Anarchy

by Stewart Binns

  I am working without respite to complete Hal’s story, much to the chagrin of my aides. I pray to Our Lord to give me the strength to complete my task, for my health is a worry to me. I fear I am in serious decline; pray for me.

  Keep well, good friend.

  Yours in God,

  Gilbert

  21. Heaven on Earth

  The spring and early summer of 1129 in the Lot were hot and dry. There was no word from either Eadmer or Lothar, and St Cirq Lapopie had few visitors. Life on the estate continued harmoniously. I often looked out over the gorge and the river below, especially at sunset – just as my family must have done on so many occasions – and said to myself, ‘This is Heaven on Earth.’

  It was on such an evening in early May that Maud suddenly appeared behind me. She had been in a good mood all day, helping in the fields and playing with the children of the families on the estate. She no longer looked like an empress: she had the golden skin of the well-to-do wife of a landowner, who does not mind her complexion being darkened by the sun. Her hair had been bleached by the sun and her skin shone with the natural sheen of robust health. She was strikingly handsome before, but now I found her natural beauty more and more irresistible by the day.

  When she spoke, her voice was tender and warm.

  ‘When do you expect them back?’

  ‘Lothar should be back by now. But Eadmer, not before the end of the month.’

  ‘I hope they come back with news that my father has disowned me and that my husband wants the marriage annulled. Then I can stay here!’

  My heart raced, and I found it hard to speak without my voice trembling. I probably should not have said it, but I just blurted the words out.

  ‘Maud, that would be beyond my wildest dreams!’

  Her face broke into one of her captivating smiles and she ran towards me with her arms outstretched.

  ‘Oh, Hal, I’m so happy here. What more could a woman want!’

  She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. In between hungry kisses, she gasped.

  ‘It has been so long … I can’t resist any longer … I’ve tried to remember my duty …’

  I carried her inside the farmhouse and into her chamber, where Greta was tidying the room. When she saw us coming, she tried to curtsy but was so shocked that she only succeeded in falling over the bed. She excused herself and made a rapid exit.

  Maud laughed out loud.

  ‘See, Greta, he does want me … I think that will be all for tonight!’

  Greta giggled and attempted another curtsy, but Maud kicked the door closed before she could execute it.

  ‘So, my handsome Prince of the Lot, make this poor widow happy!’

  We made love all night, only interrupted by a nocturnal dash down the hill to the river for a languorous bathe in its cool waters, after which we made love again on a small sandy inlet by the shore. Sleep brought a halt to our passion as, exhausted, we slumbered on the sand. We had run down the hill naked, so the chill of the night woke us, but not before dawn was glowing softly behind the Lot’s towering crags to the east. We were both shivering from the cold and clambered back up the hill, teasing each other and laughing like young lovers who have just enjoyed their first tryst.

  When we reached the farmhouse, the young milkmaids were on their way to the fields and got the shock of their lives as two naked figures bolted past them. Our encounter thus became the talk of the estate for weeks afterwards.

  The month of May became one seamlessly blissful carnal interlude, where the long warm days just melded together in a haze of euphoria. Maud had an enchanting body, broad in the hips with strong shoulders. Her breasts were full, with large dark nipples, and she had a taut muscular backside – a faultless frame for the delightful activities in which we engaged and which devoured almost our entire time. Maud was ideally designed for raucous sex, and I could be as forceful as possible without fear of discomforting her – in fact, I was often the one overcome by fatigue. She was a woman of the world who had married an emperor at the age of twelve and lost her virginity only weeks afterwards. She was totally uninhibited and enjoyed sex more than any woman I had ever met. The Emperor had been sixteen years her senior, with vast experience from countless concubines, and had been a kind and thoughtful tutor in the bedchamber – an education from which I was now reaping the benefit.

  By the beginning of June, we were living like man and wife and very much in love. Eadmer would have won his bet, had I accepted it.

  St Cirq Lapopie was now an even more profound Heaven on Earth than before. But one evening after dinner – at the risk of breaking the spell of our enchanted time together – I raised with Maud what I thought was a crucial question.

  ‘Darling, we are taking a big risk. You could get pregnant, and that could make things very complicated.’

  She looked at me in horror. Tight-lipped and fighting to control her emotions, she pleaded with me.

  ‘Don’t spoil it … this is such a special time for us both … I don’t want to think about anything else.’

  ‘I don’t want it to end either. But Lothar and Eadmer will be back soon – and they will bring the real world with them.’

  ‘I don’t care. The real world can go to Hell!’

  I realized that the fantasy we were enjoying, no matter how much of a facade, was so precious to her. The time had not yet come to question it.

  ‘I understand. I’m sorry, let’s enjoy this for as long as we can.’

  She smiled at me with relief, but her expression became thoughtful as she considered my original question.

  ‘Hal, don’t worry about babies. I am barren – I was married to the Emperor for over ten years, and there was never a hint of a pregnancy. But I know he had at least one bastard child with some mare from Lotharingia and there were rumours of several more.’

  ‘But isn’t it important that you produce a grandson for the King?’

  ‘Yes – he told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted a grandson. But I no longer fear his displeasure. If I am barren and he finds a new successor, then I can come back to you and live out my days here.’

  She smiled that smile again. Our first lovers’ tiff was over.

  But we were to have only a few more days of paradise in our illusory world before a tiny speck in the distance, in the valley of the Lot below, heralded Eadmer’s return to St Cirq Lapopie.

  When Eadmer reached the farmhouse, it was almost dusk. He looked gaunt and exhausted.

  Maud joined me to greet him, and held my hand as we did so.

  ‘Welcome back, good friend.’

  ‘I’m glad to be back, believe me!’

  He glanced down at our interlocking hands and whispered to me.

  ‘I see I’ve won my wager –’

  Maud heard his aside and interrupted before I could respond.

  ‘Which was what?’

  Eadmer looked a little timid, which was unusual.

  ‘Well, my Lady … that you would be in his bed by the time I returned. I’m sorry, my Lady –’

  ‘Well, you lose, he’s in my bed!’

  We all laughed together, and Maud took Eadmer by the arm.

  ‘Let us eat! And have some wine to celebrate your safe return.’

  Eadmer glanced at me. He looked concerned.

  ‘What about Lothar? Is he not here? He had only half the distance to cover. He should be back by now.’

  ‘It is worrying, my friend. I fear for him.’

  After Eadmer had washed the dust of the road away, we sat with Greta to eat dinner and drink one of Cahors’ better wines, a butt of which I kept for special occasions. Eadmer passed a small piece of vellum to Maud.

  ‘Here is K
ing Henry’s response, my Lady. I hope it is the answer you want. It was not easy to get. I didn’t trust the pigeonman – I was concerned that such men might operate under licence from the King, making it easy to track me down while I waited for the bird to return. So I bought all the man’s birds and told him to disappear for a few days. I observed his loft from a distance, waiting for the return of my chosen bird. I was right to be cautious. The day after I left the pigeon with your message at the King’s gate at Westminster, a squadron of his men arrived in Southwark and ransacked the pigeonman’s little hovel. Mercifully, I was nowhere to be found! Two days later, my chosen pigeon appeared overhead. Sadly, I had to bring the poor bird down with an arrow, but the King’s message was there, bound to its tiny leg.’

  ‘You have done well, Eadmer. I am so very grateful to you.’

  ‘Your father is frantic, my Lady. Every burgh in England is being scoured by his men – and it is the same in Normandy. Every ship leaving port along the length of the south coast of England is being searched. I had to buy passage on a Breton trader from Wareham, in Dorset. The ship’s cargo was such that the captain preferred his crossing of the Channel to be as discreet as I hoped mine would be. I travelled a difficult route – using several ships through the western reaches of Brittany and Poitiers, and eventually down into Aquitaine – before reaching the Lot at Aiguillon. After that, it was familiar territory and home beckoned.’

  Maud unravelled the note from the King, written on a minuscule piece of vellum. She was clearly agitated by its contents, and motioned to Greta to accompany her to her chamber.

  ‘Hal, keep Eadmer company, he deserves several jugs of wine. Let’s talk in the morning.’

  She left her father’s response on the table for me to read. I picked up the note and read the tiny but immaculate blackletter Latin.

  Darling Maud,

  You are a difficult child, but it was ever thus.

  The summer of 1131 is agreed. I will ensure that Count Geoffrey is in London to greet you, but the months in between must be spent in Rouen. Your presence will keep Normandy happy, where there is still sympathy for your cousin, William Clito.

  I want you in Rouen by Christmas Day, when I will be there for my crown wearing.

  Wherever you are, you must now come home.

  Your loving father,

  Henry Beauclerc, Rex

  That night was the first night we had not spent together since we became lovers. Maud wanted to be alone.

  I desperately hoped it was just a temporary setback.

  When Maud emerged quite late the next morning, she came to find me in the vineyard. She looked bleary-eyed and had clearly spent a sleepless night, but she looked and sounded determined.

  ‘If you don’t mind accompanying me, I would like to begin the journey to Rouen by the end of the month.’

  ‘Of course, my Lady. Eadmer and I will make the preparations.’

  She smiled wryly at my deliberate formality, then took me by the arm and laid her head on my shoulder.

  ‘Hal, let’s continue our little dream for a while. And then, when we get to Rouen, we shall see what mood my father is in … Perhaps I can find a way of making sure you stay close to me?’

  ‘Is that a good idea for both of us – especially when your husband returns?’

  ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. The most difficult part will be handling my father. He’s sure to remember you from your first encounter with him. And then there’s the small matter of my escape … Also, he knows me well, and he will assume I have not been without companionship these past months.’

  ‘You’re right, we will be walking into a bear pit. But as long as we stay true to what we’ve learned here in St Cirq Lapopie, we can draw strength from one another.’

  ‘I love you, Hal, and I always will. Please remember that, no matter what happens –’

  ‘And I love you, my darling. I will always be at your side, come what may.’

  Matilda had never told me she loved me before, and I was quick to respond by affirming my love for her – something I had wanted to do for a very long time.

  It was a moment that changed my life. I had decided some time ago that I would rally to her cause, now I knew I had to devote my life to her.

  Eadmer helped me organize the estate for our departure, but he gulped hard when I told him we were due to rendezvous with the King in Rouen. His only comment was short and to the point.

  ‘He’ll cut your balls off and hang you from the nearest gibbet!’

  Although I hoped his prediction would prove to be exaggerated, he was right. Of all our journeys, the one we were now preparing for was by far the most hazardous.

  We were in Rouen before the worst of the winter of 1129 began. King Henry had sent orders that Matilda must be well taken care of in the ducal palace, and she arranged for me to be accommodated as a knight-escort of the royal household.

  Rouen was busy; the city was storing the harvest and preparing itself for winter. Waiting for the arrival of the King was an anxious tedium, a calm before a raging storm. So as not to feed too much gossip, I only saw Matilda occasionally, although our arrival – as just a quartet without any escort or attendant paraphernalia, after months of absence – had already generated enough chatter to keep the busybodies happy for weeks. Fortunately, neither Eadmer nor Greta would ever reveal any of our secrets – so the surmise of the gossips remained no more than idle speculation.

  However, the boredom of waiting for the King’s arrival was relieved in a most unwelcome way about ten days after we had settled in Rouen.

  Greta stopped me in the palace courtyard and ushered me to see Matilda in her chamber. Her mistress was lying face down on the bed in a state of considerable distress. Greta pushed me inside furtively and closed the door behind me.

  Matilda rushed over and threw her arms around me.

  ‘Hal, I’m at my wits’ end. I think I’m with child!’

  I started to speak. I must have looked bewildered, because Matilda voiced my thoughts.

  ‘I know, I believed I was barren … but I’ve missed two months. There’s either something wrong with me, or I’m pregnant. I’ve got all the other signs: I’m sick all the time and bad tempered with Greta. What are we going to do?’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘It’s our child, I want to keep it.’

  I tried to think quickly, but sensibly.

  ‘Good, then we have to leave. When do you expect the King?’

  ‘Any day now; the stewards are preparing everything.’

  ‘We must leave before he arrives. We’ll go to St Cirq Lapopie and make sure no one finds us.’

  Looking relieved, she smiled at me.

  ‘Oh, please … please stay with me tonight.’

  ‘Of course, my darling. But first, let’s tell Greta and Eadmer to prepare for the journey. You’ll need to think of a reason for your swift departure.’

  Although my night with Matilda was amorous enough, I did not sleep well – if our lives were not already beset by danger, our problems had just become much more ominous.

  By late morning, all was ready for a rapid departure southwards. Matilda had told the King’s Chamberlain that she wanted to travel to Évreux to speak with Audin of Bayeux – the old bishop, famous for his wisdom and kindness. The Chamberlain was suspicious – especially when Matilda declined an escort – and made the obvious point that he would have to answer to the King if anything should happen to his daughter.

  When we reached the gates of the palace, the Chamberlain was there with several of the garrison. He was still perturbed by Matilda’s sudden decision to leave, just at the point when her father was expected to arrive. The Constabl
e of the Palace then intervened, a senior member of the King’s hierarchy in Normandy. The two men were on the horns of a dilemma: did they incur the ire of the Empress by preventing her from leaving, or the wrath of the King by allowing her to go?

  It was obvious to me which decision they would make. I began to think of our options, the most obvious of which was a clandestine departure later that night.

  I was about to whisper that thought to Matilda, when distant heralds sounded the approach of Henry Beauclerc, King of England. Eadmer looked at me, expecting a signal to make a run for it, but I shook my head. Matilda concurred with a frown and a shrug of her shoulders.

  Our game was up.

  The King was just as I remembered him – older of course, a little more rotund, but still formidable. He looked grim-faced. Perhaps he was tired from his journey, but his demeanour only added to my anxiety.

  Matilda made a good fist of greeting her father with unbounded enthusiasm and rushed to his side. Henry looked at me only momentarily, without a flicker of emotion, as I tried to meet his glance with equanimity.

  Eadmer was very anxious and forthright with his advice.

  ‘We should ride like the wind. Let’s leave now!’

  ‘You go, my friend, and take care of St Cirq Lapopie. I’m staying with Matilda; I’ve made her a promise.’

  ‘You’re a love-struck fool. But as it’s winter, and the Lot will be cold, I suppose I may as well stay here. And that makes me a bigger fool than you are!’

  Matilda disappeared into the royal apartments with her father and his huge retinue – a host soon swollen by the entire nobility of Rouen, who rushed to the Palace to greet the King of England. He was a liege for whom they had much more affection in his guise as their Duke.

  A celebratory feast began at dusk, and Eadmer and I retreated to a tavern to drink some of Normandy’s infamous Calva – not the most elegant of brews, but one that could certainly leave its mark. Sadly, its potency solved none of my problems.