by Tracey Warr
My cooks and musicians performed well and the King applauded my arrangements. Gerald and I had decamped from the best room in the castle, which had been made even more lavish for the King. Gerald’s anxious glances at me when we were in Henry’s company were poorly concealed. ‘You are doing well, husband,’ I reassured him, knowing how much it cost him to keep a rein on his jealousy in front of the King.
‘I wish I could be somewhere else,’ he said. ‘It was hard enough to imagine you with him at Woodstock and then recently at Cardiff. Now I have to have him drooling over you before my face.’
‘Henry is not drooling, and I am not interested,’ I reminded Gerald. ‘Focus on discussing strategy. I will only be in the King’s presence as much as I must be.’
On the third day, Gerald organised a hunt for the King. While the men were hunting, Amelina and I supervised the servants setting out a picnic. A small tent stitched from glinting tapestries was set up with food and drink laid on a trestle to keep it from the attentions of the sun and the insects. Two painted poles were planted before the open flaps of the tent and the King’s banners flew from the pinnacles. A red cloth was set on the grass with silver goblets and plates, and ivory caskets brimming with sweetmeats. I would not have these Norman lords think they could call a Welsh court – my court – barbarous. Stools, benches, coloured cushions and baskets of bread were placed inside and outside the tent. My bard settled to tune his harp. Two kites circled high, keeping an eye on the proceedings.
When the men arrived, elated with their exertions, Gerald threw himself down on the red cloth next to me. Henry gave me a warm greeting, sat on a padded stool provided for him, and returned to a conversation they had evidently been pursuing on their ride, concerning Owain ap Cadwgan’s killing of his cousins Meurig and Gruffudd ap Trehaearne. ‘We will have trouble from that one,’ Gerald said. ‘He’s a hothead.’
‘Yes,’ the King said, ‘but he’s acting on his father’s policy, I’d say. The Trehaearne brothers were challenging Cadwgan’s power in Arwystli. Cadwgan and Owain are ruthlessly stamping on any such challenges.’
‘Cadwgan’s taken a daughter of the northern king Gruffudd ap Cynan as wife too,’ Gerald said.
‘Yes, and it’s all more of a power base for Cadwgan.’
‘His position is strong,’ Gerald responded. ‘Perhaps too strong.’ He glanced at me and coloured. He did not like to discuss the Normans’ contention with the Welsh in front of me. Listening to Henry’s remarks, I surmised his strategy was to enforce Norman overlordship in Wales with a light touch, without military intervention if he could achieve that. Perhaps, I reflected, that was the best I could hope for, for my occupied lands, for my people. If the King and I remained on fond terms I would at least be in a position to intervene with him on behalf of my Welsh compatriots should the need arise.
In the afternoon, I sat quietly at the hearth, embroidering, aware of Henry’s gaze straying occasionally in my direction. The King was speaking to his scribe, Gisulf, about a survey of all the earls and barons. ‘I need a list of per diems payable to each and every one of them in bread, wine and candles. Also, a list of exemptions from geld and auxilium burgi taxes.’
‘I am about it, Sire,’ the scribe said, taking himself off to begin his lists. It was impressive to watch Henry’s curia in action. The work never stopped. His treasury and his officers travelled with him, and the business came to him wherever he was. My husband was only steward here, on behalf of the King. Henry kept Pembroke with its mint and its rich lands, and Carmarthen too, in his own hands.
‘Where are your children, Lady Nest?’ Finally, the King voiced the inevitable question that I had been waiting on.
‘They are at Carew Castle,’ I lied. ‘It’s more comfortable for a family there.’
‘Ah, then perhaps you and I could visit them when my business is concluded here with your husband.’
‘That is a charming idea, Sire, but I am with child, in the early stage, and my midwife advises I should not ride for these months.’
Henry stared at me, as did Gerald, open-mouthed, since I had not mentioned this pregnancy to him before now, and I had ridden to the picnic that very morning. The pregnancy was a truth, although nothing else was.
Henry smiled at me politely. ‘Felicitations,’ he said to Gerald, who closed his mouth up.
The King was pleased with Gerald’s activities in Pembroke and with the building of Cenarth Bychan on the border with Cadwgan’s lands in Powys. The whole area was bristling with Norman castles built or in progress now. Walter of Gloucester would be commanding the new castle Henry had ordered built at Carmarthen and Richard FitzBaldwin was restoring Rhydygors, which had been originally thrown up by his brother, William, one of the first invaders from Devon. Rhydygors had been destroyed by Welsh rebels and lain in ruins for years, but now its walls rose again.
I was intrigued to watch Gerald in the company of the King and his Norman peers. His vigour and intelligence were evident and he did well to conceal the anxiety I knew he felt, that the King could easily take everything away from him and give it instead to one of these other men. They were all men who were more important than the younger son of the forester of Windsor, all men that the King owed favour to.
‘I hear you are restoring Llansteffan, Lady Nest?’ the King’s question broke suddenly into my thoughts.
‘Yes. It is my land,’ I said, more defensively than I had intended. The King had the power to command the destruction of castles if he had not given permission for them. All the Norman men gathered in my hall stared at me. To them, I was a Welsh cuckoo in their nest. ‘I spent much of my childhood there.’ The memory of my brother Goronwy, slain at Llansteffan by Norman invaders, lay unvoiced, heavy in the hall. They all knew of it. I had spoken of my grief at Goronwy’s death often enough with Henry.
The King allowed a small pause before continuing his discussion with his commanders. ‘You will arrange a garrison at Llansteffan when building there is completed,’ he told my husband. ‘Gerald FitzWalter has made an excellent suggestion that I am thinking to take up,’ the King said, raising his voice to address everyone. ‘He suggests settling a colony of Flemings nearby at Rhos, around the Cleddau estuary.’ I heard this with surprise. Gerald had not mentioned this idea to me. The King gestured to Haith that he should join the conversation.
‘There are many wandering Flemings,’ Haith said. ‘Many lost homes to flooding, like me when child. They always battle storms and tides in the Low Countries. Cannot hunt and exterminate the water wolf, you know! Homeless Flemings went first to Scotland but did not settle well, so now try here in Wales. Very loyal to King.’
‘Some former mercenaries, I believe?’ Gerald asked.
‘Yes,’ Henry said. ‘They need land.’
Gerald nodded.
It was an ingenious suggestion by my husband. These Flemings would drive out the Welsh natives. They would have Gerald’s back against Cadwgan. They would hold their gifted, their stolen land, ferociously against the Welsh. I said nothing. I could not. It was just another insult amongst many. I resolved to send a message later, warning Cadwgan about these incomers, these new land-thieves.
I was crossing the bailey at dusk when Henry approached me suddenly from behind, took my arm, and pulled me swiftly to the steps that led down into the Wogan watergate beneath the castle. ‘Let’s talk.’ He clasped my wrist, leading me down into the cavern. The air, held in the grasp of the cold stone, was frigid. Water lapped at the rough opening to the river. Feeble light filtered weakly into the dank interior. Henry walked around, feeling the moss on the walls, exclaiming at the flint tools left behind by ancient inhabitants. I stood close to the bottom of the steps, wondering if I should simply flee from him. Completing his circuit Henry was suddenly very close to me in the gloom. I heard his breath, fast in his mouth. I was well aware that carrying the child of another man would do nothing to cool his ardour. I could make out the glimmer of his eyes, the jewel clasp of his cloak. ‘So f
ertile, Nest,’ he said, placing his hand on my belly, which was just beginning to round with the new child. ‘Three sons and another child here.’
‘So fat.’ Warmth spread from the focus of his hand.
‘I like it.’ His hand slid swiftly down, coming to rest between my legs as if it had suddenly arrived home. He pushed at the fabric rucked beneath his hand.
‘Sire …’ I protested in a whisper, even as my body pushed forward, answering his hand. His mouth was on mine.
‘Henry,’ I panted, ‘I need you to leave our son with me. Promise me that.’
‘Yes, I promise.’ He held my gaze and leant in to kiss me again. I succumbed to the desire coursing through me, as he pushed me back against the sharp, wet stones of the cave wall. I longed to repair the rejection and worthlessness I had felt when he had dropped me so unceremoniously. That festering wound might be assuaged if I would only allow this, but I knew I could not survive another encounter with the fire of the passion between us and the cold dowsing of it which I knew would inevitably follow, when he must return to his duties as king.
‘Lovely Nest.’ He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘I need to see my son, Nest.’
‘I need you to leave me and your son in peace, Sire. He is well and that is all you need.’ I slid along the wall, away from him, separating myself from the urgent pressure of his body.
He stared at me, silent for a while. ‘I enjoyed our former wrangles, Nest, but I don’t have time or spare energy for such complications now. I am your king.’
‘You are a kind man who loved me and now you will kindly leave me in peace with my family.’
He broke into a hearty laugh. ‘I always loved your resistance, Nest.’
‘I am not a hart in the forest, Henry. I’m not going to get exhausted by the chase this time. I am not running from you to heighten your desire.’
‘You heighten my desire whatever you do.’
‘Henry, you left me. Abandoned me. Wrote nothing to me for two years.’ The words had escaped from me before I could stop them. I had never meant him to know how much he had hurt me.
‘Nest, as a man, I love you, and wish to do everything I can to protect you, nourish you, value you, as I know you deserve. You are my axis mundi, the centre of my world, but as a king I may have to act otherwise. It may sometimes seem otherwise.’
‘A king who treats others as pawns at his disposal you mean.’
‘All kings must do so, Nest.’
‘King Philip did not cast off Bertrade in France. He suffered mightily for that choice. He made her his queen, nevertheless.’
‘He put his personal feelings before his duty as king. His people suffered with an excommunicate king. Philip’s relationship with Bertrade weakened his rule. You know what a heavy weight I carry, Nest, as king. It feels as if I am carrying Mont Saint-Michel upon my back at times. You helped me bear my burden for a while. Won’t you help me again?’
He stepped close and probed his tongue into my mouth, holding me hard against him again. I put my hands on his shoulders and forced him away.
‘Oh by the Lord’s death, Nest! You know you want me!’
He was right, but I could not stand the grief he would bring me again. I would die this time if I let him use me and leave me for another woman. I swallowed and moved back to the steps, hearing the water lipping the rock. ‘I’m leaving, Henry. My lord.’
He was silent behind me. I picked up my skirts with one hand, feeling the damp wall with my other, moving swiftly up to the bailey. I looked back and he still had not emerged. I wondered how many times he would try me and how many times I could hold out. At least he had given me a promise not to take my son.
The new influx of threatened Flemings arrived, driven from their homes by terrible storms that had carried away their land. These extra numbers of foreigners increased hostilities with the local populace. Gerald, with Haith’s assistance, established their settlement at Rhôs. The Welsh complained that the colonists had been given all the best, fertile, low-lying land, whilst the native people were pushed further up towards the barren mountains. Gerald told me the Welsh referred to the Flemings scathingly as the ‘down-belows’.
Many of the Norman magnates with lands in Wales came to visit the King during his stay at Pembroke, including Bishop Roger of Salisbury, Henry’s main administrator, who was building a new castle not far up the coast at Kidwelly, and the Earl of Warwick, who held the fertile coast lands of the Gower, not far from Llansteffan. The Normans grew fast across the land like bindweed. My country was made the dwelling place of foreigners and a playground for lords of alien blood.
I sent to Amelina to return to Pembroke and bring the boys with her. After our greeting, she wasted no time. ‘The King’s still here then.’
‘Yes. He promises not to take little Henry to court.’
‘In exchange for?’ Amelina challenged me.
I looked away.
‘I’ve been having a bit of a dalliance too,’ she said.
I looked back at her, exasperated, meaning to rebuke her for her assumption but her eyes were glowing with the excitement of her news. ‘Tell me,’ I said instead.
‘A fisherman named Dyfnwal,’ she said giggling. ‘Very handsome! Strapping!’
‘Did you tell him your stories of the Drowned Court?’
‘Of course! He fishes the estuary at Llansteffan and is in and out with the tides every day. We imagined he and me as the distracted lovers who left the sluices open, who caused the disaster of the drowned court. I am awash with love, Nest!’
‘Well, I hope you kept an eye on my boys in-between times.’
‘Of course. You’ll see.’
She was gone a few moments and I thought of the drowned court that was said to lie beneath the waves of Carmarthen Bay. The legend told that you could still hear the church bells tolling under the waves at times of danger. I thought I had heard the bells myself once, just before Llansteffan was attacked by the Normans and my brother, Goronwy, was killed. I closed my eyes, trying to picture his face. It swam to me vague and shimmering, as if underwater. The drowned court was the court of my father now – the Welsh Kings of Deheubarth – murdered and displaced by the Normans, by those I now loved: Gerald, Henry, my sons who were half-Norman in blood and fully Norman in their raising, except for the stories and the Welsh words I told to them. I looked up at the noise of Amelina at the door ushering in my three toddling boys.
‘Mama! We have been battling Haith’s water wolf with Dyfnwal!’ exclaimed little Henry.
‘Caught fish, mama!’ said William.
I turned alarmed eyes to Amelina. ‘Oh pish!’ she said. ‘You think I would let them drown or be in any danger. You know better. They’ve been paddling and learning to swim in the shallows with my lovely fisherman!’
‘Haith says the water wolf stalks the land,’ Henry shouted, his eyes large, his hands posed like claws, trying to capture my full attention. He put his two pudgy hands on either side of my face and stared into my laughing eyes.
‘And is it true that you are with child again?’ Amelina interrupted him, more concerned to catch up with what she had missed. ‘The cook’s assistant says you declared it in front of all and sundry in the hall.’
‘It’s true, I did, but it was useful to keep the King at bay.’
‘Really?’ she said, her voice sceptical.
‘To stop him trying to make me ride to Carew to find his son at any rate,’ I said in a low voice, so that little Henry would not hear me. He was busying himself with one of the dogs he was fond of. He had no idea that Gerald was not his father, that William and Maurice were his half-brothers. I would tell him in time, but not yet.
The King was delighted to become acquainted with his three-year-old son. It amused the King to create him Henry, Lord of Arberth, and to bestow those lands on him. He was delighted too with the rest of my brood. Little Henry and William tottered together around the bailey with their wooden swords and hobby horses demo
nstrating their fledgling fighting skills to the King, who laughed uproariously at them, ruffling their hair and rewarding them with sweetmeats that bulged in their cheeks.
Haith joined us for dinner on several occasions and discussion turned to the Flemings and their growing influence on trade. Tancred was building a castle at Haverfordwest, Lord Wizo was ruling in Wiston and Letard Litelking in Letterston. Odo de Barry, who held nearby Manorbier, was also of Flemish origin. Henry’s Flemish plantation was swiftly and radically altering the character of the lowlands north of Milford Haven.
‘But the relations of the Flemings are worsening with the Welsh,’ I told Henry and Haith.
Haith nodded to me, his face a picture of theatrical concern. Henry merely smiled. It seemed to me that he meant to deliberately provoke the Welsh with his colonies of incomers, or at least to bolster the Norman colonists by it.
A week after Amelina’s return from Llansteffan, she woke me with an armful of flowers and a whiff of fish. I sat up in bed and stared at her. Usually it was me who got out of bed first and had to shake her awake to her duties. ‘You’re up early.’
‘I’ve got a visitor below,’ she said, her eyes glinting with excitement. ‘He gave me these flowers. And some fine fish.’
‘I can smell the fish. You haven’t brought them into my chamber?’
‘No! I deposited them with the cook for dinner. I’d be grateful if you’d come to speak with him, Lady Nest.’
‘Dyfnwal is it? From Llansteffan?’ I swung my legs out of the bed and searched with my foot for a slipper.