Conquering Passion (20 page)

“The Saxons are to endure the unspeakable humiliation of seeing the Conqueror crowned on the anniversary of Christ's birth,” Ram remarked, as he and his wife and brothers were breaking their fast before the departure for the coast. “William has a strong feeling for form and law and he’s resolved to let no ceremony pass that might strengthen his claim to be regarded as King of the English.”

He turned to his brothers. “So we’re agreed? You’ll take care of things here and at Belisle and Domfort. I imagine you’ve had enough of England after Hastings.”

Both men agreed readily.

Mabelle smiled timidly at Ram. “I can tell you’re honoured by the invitation from William, and nothing will keep you away. From the little you’ve told me, you played a large part in ensuring the victory.”

He’d shared something of the details of the battle, though he’d wisely decided not to tell her about his near decapitation. “Are you sure you want to accompany me?” he ventured, not knowing what he would do if she said she would prefer not to. She’d never travelled by ship before.

“Will it be safe?”

“It’s a short voyage, and, if we’re careful to pick the right tides, you’ll be safe with me. But the castle at Ellesmere—it’s not like Montbryce—we can’t live in it yet.”

Why did he feel a compulsion to take her with him? It would be a difficult and dangerous life, perhaps for years, and there would be a lot of travelling back and forth to Normandie.

“I don’t want to be left behind, Ram.”

They travelled to the coast. Decorum dictated she ride her mare side saddle.

“My back feels as if it’s broken,” Mabelle lamented to Ram. “It would be more comfortable riding behind you on Fortis. Then at least I could feel your warmth. I’m cold.”

He looked at her with a teasing smile and reined in his horse. Perhaps having a wife who had spirit wasn’t such a bad thing? “I too would enjoy your riding behind me, pressing your beautiful breasts against my back.”

Soon she was mounted behind him, and they made better progress. He reached behind and patted her thigh. “I now see the advantage for me of your riding astride.”

The winds were with them and they took ship for the English coast. She weathered the crossing well, but Ram was seasick from the moment they cast off. He’d told her about his ailment. “I’m sorry. I did warn you. When I think of the last time I sailed to England, with William, it seems a lifetime ago. I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”

Mabelle huddled closer to him. “You thought of me?”

Another bout of retching prevented his response.

She wiped his brow. “I’m not a good wife. I have no idea how to help your malady.”

“Nothing can be done about it, Mabelle. Believe me. Nothing helps. I have to stay outside, but if you’re cold, you should seek shelter in the tent they rigged for you.”

“
Non
, I love the tang of the salty breeze on my face, and I would rather be with you.”

“This wind is filling the sail and should carry us quickly across the Narrow Sea. We’re fortunate.” He didn’t want to mention this stretch of water could be deadly if weather and tides turned against them.

They came ashore safely. “Welcome to England, Mabelle. I’m content you’re here with me. This is our new country, the land of opportunity for us and our children.”

William had arranged for an escort to take them into London. They were given opulent accommodation at the royal residence next to the Abbey and were to be among the distinguished guests at the coronation in
the church of Saint Peter, called Westminster.

They made their way there the next day and Ram thought he would pass on to her something of the Abbey, so she would know the history of the magnificent building. “Edward the Confessor chose Westminster as the site for his palace and church because
it lay close to the famous and rich town of London. It was surrounded with fertile lands and green fields near the main channel of the river Thames, an important trade route. Of course, London isn’t the seat of government. That’s in Winchester.”

Mabelle gazed around in wonder. “I know the Confessor grew up in Normandie.”

“
Oui
, and he looked to Norman architects to build his abbey, because they were more advanced in their craft than the English. He was aware of the great abbey churches built at Caen and Bernay, and of the development of our architecture. The Abbey was Edward’s great gift to the people of England, magnificent and innovative even by our standards. It was consecrated on Holy Innocents Day, in the year of our Lord One Thousand and Sixty-Five.”

Once again, Mabelle surprised him. “But Edward was too ill to attend. My father and I were in Arques, and the castle was full of rumours of his imminent death. We were at Montbryce when he died on the vigil of Epiphany. Like Moses and the Promised Land.”

He squeezed her hand. He hadn’t known she’d been at his father’s castle for that long, but said nothing. “
Oui
, but on Christmas Day in the Abbey, William,
Duc de Normandie
, is to become the third man in this eventful year to wear the English crown. He will be King of his Promised Land.”

Ram’s chest swelled with pride as he escorted Mabelle into the Abbey. She wore a velvet surcoat dress of emerald green, trimmed with ermine, made for her by Bette, at Montbryce, before the terrible day of their intended wedding. Her girdle was of spun gold. The ruffled pleats of the sleeves of her satin chemise reflected the light of the thousands of candles. Over her dress she wore a voluminous semi-circular matching cloak, pinned in the centre with a brooch bearing the Montbryce crest. The cloak too was trimmed with ermine. On her head, where her hair was closely coiled with a few curls at the forehead, she wore a wimple wound about her golden hair and thrown over her shoulder. A snood of embroidered green silk. held the wimple in place.

As they proceeded to their places, he whispered in her ear, “You’re stunning. Even in this illustrious gathering you turn heads.”

There was a substantial guard of Norman men-at-arms and knights posted round the church to prevent any treachery on the part of resentful townsfolk.

In the presence of the bishops, abbots, and nobles of the whole realm, Archbishop Ealdred of York consecrated William
Duc de Normandie
as King of the English and placed the royal crown on his head. The Archbishop of Canterbury had refused to officiate. William’s coronation robe was ornamented with gold and costly gems. Hundreds of amulets of gold and silver hung from it.

“Each amulet contains a saint’s relic,” Ram whispered to Mabelle.

When Archbishop Ealdred asked the English, and Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances, asked the Normans if they would accept William as their king, all proclaimed their agreement with one voice, but not in one language. Ram shouted proudly with a resounding, “
Oui!
” thrusting his fist into the air in salute to William, filled with conflicting emotions at the memories of the horrific battles, and what William’s victory had cost him. His other hand held Mabelle’s tightly.

The Archbishop led William to the royal throne in the presence and with the assent of the bishops and abbots gathered there.

However, the armed Norman cavalry outside, hearing the harsh English accents, believed treachery was afoot. They set fire to some of the buildings surrounding the Abbey, putting people to the sword. The fire spread rapidly and the crowd took fright, rushing out of the church.

“Ram?” Mabelle cried, clutching his arm.

She was plainly terrified. “I won’t let any harm come to you. Hold on to me. We must stay together.”

He led his trembling wife to safety, his arm firmly around her, sword drawn. He delivered her to his men-at-arms with instructions to take her back to the palace.

Only the bishops and a few clergy remained in the sanctuary to complete the consecration of the king. Ram elbowed his way back to the new King’s side. William seemed badly shaken by the course of events. Once he got William’s attention, Ram urged, “
Majesté
, you must make an appearance to the people, to reassure our fellow Normans you’ve been crowned.”

William regained his composure, nodded and walked regally to the door of the Abbey. The sight of him in his Coronation robes calmed the largely Norman crowd. He looked distraught over what had happened, but he was King.

“I’ve sworn to maintain the Church, and all Christian people in true peace, to prohibit injustice and oppression, to observe equity and mercy in judgments, and to rule my people better than the best of kings before me, if they are loyal to me. I am determined in my heart to make England a country where something other than anarchy can reign. I will pursue the King’s Peace with warlike fervour. With the help of the Confessor’s Norman advisors and courtiers, and allies like you,
Comte Rambaud le Noir
, I will be invincible.”

***

Frantic with worry for Ram, Mabelle paced back and forth, biting her nails. She’d shed the cloak and wimple. She rushed to embrace him when he arrived back at the Palace.

“Everything is peaceful now. Our Duke is King William the First of the English, despite the best efforts of our own Norman soldiers to ruin the day for him.”

They looked at each other and laughed with relief.

“We shouldn’t let your beautiful
ensemble
go to waste,
Comtesse de Montbryce
,” he purred, undoing the girdle of spun gold, as he pressed her to his body. “This is a day for celebration.”

As soon as he touched her, she felt the clenching low in her belly. It wasn’t long after they were naked that her body ached for him. She called his name over and over as he knelt between her legs, draped them over his shoulders, lifted her hips, bent his head and kissed her place of pleasure. He held her firmly as he made love to her with his warm mouth, his tongue as deft as his fingers had been. It seemed natural. She trusted him with her body. Why could she not trust her heart to him?

“I savour every tremor of pleasure vibrating through your body, Mabelle.”

He smiled the smile that made her quiver. Keeping her legs draped over his shoulders, he put a bolster under her hips and slid his manhood into her. She smiled back as their rhythmic dance inflamed her. Throbbing with release, her sheath welcomed his surging seed.

“Your hair’s getting longer,” she whispered later, as she twirled her fingers through it. “It smells of wood smoke.”

***

Long days and nights of celebration followed the coronation.

“The King wishes to formally name me Earl of Ellesmere at tonight’s banquet,” Ram told his wife on the third day. “Beforehand, he wants to meet to discuss the problems in the Welsh Marches, and how he perceives my role in dealing with them. There’s no definite border between England and Wales, so we must establish our authority in the region.”

When they were ushered into the King’s antechamber, William strode to Ram and embraced him warmly “
Non, mon ami
, you will not kneel. I wouldn’t be wearing this crown today without your help. I am desolate about your father.”

Turning to Mabelle, still in a deep curtsey, he took her hand and kissed it, pulling her to her feet. “My dear
Comtesse
de Montbryce. At last this fool friend of mine has had the good sense to marry you.”

“
Merci, Majesté
.”

“My dear friend,” the King turned to Ram, wasting no time, “I want to talk about these irritating Welsh rebels.”

“Sire?”

“Ram, you have time and again proven your worth, both militarily and in governance. The situation in the Marches requires such skills. You’ve been there and seen for yourself. I also need someone I can trust implicitly. I envision my Marcher Lords having more power than an ordinary earl. Rebellion is ever in the air. We need to consolidate our victory.”

Ram wanted to tell William what he thought of the
castle
at Ellesmere that he had indeed seen for himself, and fervently hoped rumour of the fiasco with Rhodri hadn’t reached the King’s ear. He bit his tongue.

The King’s next words broke into his thoughts. “Ah, here come d’Avranches, Montgomerie and Fitz Osbern, the other men I’ve chosen for the job.”

I am indeed in illustrious company!

He wondered if the castles with which the other men had been rewarded were as dilapidated as his. After the appropriate introductions of the lords and their ladies had been completed, and the social niceties observed, the ladies withdrew to a nearby alcove.

The discussion continued for several hours, with William outlining the powers he planned to give to his four Marcher Lords. Ram’s Earldom of Ellesmere occupied an area close to Wales, between Chester and Shrewsbury, sites of two of the proposed earldoms. Hereford in the south was the other.

When time came for the feasting, Ram went in search of Mabelle. The ladies had long since left to prepare for the banquet.

“This is one of the proudest moments of my life,” he whispered to her as they were announced, and he entered the massive hall, his beautiful wife on his arm.

“I’m happy to be here to see you honoured.”