The feel of a leather wine-skin being thrust into his hand interrupted his reverie, and he opened his eyes to Gozfrid, swigging a drink from a wine-skin he held.
‘Thank you, Goz. I was just taking a moment to think about the battle.’ Baldwin took a drink, rinsing the wine around his mouth and then spitting it out, then swallowing the next mouthful with a relieved sigh.
‘It was a good one, Win. I enjoyed it. The look on their faces when their own troops began to fight behind them. Ha! The bastards didn’t know which way to turn.’ Gozfrid grinned at the memory and swigged another mouthful.
‘An effective tactic, my friend. I shall be sure to tell Gaston when we get back home.’ Baldwin sighed, leaning his head back on the tree trunk behind him. A rustle of leaves and a damp thud told him Gozfrid had joined him beneath the tree.
‘Did you get a letter from the commander before we went into battle, Win? From your Princess?’
Baldwin grunted assent. He could feel the waves of exhaustion beginning to roll over him, and he knew he would soon be asleep. It didn’t matter; this party of Danes had all been vanquished, and the next morning they would be riding back to his father.
‘Did she have any news?’ Gozfrid’s voice drifted in the damp air, and Baldwin summoned the energy to reply.
‘She says you have to write to her little maid. The girl is very taken with you, apparently.’ Baldwin’s voice was weary.
‘How could she not be, Win? When all she has to look at are those walking piles of damp fur?’ Gozfrid yelped a laugh and Baldwin felt a tired chuckle escape his chest.
‘Then write to her, Goz. Save the Princess’s ears from being punished by the girl’s questions about you.’ His eyes drifted closed and he could feel his head lowering onto his chest. Just as he was falling into sleep, he heard Gozfrid’s drowsy whisper.
‘I’ll let you write, Win, and I’ll tell you what to put. You well know I’m more a lover than a scribe.’
***
Chapter 77
The clatter of horses hoofs in the courtyard below the window of the solar seldom provoked interest from Judith’s ladies. They were used to the soldiers practicing their sword-craft, or the ostlers training the horses for battle. The palace had been constructed in the Roman style of a square of buildings around a central yard, and although there had been additions and extensions over the years, in both wood and stone, the courtyard still led towards the stable block and the noise was a part of their lives. Excited shouts and whoops, however, tempted the ladies to leave their embroidery frames and spindles to see what caused the commotion.
‘We have visitors, Highness. From Mercia.’ Elin’s voice from the window brought a beam of pleasure to Judith’s face. The clink of bridles and clop of hoofs had made her wonder if the King had returned from Sherborne, and she had deliberately stayed in her seat, as had Emer Cuikishe. The knowledge that her friend had returned to keep her company had excitement shining from her eyes, and Judith listened carefully for footsteps along the gallery. She didn’t have long to wait.
The door crashed open and in burst Frytha, curls bobbing and eyes searching the faces of the gathered ladies of the court.
‘Aunt Joodith,’ she shrieked, propelling herself as fast as she could towards the laughing Queen and launching herself for a hug. ‘Aunt Joodith, I have missed you. Mama says I might call you Aunt. May I, Aunt Joodith, ‘cause Lady is a little too base for us, isn’t it, and we are both Pwincesses really, aren’t we, ‘cept you’re a queen of course, and Mama says one day I might be a queen too, but I’d really like to call you Aunt Joodith if you say I might, and Mama says I should ask you p’litely. And can I ask G’laine to make me another poppet, ‘cause I need a baby poppet now Mama has ‘nuther babe.’ Frytha fell silent and gazed at Judith wide-eyed, obviously waiting for a response to at least one of her questions.
Judith nodded with a laugh. ‘You may call me Aunt if you wish, Frytha, and you did ask very politely. I will tell your Mama what lovely manners you have.’ Frytha squirmed in delight, and took a breath to speak again, but before she could, Ghislaine came and took her hand.
‘And here is Ghislaine, and you may ask her to help you make more poppets if you would like to. Alys can get the basket of remnants from the shelf in the corner, and you can choose outfits for them.’ Judith smiled at the little girl, and Frytha beamed back as Ghislaine led her away to find the basket. A chuckle at the doorway made Judith glance away, and Ӕlswith stood watching her daughter, a large, well-wrapped bundle in her arms.
Judith jumped to her feet and hurried across to see the baby with a gasp of admiration at the sleeping child.
‘Ӕlswith, he’s beautiful,’ she whispered, pushing the blanket away from the babe’s round, pink face, his lips making a sucking motion and eyelashes perfect crescents on his downy cheeks.
‘He’s hungry,’ announced his mother tartly. ‘And I hope you don’t mind, my dear, but we’ve brought our nursemaids with us this time. As you have no doubt noticed, Frytha has overcome her shyness and learned to speak properly since we last saw you, and this little one is perpetually hungry. The boys are no trouble, and they are in the stables with my brothers.’
‘Of course I don’t mind, Ӕlswith. It is lovely to see you. We seldom have company here, so we will all enjoy listening to your news.’ Judith led her friend to a seat beside the window and the ladies playing music began again, to the backdrop of chatter from Frytha, Alys and Ghislaine making dolls out of rags in the corner.
‘And where is the King, might I ask?’ Ӕlswith raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Judith thought she heard an undercurrent of scorn as the Mercian Queen referred to her brother.
‘He still keeps his court at Sherborne as much as he can. He returns for brief visits, and of course he will come back for the Witan, but much of the day to day administration is left to Ӕthelberht and the Archbishop.’ Judith picked up her embroidery and kept her eyes on her stitches, not wanting Ӕlswith to read anything in her eyes.
‘And my other two brothers? Who is taking responsibility for their education, if not the King?’ Ӕlswith sounded irritated, and Judith shot her a puzzled glance.
‘The two youngest princes are being educated by their tutors, and by Ӕthelberht in statecraft. But they often join us in here for music lessons, and Elin teaches them a little French.’ Judith smiled, then heard a huge, disapproving sniff from Lady Emer. She lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘But not everyone approves, I’m afraid.’
Ӕlswith gave a derisive snort which was loud enough to disturb the babe in her arms. He began to snuffle into his fists, and then whimper. Ӕlswith rolled her eyes and looked round for someone to send for the wet-nurse. Her eyes lighted on Lady Emer, who was glowering in their direction as the spoke.
‘Lady Emer. Go down to the kitchen and ask Gauda, my wet-nurse, to come for Prince Coeneid. You won’t mistake her; she is large and dark-haired, with a hugely swollen bosom and food in her hands.’ Ӕlswith looked at Emer in expectation, and after a long moment when Judith expected Emer to refuse the request, the older woman rose smoothly to her feet and bent her head in acquiescence. Judith did not miss the bunched fists and the angrily trembling veil as Emer uttered ‘Highness’ in a tight, strangled tone and then strode from the room.
Ӕlswith wrinkled her nose at Judith and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘That might teach her to eavesdrop on our conversations. If she hadn’t been looking over, I might have asked someone else.’ Judith supressed a laugh and watched as her friend rocked the fussing babe to quiet him before his nursemaid arrived.
‘And have you heard from your Frankian swain, my dear?’ Ӕlswith kept her voice low, but Judith still looked around to see if anyone was paying them any attention before she replied.
�
�We write, Ӕlswith. We have always written, even when your father was alive. He is my friend, has been my friend since I was very small.’ Judith smiled shyly at Ӕlswith, who snorted again, eliciting the beginning of a wail from the babe. She rocked him more vigorously.
‘He wants to be more to you than a friend, I’d hazard. And I once told you that you could take a lover after you produced your first child. I can’t think of anyone more suitable than him, my dear. Tall, slender, strong and hopelessly in love with you.’ Ӕlswith burst into laughter at Judith’s shocked expression, and then was distracted by a tap at the door as the wet-nurse Gauda appeared.
Judith had to suppress a giggle; the girl was exactly as Ӕlswith had described. Two thick dark braids hung at either side of her moon-shaped face, and her tread was ponderous to accommodate her large body and even larger bosom. Her plain linen tunic strained across her chest, and Judith could see two damp patches on the fabric where she had leaked a little milk. Gauda crammed the last morsel of bread she had been holding into her mouth, and stretched out meaty arms to take the baby, who could obviously smell the aroma of milk emanating from his nurse.
As Ӕlswith stood and handed over little Coeneid, Judith saw her gown press closely to her figure, and she gasped. Her friend slid her eyes downwards and then gave Judith a rueful nod, and a helpless shrug.
‘Yes, my dear. Again.’ She held her hands out in a helpless gesture, ‘But what can I do? My husband is tall, slender and strong too, and hopelessly in love with me!’
Judith blushed as she listen to her friend’s amused laughter, and she thought of Baldwin and how much she longed to take him for her lover. Her blush deepened.
***
Chapter 78
The absence of a warm body curved into his back was sufficient to disturb Ealstan’s slumber. He rolled onto his back and cracked his eyes open a sliver in the direction of the rustling fabric, just in time to see his companion of the previous night lacing her tunic over her ample breasts. He let out a groan of disappointment and reached an arm in her direction.
‘Come back to me, woman.’ His voice was hoarse, his head beginning to pound. He wished he had brought some of the lighter wine they now served at court with him, instead of having to drink the thick, heavy alcohol the King preferred.
‘I dare not, Lord. The steward will beat me if I don’t set the fire in the scullery, and Hugh’s arm is strong when he holds a willow switch.’ The girl, whose name he was struggling to recall, twisted her hair up into a tight knot and pulled her cap over it. Ealstan groaned again.
‘Tell him you were needed to minister to a dying man. For I shall surely die if you don’t come back to bed.’ He covered his brow with his forearm, as the fingers of daylight creeping through the window were stabbing him in the back of his eyes harder than he could bear. Soft footsteps brought her nearer to the bed, and he felt the movement of air as she bent over him.
‘I cannot stay, Lord. I have put a cup of ale beside the bed, for when you feel able to drink it.’
‘Thank you, my angel. And once the fire is lit and the terrible Hugh is appeased, could you bring some food to break our fast? I shall join the King in his presence chamber to eat.’ Ealstan kept his eyes closed, trying to steady the room in his mind before he risked sitting up.
‘Yes Lord.’
Ealstan heard the latch of the door close, and he rolled onto his side to reach the cup of ale. He knew he must make every effort to get off the bed and get dressed, but the task seemed insurmountable when his head was pounding as it was. He really needed to find a lighter wine.
Moving slowly, a little at a time, and clutching at the furniture to help him walk across the room, Ealstan managed to drag his robe around his shoulders and fasten the belt. He couldn’t countenance dressing until he had something to settle his stomach, so he walked unsteadily down the passage towards the presence chamber, grabbing at the rough walls to steady himself. He would feel better after some food.
The room was in shadow, the drapes still covering the windows to keep out the previous evening’s draughts, and he moved one aside tentatively. He didn’t want the room flooded with light, but he needed to see where the ale jug was. Turning, he was startled by a lone figure sitting in the dark, the dim sunlight glittering in the depths of the man’s eyes.
‘Eanwulf! What on God’s earth are you doing, sitting in the dark? I might have stabbed you.’
‘With an ale cup? I very much doubt it.’
Ealstan heard his friend’s voice roughen with emotion, and he came closer. Eanwulf turned his face away quickly, but not before Ealstan had seen the marks of tears tracking down the cheeks of his friend. He sat heavily on a seat, taking a moment to breathe through the nausea any sudden movement caused him, then opened his eyes again to gaze sympathetically at his friend.
‘What has happened, Ean?’
He watched as Eanwulf took a huge, shuddering breath and seemed to compose himself, then give a shrug. ‘Nothing of import, my friend. The King has returned to Winchester to meet with the council, that is all.’
‘And you haven’t gone with him?’ Ealstan was surprised; Ӕthelbald seldom went anywhere without Eanwulf at his side.
‘No. I didn’t want him to go, and so I thought…..’
‘You thought that if you refused to go, he’d stay with you?’ Ealstan watched his friend nod slowly, the motion making his stomach protest again so that he had to look away. He leaned his head back for a moment to recover his balance, and then levelled a look at Eanwulf.
‘He is the King, Ean. He has duties that he cannot escape, even for you.’
‘I know that!’ spat Eanwulf hotly, making Ealstan’s head begin to pound again. ‘I just hoped he’d choose to stay.’
Ealstan slowed his breathing until the room stilled. God, he needed a decent drink, and some food in his stomach. How long did it take to make a fire and put some food on tray?
‘You’re jealous.’ Ealstan spoke the words without emotion, a mere statement of fact, and was surprised to hear Eanwulf swallow a sob and nod miserably.
‘Of whom, Ean? His wife? That’s pointless. You know he’ll have to bed her at some point to get an heir. Or is it that he might swive that wimple-wearing harridan while he’s away and can’t swive you?’ Ealstan leaned his head on the back of the chair for a moment to try and relieve the thudding in his brain. Where was that damned girl with their food?
‘You know!’ Eanwulf’s voice was an incredulous whisper, and Ealstan gave him a swift glance that he immediately regretted, the movement sending daggers of pain through his head.
‘Know? Of course I know, idiot. How could I not know?’ He returned his head to the back of the chair with a sigh. ‘I’m not deaf, although you two often think I am when I’ve had my fill of wine. But I hear what you say to each other,’ he risked opening one eye to gaze at Eanwulf, squirming in embarrassment, ‘and what you don’t.’
‘Yet you haven’t told anyone? About us, I mean?’
Ealstan swallowed hard. Blood of Christ, he needed a drink! He concentrated on pushing the nausea back for a moment, and risked a shake of his head.
‘Why would I tell anyone? It’s none of my business, and besides, I am your friend. Both your friends. And as a clergyman, I am well practiced at keeping secrets.’ He sighed and turned his head towards Eanwulf, but didn’t dare risk removing it from the support of the chair back. ‘But that is why I stay in the room with you during the evenings. So it’s perceived as simply three noblemen getting drunk and talking about women and horses and dogs and wine, you see?’
‘And no-one else knows? You haven’t heard any rumours?’ Eanwulf’s voice held a note of panic.
‘The only rumours I hear are those a
bout the King bedding his father’s scrawny old mistress when he’s got a beautiful young wife that he never so much as looks at.’ Ealstan lifted his head slowly from its resting place and regarded Eanwulf levelly, ‘But at some point, my friend, he will have to swive his wife. He will have no choice.’
‘There’s always a choice.’
***
Chapter 79
Prince Ӕthelberht stepped back into the shadow of the doorway as he saw the object of his affections approach. She hadn’t seen him; her gaze was turning from right to left, and she was obviously seeking someone. As she passed his hiding place, he reached out his arm and grasped her wrist, pulling her towards him into the shade of the deep portal.
‘It seems an age since I saw you, my love.’ He enclosed her in his embrace, kissing her gently on the lips and feeling her smile.
‘You see me all the time, Lord. You see me in the Queen’s solar, at dinner, everywhere.’ She gazed up at him, blue eyes smiling beneath sandy lashes, her delicate linen veil drifting over her forehead and tickling his nose, making him want to sneeze.
‘I know, but hardly ever when we’re alone. You’re always in attendance on that woman. She never gives you a moment for yourself.’ Ӕthelberht could feel the irritation rising, and he took a deep breath; he wanted to make the most of these stolen moments, not ruin them with resentment. He dropped a kiss on her nose, and she giggled softly, yet tried to untangle her hands from his grasp.
‘Lord, I have to go. I should be taking a message to Adal for the Queen. She will wonder why I haven’t returned.’
He tangled his fingers with hers, feeling the soft skin of her palms slide against his own flesh, hardened by years of swordcraft and horsemanship. Ӕthelberht lifted her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips, giving a rueful chuckle as he did so.
Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex Page 25