The Fatal Crown (38 page)

Jesu, he had been so lost in his dream he had lost track of the time. Surely Maud and Gervase should have been here by now. He got up, walked through the house and out the door. Except for his mare, the lane was deserted. Sitting on the stump of an apple tree, Stephen wondered what could have happened. A host of possibilities paraded across his mind: Maud had had an accident on her horse, or been summoned by her father; someone had seen her in the marketplace and she had been forced to avoid meeting Gervase. All highly unlikely, but his thoughts kept turning round and round like a dog chasing its own tail.

From the great cathedral in Rouen square, Stephen heard the bells ring for Nones. Almost three hours since he arrived. There was no question now; something must have happened. He got to his feet just as Gervase galloped down the lane toward the house. Alone.

At his squire’s grave expression, Stephen felt the blood drain from his face and a portent of disaster swept through him. “Where is she?” he shouted, rising to his feet. “What has happened to the Countess of Anjou?”

Gervase hastily dismounted. “Gone, my lord.”

“Gone?” It was the last thing he had thought to hear, and Stephen could not take it in. “Gone? Gone where?”

“Anjou.”

“Anjou!” Stunned, Stephen found himself unable to move; his heart seemed to shrivel within his breast; his legs became like stone. Abruptly he sat down again on the tree trunk. “Gone to Anjou?” he repeated dully. “You had best tell me what happened.”

“The Countess of Anjou was not in the marketplace at Sext,” Gervase began, “nor was Aldyth or any of her women with a message for me. After an hour’s wait, I rode to the ducal palace and made inquiries. It did not take me long to discover that a party—three sumpter horses, two litters, and an armed guard—had left in great haste before Prime this morning, headed, in the opinion of one of the grooms, for Anjou. He says the King was observed up and about the courtyard at that time, but thus far there has been no official announcement concerning the Countess’ departure. It appears that the matter is being kept secret.”

Stephen stared at Gervase in stupefaction. Maud returned to Anjou? Without telling him? He refused to believe it.

“Did you inquire if there was any message left for me?”

“Oh, indeed, my lord. I did so immediately, that is what took me so long. I could find no one who had received a message for you.”

Stephen sprang to his feet. “Impossible! If my cousin did return to Anjou she would have left word with someone!”

Gervase shook his head. “No message was left.”

Seizing Gervase by the front of his jerkin, Stephen began to shake him. “You lie,” he shouted, his face crimson. “I tell you Maud would never abandon me like this! Without a word! Never!”

“My lord, my lord, you’re hurting me—please—” Gervase gasped.

Stephen released him so quickly the squire fell to the ground. Without another word, he strode into the house, poured himself a cup of mead, and downed it. Then another and another until he had emptied the pitcher. How could she do it, he moaned inwardly, how could she leave without a word? Had she never loved him? Had she merely used him, a stud stallion servicing a mare, to satisfy her own lusts? Could he have misjudged her so? Impossible. If she had been forced by her father to return—which was the only sound explanation—surely she would have left a message. Yet Gervase had found none. Feeling as if he would go mad, Stephen sank down onto a wooden stool, propped his elbows on the table, and let his head fall into his hands.

After a time he was aware the room had grown cold; from far off came the toll of the Vespers bell. Stephen heard Gervase walk into the room and stoke up the dying embers of the fire. When he felt something liquid run down his face, and tasted salt on his lips, Stephen did not at first realize they were his own tears.

Six days later, just as a pale sun appeared over the horizon, Maud rode across the drawbridge into Angers Castle. The journey from Rouen had proved unusually long and exhausting, beset as she was by alternate waves of nausea and anxiety. Aldyth assured her this was perfectly natural for someone in her condition, but Maud found this cold comfort. Now every bone in her body ached; she was terrified she would be sick in Geoffrey’s presence, and the problem of how to make herself appealing to him was still unresolved. Whenever she thought of Stephen, the sense of loss was so overpowering she did not feel she could bear it.

She glanced apprehensively at her surroundings. Had it really been four years ago that she had first ridden through this stone tunnel and into the outer bailey? The grooms currying their horses, armorers repairing armor, fletchers sharpening arrows—all appeared to be doing exactly what they had been doing when she first saw them. Nothing had changed in Angers. Yet she was not the same woman who had arrived here a bitter and resentful bride. Then she had come as an invader; now she came as a supplicant.

When she caught sight of a man standing by the keep, Maud did not at first recognize Geoffrey. Since they had last seen each other, her husband had been transformed. Instead of the willowy, petulant youth she remembered, here was a young man of nineteen, still slender but with a broader chest and wider shoulders. The youthful face had filled out and was now graced by a reddish-gold beard, the same color as his hair.

“Madam, I hope you had a pleasant journey?” Geoffrey asked, in a voice that had deepened into manhood.

“Yes, my lord. But tiring.”

“Of course. You must rest. Your chamber has been prepared.”

The Count helped her down from her horse and, taking her arm, led her up the broad steps and into the keep. The disgraceful way in which she had left Angers might never have occurred. She and Geoffrey were behaving like strangers, Maud observed, formal and courteous, but not—thank the Holy Mother—like enemies. She felt a spark of encouragement.

Once in her chamber, Maud allowed Aldyth to put her straight to bed, where she fell immediately into a deep sleep. When she woke in the late afternoon, she felt refreshed and free of any queasiness. A wooden tub of hot water scented with herbs was brought into the room; Maud soaked luxuriously while Aldyth washed the dust of a week’s journey from her hair.

“Has my body changed?” Maud asked, rising to let Aldyth rub scented oil into her skin.

“Not to notice.”

“Thank Our Lady for that. You know how important it is I please the Count,” Maud said, her voice shaking. “I’m lost unless we can fully consummate the marriage.”

Aldyth’s face softened. “This time you will. I feel it in my bones. After all, though it pains me to say so, you’re more experienced in these matters now than you were before. And, as we have heard, the Count has not been idle either.”

Aldyth put down the oil and walked over to a pole protruding from the wall. Carefully she took down the green silk tunic and gown Maud had had made in Normandy. “You look wondrous fair in this, my lady. Wear it while you still can.”

Several hours later, seated next to Geoffrey at the high table in the great hall, Maud knew Aldyth had been right. Geoffrey’s eyes were openly admiring every time he looked at her. With the exception of the Count’s mesnie, a few local nobles and their ladies, and the ever-present Bishop of Angers, there were no other guests. The atmosphere was somewhat strained, but not overtly hostile.

“A new dish has been created for you, Madam,” Geoffrey announced proudly, as the head cook carried in a great pewter platter in the center of which was a huge molded lion made of pale jelly and minced chicken. “See? It’s a replica of the lion of Anjou.”

The sight of the quivering mass made Maud want to gag, but both Geoffrey and the cook looked at her so expectantly that she dutifully took a small portion, managing to swallow it down with a great quantity of white wine.

“Delicious,” she pronounced with a weak smile, fighting down a surge of nausea. “You have outdone yourself.” She paused. “I must say that in neither England or Normandy is the cuisine equal to that found in Anjou. Surely this is one of the most civilized courts in Europe!”

The cook beamed, Geoffrey looked gratified, the Bishop of Angers surreptitiously signed himself, and everyone at the high table relaxed. The slight frosty atmosphere in the hall thawed, and when someone proposed a toast, “to the happy return of the beautiful Countess of Anjou,” there was a welcoming chorus of agreement. Looking at the smiling faces around her, Maud knew she was off to a good start. Now, she prayed, let the evening finish as well as it had begun.

Finally, the meal came to an end. Maud excused herself to retire early; her gaze met Geoffrey’s for a fleeting second as she got up from the table. The message in his blue eyes was clear: She had acquitted herself favorably, and could expect him to visit her bed that night.

Sitting up in the bed, the coverlet drawn up to her neck, her hair unbound and flowing down her back, Maud waited anxiously for Geoffrey’s arrival. Every sound caused her to start. She could not control the trembling of her hands, or still the wild beating of her heart. Nothing will go wrong, she told herself. Nothing. Neither by word nor gesture would she reveal herself to be anything other than a dutiful, submissive wife, grateful to be back in her husband’s domains, suitably chastened for her former willful behavior. Her performance must be convincing or she was doomed.

There were footsteps outside the door, and Geoffrey entered alone. Dressed in the same shimmering silk robe of Eastern design that she remembered, he looked calm and certain of himself.

“I’m very glad to have you back, Madam,” he said with cautious goodwill. “You appear to have changed and I am well-pleased with what I see.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “You also have changed.”

“Indeed.” He smiled complacently. “The boy has become a man.”

She took a deep breath and said the words she had so carefully rehearsed. “I wish to apologize for my impetuous behavior before I left Anjou. I intend to be a better wife than I’ve been in the past.”

“Well, well. Both of us were guilty of impetuous behavior, I daresay,” Geoffrey replied, pleased by her words. “I trust you will also find me a better husband. Let us say no more about it.
Grâce à Dieu,
here is a new beginning for both of us.”

He walked over to the bed, took off his blue garment, then slipped in beside her. As she turned to blow out the candle, standing in its iron holder on the table beside the bed, Geoffrey stayed her hand.

“I had quite forgotten how beautiful you are,” Geoffrey said, pushing back the crimson coverlet to let his eyes slowly scan her unclothed flesh.

Encouraged by his approval, Maud gave a tentative smile. If he found her fair, it would make her task that much easier. Suddenly he seized her with such forceful intent, she gasped in surprise. He began to kiss her, his hands roving with expert intimacy over her body, a far cry from the fumbling youth she remembered. As Aldyth had reminded her, Geoffrey had certainly not been idle these past months.

“You have filled out a bit,” Geoffrey murmured, his hand sliding up over her belly to squeeze one full breast. “A little fuller here, it seems to me, but it suits you, Madam, it suits you. I prefer women with a little meat on their bones.”

Maud began to caress Geoffrey, sliding her fingers over his body, and down his stomach to the patch of hair between his thighs. Caressing him, she anxiously waited for his member to harden, forcing herself to stay calm when it did not. He felt so different from Stephen, his body lacking her cousin’s muscular strength and breadth. Even his odor was not the same, she thought, longing for the robust aroma of horses, leather, and woodsmoke she associated with Stephen.

Geoffrey lay quiescent, letting her do what she would. As her seeking fingers stroked his flesh, his breathing quickened, but he remained flaccid. Maud began to panic. What was she doing wrong? Suppose she was unable to rouse him? All the pent-up emotion of the last ten days, the strain of the journey, the painful wrench of her parting from Stephen, suddenly burst forth like a river flooding its banks. Collapsing onto Geoffrey’s body, she broke into a torrent of tears, horrifying herself and startling Geoffrey. Her body shook in great heaving sobs, and she could not stop them. To her great surprise, Geoffrey was not ill-pleased, but seemed disposed to comfort her.

“Now then, now then, Wife, this has been a great strain on you. I fully understand that,” he murmured in a soothing voice. “But it is over. There’s naught to be distressed about.” He rocked her gently in his arms until her sobs subsided. “I had not realized how deeply the parting affected you.”

Maud choked, forcing down a rising hysteria, but then she felt the miracle of his member growing hard as a stick of applewood, nudging between her legs. The sudden release of anxiety, the tremendous surge of relief was overpowering.

Quickly Geoffrey rolled her over onto her back and covered her body with his own. He moved to enter her, hesitantly at first, but with increasing certainty as she obediently opened her legs and twined her arms around his neck. He could not make much headway at first for she was not ready to receive him. With Stephen she had been more than ready, hot and flowing when he so much as looked at her, catching fire from his slightest touch. In desperation, she wondered how to make this easy for Geoffrey. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to relax, and tried to imagine Stephen making love to her. Maud put Stephen’s image into her mind as strongly as she could, substituting his muscular frame for Geoffrey’s slenderness, almost hearing the words of love Stephen would murmur into her ear as their pleasure mounted. This is Stephen, she told herself, Stephen. Geoffrey had fully entered her now, and was moving easily with deep, sure strokes. She could almost believe his newfound confidence was similar to Stephen’s absolute mastery over her body. This is Stephen inside me, Stephen’s body I hold, Stephen’s breath in my ear. Slowly, imperceptibly, Geoffrey merged into Stephen as Maud began to respond to her husband’s rhythm. Finally a cry broke from her throat as she felt Geoffrey’s body spasm in release and his seed flow into her like a benediction.