by K. M. Ashman
‘I found him like this,’ spluttered the cook, ‘I swear.’
The soldier with the torch leaned forward and everyone gasped at the pool of blood around the earl’s head.
‘His throat’s been cut,’ said the soldier, ‘while we were running around the bailey looking for the assassin, he must have been up here all the time.’ He looked around at his comrades, all staring in horror at the scene before them. The Earl of Chester was dead at last, murdered in his own quarters.
Down in the village, Guy pulled on the reins of the horse team as he reached the rear of the tavern. His father came out to meet him and looked up with concern in his eyes.
‘Guy,’ he said with relief, ‘you have returned.’
His son climbed down from the cart and tied the horses’ reins to the hitching rail.
‘Well,’ said Beatty, ‘did you do it?’
Guy shook his head.
‘D’Avranches realised his food was poisoned,’ he replied, ‘and metes out punishment as we speak. I fear it is only a matter of time before our involvement is suspected. We have to get away from here.’
‘What about Cynwrig?’
‘I don’t know where he is,’ said Guy. ‘It seems like he escaped into the night and is probably back in Wales by now.’
‘No,’ said Beatty, ‘that cannot be. He seemed like an honest man. There’s no way he would leave us to face this alone, especially as he hasn’t paid us yet.’
‘We cannot expect any payment,’ said Guy, ‘the earl is not dead.’
‘Oh, yes, he is,’ said a muffled voice and both men turned in shock as one of the barrels was pushed to one side, revealing a hidden man in the centre.
‘Cynwrig,’ gasped Guy, ‘how did you get in there?’
‘I have been here since this afternoon,’ said Cynwrig, ‘hoping someone would be bringing these empty casks for refilling.’
‘But I thought you climbed down the palisade last night.’
‘I was going to,’ said Cynwrig as he climbed down from the cart, ‘but I heard that the earl was still alive and such was the confusion amongst the guards, I took the opportunity to sneak back into the keep. In the dark, I managed to get to Huw’s bedchamber without being seen. I hid under the bed until earlier and then . . .’
Beatty and Guy stared at the blood-sodden Cynwrig, needing no further explanation.
‘Let’s just say that my family have been avenged,’ said Cynwrig, ‘but you are right, you have to get away.’ He reached into his jerkin and retrieved the leather purse. ‘Here’s the money, as promised. Do with it what you will but I suggest you get as far away from here as you can.’
‘What about you?’ asked Guy.
‘As soon as I can get my horse saddled I will ride away with all haste. With luck I can be back amongst the hills of Wales before nightfall.’
‘Will we see you again?’ asked Beatty.
‘I think not,’ said Cynwrig. ‘I have carried the burden of revenge within me for many years but now it is done, I have a different path to tread.’
‘Then fare ye well, my friend,’ said Beatty.
‘And you,’ said Cynwrig, but one last thing ‘Do you know of any man in Chester known as Tom the Horse?’
‘I do,’ said Guy. ‘I have shared ale with him on many occasions. He works on a farm not far from here.’
‘Can you give him something for me?’ asked Cynwrig.
‘Of course.’
Cynwrig flicked a gold coin through the air.
‘Give him this,’ he said, ‘and tell him it’s for a handful of oats he once gave a starving man. He will understand.’ And without another word, Cynwrig turned towards the stable where his horse was waiting.
Windsor Castle
April 7th, AD 1102
Nesta stood at the window of her solar, looking out over the rooftops of Windsor. Her mind was whirling with the events of the past few weeks and though at first she had refused to believe the physicians, her body now confirmed something she had suspected for a long time. She was pregnant with Henry’s child.
Her hand crept unconsciously to her belly, as if needing reassurance that this was really happening for though she wasn’t averse to the idea, they had been careful to avoid any pregnancy, so as not to cause complications in their relationship. Alas, it now seemed it had all been in vain and though Nesta knew it meant the future was uncertain, deep inside she felt a warm happiness from the knowledge that she was going to be a mother.
She turned away from the window and walked over to sit at the table. All morning she had wondered how to tell the king she was pregnant with his child and had finally decided to send him a confidential letter. She picked up the quill pen and stared at the blank parchment before dipping the point in the ink and starting to write.
An hour or so later, Carla arrived with afternoon refreshments just as Nesta was applying a wax seal to the document.
‘Carla,’ said Nesta, ‘your timing is impeccable. I have just finished a letter for the king. Can you arrange for it to be sent with the next batch of dispatches?’
‘Of course, my lady,’ said Carla.
‘It is for his eyes only,’ said Nesta. ‘Ensure the messenger relays that information when handing over the document.’
‘I will,’ said the servant.
‘Good,’ said Nesta, ‘now please sit down. I have some important news to share.’
Ten days later, Nesta sat embroidering a small tapestry by the light of several candles. Her mood was happy as although Henry had still not replied, the realisation she was going to be a mother became stronger by the day. A knock came at the door and even though she was not expecting anyone, she placed her embroidery to one side and looked over, hoping it was a message from Henry announcing his imminent arrival.
‘Come in,’ she said, and she smiled as her personal maid entered the room.
‘My lady,’ said the servant, ‘I have just received some worrying news from Westminster. The queen is coming here on the morrow.’
‘The queen?’ gasped Nesta, getting up from her chair. ‘Matilda is coming here?’
‘She is, my lady, and I have been instructed to prepare chambers in the main keep.’
‘Why is she coming to Windsor?’ asked Nesta. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘That’s the thing, my lady, she has stated she wants a private audience with you at noon tomorrow.’
Nesta sat back in the chair, staring into the fire.
‘I have never spoken a word to the queen,’ she said slowly. I know she is aware of me, for it was agreed with Henry but apparently I was never seen as a problem to her. What could possibly bring her to Windsor?’
Carla shook her head.
‘I have no idea, my lady,’ she said, ‘but I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nesta, ‘that will be all.’
‘As you wish, my lady,’ said Carla and she left Nesta alone in her room.
The following morning dragged for the Welsh princess. She had watched from her window as the royal wagon train entered through the upper gate and saw the queen enter the keep on the top of the hill.
Halfway through the morning, Carla arrived to make sure Nesta was dressed appropriately and soon they were walking across the courtyard, Nesta’s mind racing as to the reason the queen had come across from London to see her.
‘My lady,’ said Carla as they paused before the reception hall in the keep, ‘I have heard the queen is a dangerous woman. That combined with your temper is a recipe for upset. I beseech thee that whatever her reasons for summoning you here, please make every effort to remain calm.’
‘I know of the queen’s reputation,’ said Nesta, ‘and have no reason to cause her upset. Indeed, it is in my interests to make sure our relationship is as amicable as possible.’ Her hand crept to her belly again.
Carla turned to the guard on the door. ‘Princess Nesta is ready,’ she said, ‘please announce her.’
‘There is
no need to be announced,’ said the guard dismissively, ‘the queen is waiting. Please go in.’
Nesta stepped through the door and heard it close behind her. In the middle of the room, Matilda sat motionless in an ornately carved chair, waiting patiently for her visitor. Nesta had never seen Matilda close up and was surprised to see she was a lot older than herself and very attractive. At either side of the queen stood two elegantly dressed ladies-in-waiting, staring haughtily at the Welsh princess. A few paces in front of the queen’s chair was a hard stool and a simple side table, obviously placed there for Nesta’s convenience.
‘Majesty,’ said Nesta curtseying low, ‘you wanted to see me.’
‘Indeed,’ said the queen getting up from her chair.
Nesta waited nervously as the queen walked over to stand before her. Matilda looked her up and down before walking slowly around her guest, taking in every detail she could about the woman she had never met. Nesta stayed motionless, waiting to be addressed until finally, Matilda returned to her chair and turned to address her ladies-in-waiting.
‘Leave us,’ she said, and the servants curtsied before leaving the two royal women alone in the room.
‘So,’ said Matilda coldly, ‘you are the seductress who has captured my husband’s heart.’
‘My lady,’ said Nesta, ‘I don’t understand—’
‘Sit down, Princess Nesta,’ said Matilda. She sipped on a goblet of honeyed water as she waited for Nesta to make herself as comfortable as possible on the stool.
‘Please, join me,’ said the queen with a forced smile, indicating another goblet on the table next to Nesta. Nesta did not particularly want to partake in any refreshment, but her throat was dry through nerves and anticipation. Fearing she may not be able to speak, she gratefully acknowledged the offer and picked up the goblet, noting that though it was beautifully carved, it was made from wood and nowhere near the value of the one in Matilda’s hand. Someone had obviously gone to great lengths to ensure Nesta was reminded her station was far beneath that of a queen.
‘You know full well what I am talking about, Princess Nesta,’ continued Matilda, ‘for there has been an unspoken agreement between us since before I married Henry. We may not share conversations but as we both know, we share the king’s affections.’
‘I thought this situation was agreeable to you,’ replied Nesta.
‘Agreeable? No. A necessary part of my station? Perhaps. The thing is,’ she continued, placing her goblet back on a side table, ‘I am not stupid enough to believe I can solely command my husband’s attentions, especially in the bedchamber, for such is the way of kings. I am fully aware he holds a deep affection for you, but no more so than several other women I could name.’
Nesta slowly lowered her own goblet to the table, the drink still untasted.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘Oh, come on,’ said the queen, ‘surely you didn’t think you were the only one?’
When Nesta didn’t answer, the queen let out a short laugh.
‘Well, this is indeed a revelation,’ she continued. ‘Nesta, I’m sorry to be the one to break such news but you are just one of many. Oh, I’m sure you are one of his favourites, after all, you are a very beautiful woman, but still, it was very naïve of you to think a king of England keeps his affections to just two women.’
Nesta stared right through the queen, not knowing what to say.
‘Anyway,’ continued the queen, ‘I digress. The reason I am here is to discuss the bastard child in your womb.’
Nesta gasped in shock. Nobody else knew she was pregnant except Carla, and the servant would never betray her, she was sure of that.
‘Oh, don’t look so surprised,’ said the queen, throwing a rolled parchment on the table. ‘Surely you didn’t think the king opened his own letters?’
Nesta recognised the document as the one she had sent the king days earlier.
‘It was marked personal,’ said Nesta quietly, ‘and was for his eyes only.’
‘No doubt it was,’ said Matilda, ‘but he is a busy man, and not just in the beds of the court ladies.’
‘Why exactly are you here?’ snapped Nesta.
‘Ah, there it is,’ said Matilda, sitting back in the chair, ‘the short temper you are apparently famed for.’
‘I can assure you this is not a temper, Majesty, just frustration. You have come a long way to speak to me and I would wager it is not just to destroy my love of your husband, for if it is, I can assure you it will not work. Even if these stories are true, I cannot deny my feelings.’
‘I was worried you would say that,’ said the queen, ‘but you are correct, I have not come here for something as trivial as the king’s lust. I am here to tell you that you will be leaving Windsor within the month.’
Nesta’s eyes narrowed in confusion and she shook her head.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘is the king sending me away?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Matilda, ‘you will leave of your own free will and what is more, before you go you will tell my husband that you no longer love him and never want to see him again.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Nesta,’ said Matilda, ‘let me be frank with you. You are not the only pregnant one in this room.’
Nesta stared at the queen and her eyes travelled downward toward Matilda’s belly.
‘I may not show yet,’ said Matilda, ‘but I can assure you I am also with child. Obviously, the king is delighted, as am I. At least, I was until I found out you too were carrying the king’s baby; assuming of course, it is actually his.’
‘Of course it is,’ snapped Nesta. ‘I have lain with no other man.’
‘Well, in that case, you can understand my consternation. Both of us will give the king a child in the next few months and if we both have boys, then mine will become heir to the throne while yours will be a minor inconvenience. However, there is a potential problem. If I have a girl and you have a son, then Henry will pay your child far more attention than it deserves and even if I have a male child in the future, by then Henry may have grown far too close to yours, even perhaps favouring him in matters of succession.’
‘But any son of mine could never be king.’
‘These are troubled times, Nesta, who knows what is possible? Especially as a son of an English king and a Welsh princess could have the potential to unite both countries.’
‘Why is that a bad thing?’
‘Because it would mean that a future child of mine is denied the throne,’ said the queen, ‘and that, my pretty little Welsh princess, is never going to happen. So, you must tell the king that you no longer care for him.’
‘I don’t understand, why not just let me leave?’
‘Because if you just disappear, he will come after you. I know he is coming here in a few days so I want you to make him believe you no longer have feelings for him. That way, you will be no more than a mere memory in a few months’ time and the route to succession will be clear.’
‘And the baby?’
‘Henry will find out soon enough but by then, you will be far away and distance has a way of cooling the ardour.’
‘I can’t do it to him,’ said Nesta looking down at the floor.
‘You can and you will,’ said Matilda. ‘For your own sake, and for that of your child.’
Nesta’s head snapped upward.
‘My child?’ she said. ‘What do you mean, my child?’
‘You heard me,’ said Matilda, ‘like I said, these are troubled times and you live alone here in Windsor, a dangerous place in a time of war between your country and mine. Anything could happen to you. You could fall down the stairs, or be poisoned by bad food. You could even be murdered in your sleep by some unknown assassin loyal to the English throne. The possibilities are endless.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ gasped Nesta.
‘Nesta,’ said Matilda, ignoring her question, ‘my position as queen puts me in contact with
many people. Some are indeed delightful but as you can imagine, some are, shall we say, not so nice and they have access to others who are downright despicable.’
‘What is your point?’
‘I have a very inquisitive mind, Nesta, and oft listen to tales from the castle guards, men hardened by warfare who have witnessed death and torture in all their forms. I find their tales of slaughter and suffering strangely fascinating. Sick, I know, but that is the way it is. Now, these men have sworn allegiance to the king and by default, me. That means any instruction I give will be carried out without question.’
‘The knights of this castle are good men,’ replied Nesta, ‘and despite their loyalty, even they may baulk at taking the life of a royal without judgement from the king.’
‘Perhaps so,’ said the queen, ‘but like I said earlier, if you were to suffer an unexplained accident, then I would be duty-bound to take Henry’s child into our protective custody. After that, who knows what could happen? Of course, I would do all I could to look after the brat but I can’t be everywhere and it would be awful if it were to be abducted and end up in some torture chamber or whore house. I hear they pay good coin for children of both sexes these days.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ gasped Nesta standing up from her chair. ‘What sort of woman threatens an unborn child while carrying her own in her womb?’
‘Threatens?’ said the queen with a sickly smile. ‘I don’t recall making a threat. I was just pointing out the horrible possibilities that could befall a mother or child without a chaperone.’
‘N-no,’ stuttered Nesta, taking a step backward. ‘You cannot do this. Henry will never allow it.’
The queen stood up and stared at the distraught princess.
‘Ah, Henry,’ said the queen. ‘I wondered when you would invoke my husband’s name. It would be such a shame if he were to hear your assumptions. After all, it is so unfortunate when family members argue. Talking about family, how is your mother these days?’
‘My mother,’ asked Nesta. ‘Why do you mention her?’
‘No real reason, it just occurred to me that she lives quite alone, with naught but a few guards to protect her. Even in that quaint castle of yours, it would be such an easy task for brigands to break in and rape her before putting her to the sword. Anyway, let’s hope that never happens.’ Her smile disappeared and she stared at Nesta with cold eyes and a colder heart. ‘Henry will not know of this conversation,’ she growled, ‘do I make myself clear?’