by Ann Turner
Prince John tossed the scroll aside with little care and opened a second one. ‘She is frightened of her darling Richard coming home to no kingdom of his own, as I shall be proclaimed king in his stead. I would be an English king who loves his realm, unlike Richard. Philip has promised to help me attain the English throne in exchange for certain areas of France, which I shall return to him. Tis a fair price to pay. The barons put on a show of a united front when Richard’s name is uttered. They say he is so brave, so heroic and so chivalrous – but he is a useless king who detests England, a useless man who does nothing to get his wife pregnant, and a useless creature who prefers… ugh!’ John shivered, involuntary. ‘If Berengaria were my wife, I’d spread her legs nightly – and daily, too,’ he giggled, offensively. ‘Those idiotic barons will support my claim to the throne of England.’ He paused to draw breath. ‘Do you know what I have heard, Fitzroy? Do you know? My brother plans to name our nephew Arthur of Brittany as his heir. Arthur! A precocious brat who cannot speak English. Richard actually believes that the English barons will accept Arthur over me!’ John pointed to himself. ‘Me, John, born in England – an Englishman who is better prepared to become king than that… that child.’
‘Then all the more reason to return to your mother and England, sir,’ Simon persuaded.
John brushed the remaining scrolls from his lap onto the floor and stood up. ‘Not before you have been entertained by my good friend, the French king. He will be eager to see you. You can swap crusade stories between you, he’d like that.’
John flung an arm over Simon’s shoulders and led him to the banqueting hall, insisting that he sat by his side as a guest of honour.
To a fanfare, King Philip of France entered the hall. He was looking directly forward and appeared not to notice the court bowing as he swept past. However, he was quick to notice if the deference paid to him was not as fawning as he expected. His quick mind made mental notes to berate any who did not bow low enough, or did not lower their eyes enough. By his side was his queen, and behind them their retinue filed in two by two.When he saw Simon, Philip lost the air of hauteur. It was Richard returned, minus an eye, and he had come to Paris to see his friend, his enemy without prior warning. Philip’s heartbeat quickened, his breath shortened, and he began to perspire, his wife enquired on his sudden reaction to the guest seated at the table. The king then realised with mixed relief that this man was not his former ally, but the base born brother who had shadowed the English King in the Holy Land. He breathed heavily at the startling similarity between Richard and Simon, and put his hand on his chest as if to steady his wildly beating heart at the sudden shock. His wife looked quizzically at him, she rarely saw him so animated in front of his court.
Simon enjoyed the hospitality of Prince John. They attended jousts together, excelling at the lists, and vigorously bedded women of the court. This frequently involved one woman at the same time, with or without her consent. They then went into the dark and desolate streets of Paris to continue whoring. Between drinking and gorging himself at his host’s expense, Simon would sit with Philip and remember their time at Acre. This gave him the chance to recount the events that had led to the blindness in his eye.
Simon reminded John to take the letters from his mother seriously and to return to England. John agreed to the return, but only when he decided the time was right. Eventually, Simon realised the prince had no intention of heeding his words and announced that he was to return to England to report back to Eleanor. She would be expecting him.
Regretfully, John agreed to his half-brother’s decision to leave. He had enjoyed his company, because Simon shared his licentious desires and had made a good companion. He liked Simon, despite his looking so much like Richard. He was diverting to be with and was a man who could be useful should the unthinkable happen – John being crowned as king.
Queen Eleanor sat back in her seat, sighing in frustration and tapping her fingers on its arms impatiently. She had hoped her youngest son would obey his mother and accompany Fitzroy, but the news that this was not the case had just been related to her by the one-eyed bastard son of her late husband. If truthful, she had not unexpected it. She signalled to Simon to stand, which he managed with some difficulty as the return journey had played havoc with his weakened leg. She looked in his face, which was so similar to her dearest Richard. Was it this similarity that had made her believe he would not disappoint in the venture?
‘You did what you could, though I expected you to bring my son home for me to greet,’ she said, tiredly. ‘Your service to me has failed and I have no further use of you. You bore me now. Go home, Fitzroy. Go home to your wife.’
Silently, Simon bowed and backed out of the dowager queen’s presence chamber. He had escaped with just a small show of disappointment from Eleanor. You try to make that conceited man do what he wishes not to, Simon thought, resentfully. The audience had been brief and concise. Now, he would return to Romhill.
55
When he returned from his duties for Queen Eleanor, Simon became aware of the increasing tension between the two women in the house. He had wanted to ride into the courtyard to be welcomed by his loving wife, pleased to have him home and ready to listen to his stories. Instead, he had found his wife in tears, distressed by the hostility from her step-mother, her refusal to concede to the new mistress, and the reluctant obedience from her servants. All this would not help her pregnancy.
At dinner, he sat at the head of the table, with Aubrette at his right hand and his sons to his left. Petronella was absent, having refused to welcome the traveller home. The meal was conducted in silence. Simon was tired and weary from the long journey, and just wanted to relax by the fireside, drink wine and enjoy the company of his wife. Instead, he sat in a chilled atmosphere, wanting this meal over with and wishing his wife would retire to her bed. Then, he could select one of the serving girls and spend the first hours back in his home between the thighs of a willing woman.
Aubrette could not bring herself to look in her husband’s face, picking unhappily at the food on her plate. She had longed to see him and had missed him terribly during his absence, so felt truly ashamed of her behaviour at his arrival. It could have waited until the next day, once Simon had settled back, but she had burdened him with her troubles almost as soon as he had stepped across the threshold. Unhappily, she crept to her lonely bed. They would talk rationally in the morning.
Petronella remained cool towards Simon’s new wife, still unable to resolve herself to the fact that her husband’s illegitimate daughter was now her superior. If visitors arrived, Aubrette took precedence over her, sat opposite her husband at the table and was put first in everything. Petronella spurned her attempted offers of friendship and an equal role in the running of the household.
Aubrette had freely admitted that she needed the help and Petronella’s stubbornness distressed her. The accounts were difficult to follow and to balance, and Aubrette feared that she would fail in her duty and lose the respect of her husband and the servants. Many of the staff remained loyal to their former mistress, too, and made their feeling known. They obeyed Aubrette, but they did so with reticence.
Simon demanded that Petronella attend dinner. He had decided to end the situation once and for all. While she attempted to find an excuse not to eat with them, Simon stood outside her chamber door, hammering loudly, shouting for her attention. Finally, she conceded and descended the stairs to sit stiffly in her chair, slowly eating and avoiding looking at either of the other two people at the table. The boys had been ordered to remain in their room to dine, and to not appear until told otherwise .
After the silent meal, Simon spoke, ‘Lady Petronella, my wife tells me that she is fearful for the outcome of her confinement and that your enmity towards her helps her not.’
Petronella sighed. ‘Why should I bow to a woman who has had her position given to her, when she is no better than a s
ervant? Were she born to nobility, I would greet and love her as an equal.’
‘You loved me as a girl,’ spoke Aubrette, and immediately fell silent at the aggravated glance from her husband.
‘I loved you when you were a girl because – despite the reason for you being here – you were a good companion and a friend to my daughter. I never assumed this would happen. I believed you would marry a member of the household and become the housekeeper. Nothing more than that,’ explained Petronella. ‘You would be the Good-wife at Romhill.’
‘I fell in love with Aubrette and made her my wife after she accepted my proposal in the Holy Land. I was the happiest man alive,’ said Simon.
Petronella looked at him. ‘Did you have to marry her so soon after my daughter’s death?’ The hurt in her voice was unavoidable and Simon put his hand over hers, feeling her cold fingers bunch into a loose fist.
‘A man needs a wife and my sons need a mother. I was fortunate to have known Rowena and I knew in Aubrette I would have no stranger or harridan in my bed. You raised two perfect daughters and even if the second was not your own body and blood, she is a credit to you. I want you to take your second daughter to your heart once again, and I want you to love and help her. She needs you and she will need you even more when the child arrives.’ His voice hardened. ‘I shall not have opposition in my house. I want you to remain here, as I do not want to have to ask you to leave your own home. However, if you continue to resist and refuse my good intent, you may be requested to vacate these premises and find solace in the local convent.’
Petronella looked at her son-in-law for some time. When she spoke, her voice was low, ‘It is Aubrette’s parentage that vexes me. Her father was my husband, but her mother…She is base born and not of noble birth, even though Oswyn allowed me to raise her.’
‘I am base born too, remember,’ Simon added, gently, knowing the warning to make her leave was succeeding.
Petronella lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, but your father was a king.’
Simon leant forward. ‘That is it. The fact that Rowena and Aubrette shared your husband as a father reminds you of his infidelity. Both my wives have been and are good women. I command you to love Aubrette to please me. For you, she shall never replace Rowena, but she is the woman I now love and she will give me more sons.’
Petronella looked up at Aubrette, who had remained silent. Her eyes were large with tears and her lips were trembling. ‘I resented the fact that my husband would not go to fight alongside our king when called and he made excuses to remain here. I resented the fact that he bargained and won Simon for Rowena, so much higher in birth than I ever dared hope in a husband for my daughter. You a real man, a soldier – the kind of man who was everything Oswyn was not.’ She paused to draw a breath, her lips still trembling. ‘I miss him. For all his faults, I miss not having him around, hearing his voice, knowing he dealt with everything. I relied on him for everything. I think he once loved me – in his way, I am sure he did.’ She stopped talking to draw a ragged breath. ‘I so wanted to give Oswyn a son and I failed as a wife. It is always the fault of a woman when she fails to bear a son for her husband, and I had to live with the failure. If he had any love for me, it vanished when he knew we would never have a son. I became a habit for him to keep by his side.’
‘You have grandsons now,’ said Aubrette, ‘and you shall have a third grandchild soon.’
Petronella smiled in resignation at her for the first time. ‘I have wanted to hate you. The only way I could keep that feeling alive was to disregard you and to make you feel unwanted. You stole my daughter’s husband from my memory. I wanted to remember Rowena with Simon, and seeing him with you was something I could not endure.’ Petronella paused. ‘I could not keep up the pretence of anger against you for the rest of my life, though. You were always a sweet girl and such good company for Rowena. I can see you make Simon happy and shall be a good mother to his sons.’
‘You must help me raise the boys,’ Aubrette replied. ‘They know and love you already, and they listen to you. And please attend me when this one is born.’
‘I want to, Aubrette, I truly want to. I am sorry I have made you sad and I hope this does not harm your baby. You deserve this child and your own chance to be a mother.’
From that moment, both she and Aubrette renewed their association and became as close as the days of Aubrette’s childhood. She and Simon chose to never reveal the truth about Eustace and Raymond’s natural mother. It would remain their secret and both would take it to their graves. They must allow Petronella to continue to believe her daughter had borne both sons, that Rowena still lived through Eustace and Raymond.
56
Once life settled down to routine, Aubrette broached a subject that had entered her mind the day that she and Simon had ridden through the village on their arrival at Romhill.
‘Do you know whether my natural mother survived when the plague came?’ she asked Petronella.
‘I have never known who she was, so I cannot know. Many of the villagers were taken and others deserted the village,’ Petronella answered.
Aubrette turned to her husband and pleaded, ‘I want to go into the village and see whether she lives or not.’
‘She probably died with the others. While you carry my child, you shall remain here – away from danger,’ he answered casually as he sifted through petitions from the villagers.
However, Aubrette was not prepared to accept the fact that her natural mother may no longer live in the village or that Simon would not let her go. She wanted affirmation that her mother was living there, had moved away or was dead. Simon saw the spark in Aubrette’s eyes; she was not content with his answer. She spent the next few days arguing her point, that she had a right to try to discover the woman who had been forced to give her up at birth.
Simon went away on estate business and when he returned, Aubrette continued to challenge him to find news about her mother. He attempted to dissuade her. Women must know their place and not argue. They should not try to change their husband’s mind and must obey his every word. They showed obedience.
‘No, Simon, I want to find her – or at least be told that she is no more,’ insisted Aubrette.
It was this streak of defiance that he loved, though he knew he should argue with her and lay down the law as her master. However, she was irresistible when she was like this.
‘I shall send one of my men to the village and he will report back. What he tells you, you shall abide by’ Simon ruled.
Aubrette threw her arms around his neck, kissing his face. ‘Thank you!’ she cried. ‘But why can I not go with him? I will cause no trouble.’
Simon disentangled himself from his wife’s arms. ‘You carry my child, and I shall not put you or my son at risk. You will remain here. If your mother is found, she will be brought back for you to meet her. We will then decide what will happen next.’
Aubrette wanted to argue, but the resolute expression on her husband’s face told her to hold her tongue and be silent.
Petronella watched them, remembering the early days of her marriage to Oswyn. She had loved him more than he loved her and despite their match being arranged, she had considered it a love match. How that love had quickly vanished once he knew she would never give him a son. He had become distant and cool towards her, knowing she had failed her duty. Her sister had been able to produce healthy sons for her husband, and even her daughter had given birth to two sons. Now, here was her adopted daughter, fertile, pregnant, and clearly adored by her husband. This was how a true love match looked, and a stab of pain and regret ran through her body.
Now their enmity had been resolved, Petronella willingly helped Aubrette with the confusing columns of numbers in the housekeeping books and the costs of produce purchased from the local markets. Slowly, she began to learn the tasks of running a house. However, throughout this time,
her mind kept wandering back to the task of finding her natural mother. It would be difficult. She had taken off the little necklace she always wore, telling Simon how Esma had given it to her. The man should show it around the village and, if her mother still lived there, Esma herself, or someone who had once known her would surely remember it.
Eventually, the man returned to Romhill and once Simon returned late in the evening himself from a visit to London, reported to him. In turn, he went to where his wife was waiting eagerly for him. He threw himself into a chair and, before his servant had pulled his boots from his feet, Aubrette was questioning him on how his days had progressed. Had her mother been found?
‘I had other dealings to attend to, not just the task of finding your mother,’ he said, wearily and saw her face drop. He handed back the necklace and she refastened it around her neck.
‘Tomorrow, look tomorrow, Simon,’ she urged. ‘I want to find her before the baby comes.’
Simon struggled to his feet. He was fatigued from a long time in the saddle, his weak leg was aching, and all he wanted to do was relax. ‘I will not be dictated to by you. You are my wife and you answer to me,’ he snapped, stunning Aubrette into silence. ‘I have had a long day and I am tired.’
She watched as he left the room and ascend the stairs to change from his riding clothes. He had never spoken in this fashion before and she did not comprehend the reason. He dined alone in his chamber, refusing to emerge to talk with his wife. She retired alone to her bed that night after spending the evening without Simon’s company. However, she felt him climb into the bed in the early hours of the morning, though he did not reach over to kiss her or put a reassuring hand on her swollen belly. He simply turned away. He fell asleep and Aubrette listened to his deep breathing, until tiredness overcame her and she also slept.