“Yesss,” she breathed hotly into his ear. “Oh, yes, my lord and my love!” and she shuddered with the force of their shared passion.
Their bodies were wringing wet, and they lay panting beside each other for he had automatically roled from her so he would not crush her. “I have never,” he finally managed to gasp, “known a woman who had such capacity for love.”
“Yet I cannot conceive,” she said softly.
Josselin pushed their pillows up against the back of the bed, and half-sitting he pulled her into his arms drawing the coverlet over them. “Sweeting, you lost the child before St. Matthew’s Day. You were not able to couple with me before Twelfth Night, and that is barely three and a half months ago. It is not that long. You will conceive before this year’s harvest, I am certain. Do not fret yourself. If I am not worried why should you be?”
“If I had not been so foolish we would now have our first son, and I would be so proud to meet the king again. He will wonder why we have no child, and think he has done you a disservice rather than a kindness in seeing us wed.”
“Nay, enchantress. Should he ask I will tell him the truth. That while I fulfilled my obligations to him you were left alone to face the wrath of Eadric the Wild. I will tell him of how you saved Aelfleah, and outwitted the rebel. The king will be proud of you, Mairin. He greatly values loyalty and courage.”
“I am glad,” she said wryly, and encouraged by his loving words, feeling a little less sorry for herself. “ ’Tis all I will have to offer this time. I envy the queen her family.”
“Do not,” he said. “I love my lord William, but his children are an unenviable lot. Young Robert is too much his mother’s son. Richard, Agatha, and Adeliza all fancy themselves greatly. Adela and William Rufus are two peas from the same pod. Bad-tempered brats who will only have their own way. There is not one of them can match their father, and therein lies the tragedy.”
“You are too harsh in your judgments, I think, my lord. These are but children you speak of, and as they grow they will surely change for the better.”
“Nay, Mairin, I am not hard. I am realistic. Remember I grew up at the Norman court. Robert of Normandy is fourteen and his sisters Agatha and Adeliza are thirteen and twelve. They are grown. When Earl Harold came to Normandy several years ago a match was arranged between him and the king’s eldest daughter, Agatha. Then Harold killed the Welsh king and forced his widow into marriage, which left poor Agatha jilted and shamed. So the king next arranged a match for the lady Agatha with Herbert, Count of Maine, but he died. Now my lord William has arranged a match for his daughter with Alphonse of Leon, but the girl refuses to go, and swears she will die a virgin. Our Blessed Lady deliver me from children like that!”
“It is obvious,” said Mairin, “that the king’s children are never disciplined. If they were beaten more often they would be the better for it.”
“Did your father beat you?” he demanded.
“Of course not! I did not need it, but my brother, Brand, was forever feeling father’s leather strap. Once father wore out three stout birch switches in one beating on Brand. Brand was very strong and equally stubborn.”
“Josselin laughed. “Well, I shall indeed beat our children if they need it, but with you for a mother I doubt they will ever feel our wrath, enchantress.”
“If I can but conceive,” she worried.
“You will, sweeting,” he said tenderly, kissing her brow. “Now perhaps we should make another attempt.”
She turned her head so she might look up at him, and her mouth curved itself into a sensuous smile. “Whatever you desire, my dear lord, my love. Have I not said mother raised me to be a dutiful and obedient daughter?”
Josselin laughed softly. “Mairin, my dearling, sweet enchantress mine, I have been married to you long enough to know that your dutiful obedience is only for those things that please you.”
“Then perhaps, my lord, I should dress and return to my sewing,” she said.
“If it pleases you, lady,” came the cool answer.
“Josselin! If you send me from our bed I shall never forgive you!” she cried.
Pulling her back into his embrace he chuckled, saying, “And if you really believe me, and go, lady, I shall never forgive you.”
“Villain!” she retorted, and gave his tawny hair a rough yank.
Then their lips met once more in passion, and after a long sweet while they came together again.
Part Four
THE LADY OF AELFLEAH
England and Scotland, 1068–1070
Chapter 12
“Helas, this dampness will surely kill me!” complained the Duchess Matilda irritably. “A king’s house should not be built on the edge of a river’s bank.” Standing upon a little stool she gazed curiously out of the window at the Thames. It was a placid, muddy river, not at all like the rivers of Normandy, or Flanders where she had been born and raised. Still it seemed to generate more moisture and dankness than any river she had ever known. She had never been so cold in her entire life, she thought. Perhaps it was because the sun did not shine as much here in England as it did in Normandy. Nothing ever had time to dry out. It made her cranky, or perhaps it was the child she was currently carrying that altered her moods these days.
Her children. The duchess sighed. Robert, her eldest. So charming, witty, and well-spoken, but a boy who gave away too much, made lavish promises he could not keep, and was far too eager for his father’s duchy in Normandy which he was not yet wise enough to govern. God only knew she loved him, but he seemed unable to attain his early promise and that worried her deeply. William had amassed such great holdings, but Robert, his chief heir, showed no signs of being strong enough to retain them.
Richard, her second-born, was too much like Robert, but he lacked ambition. Richard simply found life amusing, and had little hope of much more. Perhaps he worried Matilda most of all, for she believed a boy should not be so bored with life, nor should his direction be so aimless.
Then there was the troublesome Agatha, their eldest daughter. Matilda had left Agatha at home in Normandy to meditate upon her sin of great disobedience to her parent’s will. A small smile touched Matilda’s lips for a moment. Agatha was every bit as stubborn as her mother had once been, but she would never tell her daughter that. Agatha needed no further encouragement to rebellion.
Of their three sons only the youngest, William Rufus, had accompanied his mother to England. Matilda grimaced. He was her own son, and yet she found him a most appalling child. She had brought him with her in order to allow his four younger sisters a respite from his constant and unmerciful teasing. He gave them no surcease whatsoever, and only one of them was capable of matching his vile disposition, and thereby that one, Adela, at four showed every indication of being as nasty as her male sibling. She already pitied the man Adela would marry, for even beating Adela regularly did not seem to sweeten her temperament. The duchess placed a protective hand over her belly. Pray God and his Blessed Mother that this child was another son. A son like her beloved husband, William.
“Madame.”
Matilda turned from the window. “Yes, Biota?” she said to her serving woman.
“You asked that Josselin de Combourg be brought to you when he arrived. He is awaiting your majesty’s pleasure even now.” Having been with Matilda since infancy, Biota knew Josselin well. He was one of her favorites.
The duchess stepped down from her stool. There was a smile upon her pretty face. “Ask him to come in, Biota,” she said. Then she turned to her ladies. “Attention, mes dames! We have a visitor.”
Like a small flock of chattering birds the queen-to-be’s ladies clustered about her, giggling and preening. They all remembered the handsome Josselin de Combourg, and knew how well he had done here in England. Biota hurried to the door to admit the visitor who entering gave her a hearty kiss on her ruddy cheek, and whispered something that caused the older woman to blush though she chuckled, and smacked at him fondly. Matil
da thought she had never seen him looking so well. He was taller than her husband by several inches, and handsomer than William, bless him, had ever been. Another smile spread across her lips. She had had a weak spot for Josselin since he arrived as a gift from William to serve her as a page in the turbulent days before their marriage. She could never forget his kindness to her in those years.
“Josselin de Combourg my dear friend,” she greeted him holding out her tiny hands to him.
He took those two little hands, hands no larger than a child’s, and kissed them reverently. “My gracious lady Matilda! How happy I am to see you, and to see you blooming with obviously good health. Is it what I suspect?”
Matilda laughed, and nodded. “Yes, Josselin, I am once more with child. This one to be born in the autumn, and pray God it is a son! But tell me of you, my friend. I have not seen a great deal of my lord William since he first came to England, and when we did meet I had so many other things to talk with him about. It is not easy being responsible for my husband’s holdings in his absence. I remember him telling me that he had found an estate for you. Is this so?”
“Yes, madame. The king rewarded my service to him with a beautiful little estate in the west near the border with Wales. I am even now raising a small castle there to keep the king’s peace. If you can spare me the time, madame, I will be happy to tell you all my adventures since my coming to England.”
“Oh, I should so like that, Josselin! William has not had much time for me since I arrived. These English are yet being troublesome. I have traveled most simply, escorted only by Bishop Hugh of Lisieux and my youngest son. I have not even a minstrel to amuse me and wile away the long hours. First, however, I have what I hope will be a surprise for you. I have brought with me amongst my ladies an old friend of yours.”
Josselin looked genuinely puzzled, and the women about the queen giggled.
“Come forward, Blanche de St. Brieuc!” the queen cried gaily, and her women playfully pushed Blanche forward with much merriment.
“Josselin, my dearest lord! Are you not surprised?” Blanche stood smiling fatuously at him, her fingers worrying the twisted golden rope of her girdle. She was wearing her favorite blue, and had silver ribbons braided in her golden hair.
For a moment Josselin felt genuinely ill. All he could think about was how he was going to explain Blanche to his wife for Mairin would be furious with him. He had honestly never expected to see Blanche de St. Brieuc again. What in God’s name was she doing here? Why had she followed him to England?
Breaching all good manners Blanche threw herself into his startled arms and pressed her mouth to his passionately. “Oh, chéri, I have missed you so!” she sighed gustily.
“Madame, you forget yourself, and where you are!” He quickly thrust her from him. He had to straighten this out immediately for here was his sweet queen looking so pleased as if she had done him a great favor.
“Why, Josselin, are you not pleased to see Blanche? It was my understanding that when you had made your fortune, you and this lady would be united.” The queen looked coyly from him to Blanche and back again.
“Madame, I must speak frankly to you though my words will seem less than chivalrous. I cannot imagine how you came to believe that this lady and I had an understanding of any kind. How could I commit myself with honor to any woman when I had not the means of supporting a wife? When I could offer her nothing, not even a respectable name? Madame, you above all people know me better than that!
“I met this lady three years ago when I was at Combourg seeing my parents. I visited in her brother’s house at his invitation, but never was any mention made of an alliance between myself and this lady. I am distressed she should have believed such a thing. Her brother will, I know, attest to the veracity of my words.”
Matilda was very upset by this unexpected turn of events. To have offended a dear and old friend was bad enough, but to have been taken in by this . . . this adventuress who had played upon the softness of her nature was totally unforgivable. Her blue eyes grew hard. Drawing herself up to her full height, which was but four feet, two inches, she demanded, “Well, madame, what explanation do you have for this situation? Though you have not lied openly to me, neither have you been truthful.”
Blanche de St. Brieuc was no fool. She had taken a gamble, but perhaps all was not yet lost. She flung herself at the queen’s feet. “Oh, madame,” she sobbed quite convincingly, “have mercy upon me! I have been sick with love for Josselin de Combourg ever since we first met! Can you who know him so well blame me? Knowing his honorable character I knew he would not dare to even suggest a match between us until he had made his fortune. After all,” she could not resist adding, “I am a de St. Brieuc and, it is true, above him in station, yet I love him! I thought if I could but come to England now that the king has rewarded his loyal services, if he could but see me again, he would finally dare to speak the reciprocal passions I know he holds for me. How else could I get here except traveling amongst your ladies? I realize, dearest madame, that I have been bold and even rash. Both traits of which are unbecoming in a woman of my station, but I could not help myself! I love him! Oh, please, please, say that you will forgive me.”
The queen, though a practical woman, was also a romantic one at heart. Blanche’s plea had moved her near to tears. “Yes, yes,” she said, and bending, aided Blanche de St. Brieuc to her feet. “It is true, ma Blanche, that you have exhibited indelicate behavior for one of your rank, but I understand this wonderfully cruel emotion called love. I know the lengths to which one can be driven when caught within its thrall. I am very angry with you, but nonetheless I will forgive you.” She turned to Josselin. “And perhaps Josselin will forgive you also, and rectify the difficulty between you both. What say you, my dear friend Josselin? A man with an estate needs a good wife, eh?” Matilda cocked her head at him, and smiled winningly.
“That, dearest madame, was a part of what I had to tell you,” he said. “I already have a wife. We have been married almost two years. She has come to London with me for your coronation, and I would have your leave to present her to you. When the king gave me Aelfleah, he also gave me its heiress to wive. I often fear if he knew the great kindness he had done me he should take it all back. The king gave me not just lands, he gave me someone whom I love better than life itself.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” Blanche de St. Brieuc collapsed dramatically onto the floor in a swoon.
Matilda waved her little hands impatiently. “Remove her,” she said to her women. She had no more sympathy left for Blanche. The woman had shown an inexcusable lack of manners, and had only gotten exactly what she deserved.
The fluttering ladies half-dragged, half-carried Blanche de St. Brieuc from the room, and Biota at a signal from her mistress barred them reentry stationing herself in the anteroom side of the queen’s apartments before the door. Matilda settled herself into a high tapestry-backed chair with a footstool, waving Josselin to the matching chair that faced it.
“Now tell me everything, Josselin,” she said to him, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees to listen intently as he spoke. Sometimes she smiled at his words, other times bit her lip to prevent her laughter from spilling over. When he spoke of how Mairin had defended Aelfleah, and lost their expected child shortly afterward, Matilda’s pale blue eyes filled with sympathetic tears. “Ah, ma pauvre,” she said. “Your Mairin is a brave woman. She is just the kind of wife you need here in England. I do not see la Blanche defending her home in such a manner. I do not think this Eadric the Wild would have been impressed by a woman stamping her foot, which is what Blanche surely would have done.”
“She is very eager to meet you, my lady Matilda. She envies you your family for like me she is anxious to have children.”
“Of course you must bring her to me this very day, my friend! I am extremely anxious to meet your enchantress. What a charming love name that is, Josselin. I have always suspected for all your admiration and emulation of William’s charac
ter that you were a romantic deep in your soul. Now there is something else you have not told me. I see it in your eyes. Do you wish to make further confession?” Matilda was smiling playfully, but she was anxious to make amends to her old friend for her part in the matter of la Blanche.
Josselin hesitated a moment, and then he said, “It is Blanche de St. Brieuc, madame. I have not told my wife of our acquaintance.”
“Surely it was not necessary, Josselin,” the queen replied. “Your wife was a widow when you were wed, and certainly not so innocent that she could believe you did not know other women. I will admit it is awkward, but I shall send the creature home immediately after the coronation. Regretfully she cannot go sooner as no one is leaving for Normandy until next week. For all her lack of delicacy she is still a lady. Besides I need the tiresome wretch for the moment. Although I do not really know her, one of my ladies grew too ill to travel at the last moment, and la Blanche had some connection with the Montgomeries, a family who have influence with my husband. I am absolutely mortified to have embarrassed you.”
“It is worse than simply not having told Mairin about another woman of my acquaintance, madame. Blanche de St. Brieuc is my wife’s stepmother.”
Matilda gasped, her eyes widening with shock, and Josselin went on to explain. When he had finished she said quite sensibly, “It is very unlikely that Blanche will recognize your wife, my friend. After all she was but a little child when she last saw her. Your Mairin, however, is bound to recognize Blanche de St. Brieuc. You will have to tell her before she sees la Blanche, else she will never forgive you. Go home and confess to her. Then bring her to see me. I am certain that if I vouch for your good character, Josselin,” the queen finished with a smile, “your wife may just forgive you. If she does not, how will you two ever produce that large family you so desperately desire?”
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