The Girl Empress (The Chronicle of Maud Book 1)

by Amy Mantravadi

  “I should think not! As honorable as such an alliance may be, you are most dear to her, and I am sure she would be loath to part with you, even to please the king and the world beside.”

  I do not know why, but I felt in that moment that here was a person with whom I might share my most secret thoughts without fear of reprisal. William was distracting the others and it was only the two of us in conversation.

  “Brian, may I tell you something?”

  “Anything, Lady Maud. You know I will hold it in confidence.”

  I paused for courage, then said, “I am afraid. All I have ever known is this land and these people. It seems such a long way to go, and I am sad to think that I should never see those dearest to me again.”

  He did not respond immediately, but simply listened as I spoke. Even though I was merely a girl myself, I could sense that he must be quite advanced for his years. His thoughtfulness exceeded that of his companions, however amiable they may have been. At length he spoke.

  “Such feelings are natural, but I do not think you have any reason to fear. This will not be the end for you, but the beginning. You are the daughter of the king, and your entire life lies before you. We all feel at times that we are the victims of fate, that God himself is playing a cruel game with our lives, but we must have faith. When the time is right, you too will know the thrill and the burden of deciding for yourself how to spend your time on this earth. In any case, you will not be separated from us eternally. I am certain that we shall all visit with one another whenever possible.”

  The idea that I might be able to travel to see my friends, or that any of them might visit me, served to strengthen my resolve.

  “Thank you, Brian. I am sure you are right. I wish you a safe voyage.”

  The final farewells having been issued, the last passengers entered the boats and set sail for the land across the sea. Lady Beatrice led my brother and me back to a much quieter palace as the bells of King Edward’s church rang out to signal the sovereign’s departure. How much longer the queen stood there by the riverside watching the ships set out, I cannot say. All that remained now was for the archbishop to make his return to court.

  IV

  The heat of summer had died down and the leaves had begun to adopt their autumn hues by the time His Grace the archbishop of Canterbury arrived at Westminster. He had traveled down to Portsmouth to be near the king’s party, but now came north to assume the care of my brother and me in accordance with the king’s wishes—well, truly my mother’s wishes. We received the news on a Wednesday evening that the party had advanced as far as Chertsey Abbey, where the archbishop wished to rest for the night before completing his journey. There were rumors that his health was failing, and he surely would not have undertaken such an expedition had it not been according to the express wishes of King Henry and his queen.

  Although I had heard tales of Anselm of Bec all my life, I had seldom had the pleasure of his company. This was primarily due to his continual disputes with the king, on account of which the archbishop was twice exiled to Normandy. Even my mother, whom Anselm regarded as his faithful daughter in Christ, was often forced to converse with him through letters. Happily, she had a firm enough grasp of Latin to achieve this, helped by one or two royal clerks.

  Friday morning we were all ready for him to arrive. However, we were informed that he would be stopping in town first so the newly consecrated bishop of London could pay his respects. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that this would give the archbishop a chance to further establish his ecclesiastical authority in the most powerful city within his jurisdiction; this was particularly important, as Londoners are apt to consider their metropolis a kingdom unto itself. I did hear that they received him favorably despite the controversy of former years.

  By that afternoon Anselm had taken his leave of the bishop and boarded the craft that would carry him the short distance to the Palace of Westminster. As the lord chancellor had traveled with the king to Normandy and the bishop of Salisbury was reportedly too consumed with the affairs of his own see to make the journey, none of the chief officers of state were on hand to receive the archbishop. Accordingly, my mother arranged for a welcoming party that included William d’Aubigny, the chief butler then in the royal household; the constable of Westminster, Edmund fitz Hugh; and Gilbert Crispin, the respected abbot of Westminster Abbey and a former pupil of Anselm. All three men were on hand at the riverside, along with other members of the royal household and men of the cloth.

  At the time of the archbishop’s arrival, I was bent over a piece of needlework in one of the upper chambers, with my mother instructing me in the proper way to form the stitches. I had counted seven and twenty different colors of thread in the queen’s collection, each having gone through a rigorous process with several dyes in order to achieve the desired hue. The pattern we sought to create that afternoon was a simple flower of the thistle plant, but I fear my own efforts were far surpassed by those of the other ladies in the queen’s household, who each seemed to my less trained eyes to possess an unnatural skill for embroidery.

  Upon hearing the sound of trumpets I sought permission to move to the window, which my mother granted me on condition that I return to my embroidery later in the day. I was not yet tall enough to see properly out of the windows in that room without climbing onto the stone ledge, so thick was the palace wall. Once there, I caught a glimpse of Archbishop Anselm making his descent from the boat in his long, flowing robes. Both his stole and his cope were clearly made from cloth of gold and embroidered with symbols in red thread. I had imagined he would be wearing the traditional miter of the archbishops, but on this occasion he wore only a simple red cap on his head, as he was not performing ecclesiastical duties.

  The archbishop was now walking with the aid of a staff, and I could see that he felt the full weight of his age. Abbot Crispin stepped forward to help his old instructor onto shore, taking him by the arm. Father Anselm seemed to lean on the younger man for support, but he was clearly not defeated, for he could be seen greeting all in attendance with a great smile upon his face. After the exchange of greetings, the party moved to enter the palace, and my mother instructed me to make ready for the royal audience that was about to take place. The queen’s chief lady, Eleanor, took my hand and led me along with the rest of the females, all of us following in the train of royalty as we might a mother duck.

  Upon reaching the lower level, we were met by the butler William D’Aubigny, who bowed to the queen and informed her that the archbishop was waiting just outside the audience chamber.

  “Thank you, Master Aubigny. I am much obliged to you in this matter.”

  “Not at all, my lady.”

  “Tell me, where was Prince William last seen?”

  “Last I knew he was with Master Herbert,” the butler answered, “most likely practicing his riding skills.”

  “I am not surprised,” the queen replied with evident displeasure. “Tell me, Aubigny, do you think it seemly that the prince should take part in such pursuits at his young age?”

  The butler was clearly taken aback by this line of inquiry, but he made the best of it. “The king declares it is necessary if the boy is to be properly trained for his future duties.”

  “And yet, if he were to take a tumble, the prince may well end up unable to perform future duties of any kind, which would hardly be beneficial for the kingdom, do you not agree?”

  “Such a level of concern most befits Your Ladyship, and the prince is fortunate to have such a caring mother. Nevertheless, allow me to place your mind at ease, for I am certain that no harm shall befall your prized jewel.”

  “Are you?” she replied. “Well then, go and tell Master Herbert that my prized jewel must come to the audience chamber so that I might display him for the world to praise.”

  “I shall carry out this task with all haste,” he said, bowing and taking his leave of us.

  We began walking again, and Lady Eleanor attempted to quie
t her royal patroness’s fears.

  “My lady, I understand your concern, but I am certain the king’s men do not intend to place the prince in any serious danger. Many have gone before him and suffered no ill effects.”

  “Maybe so, but you cannot know my feelings, Eleanor. He is my son. Perhaps if you have children of your own someday, you will understand. Ah, here we are.”

  The side door was opened and we entered the room, each of us taking her assigned place. My mother sat on the intricately carved throne that was reserved for such occasions, and I stood at her right hand, with the other ladies forming a half circle around us. Lady Beatrice had apparently received her summons as well, for she soon appeared and took her place directly behind me, placing my shoulders in an almost iron grip with both hands. I wondered that she felt a need to do so, for I had no intention of moving from my position. Many lords and ladies of the court were on hand for the occasion, their gossip stilling as the tall wood doors opened and the cry went up: “His Grace the archbishop of Canterbury!”

  The crowd parted to let the esteemed visitor through. He had apparently eschewed the support of Gilbert Crispin for this most vital moment and walked with the aid of his staff only. The abbot of Westminster followed close behind him, no doubt ready to leap into action should the archbishop experience any difficulties. Anselm was not to be defeated, however. He made his way, slowly but deliberately, toward the throne, calling out, “Good Queen Mathilda, I beg your pardon for my slow pace. These last few years have not been kind to my temporal form.”

  “Not at all, Archbishop. I bid you welcome to our royal court at Westminster. It seems criminal that we have not had the benefit of your presence before this time. We have set everything in order for your stay here. I hope that the lodgings will meet with your satisfaction.”

  “I am sure, Your Highness, that even the smallest such offering would be sufficient for me,” he said, finally arriving at the front of the room and breathing rather heavily with the effort. “I find that the older I become, the less I esteem the things of this world. Even so, I shall be glad for a place to rest my head, and I am most beholden for your hospitality.”

  “I trust you had no trouble on your journey?” the queen inquired.

  “Have no fear, my lady. I may be showing the effects of age, but I have some strength left in me. I see you have your lovely daughter with you.”

  A poke from Lady Beatrice let me know that I was to step forward and bow, which I did immediately.

  “Another Mathilda! If she is but half as faithful a servant of Christ as her mother, England will be all the better for it. Tell me, Princess, how are you getting on with your studies?”

  “Not very well, Excellency,” I answered honestly, then sensed that this was the wrong choice of words, as I could hear a soft groan from Lady Beatrice behind me. “What I mean to say, Your Grace, is that we have been without a tutor for a few weeks, but my mother has been encouraging my studies in the meantime. Now that you are here, I am sure that I shall improve even further.”

  “You reply rather boldly for someone so young,” he said. “Both your esteemed mother and her own mother before her have been great examples of feminine righteousness and scholarship in our modern age. I trust that, in time, you will follow in their footsteps.”

  “That is my greatest hope, sir,” I replied, wishing very much that the conversation would be over quickly. As luck would have it, the archbishop changed the subject, addressing the queen once again.

  “And where is your son?”

  “William has been training with some of the king’s men this past fortnight,” the queen answered. “I have sent word for him to return now that you have arrived, but it seems he has not yet received the message.”

  “No matter! I shall see him when the time is right. The king has set me a great task to guide these two of his children. I assure you that my methods will be strictly in line with your desires, my lady, provided there is no conflict with his commands.”

  “I do not imagine that there would be such a conflict. He asked merely that the prince be allowed to continue his training regimen while you are here.”

  “As he wishes. With your leave, Queen Mathilda, I shall return to my chamber now. I find myself in need of rest.”

  “Of course. Please let us know if there is anything that you need.”

  The archbishop had started to make his departure when the side door opened and my brother entered the room, spurred on by William D’Aubigny.

  “Wait, Your Grace, my son has finally arrived!” the queen called out.

  The old man turned toward William, who had been brought forward to face him directly. He smiled and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “My lad, how like your father you are! I can see traces of him in all your features. Yet there is something of the old Saxon line there too, I think. I am sure you possess a great firmness of character.”

  William looked confused, and I could not imagine what the archbishop saw to justify such confidence, but nevertheless the two of them shook hands and agreed that they would meet again as soon as Anselm recovered from his journey. Once the archbishop had left the room, my mother pulled William aside.

  “Why did you not come when I first called you earlier today? Is Herbert preventing you from fulfilling your duties?”

  “No, Mother. Herbert is the best teacher. I like being with all the men. I would have come earlier, but we couldn’t stop, because we were doing this . . .”

  “Enough. Perhaps I should have a talk with your trainers. There is nothing more urgent than doing as your mother commands, and even more so on great occasions of state. I do not fault you, William, but we must try harder to ensure that your time is put to the best possible use.”

  “Why do I have to be here anyway?” he complained. “Why should I sit around all day waiting for someone else to show up? I am the prince! They should be waiting for me!”

  Mother pulled him closer, clearly willing him to lower his voice so that no one else could hear.

  “I will not allow this lack of respect, William! Anselm is a great man of God.”

  “But Father says he just wants power like the rest of them. He says we should not listen to everything Anselm says, because he speaks for Rome, not England.”

  “William, your father left you in the archbishop’s care, and that shows his true intentions. He wants you to obey both him and me as long as the progress in Normandy continues. I will not accept this level of defiance from you. I fear you have been spending too much time among the older men. Lady Beatrice, please take the prince back to his chamber. His lessons are done for today.”

  “Certainly, my lady,” she replied, half dragging a still-whining William out of the room.

  After pausing, I asked, “Mother, what shall I do? Am I to go along with him?”

  “No, you must come and finish your embroidery as you promised. Eleanor, please make sure that Maud makes her way back to my rooms. I need a brief walk in the garden, and then I shall rejoin you all.”

  “As you command, my lady.”

  Several of the courtiers were still standing in the outer passage as we walked by, and those who noticed our presence stopped to give a brief bow. I had always felt it a bit strange that people should bow to me, as in my own household I was constantly being commanded rather than giving commands. It was an odd kind of irony, this high placement of mine that still seemed low in my own eyes. I may have been a princess, but I felt no more powerful than a common peasant girl. Before long I was back in front of my poor attempt at a thistle bloom, needle in hand, mind still thoroughly absent.

  The following morning, Lady Beatrice brought us to our former study chamber to meet with Father Anselm for our first lesson. Walking back into that room felt quite strange, as I had not set foot within its walls since Master Godfrey ordered me to leave. I was surprised to see that our former lecterns had been removed and a simple round table placed in the center of the room with three chairs set ar
ound it. We had always been made to wait for Godfrey’s arrival, but I saw that the archbishop was already seated at the table and reading a worn volume, which he had apparently taken from one of the many shelves. When he became aware of our presence, he set the book down and stood up, motioning for the two of us to take the chairs opposite him. He clasped his hands and leaned forward, smiling at each of us in turn.

  “Good morning, dear children. I am delighted to see you again. Whether you will be as delighted to see me is, I suppose, yet to be determined. Tell me, how did your lessons with Master Godfrey usually proceed?”

  “Sir, he usually began by reading to us a portion of the Scriptures and calling us to recite the Lord’s Prayer and the doxology, with prayers for our esteemed parents. He then proceeded with a lecture on one of the philosophical writings. He loved Cicero and all the church fathers,” I said.

  “Master Godfrey had good taste. Cicero is a true treasure, and you will seldom hear a cross word from me about any of our great predecessors in the Christian faith.”

  “Yes, but it never made sense,” William replied. “Half the time we had no idea what he was saying.”

  “Is that so?” Archbishop Anselm asked. “Well, I trust we can now excite your minds more fully. I recommend that we start by following his usual pattern, but perhaps with a few changes along the way. Does this seem good to you?”

  Both my brother and I nodded. We had no desire to challenge him.

  “Right, let us begin with a reading from the Old Testament. Lady Mathilda, which book do you most prefer?”

  Here was something that I had never considered. I offered the best reply I could muster.

  “Master Godfrey liked to read to us from the Law of Moses. He said that all the laws of man are taken from it, at least those which are legitimate, and that we must learn them in order to abide by the divine statutes.”

  “And were you fond of these works?”

  “Not so much, sir. That is to say, one can have too much of a good thing.”