by Nerys Jones
The horses were led away, the huge wicker gate that formed the barrier between the world and the interior creaked open, and Godiva glimpsed the inner passages of the king’s secret place, the hidden fortress of Egg Ring. Despite the afternoon hour there seemed to be no light within, other than the flames of torches. She looked up and realized that the sky was shut out by a vast patchwork leather canopy that covered the entire enclosure. It was stamped with gilt and silver patterns, and inset with mirrors that sparkled like the stars in the night sky, and yet for all its richness this roof was suffocating and dispiriting. She felt as though she was about to be swallowed by a whale, and a wave of nausea swept through her.
‘This way, lady,’ said the captain, but he raised his sword and, with its flat side, barred Godiva’s men from coming any further with her.
‘You know we must stay with our lady,’ Arne protested.
Bret stepped in front of him at once to protect him.
‘He does not understand the rules of Egg Ring, sir,’ he said to the captain, who had taken off his mailed glove and was about to hit Arne’s mouth with it. ‘I’ll be in charge of these men, sir, if you agree,’ he added.
The captain stared at him coldly, but nodded silent consent. Bret took hold of Godiva’s hand and kissed it quickly, whispering, ‘Courage’ as he backed away from her.
She was taken down a narrow lane, lined with pavilions set close to each other. As she walked she could sense the nearness of other people, though the place was silent as well as dark. Now it seemed more like a tomb than any living creature’s belly, and she clenched and unclenched her fists to make sure she was not dreaming.
Suddenly the captain stopped and pulled back a thick curtain behind which stood a door to a small wooden building. He opened it and then pushed Godiva inside so roughly that she fell to her feet. By the time she stood up he was gone and she was locked in. Fear flooded her mind, carrying her reason away in swirling confusion. He had pushed her like a prisoner. That meant that she was certain to die. From here they would take her to the dungeon she had seen, and then to the gallows. It was inevitable. She felt tears come to her eyes, but sit there blocked. If she couldn’t cry she should pray. Suddenly she longed for an image of Mary on which to gaze. She looked round and noticed for the first time that the room, despite its small size, was a chapel, for it had altars on three of the four walls. Behind each altar was a fresco of a saint, his colourful figure dancing in the faint light of the few candles that lit the chapel. Facing her was an altar to St Michael the Archangel, with his wings and his sword, ready to battle Satan’s legions. On the left was St George, his spear levelled at the throat of the dragon of evil. And to the right stood St John the Evangelist, the everlasting virgin, with his chalice and his eagle. There was no room for Mary here. This was a chapel dedicated to celibate soldiers, such as the man she now had to meet. Godiva put her head in her hands, longed for Mary, longed for home and then composed herself for the arrival of the king.
Thirteen
Lady, do you weep?’
The king’s voice was so soft that it seemed to drift in on the air. Godiva wiped her eyes and peered into the dark corners of the chapel. As at Winchester, so now Edward created an illusion that he did not walk through doors like other mortals, but emanated, ghostlike and irresistible, through some other medium.
‘Beloved sister in Christ, are you weeping?’ he repeated.
‘No. I am angry. I was pushed to the floor by your guard, as though I have already been condemned.’
Edward raised his eyebrows at the defiance in her voice. ‘And were you frightened? Or offended?’
‘Surprised, and winded by the fall. I am well now, as you can see, sir.’
Edward smiled down at Godiva. The smile of a cat, she thought, who will play as long as he wants to with a trapped mouse. Defiance was not going to help her.
‘May I speak, sir?’
Edward nodded politely.
‘For over a week since I returned to Coventry from your city of Winchester, I did nothing but struggle to feed a town that starved during my absence. Then my husband returned from Winchester with news that you will impose heregeld on my desperate people, for reasons that I do not know. He told me you said you might change your mind, should I come here to plead with you. So, here I am, great king, pleading. Whatever has angered you, punish me alone.’
‘So noble, so good,’ Edward muttered, shaking his head. ‘And so much the worse that you have tied your fortunes, not just in this world, but also in the next, to the sins of the House of Lovric.’
‘Tied myself? But Lovric said that if I pleaded with you . . .’
‘Said? Lied, you mean. Lied to you and misled you. Do you believe a word that man says, Godiva? He has deceived me so many times. And hasn’t he deceived you?’
She looked away and made no answer.
‘And where is he now, Godiva? You don’t really know, do you? But I do. I have reports that he went towards Gloucester. But he won’t stay there. Oh no. His designs lie further west. He has left you alone, to decide your fate with me.’
‘He keeps secrets, of course. He has to. But he doesn’t deceive me.’
She saw him smile and knew she had made a mistake to say anything about Lovric.
‘But I know he has,’ Edward persisted, shaking his head regretfully. ‘He has misled you about his wars against me, about Harry’s sins and about his women – his many women over so many years, while you were alone at home, working and raising children. Worse still,’ he said, dropping his voice and sounding confidential, ‘his lies have corrupted you. Your goodness is not what it seems. No, your pleading will carry no weight with me, not unless you first promise me that you will put Lovric aside. Only then can I come to terms with you. Leave him, Godiva. Annul your marriage. Save yourself and your town.’
‘What? Divorce my husband? But the Church condemns divorce.’
‘Not always. In this case an annulment could be arranged.’
‘Why?’
‘On grounds of incest. After all, he is related to you within the prohibited degrees of kinship – you are second or third cousins, so I am told. Furthermore, you are both in second marriages, and the Church is unsure that remarriage can ever be justified. So, it will not be difficult to invalidate your marriage. Afterwards you could put your personal estates under good management and retire to a royal nunnery. That would be safer than one of your own convents. Edith could arrange that for you.’
Godiva gasped. There it was – the thing that woman, that bishop’s concubine, Estrith, had warned about, with her tale of the Kentish woman who annulled her marriage to her cousin. Estrith had told Lovric to prepare to defend their marriage. Godiva had scoffed, but now it seemed the warning had been timely. Her fear and confusion turned to suspicion. In the weak light she looked Edward up and down, trying to decipher him, feeling her anger mount.
‘Harry, of course, would be bastardized . . .’ Edward murmured.
‘No! Leave my family alone! Whatever is between me and my husband is a matter for the two of us.’
‘Ah, misplaced loyalty! Pearls before swine!’ Edward said, reverting to his sorrowful stance. He sat down and signalled Godiva to take a seat, too. ‘I have told you what I want. I thought I could persuade you, but you refuse me. Why, then, shouldn’t I give the order to those men out there, who are ready to ride to Coventry at any moment and destroy it?’
‘Please,’ she whispered, fearful again as she remembered Edward’s secret power – the tent village, its soldiers, dungeon and gallows. ‘Please give me a moment to think about what you have said.’
She put her face in her hands and shut her eyes. Edward, she thought, was not putting as much pressure on her to annul her marriage as he could have done. Why didn’t he play on her jealousy and say more about Lovric’s mistresses? And suggest that there were bastard children here and there? Why didn’t he try to bribe her by offering to release Harry into her care? No, he was after some other out
come to this meeting, but she had no idea what that might be. The best thing she could do now was to say little and keep listening to him.
‘I have already said, sir – if I have done wrong, tell me what I have done, and then punish me alone.’
‘So we agree on that at least. You deserve punishment. I’m glad that you concur, but oh, my dear! I do not want to inflict the appropriate penance on you. It is harsh indeed. So please, Godiva, reconsider. Leave Lovric. Get an annulment . . .’
‘No. I can’t. It would be utterly wrong. Whatever troubles we may have now, we have been truly married for many years. I will not lie and say it never happened.’
‘But would you defy the authority of the Church? Do you think the prohibited degrees are of no account?’
‘Yes. In England we have always married our cousins, and widows remarry too, and so do divorced people. These are old traditions. No one understands these new rules that are coming in from France and Italy.’
‘Ignorance is no excuse. The authority of the Church must not be challenged. We are living in dangerous times, Godiva, surrounded by Satan’s friends. Pagans abound to our north; heretics to the west; there is defiance of Rome in the east; and worst of all, Saracens, who follow the lies of a so-called prophet named Mohammed, are gaining power over our most sacred shrines in the Holy Land. Oh, Jerusalem!’ he pressed his fists to his chest and began to pace the room. ‘It breaks my heart to think of Jerusalem. My sister’s husband, Count Drogo of the Vexin, died there before he could return from his pilgrimage. And so did Count Robert of Normandy. All I want is to make the pilgrimage to the Church of the Nativity before I die myself, and make it safe for my people to go there whenever they wish. One day,’ he said, standing over her again, ‘perhaps even in our lifetimes, Godiva, there will be a Holy War to make the East safe for good Christian pilgrims again.’
‘But I too am a good Christian woman,’ Godiva said. ‘I too want to see the Church strong and able to fight evil and heresy.’
‘Do you? Then will you join in the good fight to purify our land? We must do that first before we can undertake Holy War.’
‘Yes, of course I will. But, sire, these rules on marriage that you talk of are new to us. You cannot expect couples to separate who promised themselves in good faith.’
‘I understand,’ Edward said, suddenly gentle again. ‘The Church’s knowledge of what God wants from us grows much faster than the flock’s ability to comprehend. That is why obedience is required from the flock, while mildness is needed in the good shepherd. So, I will be mild with you, my sister in Christ. Let us put aside the question of your marriage, for the time being.’
‘Then will you remove the demand for heregeld from Coventry?’
‘Oh no. I cannot do that. You may keep your marriage, Godiva, but you must make some other atonement, some other sacrifice. My land cannot be pure when even my noble families are corrupt.’
‘Corrupt? Do you mean the offence that Lovric has caused you?’
‘No. You must atone for your own sins, Godiva. As I told you, you have been corrupted.’
‘We are all sinners, but I go to confession, do good works and I pray. What more . . . ?’
‘Oh, much, much more, alas.’
He smiled sadly at her lovely face, with its big, lustrous grey eyes and perfect nose and mouth, lying there within his grasp like flowers waiting to be cut.
‘Shall we start, for example – with witchcraft?’
‘There have been some pagan acts,’ she admitted at once. ‘Out in the forests. It always happens when people feel threatened. Perhaps I was not strict enough, but the people were still going to church and praying to Mary for help.’
‘Not their witchcraft,’ he said quietly, as though ashamed for her. ‘Yours.’
‘Mine?’
‘Yes. In the Vale of the White Horse. Edith found out about that. We were both shocked.’
‘But that was nothing! People from all quarters go there to put a coin in the Horse’s eye and ask for favours. It is a harmless comfort.’
‘Harmless? The White Horse is an old goddess. If she is harmless now, it is only because her evil spirit is dormant. People like you will bring it back to life and then she will ride the night skies again, bringing wickedness to every place that comes under her eye.’
‘My priest never said so.’
‘These married priests are ignorant. You should have confessed to your prior, or to one of his wisest monks.’
She looked down at her hands and Edward, knowing full well why she never confessed to her treacherous prior, decided to move the interview on.
‘I do not think you are an apostate, Godiva, though you need to be more observant. But these lapses from orthodoxy are less serious than the corruption of your soul. It is in this regard that we – your king, Queen Edith, Father Francis and several others – believe you stand in need of correction.’
‘But my soul is not sick. I give thanks each day to God for all his gifts and I trust in his mercy, now and for ever. I am full of joy in my life and hope for my future salvation. How can I be said to be sick?’
Edward took hold of her hand. ‘Your soul deludes you with vain pleasures – with what you would call happiness or joy. But behind these light and carefree breezes that blow through your life, your true life – your life eternal – is rotting like a sodden brown apple that has fallen to earth beneath the Tree of Life. Rotting from pride, for one thing, dear sister. Superbia. Haven’t you seen depictions of this haughty sinner on her horse, her head adorned with jewels and held up high for all to see?’
‘But, majesty, I work hard alongside the other women of my manor. And look at me now. I have on old riding clothes and I haven’t bathed since I left home.’
‘It isn’t your working attire I have in mind. It was your appearance at Winchester that caused concern. Your feasting gown and veil did not cover your neck. Men could glimpse that place where the neck joins the shoulder, a place that many men long to kiss. That was evil. You brought lust to my table. Edith said that was why she spilled the wine; she was shocked to see such lewdness in her presence. And ostentation, too. Did you see my queen adorned with jewellery? No. But you looked like the starry sky at night, twinkling with self-regard in the eyes of all the assembly. It was disgusting, obscene . . .’
Godiva was on the point of defending herself, but stopped. She sensed that Edward was now about to get to the heart of the matter.
‘The penance for Superbia is humiliation,’ Edward said, growing calm once more. ‘Superbia loves to be looked at with admiration. Therefore she shall be exposed in all her vileness and looked at with disgust and ridicule.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, almost inaudibly.
‘Your penance. I told you it would be harsh. I would not impose it if you honoured my request that you abandon Lovric.
But you have refused. So, this is your penance. You must mount a horse, like Superbia, and ride like her through some public place where everyone can see you clearly. In your case, naturally, you would ride from your manor house and up to the town cross on market day.’
‘And wear sackcloth and ashes?’
‘No, my dear,’ the king said, taking her hand again and stroking it softly, ‘you will wear nothing at all, and neither will the horse. You will ride bareback, and you will ride naked.’
Godiva sprang to her feet. ‘That is impossible.’
‘Then leave Lovric.’
‘No.’
‘Then let your people pay heregeld.’
‘No!’
‘Then you choose the naked ride.’
‘No. It would be more than humiliating. It would be dishonouring. My family would be mortified and the people of my town lose all respect for me. It would be lewd beyond words.’
‘Yes,’ Edward said, ‘as lewd as you really are, Godiva. You see, men do not lust after you merely because of your beauty. No, it is because they recognize you for what you are. A lustful woman, corrupt and
dirty. You cause men to have evil thoughts and their bodies to grow inflamed and incontinent. You threaten their acceptability in the eyes of God. You are as the great whore of Babylon.’
‘How dare you,’ she spat her words at him and sprang to her feet. ‘I’d rather you kill me than do this to me. You have me here in this bizarre prison . . .’
‘Sanctum.’
‘Whatever it is, I am your captive. Just kill me while you have me at your mercy. Let that be the atonement and leave my people in peace.’
‘Killing you would not save your soul. The Church Militant battles to augment the Kingdom of Christ with saved souls. I want your soul for God.’
‘By making me look like a common whore?’
‘During your exposure you will experience repentance of a more profound nature than you can imagine now, and then you will be saved. Believe me. This is for your own good, and the good of my kingdom, and the good of Mother Church. This is for Christendom.’
‘I cannot do it. It is an appalling thing to ask of anyone, man or woman.’
‘That is why this penance would be the most effective purge of your soul.’
‘But it is not a Church penance,’ Godiva said suddenly. ‘I have heard of this before. It was done in some villages when I was a child, to prostitutes and notorious adulteresses. The Church banned the practice and imposed more decent penances.’
‘Ah, but it is not the nature of the penance that signifies. You see, Godiva, it is the question of who administers the penance. If it is a crowd of villagers, no good is obtained. If it is the Church, or the king, souls are saved.’
‘But this penance is so unjust,’ she whispered, grasping yet another dimension of what Edward intended. ‘If I were sent to a nunnery, whipped and made to live on bread and water for a year – that would be terrible, but at least it would be over when the fasting ended. But this other penance will never be over. Even men who never saw me ride – especially those who did not see me – will think of me forever in this way, for what men imagine is boundless and endless. No, I cannot do what you want. It is impossible.’