“Maud,” William whispered, “I think we should go back.”
“Rubbish, we’re almost there. Follow me!”
A few more paces and we reached the entrance to the upper walk. I looked around, but there was only the guard we had seen—who had now staked out a position opposite our own—and one of his fellow watchers standing another ten paces away. We bent down and crawled up to the edge, peeking beneath the rail. Below we could see all the revelers. Seldom had I enjoyed such a feast for the eyes. The hall seemed to be filled with every color on earth. In the midst of the dancers, I was able to make out Brother Robert and Cousins Brian and Stephen with several ladies I did not recognize, but who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. The Bishop of Salisbury could be seen discussing something with a man I knew to be the Earl of Surrey. Rather, it would be more correct to say that he was listening to the earl complain about something, for I saw no words escaping the bishop’s mouth. The queen sat at the high table on the dais and was speaking with the Earl of Warwick’s wife, Margaret. However, I could see neither my father nor Warwick himself anywhere in the hall.
It was at this moment that two figures appeared on the upper walk from another entrance and made their way in our direction. Struck with fear, William began running back in the direction of the bedchamber.
“William!” I said as loudly as I dared. “We should stay together!”
It was too late, for my brother was beyond hearing and the steps were coming closer. I had little time left and flung myself toward a small nook in the dark passage behind me. None too soon was I out of sight, for the king and the Earl of Warwick were now rounding the corner and pausing near enough that I could hear their conversation.
“And you are sure he will abide by his word?” I could hear the earl say.
“Yes, both I and Ranulf are satisfied that this is the right course of action. The matter is yet in the early stages, but I foresee that discussions will begin in earnest once I am in Normandy.”
“His position is certainly one to be favored. He rules over the most powerful empire in Christendom. Still, one cannot overlook his faults. His father, as you know, utterly defied the pope and died excommunicate.”
“What you mean to say is that he was unwilling to give up that right which had been granted him by the Lord’s anointing, and I must say I agree with the old man there,” the king countered.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I do not mean to say that there is no place for reform within the Church or that the emperor has not on occasion been treated most abominably by those who ought to be his faithful subjects, but we must also employ a little caution if the new Henry is to have a more prosperous reign than his predecessor. The absence of the Holy Father’s favor, however unfair, would weaken him just as it did his father. Whether justified or not, he courts danger with this quarrel regarding the investiture.”
“Warwick, no sovereign prince can bear to be impotent within his own kingdom. Even His Grace Anselm of Bec has come to see that, and I have been keen to prove it to him!”
I struggled to work out the full meaning of their words. I had gathered that they were speaking of Henry, the new emperor of the Romans, but I did not see what he had to do with England. Finally, Warwick spoke again, returning to the original issue.
“Is Roger of Salisbury in favor of this alliance?”
“Yes, he responded with support when we spoke to the emperor’s ambassador.”
“And what does the queen think?”
“She will think whatever I instruct her to think. It’s not her decision.”
“Yes, but it is her daughter.”
For the first time, I understood that this whole conversation was about me, and my interest was now so great that I had to suppress the desire to move closer.
“It is the task of a mother to nurture a daughter, but a father must ensure her future stability. Through marriage, Maud will achieve for us all a most favorable alliance with the descendant of Charles the Great, the Holy Roman emperor. She will be raised higher even than her own mother, and her children will sit on a throne endowed by the pope, nay, by God himself! Who could possibly object to such a match?”
“It does present an opportunity to join forces against that errant knave, the king of France.”
“Philip? They say he is finally dying. I take no solace in it, for I am sure the son will be just as irksome as the father. Always they attempt to steal the rightful inheritance passed down from my ancestors. The French must never have Normandy.”
“Nor shall they, my king, for as long as you and your descendants sit on the throne.”
“Yes, that is a happy thought. But what is this? The ladies are beckoning us to come down. Well, Warwick, I suppose we must go join them. Obligation is an onerous thing.”
With that the men left the way they had come, and I was free to move away from my hiding place and return to the safety of my bed. I found no rest or satisfaction there for quite some time, as I continued to ponder what I had just heard. It seemed that the king had already decided to send me off to the land of the Germans, to wed a man far older than me and whom I had never met, and to prevent me from living in England ever again.
Did my mother know of his intent? Surely the idea of her child’s departure would break her heart. Or was I mistaken? Perhaps William was all the offspring she and my father required. My brother would become the ruler of destiny, following my father’s example, and I would be the lamb for slaughter, sent to achieve through marriage what it was less possible to gain on the field of battle. While I had known from early childhood that this fate was likely, the fact of such a match now hung over me as the sword of Damocles. I knew without a doubt that there was no possible remedy. I must go, and I would likely never return.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not escape those words nor forget that moment in which my future had been changed for all time. In my weariness I fell at last into troubled dreams, and found little relief in waking the following morning.
III
I must say a word regarding my father and Archbishop Anselm, two titans alike in strength, yet thoroughly opposed. Each had his role to play in the great tales of our age, yet far too often they were placed in opposition to each other. Father Anselm, as my mother was apt to name him, was perhaps the brightest of all the lights that shone in that era, the highest and most accomplished of scholars. He was from the town of Aosta in the realm of Savoy, and his family was linked in some manner with the rulers of that region. My mother the queen knew him on far more intimate terms than I, for she was among his most faithful children and exchanged letters with him throughout my childhood.
She told me that Anselm had desired in the days of his youth to enter the local abbey, but his own relations would have none of it. Thus began a period in which he wandered far and wide seeking peace for his soul, uncertain whither the path might lead. God only knows how long he might have continued in that state had he not arrived at the most blessed house of Notre-Dame du Bec, at which that servant of God Lanfranc was prior. It was there, at the age of twenty-seven, that Anselm placed himself under the rule of Saint Benedict and found in Bec Abbey a home more dear than any he had ever known. Though he became one of the most respected scholars of our time, the Lord had reserved still greater things for him. Upon the death of Archbishop Lanfranc, my uncle King William appointed him to the See of Canterbury, a charge Anselm accepted with the most comely humility, though he swore he would rather live out his days in the solitude and austerity of the monastery than with the luxurious trappings of such an office.
It is said that this appointment was against the king’s own will, for he was a man who had no great love for the Church, believing it to be a usurper of his own rightful place. Thus was the archbishop forced into exile from England almost as soon as he had arrived, and not for the last time. It was my own father who called him back to his post, and then only for a brief period, for controversy soon arose over who should invest the bishops with
their staffs, the same argument that had fractured the Continent for some years. I was only a baby in those days and ignorant of all that was taking place, even as the archbishop was forced to flee yet again to Normandy and seek the protection of His Holiness Pope Paschal II.
As you will have noted, Daughter, it was my mother who set in motion the sequence of actions by which Archbishop Anselm became our tutor, for she desired that her children might benefit from the teaching of a man whom she believed to be superior to all other persons then alive, save perhaps the Holy Father himself. I fear that King Henry must have hated to draft that letter to Anselm, in which he bid him come and safeguard his two great prizes. With each stroke of the pen, his pride was surely dealt a bitter blow.
Nevertheless they reached an understanding: the archbishop would come to Westminster, there to serve as protector and teacher for my brother and me in the months of our father’s absence. I suspect the condition by which the queen gained this agreement was that she would remain in England to serve as intercessor between king and archbishop, for as dear as she held every word that proceeded from Anselm’s lips, she also maintained a proper respect for the decrees of her royal husband. I reached this conclusion upon hearing that the queen was not to travel to Normandy after all.
The days of that summer held no great joy for me, for I was well aware of what lay in wait. For the first time in my life, I found my mind continually troubled by restless thoughts. I was too afraid to mention what I knew regarding the proposed alliance with the emperor, for to do so would have forced me to reveal the circumstances under which I heard it. Instead I allowed my silent fears to torment me and consume the good cheer I ought to have enjoyed at a time when my family was finally together.
The week before the king’s departure, I received the strange news that William and I were to join the king and queen for a private supper. Such an occasion is no doubt common for the peasant in the fields who comes home after dark to a wife, four children, a loaf of bread, and a pot of stew, but it is hardly a matter of course in royal households. William and I took most of our meals with Lady Beatrice and were not often summoned to dine with our mother. For the four of us to join together in private was quite rare indeed. While the royal departure may have been reason enough for such a request, I suspected upon hearing the news of the common meal that there must be another purpose behind the king’s proposition beyond the desire to eat and drink collectively.
On the appointed evening, Lady Beatrice bid me set aside my customary tunic and instead placed upon me a new gown of brightest green silk. I had been forced to stand and be measured on four occasions, and each time I was charged not to wince when the needle went astray and poked me in the leg or shoulder. This gown was of a higher class than my usual attire. I suppose it was meant to provide an outward sign of my entry into a new phase of life: one in which I must start fulfilling the demands placed upon me since birth. This being the case, I both loved it for its beauty and loathed it for what it signified.
Lady Beatrice was unmerciful as she tied the laces, and I feared that my containment was becoming far too literal. After she finished this work, she began combing my hair, a rather dull gathering of brown curls. I couldn’t help yelping as she tugged and pinned each strand. At last Lady Beatrice draped a great chain of beads over my head. She stepped back to survey her work.
“Oh, child, this gown is marvelous, but I fear no one will notice if you continue in that awkward manner. Stand up straight and wipe that scowl off your face! The king greatly favors you by summoning you to dine with him.”
I was on the verge of saying something that wasn’t as regal as Lady Beatrice preferred, when Eleanor, her chief assistant, entered the room. She was holding the hand of William, who enjoyed a great laugh upon seeing me in the strange garment.
“Master William, if you please, calm yourself! I will not have you behaving so in Her Royal Highness’s presence!”
“You look strange,” William said, paying no heed to Lady Beatrice’s edict. “Why is your hair like that? You look even uglier than usual.”
“You little imp!” I shouted and hurled myself at him. But I caught my foot on the hem of my gown and quickly found myself facedown on the floor, prompting a new shower of laughter from William.
“Truly, children, show some dignity! Be still this instant!” Lady Beatrice shouted with growing anger.
Gripping me beneath the arm, she pulled me to my feet and looked me in the eye, her mind clearly racing to devise an especially piercing rebuke. However, I was saved, as it were, by the large scrape that she noticed on my chin, the blood now flowing freely.
“Good Lord in heaven! Am I to suffer the torments of purgatory before my time?” she muttered to herself as she handed me a scrap of linen to hold against the wound. “Eleanor, take the prince to supper now. I will follow with Lady Mathilda when she is again presentable.”
It was impossible for Lady Beatrice to bandage my face without making me look an absolute fool, so she settled for cleaning the cut with water and covering it with a substance she used to conceal the mole that grew upon the point of her nose. She reviewed her work and determined that the situation was unlikely to improve, and so led me to the chamber where the king took his meals, save for the feasts that were held in the great hall. My mother and William were already seated at the long oak table. An embroidered banner on the wall portrayed the great feast of Dionysus, and the windows looked out across the river toward the place that was called by the Anglo-Saxons Sudweca, “the southern fortification.” Beyond, the lands of Surrey stretched as far as the eye could see.
One of the king’s men pulled my chair back from the table and bade me sit down, which I did without delay. The queen had a smile on her face that showed she approved of my appearance far more than William, and that Lady Beatrice’s trick had succeeded in hiding the wound on my face.
“How pretty you look, Maud! That color is a perfect match for your eyes. Is it to your liking?”
“Why yes, Mother, it is wonderful.” Daughter, in such cases honesty cannot be pardoned, so you must forgive me if I sought to please rather than speak truth.
We sat there for what felt like an eternity, waiting upon the king. I did my best to maintain a proper demeanor as I had been commanded. My mother seemed content to stare off into the distance, no doubt contemplating some great matter of state or mystery of the spiritual realm. Servants stood at the edges of the room, ready for any crisis. For his part, William was Herculean in his attempt to remain still, and he was clearly distraught over our father’s delay.
“When are we going to eat? I’m hungry!” he complained loudly.
“As soon as the king arrives, we will begin, but until then you must silence these complaints,” the queen replied.
“But what is he doing?”
“He was conversing with the Bishop of Salisbury and should be joining us shortly.”
“I hate waiting.”
“As do we all, but waiting is part of life, William, and it is better that you learned that now than to be utterly surprised later. Do not make me call Lady Beatrice back.”
An array of groans was all my brother could produce in return.
Finally the king’s butler, William d’Aubigny, opened the door and proclaimed, “His Grace King Henry!”
My mother and I moved to our feet by instinct, but young William required some chiding in order to assume the proper position. The king strode through the door and moved directly to his chair at the head of the table, taking little notice of the three other persons present.
“Aubigny, bring me some wine! I am parched,” he said to the butler as we all were seated.
One of the cupbearers produced the sought-after liquid and handed it to the butler, who in turn gave it to the king.
“Wait!” my father cried. “Taste it first.”
With a swift nod of the head, the butler set about his task, tipping the goblet slowly until a few drops fell into his mouth. He gave the drink
a moment to settle in his mouth, then swallowed.
“I feel no ill effects,” Aubigny declared, setting the goblet in front of the king.
“Not so fast!” he replied. “I require one further test. Fetch the horn.”
“The horn?”
“The unicorn horn, man! Fetch it at once!”
“Ah, of course . . . ,” the butler said, then made haste to recover it, searching a nearby chest with one of the servant boys. I could just hear him mutter, “Where is the damned thing?” as he and the boy turned over every item. At last they retrieved an object wrapped in linens and uncovered a gray, pointed horn that was at least the length of a man’s arm. I looked on in wonder as they lowered the tip first into the king’s drink, then into the remainder of the wine.
“Very good. Now it is pure,” the king said, finally satisfied that his drink was safe to consume. As we watched, my father drained the goblet and said, “I’ll have another.”
It was at this point that the king turned his head to look upon the rest of us at the table. If I did not know better, I would have said that he was surprised to see us.
“So, my queen, how are you this fine evening?”
“I am well to be sitting next to you.”
“It was hotter than hell today,” he said, oblivious to her reply. “Six hours of stalking and naught but a few grouse to show for it. The beasts seem to know when the weather is too unseasonable for going out. Would that we had been so wise. The whole lot of us plunged into the river to cool ourselves.”
“Lady Beatrice says we are not allowed to swim,” William complained.
Once again Father seemed to be taken by surprise that someone else was present. His thoughts clearly remained with the hunting party. Nevertheless he recovered.
“My son, when you are king as I am now, you will experience what a blessed relief it is to live your life in whatever form seems most desirable, rather than according to the demands of lesser persons.”
The Girl Empress (The Chronicle of Maud Book 1) Page 5