by Ann Turner
Simon sat back in his chair, staring at her intently. ‘Deep and forgiving words from you,’ he said, in admiration.
Aubrette shrugged off his praise. ‘She was kind to me as I grew up, and treated me as a daughter. Once she has time to adjust to the new direction her life is taking, we shall be reconciled.’
Simon turned in his chair and summoned a waiting servant. ‘Go and instruct Lady Petronella to attend us immediately. I shall accept no excuse; she will come,’ he commanded, watching the servant hurry from the hall. He returned with the message that the lady had taken herself to bed and was in no fit state to speak with her new lord. Simon thumped his fist on the table in frustration. ‘God’s teeth, she defies me from the first day. It does her no good to cross me.’
‘Let her be, Simon, she is uncomfortable as I am. Come to the nursery to see our sons again,’ Aubrette said, defusing her husband’s escalating temper.
In an instant, his expression changed and a smile appeared at the suggestion. Instinctively remembering the direction to the nursery, Aubrette led Simon to a closed door. Tentatively, he lifted the latch and, with his wife a step behind, he entered the nursery, eager to explain to the boys about his return. Aubrette was anxious; these were her own two boys, but neither knew she was their mother.
Eustace and Raymond sat at their desks with their tutor prowling around them, holding a long willow cane in his hand. He was watching closely as they scrawled words onto tablets. Eustace had the tip of his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth as he wrote, while Raymond appeared to be writing with ease for his young years. Aubrette gave a small inhalation of adoration at the sight of the two sons that she had been forced to disown at birth.
The tutor looked up surprised and bowed to Simon. The two boys also stopped scribing and looked up from their work. The tutor gave a small signal with his hand and the boys rose to their feet, and both bowed to their father with utmost respect.
Simon cleared his throat, suddenly unsure how to approach or what to say to his sons. ‘I have returned to take what is mine and we shall be reconciled,’ he said.
Despite Simon’s awkwardness, Aubrette could sense the pride he felt for his boys. They were a handsome pair, which was not too surprising considering the handsome family they descended from.
Raymond, the youngest at six years of age, seemed disturbed at the sight of his father’s physical appearance. His nine-year-old brother bravely disguised any fear, though Aubrette did notice a slight widening of his eyes as he looked into the face of his father.
‘My sons, much has happened to me as I fought on crusade with King Richard. I lost my eye fighting the Saracens, which was a small price to pay for victory,’ he boasted. ‘And your mother died while we were away. I have prayed to her and she watches down on you from heaven.’ He watched Eustace’s chin harden at the news and Raymond had tears in his eyes. ‘I needed a new wife and have taken Aubrette as my wife and your mother. You will honour her and call her mother.’
The boys looked at her, she smiled, both looked solemnly back at her.
‘Greet your mother,’ instructed Simon.
‘My lady, my brother and I are happy to see you now as our mother,’ Eustace said, politely, as Aubrette knelt before them to be at their level.
‘Do you remember I looked after you when you were a sweet baby, Eustace?’ asked Aubrette. ‘I loved you as if you were my own son. I even pretended you were my own.’
Eustace nodded his head soberly. Raymond then spoke in his piping voice, coming forward and shaking the sleeve of her dress. ‘I cannot remember,’ he said, making Aubrette smile.
‘I hope you will grow to love me as you loved your mother,’ she said, gently, and to everyone’s surprise, Raymond wrapped his small arms around her neck in a hug.
‘I missed my real mother and you are here to be my mother now,’ he announced. As he buried his face in her neck, she felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke.
‘I am your mother,’ she assured, kissing his soft cheek. This made him giggle and run back to stand by his brother, grinning broadly. Eustace glanced at him. ‘And by God’s grace, I shall give you a new baby brother soon.’
Raymond’s sweet little face furrowed as a thought entered his young mind. ‘How do you know that you will give me a brother?’ he asked, always curious.
Aubrette put her hands over her stomach. ‘Because I have a baby growing inside me, and I hope it will be a boy as handsome as you and Eustace.’
Now Eustace’s brow furrowed. Raymond became excited and turned to his brother. ‘Now I can be a big brother and bully my little brother like you do to me!’ he chirruped, gleefully.
‘I do not bully you. I am the eldest son of our father, so it is my duty to keep you in your place as a second son,’ Eustace replied, scornfully.
Pouting, Raymond punched his brother in the side, to which Eustace pushed him back roughly. It made him stumble to the floor with a shout of derision and he kicked out, his foot making contact with his brother’s leg. The boys began to fight with childish buoyancy. Their parents watched as they rolled around the floor, squawking loudly.
‘My sons, enough. Return to your studies and work hard,’ Simon commanded, pulling Eustace and Raymond, both still struggling to fight, apart, pleased with the boys’ jealousy of each other. They were behaving in the way he expected from his sons. The boys, in particular Raymond, had been given too much freedom of speech, so they would have to be trained by a stern governor to be quiet and to speak only when spoken to. Once he had established himself here, he would recruit a suitable candidate.
Later that night, Aubrette and Simon lay in the great bed that had once been occupied by Oswyn and Petronella. As much as he lusted after his wife, Simon knew he must abstain from any sexual activities as it might harm the unborn child. Instead, they talked about the journey that had brought them both to this moment in their lives and what the future would hold for them.
Aubrette felt uncomfortable having such a fine bed to lay in, as this room had been out of bounds to her and Rowena when they had been girls. Now, as the lady of the manor, she was able to roam everywhere – no room was barred to her. The realisation of being mistress of Romhill and all the responsibility that accompanied this position daunted her. She wanted Petronella on her side to aid and support her.
Petronella remained distant and uncooperative with Aubrette, ceding only to Simon’s firm instruction to continue to manage the household finances until her step-daughter felt prepared to cope alone. Whenever she could escape the difficult role of mistress of the estate, She would wander through her home, acquainting herself with the rooms that had once been banned to her.
One room that did catch her attention was the room that her father had brought the brides from the village to. This room that held the fabled ‘goose bed’. Simon had indicated that he would reintroduce the tradition of droit du seigneur – to bring virgin brides to Romhill to have them first before their husbands – and plant his seed inside them.
For now, he had duties to perform other than estate management. William Marshal had written to him, urging him to visit him in London. Simon could not refuse and was excited at the prospect of accomplishing something other than the domestic.
The unmistakable spark of adventure shone in his face as he prepared to leave for London. He was travelling light, with only one attendant with him. He could not tell his wife how long he would be away, as the letter from Marshal had been enigmatic and had not revealed any agenda. All he was able to assure Aubrette of was his safe return, and that he would send word before his return.
During her husband’s absence, Aubrette decided she would attempt to rebuild a friendship with Petronella. She desperately wanted to be on amiable terms with her step-mother, though she remained distant and hostile. The steward and housekeeper, meanwhile, offered support and advice as she took o
n more of the work. Though they were still loyal to their original mistress, they were obedient to Aubrette. All of this was watched closely by Petronella, who desired to see her falter and fail.
53
Simon rode through the gatehouse at Whitehall to be greeted by William Marshal. After a brief greeting and a comment on Simon’s change of appearance, Marshal led him into the palace and to a private audience with King Richard’s mother, Eleanor – now into her seventh decade, but with no indication of slowing down. She had ruled England in her son’s stead while he had been away on the crusade.
She looked frail, though this appearance was deceiving as her mind was still agile and sharp as in her younger days. Her dark eyes, like beads of jet, were alert and she watched as Simon entered her presence chamber, bowing low. She knew who he was and who his father was. Once, this would have provoked an angry response in her, as she abhorred her late husband’s bastards being anywhere near her. However, William Marshal had recommended Simon as a reliable and trustworthy man, and in these unfolding troubled times Eleanor knew this man could be useful. He was as honest and true as Marshal, so she would listen to his words and heed his counsel. Even so, the Dowager Queen of England kept Simon bowing for some time before giving permission for him to stand and approach.
‘Simon Fitzroy, you have been summoned to our side because of the oncoming disaster that could ruin England.’
‘Your Grace, I am your—’
‘Obedient servant. I know, I know.’ Eleanor waved a long, skeletal hand impatiently at him. ‘I love all my brood, even John. John was my husband’s favourite. He should have my love the most as the youngest of my children, but I never saw much of him as a child.’ She paused. ‘John shall never amount to anything while his brother lives. He is the most malevolent of an acrimonious family. He is jealous, snivelling and he wishes his brother ill. England shall suffer if Richard fails to produce an heir and I have heard that the chances of that happening are as likely as the second coming of Jesus.’ Eleanor allowed herself a wry smile. ‘So unlike his father. Henry loved women, whereas Richard…’ She paused for a second time, realising she was rambling, which was so unlike her.
‘Madame, to business?’ Marshal reminded.
Eleanor nodded. ‘Fitzroy, through our connections, we have learned that my son is travelling home overland and that there may be a plot to kill him en route. This cannot happen. Richard must return unharmed to take back England and his provinces in France. Rumours have spread that John has signed a pact with King Philip to help him claim the throne of England, in return for lands in France that are rightfully Plantagenet and will never belong to Capet. If I had loved John more…’ Eleanor’s voice trailed away. There was a brief silence in the room.
‘What do you require of me, Your Grace?’ Simon asked, gently, and a sudden flash of light sprang into the old queen’s eyes.
‘You shall go to France and find out if this is true. You will stop and destroy this pact. John is a fool and he will trust you, as you are his half-brother. Leave at your earliest convenience.’
Eleanor nodded at him, and Simon bowed out of the presence chamber with William Marshal.
Once the two men were alone, Marshal drew him aside. ‘The queen is a loving mother to all of her children, but she will never feel the same affection for her youngest son as she does for Richard. I recommended you to her for this task, as you were most loyal to the old king and have proved your valour in the Holy Land. Queen Eleanor can trust you to do your utmost and not fail.’
‘Thank you for your trust. I shall not let the queen down,’ Simon conceded, gratefully.
‘Dine with me tonight and we shall talk more, then return home and prepare for this. You must keep me informed on your progress.’
Marshal then led him to his own apartments, where they discussed the logistics and plans for the trip to France. After a hearty meal and plenty of good wine, both men became sentimental and reminisced over times with old King Henry.
Several days later, Simon returned home to organise his mission. He was supplied with finances from the royal exchequer and letters to Prince John from his mother.
Aubrette was very happy to see her husband again. The days of his absence had been a cold affair, as Petronella had refused to dine with her and had spent every evening in her own rooms, claiming she was unwell.
Simon found his wife’s tearful lamenting distracting, as he had important work to do and did not want to be deflected from the business to hand. He explained that he had been sent to France by the dowager queen, but could say no more. He was expected to leave as soon as preparations had been made and he did not know how long he would be away.
He was busy over the next days, arranging how the estate would be run during his absence. The steward would take control. Aubrette, easily emotional during this pregnancy, wept in his arms, begging him to stay. She did not understand that it was royal business and that on this occasion, he served Queen Eleanor first.
From the staircase, Petronella watched her son-in-law pulling himself away from his distraught wife. She resented the fact that her own husband had remained here at Romhill, never venturing far from the Essex countryside. He could have been so much more a man if he had shown a sense of adventure and a greater sense of loyalty to his king, instead of mustering village men to join the mobilization of other landowners. He was, as her mother had once said, “A big fish in a small pond, and would never amount to much more.”
She continued to watch as Simon pushed Aubrette aside for a second time and told her he could not dally any longer, as he needed to ride to the coast and onwards. His wife sobbed as if her life was torn to shreds and fell to the floor, clutching her belly. She started to wail like a banshee, claiming the only man she had ever loved was spurning her.
How common, thought Petronella. It was not the behaviour of a cultured woman, but the demonstrations and hysterics of a village dreg with no breeding. She sniffed contemptuously. Aubrette was nothing better than a washerwoman and, for all her fancy gowns, well-connected husband, airs and graces, she would be never be anything more than that. Aubrette watched as the great door shut and she slowly clambered to her feet, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. She looked up at her step-mother, with puffy red eyes and trembling lips.
‘My husband’s baby is lively today and makes my mind confused,’ she excused. ‘Simon will be back once the business has been attended to and he will return to find us reconciled and friends again.’
‘Then he will have to be absent for a very long time if that is to happen,’ Petronella replied coolly, proudly turning and ascending the stairs to her room.
‘Dragon,’ Aubrette muttered under her breath.
54
Simon arrived in Rouen without notice or ceremony. He was challenged by the guards as to the nature of his visit and announced himself as Prince John’s half-brother. He said he had been travelling through Normandy and had come to pay his respects. The seneschal of the castle came out from the doorway and greeted him with respect. Simon then followed him into the presence chamber, used by King Richard and Prince John when in residence.
After refreshments and genial talk, including the state of the crusade at the time of his departure, Simon explained the reason for the unexpected visit and was informed that John was not present. He was in Paris with King Philip.
‘Up to mischief-making, I have no doubt,’ the seneschal said, grimly. ‘John possesses all the Plantagenet charm and good looks, but that is where it ends with him. He is a short-tempered, greedy and a weak ne’er-do-well. He will never become king and he resents that with venom.’ The seneschal refilled Simon’s cup. ‘He’ll always be in Richard’s shadow.’
Simon stayed the night and the following morning, with fresh horses, set out for Paris.
Weary with the ride from Normandy, Simon entered Paris. He again introduced himself as P
rince John’s half-brother come to pay his respects, bringing letters and messages from his mother. He was led immediately to John.
The prince was slouching in an ornately carved chair in his rooms, twirling the stem of a full wine glass in his long fingers, with one leg dangling over the arm. He had instructed that their meeting should be kept from public view. If there was correspondence from his mother, John wanted time to read and digest their contents in private. He was notably shorter in stature than Simon and darker-haired. He had inherited less of the Plantagenet good looks than his brothers. but he was still a handsome man to look upon. His dark, hooded eyes were impassive as he regarded his half-brother, who was so much like Richard. John felt an instant dislike for his bastard brother, but he was still family – even if he had come from the wrong side of the blanket.
John waved a hand at Simon, granting him permission to sit by his side. ‘You bring messages I believe,’ he drawled, lazily.
Simon held out the satchel that carried the letters. John clicked his fingers and a servant took the satchel and handed it to the prince. He tossed open the flap, pulled out the scrolls, dropping the leather pouch to the floor and unlaced the first scroll. His dark eyes quickly scanned the contents and he snorted.
‘I am instructed by Her Grace, to request that you desist your pact with the French King and return to England,’ Simon said.
John looked up over the scroll. ‘Does she now?’ he retorted. ‘Does the old bag think she can control me as she controls my brother when he bothers to come home?’
‘Sir, Her Grace thinks your connection with King Philip is dangerous to England and the lands here in France.’