The Passionate Enemies

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘My dear child,’ he said, ‘you know that envoys have been arriving here at the castle. They come from England and you may have guessed for what purpose. You are a child no longer and it has long been my wish, and that of your mother, to find a husband for you.’

  ‘A suitable husband,’ said the Duchess.

  ‘He must indeed be worthy of our house, and so we are now well pleased.’

  Adelicia waited in trepidation.

  ‘You have guessed, daughter,’ said her mother. ‘They come from England and there is only one whom we could consider.’

  Her father put in: ‘The King of England is asking for your hand.’

  ‘The King of England! But he is an old man.’

  ‘He is a king,’ said her mother reprovingly.

  ‘Fifty is not so old,’ said her father soothingly. ‘And the King of England is a man who has kept his youth.’

  She was afraid. An old man! What had she heard of him? He was the son of the Conqueror who was spoken of throughout the land with awed respect.

  She wanted to fall on her knees and beg of them to allow her to stay with them, so frightened was she at the prospect of going to England.

  She looked from one parent to another but neither would meet her appealing gaze.

  ‘It is a brilliant match,’ said the Duchess. ‘There is to be no delay. The King is very eager for the marriage to take place at once.’

  ‘He has heard excellent reports of you,’ said her father.

  ‘Of a certainty he has,’ reported the Duchess. ‘What else could he hear of such a well brought up girl? The documents will be signed and the wedding take place without delay. That is the wish of the King.’

  Adelicia turned to them, her eyes wide, but they pretended not to notice her panic. Her father said: ‘The King was a good husband to his first wife. How much more so will he cherish one who is so much younger and more beautiful.’ He came to her and stroked her hair. ‘All will be well, dearest child. It is necessary that you marry and this is an excellent match. It could not be better. You will be happy with the King of England.’

  ‘You will be his Queen,’ said her mother. ‘And I doubt not that you will soon be the mother of his heir.’

  That was what frightened her. She had only vague ideas as to what must precede her giving birth to an heir, but what she knew terrified her.

  Solemnly her parents kissed her.

  It was like the sealing of a bond. This meant that she must be handed over to her husband and that all the ceremonies that must go before that final event, after which there could be no turning back, were about to begin.

  So she was to go away to England. Her parents were rejoicing because the King of England on the signing of the contract had promised a magnificent settlement.

  ‘What a generous man!’ cried the Duchess.

  Her husband replied that the King of England was known to be one who liked to see every penny accounted for, and even those who admired him most had never called him generous.

  ‘Then,’ replied the Duchess, ‘it is even more admirable, for in this he shows clearly that he appreciates our daughter.’

  The King was in no mood to wait for the marriage. He was going to call at the castle and take his bride back to England.

  The Duke was wary. ‘Should he be allowed to take our daughter away without first marrying her?’ he asked.

  ‘On such a settlement, yes,’ retorted his wife. Did the Duke think that he would have paid so handsomely for a wife when he had no intention of making her such! Besides, all knew that the King was ageing. He must get an heir soon if he were to get one at all.

  So it was arranged. The King should come to Louvaine in person and when he left Adelicia should go with him. His people would insist that the marriage ceremony took place in England, so the Princess would travel back in his train and as soon as they reached England the marriage would be solemnized.

  ‘Is it to be so soon then?’ asked Adelicia.

  She was assured that it was, and preparations immediately began throughout the castle.

  Her sister had discovered a little about the bridegroom, for there was a great deal of whispering in the castle and she was not averse to keeping her ears alert for what was not intended for them. She wondered whether it would be wiser to tell Adelicia or leave her to discover for herself, but finally decided that it would be better for her sister to be prepared.

  Adelicia had always been such a dreamer and as she sat over her needlework had imagined herself as one of the romantic figures which she created with her tiny silken stitches. Adelicia was indeed not unlike them in appearance, for she was the beauty of the family; her long golden hair made a delightful frame for her beautiful features and her wide blue eyes looked out placidly from her oval face. Adelicia had always been the peacemaker in the family. Whatever her fate she would meet it stoically but, reasoned her more worldly-wise though younger sister, she should be made aware of what she might have to face. So as they sat in the window seat looking down to the winding road which led up to the moat and drawbridge, her sister said to Adelicia: ‘I know for whom you look.’

  ‘He will come soon,’ said Adelicia. ‘He will come riding at the head of his company.’

  ‘Indeed so. That is what all the preparations are for. There will be such a banquet. Our father does not entertain a king every day and one who will be his son-in-law. Why, he must be as old as Father himself. Is that not odd? A son-in-law as old as his father-in-law.’

  ‘I doubt not it has been so, many times before.’

  ‘Oh, yes, old men like to marry young girls. I wonder what it will be like, Adelicia, married to an old man.’

  ‘They say he is young for his years.’

  ‘But what years! Fifty-two years of age! Oh, Adelicia.’

  Adelicia did not answer.

  ‘They say women like him, and he likes women well. So there is little doubt that he will be fond of you.’

  ‘I shall hope to please him.’

  ‘You will. You know you are very beautiful, Adelicia.’

  ‘Let us hope that he will think so.’

  ‘He’ll be blind if he does not. They say it is time he married for so much does he love women he will get more and more bastards if he does not.’

  Adelicia said sternly: ‘You talk with impropriety.’

  ‘I speak the truth, sister. Listen. Do you hear horses?’ She was at the window. ‘It is! I believe it is! Look at the standard!’

  Adelicia needed no admonition to look. She could not take her eyes from the riders; they came nearer and she clearly saw the man at the head of them. He was by no means young – had she expected him to be? – but he was not ill-favoured.

  Nearer and nearer they came.

  There was tension throughout the castle, the sound of running feet and voices shouting to each other.

  ‘It is the King of England.’

  The drawbridge was lowered. Adelicia saw her mother in the courtyard; in her hand the great goblet which was brought out for only the most honoured visitors. The Duke stood beside her. And there was the King of England seated on his horse, looking noble and big in his armour, taking the cup of cheer and welcome from her mother; and her father himself held the King’s stirrup while he dismounted.

  So the King of England came to the castle of the Duke of Louvaine.

  Her women dressed her with greatest care, chattering as they did so. They put on her long blue gown with the hanging sleeves and the beautiful embroidered band which she had wrought herself, around the long skirt; they combed her long hair and she wore it flowing about her shoulders. Never had she looked so beautiful, whispered her women.

  Her mother came to the chamber to take her down to the banqueting hall and there in an antechamber she came face to face with her future husband.

  He was less tall than he had seemed from below. He was of medium height and broad-chested; his plentiful black hair was flecked with white; there was a steadiness about his gaze which wa
s comforting. He looked younger than his fifty-two years and there was a charm about him which was reassuring.

  Certainly he was not the bridegroom of her dreams; how could he be, this ageing widower? But he was less forbidding than the picture her tortured imagination had conjured up, and she was grateful for that.

  He took her hand and bowed; his eyes took in each detail. She is beautiful indeed, he thought. Reports have not lied. But his heart sank a little because she was so young and clearly inexperienced. He was too old, as he had said, for over-much wooing. He preferred a mature woman, eager and passionate as himself. He could name a few. Nesta was at the head of the list – wild incomparable Nesta, Princess of Wales, who long ago had been his beloved mistress even before his first marriage. He would have married Nesta had it been possible; but when he had been a young prince with nothing but his hopes dependent on the generosity of his supporters, he had been in no position to marry, and after he had seized the crown it had been necessary that he should marry his Saxon princess, Matilda of Scotland. He had always been mindful of the fact that he was a king first and his crown must come before all else.

  It was for this reason that he must now marry, to get an heir; had he acted according to his inclinations he would have continued to make merry with his mistresses. But he must get a son. He was growing old and there was not much time left for begetting. Moreover, it had been hinted by his priests that, as each day he took a step nearer to that one when he must answer for his sins, he would be well advised to curb the merry life of sexual indulgence which he had followed since his early teens, all through the years of his first marriage until this time.

  Dreary old age! When a man must be concerned at having no heir and at the same time curb his pleasures on earth lest he should find himself, through this indulgence, debarred from sharing those of heaven.

  He should be grateful that the girl was a beauty. Slender, as young girls were, she did not look like a breeder of men. She must be. That was the purpose of the marriage. She was pleasant to look at; he liked her docile looks in a wife, though he would have cared for more spirit in a mistress.

  He kissed her hand tenderly; he felt her tremble slightly. Poor child, she had nothing to fear from him. He wondered if she had heard of his reputation with women. No doubt she had – or would – and be shocked by it. Poor little simpleton, she would not know that he would be kinder to her out of his experience of her sex – and his fondness for it – than a more moral man might have been!

  ‘You are beautiful,’ he said. ‘I am sure we shall be happy.’

  She did feel happier.

  She sat beside him at the banquet and he talked to her about his Court and life in England. He told her too, of his sorrow when his son William was drowned on the White Ship; he did not mention that two illegitimate children of his were drowned at the same time. Tears filled her eyes and her sympathy made her feel drawn towards him.

  ‘You will comfort me for my loss,’ he said. ‘You and you alone can do it. We will have a fine son ere long and then I shall cease to mourn.’

  She nodded and her fear of what this would mean was replaced by her desire to soothe him.

  ‘Would we could be married this day,’ he said. ‘But I am a king and there are times when kings must needs be governed by their subjects. They will wish to see me married. And my Archbishop must perform the ceremony. But have no fear, I shall lose no time in making you my Queen.’

  Adelicia’s parents were delighted with the impression their daughter was making on her future husband and pleased that she did not regard him with the abhorrence they had feared. Adelicia had always been a good and obedient girl but even she might have felt some rebellion to be taken from her home and given to an old man.

  There was much feasting and revelry through the castle and in due course the cavalcade set out for the coast and embarkation to England.

  During the journey the King had become more and more enamoured of his bride, but as it would have been most unseemly to take a mistress while his prospective bride was travelling in his suite and he was unaccustomed to going so long without the solace of feminine company, the waiting was indeed irksome.

  He had found his bride not unintelligent. She lacked the erudition of Matilda, his first wife, but then few women had received the education she had had. He himself had always favoured scholars and was indeed a scholar himself. He had been the only one of his brothers to take kindly to book learning and because of his proficiency in this field had earned the name ‘Beauclerc’. Adelicia could never be the companion Matilda had been; but she was perhaps more meek. He did not expect she would excite him as his mistresses did; nevertheless lovemaking with her would be a pleasure; and in view of the fact that there would be this dedicated purpose behind it he was eager to begin.

  He had begun to charm her with his conversation and subtle compliments; and by the time they reached Ely, she was eager to do all that he wished. He could, of course, have taken her to his bed before they reached Windsor and the actual marriage ceremony took place.

  That could be dangerous. What if he got her with child as he so hoped to do at the earliest moment and met his end before the ceremony? There would be a disaster; and the child would be just another of his bastards.

  No. If he were to take her to bed before and during the tedious journey to Windsor, then a ceremony there must be.

  He sent for his priest and told him of his dilemma.

  ‘My lord,’ was the answer, ‘the marriage must be solemnized with all ceremony due to the King and his new Queen.’

  ‘I know it, I know it,’ said the King with a return to that irascibility which all had dreaded and which had abated considerably during the wooing period. ‘But you know my ardent nature. Would you have me anticipate the marriage vows?’

  ‘My lord, you would perjure your soul. And the Princess is no ordinary woman to be taken at your pleasure.’

  ‘I know that well, man. So there must be a ceremony. Oh. nothing to make a noise about. A few words said over us. Come. No more arguments. Arrange it.’

  And so it was arranged.

  There at Ely the words were spoken and Adelicia became the wife of Henry I of England.

  He found her submissive but not responsive; it was as he had thought.

  Still, she was beautiful; she was young and appealing; and once she had a healthy boy growing within her he would be content.

  The royal party made its way from Ely to Windsor and there waiting to greet them at the castle was Henry’s old friend and chief adviser, Roger, Bishop of Salisbury. With him was his beautiful mistress, Matilda of Ramsbury whom Adelicia presumed to be his wife. She was a little puzzled because she had been under the impression that the clergy were not permitted to marry.

  Roger was respectful; the beautiful Matilda was kind and as there had been so many strange revelations in her life during the last months, Adelicia accepted this as yet another. The laws of England must be different from those in her country.

  Matilda carried Adelicia off to her apartments and there, with the assistance of a few women, helped her change her habit and prepare for the banquet which would celebrate their arrival.

  Adelicia was struck by the outstanding beauty of Matilda and could scarcely take her eyes from her; she seemed awkward in her presence and very, very young.

  ‘You are going to be very happy,’ Matilda told her. ‘The King will be an indulgent husband if you do all you can to please him.’

  She was comforted.

  In the meantime Roger had accompanied the King to his chamber and they talked alone together.

  ‘The marriage,’ said Roger, ‘should take place without delay for you are an impatient man, my lord.’

  ‘Did you think, Roger, I would wait for the ceremony? We are already bedded.’

  ‘To my lord’s satisfaction, I trust.’

  ‘She is a child, Roger. No more.’

  ‘I believe you are not averse to a young virgin.’

 
‘Virgin she doubtless was and is so no longer. I trust by now that the seed has been well and truly planted.’

  ‘It is a matter for rejoicing, my lord. But the ceremony?’

  ‘The priest married us at Ely and every night since, she has been in my bed.’

  ‘So there was a ceremony. That pleasures me for there are spies who watch our movements. I doubt not there would be indignation from the Duke of Louvaine were he to hear that his daughter had lost her virginity without gaining a marriage contract.’

  ‘Nay. I married her, but I’ll do so again for the sake of the people. It would never do for it to be set abroad that there had been no ceremony. There would always be those to declare that the child, which I pray is now growing within her, was a bastard.’

  ‘The marriage must take place without delay and since Windsor is within my diocese I claim the right to perform it.’

  ‘And old, Ralph of Canterbury?’

  ‘He is in his dotage. Nay, I’ll marry you here and there should be no delay, for the child the Queen gives you must be born within the correct space of time after the nuptials which have already taken place.’

  ‘Oh, never fear. When she tells me she is with child, I’ll rejoice no matter if the child arrives a little soon for decency.’

  ‘Then I will make all preparations for the ceremony,’ answered Roger.

  It was hardly to be expected that the Archbishop of Canterbury would stand by while Roger of Salisbury snatched his privileges from under his nose.

  Roger, who was an extremely ambitious man, was, however, determined not to lose one point in the battle for power. To marry the King and his new Queen would establish him in the eyes of the country as not only the most important man of the State – under the King, of course – but of the Church also.

  It had been before Christmas when the party had arrived at Windsor and the King wished the matter to be settled before the season’s celebrations began.