Caitlyn Box Set

by Elizabeth Davies

  ‘Godwin is too big for his boots. Edward should never have married the man’s daughter.’ William slumped in his chair, every line of him portraying weariness. The past few days had not been easy on him, and the dash from Bruges to Falaise had been brutal. I know, because my backside still felt raw.

  ‘Sense does not come into it,’ William continued, iron in his voice. ‘Godwin has no claim to the throne. I do. England is mine, as long as Edward remains childless.’

  Chapter 8

  Matilda could not renege on her word now, not without some major upheaval to justify it. Not that she appeared to be wanting to do so – yet – but William was understandably concerned and his anxiety grew with every passing day.

  As did Arlette’s.

  It was six weeks since the spell was cast and only now was William meeting his bride properly for the first time. Both parties were nervous, but for differing reasons. The maiden was still smitten with William, and her apprehension was reflected in the way she kept smoothing her skirts with her hands as she sat at her father’s side, and the way her gaze kept darting to the face of her husband-to-be. When she looked at him, she had love in her eyes. I wondered how long it would be before it faded.

  William’s nervousness also stemmed from the uncertainty of how long the enchantment would last. He would never acknowledge the part his mother had played in the betrothal, but he must be wondering when the spell that Arlette had cast on his bride would lose its efficacy, especially since his mother was urging undue haste.

  Baldwin has chosen to receive William and his entourage in the imposing great hall. I thought Normandy’s castles and palaces were striking, but Baldwin’s was even more so. Apparently, it was fashioned on the French king’s court, a man who seemed to enjoy the best that life, and wealth, could offer. The great hall of Baldwin’s palace was tiled in marble, from the floor to the ceiling, different coloured stone creating a mosaic of patterns. There were rich furnishings, polished wood, silver goblets, and gilding everywhere. Baldwin, himself, wore a tunic of the finest emerald silk, shot through with gold embroidery. He clearly wanted to display his wealth and good taste.

  ‘Can we agree on a date, my lord?’ William asked the Count.

  Baldwin waved a hand. ‘Later, later. First, we should discuss the terms of the peace treaty.’ His glare was not kindly. ‘Our two countries almost went to war,’ he added, as if William was unaware of the situation.

  William bowed his head in acknowledgment. ‘For that, I am heartily sorry,’ he said.

  From my unique angle under the table, I saw his face, and “sorry” was not on it. No wonder he kept his head down.

  I batted his leg with a sheathed paw. He stiffened, then his eyes widened as he noticed me. My smile most likely looked as though I was baring my teeth at him. He returned the sentiment for a heartbeat, then was all dukely once more. It confirmed my suspicion that he knew I was his mother’s creature. Whether he knew the cat was me, Caitlyn, or thought it was another manifestation of his mother’s dark powers, I could not be sure, but I suspected he did. It was the way he looked at me… I had the feeling he had always known.

  Ignoring Baldwin, William’s attention was on Matilda as he got to his feet and walked slowly around the table. Both Baldwin’s and William’s nobles shuffled uncertainly at this break in protocol.

  Do not hit her again, William. I pleaded. Once had been enough. Twice would be overkill and unnecessary, though another lock of Matilda’s hair might come in handy if the betrothal dragged on.

  I inched further to the Count’s side of the table to track William’s progress, and wished I could see their faces.

  My wish came true in part, as William abruptly dropped to one knee in front of his bride. ‘Lady Matilda. I formally ask for your hand in marriage, and offer you my body, my heart, and my country, if you consent to become my wife.’

  I had not expected that.

  A pause, then William added, his voice hoarse with emotion, ‘Will you have me, my love?’

  Matilda’s toes curled inside her fine leather slippers, and her hands twisted in her lap. Darn it, but I really wanted to see her face.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ She spoke quietly but clearly, and her voice was firm and sure.

  No backing out now, my dear, I thought. You have pledged yourself to him in front of the whole court. We could only pray that the enchantment would hold until the vows were said. An unwilling Matilda who had decided this man was actually not for her, would be a problem indeed, and she had a habit of breaking with convention. If she suddenly changed her mind, would her father force her hand, or would he let his daughter back out of the arrangement? I had no wish to find out.

  I peered up from my hiding place as William stretched out a hand to his bride. Matilda took it, inhaling sharply when his lips touched her skin.

  ‘Daughter?’ Count Baldwin asked.

  ‘I am well satisfied with my husband,’ she declared, louder this time, for the whole court to hear.

  ‘Good. You may leave us,’ her father said. ‘I am sure you wish to prepare for the feast tonight.’ With the link between the two countries forged, Baldwin clearly wanted to add some shape to the chain, and I would bet that the terms of peace would weigh heavily in the Count’s favour. It mattered not, for William had England up his sleeve, with all her lands and wealth. He did not need Baldwin’s.

  I followed Matilda out of the hall, fully intending to accompany the girl to her private rooms, as instructed by Arlette (I did not think my mistress would rest until the vows were said and the girl was bedded) but when a name spoken by one of her gentlewomen caught my attention, I paused, my ears pricking up.

  Tostig.

  Not an uncommon name to be sure, but not one I had expected to hear in a palace in Flanders. The man to whom it belonged had stepped to the side to allow Matilda and her ladies to pass, and he smiled as he saw the speaker. The woman caught hold of his arm, halted, and waited for the rest of the gaggle of skirts to walk on ahead.

  I too halted, and studied his features. Coarse fair hair, blue eyes, pale skin reddened by the sun, Tostig displayed a Danish colouring as well as having a Danish name.

  I could not be certain, for I didn’t know how common such a name was in Denmark, but one thing I did know, and it was this piece of information which had stopped me in my tracks, was that Tostig was the name of one of Godwin’s sons. Considering Earl Godwin had been in all our thoughts recently I considered it only prudent to dally for a while. It was probably nothing, but just in case…

  I found the nearest dim shadow and hid in it, crouching low, hearing Matilda’s voice and those of her ladies fade as they trotted away down the hallway. Never mind, I would track her down again soon enough. It was Tostig who warranted my attention now.

  The woman who had called out to him smiled seductively and batted her eyelashes, her hand still resting on his arm, and spoke in rapid French.

  ‘Are you back so soon?’ she simpered. ‘I heard a rumour of your return to Flanders and I hoped it was true. Have you missed me?’ She swung her whole body from side to side coquettishly, setting her skirts swishing as she gazed up into his face from underneath her unbound hair. Her invitation was as obvious as if she had shouted it out in church

  Tostig’s French was halting and stilted. ‘We are… er… I do not know the word… made to visit?’ he replied, his eyes on her bosom. There was a considerable amount of it on show.

  ‘Pardon?’ She giggled, and more swishing and fluttering followed.

  Tostig’s expression darkened and his gaze left her cleavage, to come to rest on her face. ‘King Edward,’ Tostig spat out the name as if it were a piece of gristle, ‘has sent us away from England. We are not to return.’ He shook his head and muttered in English, ‘What is the fucking French word for exile? Bollocks!’

  I froze, unexpected emotion flooding my mind; decades-old pain and regret, and a terrible homesickness. It had been many years since I had heard anyone speak English. Images
flashed behind my eyes – Wulfstan, Idris, Cai, Alfred – and I shut them down swiftly before they had a chance to show me anything else. Rarely now did I take my memories out of the box to study them, and this was neither the time nor the place.

  Tostig found the word he searched for. ‘Exile! That’s it!’ he exclaimed in terrible French.

  The woman smiled warmly at him. ‘You have been exiled by your king?’

  Tostig sighed and nodded.

  ‘Just you?’ she asked.

  ‘All of us; my father, mother, me, Sweyn, Harold, and Gyrth. That fucking little shit! If Edward thinks he can get away with this—’ The latter was said in his own language and once again I flinched at hearing it.

  Then the pieces fell into place and I let out a small growl. That was why King Edward had summoned William. There was no love lost between Edward and his Danish earls, and I suspected it was due to many reasons: the Danes had seized the English throne when Edward’s father, the former king, had died; the new king, Canute had sent Edward and Alfred into exile; Canute had also married Edward’s mother; the Danes had murdered Alfred… There were possibly more, but these were the reasons which immediately sprang to mind. And of all the Danes in England, Godwin, Earl of Wessex, was the most powerful and influential.

  Edward, though, was playing the long game. He must have realised that he couldn’t oust Godwin and his sons, so he attempted to appease his enemy by marrying Godwin’s daughter, Edith. Edward, I recalled, had been the one with the brains, Alfred had been the one with the brawn. And the handsome face. Not that it had done the poor sod much good, for Alfred was long dead and Edward was still very much alive.

  Once again, I surmised that Edward probably never had any intention of begetting an heir on his Danish queen, for there was no way Edward would ever tolerate anyone with Godwin’s blood running through his veins sitting on the throne of England. Especially not when there was a cousin of his available to do the job. Besides, William’s father, Duke Robert, had provided sanctuary to Edward and his brother for all those years. I could see that William must be the logical choice in Edward’s eyes.

  By exiling Godwin and those numerous sons of his, and by sending for William, Edward was beginning to move his chess pieces into position. The question was, would Godwin allow himself to be check-mated, or did he have another move planned?

  The woman giggled, pulling me back to the here and now, and I waited to see if Tostig would drop any more crumbs for me to follow.

  ‘England’s loss is Flanders’s gain,’ she said, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. ‘I, for one, am glad you are here.’

  ‘Pardon me, my lady, but I am not, however nice it is to see you again. My father will not take this lying down.’

  Again? I wondered how often Tostig had visited Baldwin’s court, and why. What did Godwin hope to gain from Flanders? Maybe he had been after Matilda for one of his brood. Too late, I gloated, she belonged to William now.

  ‘I must go,’ the woman said. ‘Lady Matilda will be asking for me.’ She offered him a small curtsey and had taken a step when Tostig put out a hand and caught hold of her.

  ‘Was the Bastard of Normandy in there?’ He jerked his head towards the magnificent room behind me. His shoulders were hunched and he glowered at the door that Matilda, her gentlewomen, and a small grey cat had just walked through.

  ‘My, my, word does travel fast, does it not?’ the lady said. ‘Yes, he is there. The Duke of Normandy has formally asked for Lady Matilda’s hand in marriage and she has accepted him.’

  I tried to recall who had been present and which one of them might be spying for Tostig (although spying for Godwin would be more accurate, for Tostig’s father was the powerhouse behind all his sons), but I failed. There had been too many people, too many unknown allegiances, and to be fair, it was no secret that William was in Flanders.

  But, did William know Godwin was here? Was he even aware that the man had been exiled? I was certain William would have mentioned it if he knew, though actually he might well have done, for I was not privy to every conversation which took place. But still…

  ‘And is the lady happy with this arrangement?’ Tostig asked.

  ‘Oh yes, very!’

  ‘I heard he attacked her in her own father’s city, and beat her unmercifully.’

  ‘He did, and she now loves him for it.’

  Tostig snorted. ‘If I had realised that a sound thrashing was the way to your mistress’s heart, I would have done exactly that a long time ago.’

  The woman let out an annoyed huff. Tostig shrugged, feigning a lack of concern, but the rest of him said something else. He held himself with more tension than a simple chance conversation warranted; his hands were curled into tight fists, and his knees were flexed as if ready to attack. As he turned away from the woman, his expression was clear. Tostig was very concerned indeed that William and Matilda were to marry, and I suspected it was not just because he wanted the lady for himself.

  I took an educated guess as to what the real reason might be, and made haste to report my news to William.

  ‘Caitlyn, I want you to remain in Flanders until the wedding,’ William said, once he had listened to what I had overheard.

  As I suspected would be the way of it, William, and Walter (who insisted on staying to hear what I had to say) had taken the news of Godwin’s exile very well indeed. With Godwin and his sons physically removed from the possibility of succession, William’s path to the throne of England was gradually being cleared of detritus. Matilda was a done deal and Earl Godwin, though he had no blood claim on England, was apparently silenced politically, but as we both understood, appearances can be deceptive. Godwin would not take banishment lying down.

  I might understand the reason for having to stay, but I didn’t have to like it, and my expression must have revealed my dismay, for William hastened to clarify my role.

  ‘Matilda will undoubtedly bring an entourage of her own ladies and servants with her to Normandy,’ he explained, ‘but I want to present you to her as a bridge from her father’s court to mine. She will find Normandy’s customs different from those she has known, and I want you to ensure the smooth transition from the daughter of a count to the wife of a duke.’

  I was not convinced she needed any help in that department, nor of the amount of assistance I could offer her. After all, this was what she had been bred for and trained for her entire life. What could I, a mere gentlewoman, do to aid her?

  The only consolation was that I would be myself, and not Cat. But I still did not want to remain in Flanders. I wanted my own bed in Falaise and a life free from intrigue and spying – or at least, a few weeks of it, for no doubt William and Arlette would expect me to accompany him to England, shortly.

  ‘If Lord William wants you to stay, then stay you will,’ Walter declared, his chest puffed out with self-importance as he stuck his two pennies worth in.

  I did not bother to even look at him. The man should know better than to bluster and blow at me.

  ‘You know what I need, Cat,’ the duke said, his tone gentle and slightly pleading.

  I knew. I gave in, as I always did where William was concerned (not that I had much choice in the matter) and understood that he wanted me to spy for him. At least it was something I was particularly good at, and maybe, just maybe, I would be better placed if another lock of Matilda’s hair was required.

  I prayed it was not.

  Chapter 9

  Matilda didn’t like me, not one little bit, and I certainly didn’t blame her. Her eyes had narrowed the moment she saw me and I realised she must have recognised me from the square outside the church, as the woman who had called her by the pet name only her mother used, a name no one else knew.

  She also realised I was no mere thoughtful gift, like a jewel or a particularly fine fur. This gift she had been given, had eyes and ears, and a mouth to repeat what it saw and heard. It made her understandably wary of me and she made sure I was kept at arm’
s length. The fact that I had been introduced to her as a close confidant of William’s mother, did nothing to help my cause, either. What young bride wanted her mother-in-law’s snitch reporting on her every move?

  Thank you, William, I thought, you have made my situation considerably more uncomfortable. It also didn’t help that Matilda was uncertain as to my status and was therefore unsure how to treat me. From my clothes and demeanour, I was clearly no servant, yet my lack of a title (plain Lady Caitlyn) gave nothing away, no hint of what position I held in her betrothed’s court. I knew she had asked about me, but she had gleaned no more than that which she had already been told.

  Ah well, it might be better for the couple’s forthcoming nuptials if the maid did blame Arlette for foisting me upon her, rather than if she thought her soon-to-be-husband had done so himself. I suspected Matilda would not take to Arlette (not many did), so it would not matter if she thought her mother-in-law was spying on her – Matilda would hate the witch anyway.

  Arlette was not far from my mind, either. Every so often I felt her eyes on me, but so far I had nothing to report, although it was not for want of trying. However much Matilda might dislike Caitlyn, thankfully she was enamoured with Cat, greeting the purring feline winding itself through her skirts with delight, and I spent many a long hour in her company.

  ‘Where have you been, little one?’ she cried, bending to scoop me up into her arms. I let her do it, conscious of my need to play the part, although I hated being picked up.

  ‘Oh, you are so thin. Did you wander off, or get shut in somewhere? Elise, fetch me a bowl of milk and some finely diced meat. The poor thing is all skin and bone.’

  Pah! I was no different to the last time she had manhandled me, but if it made her happy to fuss and cosset me, then I let her do it. The more she pampered me, the less likely it was that I would come to any harm.