Captives: Kingdoms Rule Hearts

by Emily Murdoch

  “Nonsense – I know that every mother has almost too much to say about her children!”

  Catheryn smiled unwillingly. “I suppose you are right. Annis is… I suppose she is a wilful child. She has long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and loves being in the kitchen, at the centre of any home.”

  Adeliza looked shocked. “You – you let her serve you?”

  “It is not as it seems,” Catheryn said hastily. “It is not that Annis is a servant, but more that she loves it… and who am I to deny her.”

  “I agree with you there,” Adeliza said heavily. “It has never been in my power to refuse my children anything.”

  Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable one. Catheryn knew that she had to break it.

  “Adeliza?”

  “Yes?”

  Catheryn swallowed. She knew that what she was about to say would probably end the friendly accord between herself and the mistress of the house, but there was no way that she could forgive herself if she did not speak now.

  “I was hoping –”

  “You know,” Adeliza interrupted, “I must apologise for my behaviour when you first arrived here. I am ashamed to admit that I saw you as more of a burden on my household than a blessing. Having you here brings greater scrutiny from the royal household and…” Her voice trailed off, but it regained its strength again. “And that is not always welcome.”

  Catheryn opened her mouth to speak, but Adeliza put up a hand to stop her. A dark ruby ring encircled her middle finger.

  “I know that you have done nothing to deserve the treatment that you and your people have suffered. But in these last few hours, you have become a wonderful mixture of friend and stranger to me. I hope,” Adeliza smiled nervously, “I hope we can continue to be friends.”

  Catheryn was overwhelmed. “I don’t know what… I don’t know how to respond to that. That I have gained your faith and friendship – it is too much.”

  The two women smiled at each other, but one of them knew that she had to speak up now, before it was too late. And so she did.

  “Adeliza. I cannot hear you speak of our friendship without asking one great favour from you.”

  The smile that covered her friend’s face fell slightly.

  “Catheryn –”

  “I know that what I ask is much,” Catheryn said in a rushed voice, “but I must ask. Can you help me… can you help me find my daughter?”

  Adeliza looked at the woman sitting next to her. Still in the vigour of life, Catheryn unmistakably showed signs of difficult living. Grief was etched into the lines around her eyes, and there was a sadness in her mouth that never really left.

  “Catheryn,” Adeliza said gently, placing a hand over her companion’s, “I know something of the pain that you feel, and if it is even half of that which I imagine, I know that it is agony. But I cannot help you. You forget. As much as our friendship may blossom and grow, you are still a prisoner here.”

  Chapter Nine

  Fitz dropped his head into his hands. The haze of voices around him washed over his sore head, with a few phrases managing to reach his tired mind despite himself.

  “It simply cannot be –”

  “It must be him, or I shall forbid it!”

  Raising himself to attention once more, Fitz tried to smile.

  He was sitting in a room with some of the most important and noble people in both England and Normandy in London, and his head hurt. The more the discussion continued, the more fractious everyone became – and the more wine that was drunk. The letter that he had carried to London for Odo had concerned this meeting, and once again Fitz cursed the moment that he agreed to carry it.

  A tall man stood up, and without him saying a word, the din settled down to silence.

  “Now,” said King William, “this has bored me. My wife’s coronation is not a matter for discussion. It is a stupendous event, which all of you are honoured to be a part of, let alone consulted on.”

  His fierce eyes scanned the room, and men that had charged into battle roaring dropped their gaze, ashamed.

  “You,” the King pointed at Fitz. “And you two. You may stay. Everyone else must leave.”

  “But your Majesty,” protested a bishop who Fitz could see was swaying slightly from the sheer amount that he had drunk.

  It did not take a single word from the King. He simply looked at his subject, and the argument was won. Without a moment’s hesitation, the room had emptied.

  Fitz looked around him, barely aware of who else King William had wanted to stay. He saw that Matilda was exactly where she had been throughout the entire evening; sitting by the fire, a piece of embroidery work in her lap, her delicate hands working her needle whilst her vibrant eyes followed the intense discussion that had surrounded her since she had first sat down. Beside her was her husband’s chair; he was still standing.

  A man stirred to Fitz’s left, and he saw it was his brother Osbern.

  “Osbern?”

  The man looked up, and smiled nervously. “My lord?”

  “God’s tears, you cannot fail to know me?”

  But then, it had been several years since the brothers had last met. Their father Osbern had always wanted both of his sons to succeed, and for all of his lowly beginnings, had powerful relatives. His aunt had been not only the grandmother of the previous King of England, Edward, but was also the grandmother of its current king, William the Conqueror. This in some way made the FitzOsbern brothers cousins to royalty, and their father had taken advantage of that fact in a way which had been brilliant and daring. Placing his eldest son in the care of William’s father, Robert, he had made sure that his younger son, Osbern, became King Edward of England’s chaplain. And so the seeds were sown: whatever happened, the FitzOsbern boys would have a friend.

  “Fitz!” Recognition covered his brother’s face as he searched out those familiar features that made them almost look like twins – and yet it had been almost ten years since he had seen it. “Goodness, what are you doing here in my country?”

  Fitz laughed, almost with relief, to see a familiar face he did not have to speak to with care, lest he offend.

  “Your country?”

  The heavy tones of the King swept over their smiles. Osbern’s face dropped in horror, but Fitz touched him reassuringly on the shoulder.

  “It is an expression, my lord King,” Fitz said to the man who commanded two of the largest kingdoms in Europe. “Our father made sure we were loyal to one country each: Osbern went to England, and I remained in Normandy.”

  The King nodded briefly. “Then all is well. Come, draw close with us and Ealdred; there is much to discuss.”

  Fitz saw that an elderly man in the robes of an archbishop now sat next to Matilda. The two brothers picked up a bench that was nearby, and moved it to the fire so that the five could continue to talk to make preparations for the coronation.

  “It has taken too long,” King William said ruefully, shaking his head. “I had meant for you to be crowned with me, my love.”

  The two shared a look that radiated understanding and joy. Fitz was almost embarrassed to witness it.

  “It is of no matter,” Matilda said softly, finally putting down her needle. “It was more important then for you to take the crown properly. I could never have travelled across the sea in time.”

  William snorted. “It should still not have taken two years to get to this point. Now it is May, and you are still Queen in my eyes only!”

  “I must protest, my King,” Osbern spoke up properly for the first time, and Fitz was astonished to see just how confident his little brother had become. He was still only a chaplain, and yet he spoke to King William as if they were trusted friends. But then, Fitz reminded himself, Osbern was accustomed to speaking to kings; advising them; being trusted by them. It was he, Fitz, who was new to this. “Your lady is hailed as Queen throughout this land.”

  “And my lord,” the man called Ealdred finally began to speak, “you
could have done nothing these last few months. The rebellions by the Welsh, and the troubles in Exeter – it was more important to deal with them first.”

  William sighed. “You both speak the truth. But this is not the time to dwell on my mistakes and misfortunes – the day grows late, and I am sure that more than one of us would not say no to a comfortable bed.”

  His eyes moved to his wife. Matilda was once again with child, although it was not widely known. She had recently moved into her sixth month, and in certain lights and fabrics, was beginning to show.

  Matilda smiled. “It matters not to me when I return to my chamber. Our kingdom is more important than that.”

  The royal couple shared a smile, and then William turned to Ealdred.

  “Which date do you think would be best to organise the coronation of my lady for?”

  Ealdred considered for a moment, and then spoke. “It is usually preferable to link the day of the coronation with a holy day. You remember, my lord, that Edward was crowned on Easter Sunday, and you yourself were crowned by me on the day of our Lord’s birth.”

  Fitz realised now who this man was – the Archbishop of York. Despite being of English birth, he had survived the Conquest, and had even crowned William on Christmas Day of 1066. But he could not remember why it had been he, and not the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was usually the latter’s role and right. But he was falling behind the conversation.

  “So it is decided,” William stated in a voice full of relief. “The coronation will occur on Whit Monday. Which day is that, exactly?”

  “Easter this year was the twenty third day in March,” chimed in Osbern quickly, “making Whit Monday the eleventh day of May.”

  Ealdred raised a white eyebrow, and Fitz could not tell whether he was impressed or shocked at the quick way in which his brother had spoken to the King.

  “Excellent,” said Matilda, “some of the best flowers will be blossoming. It will be beautiful.”

  “It is your presence which shall make the event a success, my dear,” William smiled softly, but then turned a serious eye to the Archbishop.

  “I shall begin the preparations,” Ealdred said with a smile on his face. “And I thank you, my King, and you, my lady, for this honour.”

  “The honour remains with me, my lord,” Matilda smiled wickedly, “for do you not think I am blessed to be crowned by a man who has made three kings?”

  The smile that had cut across Ealdred’s face disappeared, and Fitz saw a similar change in William. He could not believe that Matilda could be so bold – by saying such things, she claimed that both Harold and Edgar Ætheling were rightful kings, something which was treason under William’s reign.

  But Matilda was clearly more comfortable than any man in the room.

  “Now,” she said, glancing at each man in turn, “what other arrangements must be made?”

  Ealdred coughed, and all present turned to him. He was, Fitz reminded himself while trying not to smile, their leading authority on king-making.

  “The Anglo-Saxons,” and Fitz noticed that the old man’s hands trembled as he referred to his people, “have a typical way of doing this, but never before has a queen been crowned in this way. It is totally new.”

  “New?” William looked confused. “But there have been other queens before – Emma was Edward’s lady and companion.”

  “But that,” Ealdred smiled, “is precisely my point. They were always called companions, and were never queens such as our great Matilda.”

  “I do not understand the difference,” Matilda spoke up. “Why change what has gone before? Surely if the English are to love me, we should keep to their old ways.”

  Fitz’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, his brother chimed in.

  “But you are a different queen, my lady. You are to rule Normandy when our King is here, and rule England when he returns across the sea. You are the mother of a new dynasty of rulers. There must be a distinction between you and those who have gone before you.”

  Matilda still did not seem convinced. “What say you, Fitz?”

  Fitz swallowed. He knew that Matilda was more intelligent than almost any other woman he had ever met, and that if you had suggested to most men but three years ago that a mere woman could have so much power over a nation, they would have laughed. None were laughing now.

  “My lady Queen,” Fitz said slowly, “a coronation is a sacred moment. It is a vow that you take to honour and protect the people. But if you are going to be a different queen than the queens that this land has seen, it makes sense that the moments that make you a queen are different in their turn. I see no harm in adding to the ceremony.”

  “Exactly,” William said. “Exactly how I would have said it. Thank you Fitz. We do not have to alter the old, but simply extend it. Ealdred, can I leave this to you?”

  Ealdred nodded. “I will also create the laudes regiae.”

  The unfamiliar words grated on Fitz’s ears, and he could not help but ask. “The what, my lord Archbishop?”

  Ealdred looked at Fitz properly for the first time, and smiled. “The laudes regiae. It is a song that is sung at every coronation – a prayer in song. Every monarch has their own created for them, although it follows a similar pattern each time. I would be honoured,” he directed this last part at his King, “to create one for our marvellous Queen.”

  William did not reply, but turned to look at Matilda.

  Fitz’s eyes were beginning to sting with tiredness, and he fought the urge to rub them. He must stay awake – it was an incredible mark of respect that he had even been included in these discussions. He would see them out to the end.

  “The only things that I think need to be addressed,” Osbern was saying, “are the regalia that our lady will be presented with.”

  “Regalia?” Ealdred said sharply.

  Osbern nodded. “If we are to distinguish our lady Queen from all others who have gone before her, if she is to lead in our lord King William’s stead when he is gone from us, if she is to make decisions that are just and true… it is vital that she be seen to be just as endowed with gifts as our King.”

  “Just as endowed?” William said gruffly. “Would you that I handed over the kingdom to her?”

  But Matilda laughed. “I think Osbern speaks truth, my love. Without an orb and a sceptre, I am just another companion. With them, I am Queen.”

  William sat in silence for a while as he considered. Fitz had to hold his breath from yawning aloud.

  “So be it,” he said finally with a wry smile. “I see that you are to claim everything that I am, Matilda.”

  “Just as you promised me on the day of our wedding,” she reminded him with an answering smile.

  Osbern opened his mouth nervously. “My lord King?”

  William raised an eyebrow in answer.

  Swallowing, Osbern continued. “May I make another suggestion?” Without waiting for a reply, he spoke more. “Every king of this island has been presented with a coronation ring. It is a visible reminder of their power and responsibility, both of the monarch and their people. Should not our Queen Matilda receive such a gift?”

  There was an intake of breath in the room, and Fitz was unsure whether he was alone in it or whether he was joined by others in a medley of shock. A coronation ring?

  Fitz looked at William, waiting for his King to speak, but to his surprise it was a female voice that broke the silence.

  “I thank you, Osbern, for your kind thoughts and words,” Matilda’s voice was soft, but there was a power within it that made Fitz relax. “I think that you are right to suggest a coronation ring. But let it not be one as great as our King’s – instead, a more simple one would be appropriate. Is that possible, my King?”

  The more formal phrase was clearly intended to appeal to her husband, and judging by the smile on his face, Fitz guessed that she had succeeded.

  “One day,” the King said, “I will be able to refuse you something. But today, I offer
you whatever you want, with my blessing.”

  Ealdred stood slowly, his bones creaking in a way that made more than one person flinch. “I apologise, my King, my Queen, but I must retire. An old man such as myself cannot help but feel his age when the stars are bright.”

  Matilda rose. “Sleep well, my lord Archbishop,” she said, “and I apologise for keeping you awake for so long.”

  “It is high time we each returned to our chambers.” William rose, and placed a protective arm around his wife. “Let the preparations commence tomorrow, at first light.”

  Ealdred, Osbern, and Fitz all bowed as their monarchs exited the room.

  “I shall speak to you once the sun has returned,” Ealdred said to the two brothers. “Until then, my lords.”

  Fitz watched the elderly man leave the room, but before he could say anything to his brother, a figure walked through the doorway.

  “My lord?”

  “Marmion.” Fitz relaxed. It was unnerving, being in a place with too many corridors, full of places for men to hide and hear information never meant for their ears. “We are not finished, I shall return shortly.”

  Marmion reddened as he looked at the two men. “I am sorry, my lord,” he said gruffly. “I did not mean to disturb you. It is only – I saw our King leave, and I wanted to speak to you about the coronation.”

  Fitz looked at Osbern, who shrugged. Fitz turned back to Marmion. “Speak, Marmion – and do it quickly; my brother and I are quite exhausted.”

  Relief emanated from Marmion’s shoulders as he breathed out a large sigh. “My lord,” he said, addressing Osbern, “I did not realise that you were also of the house of FitzOsbern. It is an honour to meet you, and –”

  “Yes, yes,” Osbern waved a hand. “To your point, my man. We have been talking these few hours.”

  Marmion blushed again, and Fitz wondered once more how a man that large and powerful could ever be embarrassed.

  “I had a thought, my lords, on the coronation. A way to increase the spectacle, to make it memorable – to make sure that no one doubts our King William and Queen Matilda.”

  Fitz smiled. “And you think that you can organise this idea? Will it cost much?”