by K. M. Ashman
Gwladus caught her breath before taking her daughter’s hand and leading her back towards their quarters.
‘Mother, what are you doing?’ gasped Nesta. ‘You’re hurting me.’
‘There is no time to lose, Nesta, I need to know exactly what he said. Now come, we will return to our rooms and you will recount the conversation, every word.’ The two women continued along the path but just as they were about to enter the gate, a knight of William stepped out and stopped them in their tracks.
‘Stop right there, ladies,’ he said, ‘there have been developments.’
‘Out of my way,’ said Gwladus, ‘we are residents of the palace.’
‘Not any more, you’re not,’ said the soldier. ‘Lady Nesta, I have been instructed to escort you to the castle at Windsor without delay. I have a cart waiting, or you can have a horse, if you so prefer.’
‘Windsor?’ said Nesta. ‘But our rooms are here.’
‘I know not the politics, my lady, only that you are denied access and will be transferred to Windsor immediately.’
‘This is nonsense,’ said Gwladus, ‘all her things are in her rooms, let us pass.’
‘Her possessions will be transferred by the morning, but alas you, my lady, will not pass through this gate today, nor any other day.’
‘I am a queen in my own right,’ snapped Gwladus, ‘and want to see the king. Send him word immediately.’
‘Lady.’ The guard sighed. ‘This is by the king’s command. Now I suggest the lady Nesta comes peacefully or I will have her dragged like a common criminal. I also suggest you seek lodgings for yourself while there is still light, the king has graciously issued you a purse.’ He threw a small leather pouch on the floor at Gwladus’ feet.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Gwladus slowly. ‘Surely I am to accompany my daughter?’
‘Alas not, the instruction is for her only.’
‘I’m not going anywhere without my mother,’ started Nesta and grabbed Gwladus’ arm.
‘I was afraid it would come to this.’ The guard sighed. ‘I tried to be kind, now I have to do it the hard way.’
With a flick of his hand he gave a signal and two men ran from behind the gate to grab Nesta. The young woman screamed and tried to fight but the men were experienced soldiers and dragged her through the gate to a waiting cart. Gwladus tried to follow but the knight pushed her back and she went sprawling into the mud.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said the knight, ‘this has already gone far enough. Take the purse and find lodgings before you are arrested and tried as an enemy spy.’
‘Is that what this is about?’ gasped Gwladus. ‘The fact that we are Welsh?’
‘Like I said, lady, I know not the politics but I guess that in the circumstances, your nationality doesn’t help. Now, be gone or I will bring the dogs.’
Gwladus picked up the purse and walked backward away from the gate, her head spinning with how fast the situation was changing.
‘Nesta,’ she called over the guard’s head, ‘be strong. I will travel to Windsor as soon as I can. Don’t worry, I will be there soon.’ With that she turned and walked towards the bridge over the Thames, fully aware that despite her promises, she had no idea what she was going to do.
Windsor Castle
June 15th, AD 1095
Nesta sat alone in a locked room within a wooden keep. Two lonely and confusing days had passed and still she was no closer to understanding the forces that had brought her here, or where her mother was. The door was locked from the outside, as it had been since her arrival, and her chest of clothes sat in the corner. The castle consisted of a wooden palisade surrounding a very large bailey and unlike most of the other castles she had seen, contained two keeps, one of which was on the higher ground within the castle’s perimeter. Nesta knew she was in the lower keep but apart from that, knew very little else.
She had arrived in darkness and though she had fought and protested throughout the whole journey, her resistance was pointless and she was pushed into the room with naught but the clothes she stood in. Since then her captors had brought food and drink and made up the fire but had steadfastly refused to discuss her predicament. Finally, she had given up shouting and considered her situation.
Nesta was fully aware that prisoners of royal birth were often incarcerated for many years by some kings but that was usually in cells or dungeons. If this was indeed a similar predicament, then her cell was at least comfortable – though she knew that to attempt escape was futile.
A single window allowed the entry of sunlight but was far too high for her to contemplate escape. The room, though comfortable, was quite sparse. A large bed at one end of the room was accompanied by a single chair and a table upon which she ate her meals, while a rug dominated the floor. A fire burned in the hearth, for which she was grateful, and several candles lit the gloomy room, illuminating the many tapestries hanging on the walls.
Nesta felt tired and frightened. Being locked up was hard enough but not knowing what was happening was even worse. She flopped down on the bed for what seemed the hundredth time and tried to sleep but was soon jerked back awake by the sound of a key being turned. She jumped to her feet and faced the door, determined to give whoever was there a piece of her mind.
The door swung open, and to her surprise the guard entered closely followed by a woman and several servants. The first two brought a large bowl and towelling while the next two carried a bucket of steaming water between them. The last servants carried a pile of clothing each and laid it all out upon the bed.
‘What’s this?’ said Nesta, looking around as the servants poured the hot water into the bowl.
‘My lady,’ said the maid, obviously in charge of the others, ‘his majesty, Prince Henry, brother of King William the Second and son of William the Conqueror, invites you to dine with him in his quarters.’
‘Prince Henry lives here?’
‘On occasion. Currently he resides within these walls and specifically requested your presence this evening.’
‘Is that the reason I have been brought here?’ asked Nesta indignantly. ‘Just to sit at the table of a foreign noble I have never met?’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ said the woman, ‘and only know I have been sent here to help you prepare. The servants will wash you and there is a selection of clothing upon the bed, most of which should fit you well. Once we are done, I will escort you to the royal chambers where you will meet Prince Henry and share his fayre.’
‘And what if I refuse?’
‘That is entirely your choice but I suspect you will stay incarcerated within these four walls until such time that the prince would enjoy your company.’
Nesta’s first thought was to create a scene but realising there may be an opportunity to ask the prince about her mother, she finally nodded her agreement.
‘So be it,’ she said haughtily, ‘but dismiss your servants, I am more than capable of dressing myself.’
‘As you wish,’ said the maid with a slight bow. ‘If you need anything, just knock on your door and the guard will notify me. I will be on the next floor down and can be here in moments.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nesta and she watched the woman leave, before flinching at the sound of the lock being thrown once again.
Two hours later Nesta sat on her bed, waiting to be summoned. Sure enough, the maid came back and made Nesta stand as she walked around her, inspecting her dress and her hair.
‘Give me the brush,’ she said quietly and Nesta waited patiently as the woman brushed Nesta’s long, raven-black hair. ‘That’s better,’ said the maid eventually, ‘now put this on. We will do your hair again when we reach the other keep.’ She handed over a parcel wrapped in plain linen.
‘What’s this?’ asked Nesta.
‘Open it and you will see.’
Nesta unwrapped the parcel and held up a midnight-black cape, embroidered with trimming of the deepest red. The hood was edged with fox fur and the
whole thing was lined with silk.
‘Oh my,’ she gasped, ‘it is beautiful.’
‘It is yours, my lady, a gift from Henry himself.’
‘A gift, for me? Why would he do that?’
‘I do not know the minds of royalty, my lady, though suspect he may be enamoured of you.’
‘What is your name?’ asked Nesta.
‘The servants call me Lady Carla,’ said the woman, ‘for my mother is of Italian descent, but I am no lady, being the daughter of a humble groom.’
‘May I call you Carla?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then let me say this, Carla, if your master thinks he can buy his way into my affections with a simple gift then he is very much mistaken. I have been treated abysmally and know not where my mother is. That is the only reason I will tolerate this tyrant, to better our circumstances.’
‘I heard you had spirit, my lady, and can see the gossipers did not lie. I am sure your dinner will be eventful, for the prince is also of strong character.’
‘We will see,’ said Nesta, donning the cape. ‘Now lead the way, Carla, let’s get this over with.’
When they reached the upper keep, the guards outside the imposing door made Nesta remove her hood so they could see who she was. Satisfied she was no threat, they let her in and both she and Carla made their way up the stairway to the upper rooms. Finally, Carla showed her into a side room where she produced the brush and proceeded to redo Nesta’s hair.
‘Satisfied now?’ asked Nesta eventually.
‘You want to look your best, my lady,’ said Carla, ‘for this is the second most powerful man in Britannia.’
‘Titles do not impress me, Carla.’
‘Perhaps not, but consider this. If you make him happy then perhaps he would be more enamoured to help you with your mother.’
‘A point well made,’ said Nesta, ‘so I will try to stop myself removing his eyes with my nails.’
Nesta watched as Carla unsuccessfully stifled a giggle but before she could utter a word, the door opened and a male servant appeared.
‘His Highness will see you now,’ he announced and stood to one side as Nesta crossed the floor.
‘My lady,’ said Carla, just before she left the room.
‘Yes, Carla?’ said Nesta turning around.
‘Just . . . be careful,’ she said and before Nesta could answer, she pushed past to walk down the stairs.
Nesta stepped through the double doors and was immediately hit by the warmth inside the room. A fire roared in the hearth and hundreds of candles sat in decorative holders all around the walls. She thought her own quarters were comfortable, but in comparison, they were a hovel. Carpets covered the floor from wall to wall and rich tapestries, glowing in colour, depicted hunting scenes from royal life. In the middle of the room, a table was set up covered with a white linen cloth and set out with platters of highly polished silver. The goblets seemed to be of gold, and bowls of fruit like she had never seen before lay between the only two place settings present. The doors closed behind her and she looked around, seeking her host – but he was nowhere to be seen. She wandered around the room, examining the opulence on display.
‘See anything you like?’ asked a voice and she spun around to stare at the man who had emerged from a side chamber.
‘You,’ she stuttered, ‘what are you doing here, I mean . . . are you . . .’
‘Yet again you seem lost for words,’ said the man, ‘so let me make this easy for you. Yes, I am the same man who rescued you from embarrassment at the king’s banquet a few days ago, and just to clear up any confusion, my name is Henry Beauclerc, and yes, I am the king’s brother.’
‘I had no idea,’ whispered Nesta, ‘you should have said.’
‘If I remember correctly, there was no time for discourse for I was whisked away on matters of the court and by the time I had returned, you had gone.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ said Nesta, ‘my mother and I retired for the night.’
‘Understandable,’ said Henry, ‘still, no harm done. Why don’t we be seated and we can get to know each other a little better?’
Nesta made her way over to the table and one of the servants pulled back a chair for her to sit.
‘Thank you,’ said Nesta, sitting down and straightening her dress.
‘Would you like some wine?’ asked Henry.
‘Just a little, thank you.’
They waited for the servant to finish pouring before raising their goblets.
‘To you,’ said Henry.
Nesta laughed. ‘I’m not going to toast myself so may I suggest, the house of Tewdwr?’
Henry paused and stared at Nesta. Her suggestion bordered on the verge of contempt but she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with defiance. Finally, he smiled and raised his goblet once again.
‘The house of Tewdwr,’ he replied, inclining his head as he joined Nesta in drinking to the king’s enemy.
‘So,’ said Henry, replacing his goblet on the table, ‘I would imagine you have many questions.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Nesta, replacing her own goblet, ‘and though I do not wish to spoil what promises to be an interesting evening, perhaps it would be better to get the more unpleasant ones out of the way before we start.’
‘I agree,’ said the prince, ‘so ask your questions, Lady Nesta, and perhaps you may end up seeing that I am not the tyrant you think I am.’
‘My first question, my lord, is very simple. Why am I being held here against my will? I have committed no crime yet you have abducted my person and locked me away like a common criminal.’
‘The question is indeed very simple,’ replied Henry, nodding towards the servants to start serving the meal, ‘yet the answer is quite complex. First of all, you are not seen as a criminal, merely a guest of the king. Indeed, once the current situation in Wales settles down, you are seen as a potentially important ally to the Crown.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You are a princess of Deheubarth, Nesta, and a very attractive one at that. The king is fully aware that your family name commands a lot of respect in the south of your country and as such, hopes that one day, when you marry, you will be open to treaties between our countries. To that end, he ensures you are treated well and has even instructed our command in Deheubarth to hold back from destroying your castles.’
‘If I am truly not a prisoner, as you suggest,’ said Nesta, ‘why am I locked in my room?’
‘Ah yes, an unfortunate situation but a necessary one. The reason for that is simple, Lady Nesta, and one which I am sure you will understand.’
‘Please continue.’
‘As you are aware, the political situation has changed in Wales and as such, my brother is forced to undertake a campaign to subdue some rebellion that seems to have flared up near the marches.’
‘You talk of Cadwgan?’
‘Indeed. Do you know of him?’
‘I do. A surly man with no manners yet one with a fire in his heart that burns for his country.’
‘Similar to yours, I would venture.’
‘Yes, my heart burns for my homeland but I am no murderer. A statement that cannot be similarly made on behalf of Cadwgan.’
‘Ah yes, I seem to remember a report that he once campaigned against your father.’
‘Twice,’ said Nesta, ‘yet was defeated on both occasions.’
‘So you hold no allegiance to him?’
‘No, yet I am closer to his politics than I am to those of your brother.’
‘And therein lies the problem,’ said Henry.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The thing is,’ continued the prince, ‘William is about to set out on a campaign against this rebel and has the full support of the English nobles at his back. Already the corridors of Westminster echo with excitement at the thought of a new campaign. However, even though you are not directly linked to this Cadwgan, the ladies of the court only see the fact tha
t you are Welsh and your presence, along with your mother’s, will kindle fear and conspiracy. If not against the king, then certainly against you.’
‘So you brought me here for my own safety?’
‘That is one reason, but I have to admit, your constant ridiculing of the suitors brought before you was becoming an embarrassment to the king, and as such it was decided a while ago to move you here.’
‘And my mother?’
‘Alas your mother holds little importance to the king.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she has lived her life and will give birth to no more sons to rise against us. You, however, are a different thing altogether. You are seen as a powerful potential wife for any man strong enough to take you on; you could bear many sons. To William, that makes you either a dangerous enemy or a powerful ally. He just can’t decide which.’
‘Even so, that doesn’t explain why he kicked an old woman out into the muck of London.’
‘He had to do something for the benefit of the court. Too many people already whisper he treats you two better than some of his own. It was a gesture, no more. But fear not, she was given a healthy purse. Your mother will come to no harm.’
‘The words come easy to you, my lord, yet I fear the reality may be different. She is a Welsh queen in an English city at a time when there could be war between the two countries. Even if we end up enemies, surely chivalry demands that a royal foe is treated with respect and dignity.’
‘Granted,’ said Henry, ‘but alas the decision was not mine.’
‘Perhaps it was not yours at the time, but your allowance of the situation to proceed unchecked does you no favours. I beseech thee, my lord, if there is anything you can do to find out if she is alive, then show me you are a man greater than your brother, crown or no crown.’
Nesta picked up her goblet and sipped at her wine as Henry stared at her in amusement. Finally, he beckoned to a nearby manservant to come over, and after whispering something in his ear, dismissed him immediately before turning back to face Nesta.
‘I can promise nothing,’ he said, ‘but will see what I can do. Now, shall we eat?’