and Geoffrey into enemies by day. Bickering constantly, they no longer tried to conceal their hostility. Maud again began to think of her father’s demise. Racked by guilt, she could not help herself, for his death would solve everything: She could go back to England. Once she was queen, she would find a way to deal with the problem of Geoffrey. It might even be possible to have the marriage annulled since it had never been consummated.

“Your marriage is the scandal of the city,” Aldyth told her one morning in October. “You and the Count can be heard all over the castle, screaming at each other like fishwives in the marketplace.”

“I don’t want to discuss it. Make ready to accompany me to the October fair.”

“The fair? Not again!” Aldyth gave her an incredulous look.

“What else is there to do? None of my abilities is being utilized. My womanhood is withering on the vine. I must find some way to pass the time until I become queen. Tell one of the pages to order a litter for me.”

When they reached the open marketplace, an hour later, the fair was already well under way. Beneath a crisp blue sky, the open stalls proclaimed their wares in a profusion of color, scent, and sound. There were bolts of gray and blue cloth from Florence, scarlet and azure silks from Lucca, cottons from France and Flanders, wools from England, as well as flax for linen and hemp for nets, ropes, and bowstrings. Sugar from Syria and wax from Morocco ranged side by side with iron and leather from Germany and Spain. One booth specialized in skins from Scandinavia.

Bored and restless in the castle, Maud loved the excitement of the fair, the stirring of life, the new, strange faces, the feeling she was part of a larger world. She enjoyed listening to the babel of voices shouting in French, Arabic, Italian, Spanish, and a few tongues Maud did not recognize. The air was redolent with the pungent smells of mace, ginger, peppercorns, and cinnamon, mingling with the savory odor of hot pork pies and roast chestnuts sold by Angevin vendors.

“Let us stop here first,” Maud exclaimed, as she spied the stalls selling luxury goods.

The litter halted and she made her way through the surging crowds. Behaving with unaccustomed extravagance, Maud had been haunting the fair for the past two weeks. She knew she was acting recklessly, but was beyond caring. It was as if she were compelled to fill the emptiness in her heart, the tedium of her days, with an assortment of trinkets and gowns she neither needed nor wanted.

She passed stalls selling camphor, ambergris, musk, and carpets. Finally she stopped by a booth that housed the art of Italian gold- and silversmiths, exquisite work set with lapis lazuli, rubies, and pearls. Prominently displayed was an ebony and silver chess set from the Far East, obviously the work of a master craftsman. I must have it, Maud thought, as her fingers caressed the shiny black figures.