For the King’s Favor (43 page)

He watched Hugh straighten up and grip his half-brother’s arm, and Longespée return the clasp. The young men were still connected when Ida arrived in a flurry of anxiety. Ignoring them, she went straight to Roger and dropped at his side, uncaring of the wet planks of the wharf under her gown.

“You fool!” she cried. “You utter, purblind fool!” Her tone was so vehement and angry that her sons looked at each other askance.

“I’m all right,” Roger croaked, before starting to cough again.

She made an exasperated sound and glared round at the others. “One of you have a litter fetched, don’t stand there dripping.” She clapped her hands.

The members of the Bigod household, accustomed to her gentle way of doing things, stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, then Anketil came to his senses and hastened to do her bidding.

Through chattering teeth, Roger smiled at his wife. “Despite all,” he said hoarsely, “I think I can safely say we’ve won the pike. No one else will better this performance!”

Framlingham, May 1199

In the spring sunshine, the Bigod family and sundry allies gathered in the embryo pleasure garden under Framlingham’s west wall to dine in the fresh air. Trestles had been set up and the white linen napery draping the boards was adorned with platters of dainty fritters and pies, cold roast fowl, bream from the mere, custard tarts, and honey cakes studded with raisins.

Leaning against the trestle, taking a momentary respite from socialising, Ida bit into one of the cakes and, as she tasted the golden sweetness on her tongue, allowed herself a moment’s glow of contentment. More building work remained to be carried out on the fortifications, but the masons had downed their tools for the day and were holding their own feast in the ward. There was no dust and no noise. The new hall at least was complete and furnished with Flemish wall hangings and a fine permanent table on the dais. These were small causes for satisfaction, but what gave her the most joy was that all of her family were gathered under one roof. No one was quarrelling and the day was going to be a perfect memory to store away like a jewelled bead on a string, to recall when life was not so graced with delight.

Earlier, Marie had been betrothed to Ranulf FitzRobert in the castle chapel and the marriage was to take place before the winter. Roger had also officially granted Hugh custody of ten knights’ fees in Yorkshire to give him an income of his own and the responsibility of governance. Hugh’s elevation would take some weight off Roger’s shoulders, which was a good thing. The grant meant that Hugh would soon leave Framlingham for Settrington, but Ida was not going to dwell on that today.

The shouts of children playing a boisterous game of chase drew her gaze to Ralph, who as usual was making the loudest noise as he fled from his cousin Thomas, the small son of Roger’s half-brother. It was good to see that part of the past being mended. Roger had promised to advance his nephew and had been keen to have Will and his family included in today’s gathering. Their presence was a sign of acceptance on both parts. The healing of old wounds could continue, even if the scars would always be visible. At least Gundreda’s grandson was being given a platform to make his way in the world.

Juliana was deep in conversation with Longespée. Ida was delighted that her mother-in-law and her firstborn son socialised so well together. Juliana enjoyed William’s courtliness and William was pleased to have attention paid to him by a dowager of finesse and elegance. Even Hugh and Longespée were managing to rub along in amity. The water joust had created a subtle shift in their relationship. They had worked together to save Roger from drowning when the boat capsized and Hugh’s breaking of the shield had won them the prize. On both sides there was an atmosphere of wary tolerance that Ida hoped would mellow and strengthen as they matured; this at least was a start.

Roger strolled up to join her at the trestle. She bit the remnant of the honey cake in two, ate one piece, and fed him the other with a smile. If not the wiry, limber young man she had first seen at court more than a score of years ago, he remained handsome in her eyes and his hair still held all the seashore colours she loved, even if there was silver spindrift in it now. Today his brow was bound with the gold ceremonial coronet of the earldom.

He had been ill of a congestion of the lungs after his dip in the river, but had made a full recovery. “Stronger than an ox,” the King had observed, visiting Roger’s sickbed before setting out for Saint Albans. He had managed to make it sound as if it were a rustic attribute.

Roger linked her hand through his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “I thought we could bring some apple saplings back from the Norman estates and plant some trees over there,” he said with a nod towards the open space beyond the trestle.

“More mulching.” Ida gave him a teasing smile.

He laughed softly. “I have always been fond of orchards for other reasons. Truly, mulching never entered my head.” He continued to hold her hand. “There are going to be some uncertain times in front of us with this new King…not that there haven’t been uncertain times before, but whatever happens, at least we have solid ground on which to stand, walls to protect us, and a family on whom we can rely, every one of them.”

Slipping his arm around her waist, he led her away from the trestle to walk the ground where he intended to plant the trees. Ida felt the cool blades of new summer grass flicker against her ankles. She cast her glance to the great towers of Framlingham, shining in the sunlight, the shape reminding her of the coronet on Roger’s brow. Her relationship with the castle and the earldom had been one of light and shadow down the years, but in this moment, she was both elated and at peace. Everything she valued, everyone she loved was gathered here today and it truly felt like home, and a homecoming. No one could say their defences would stand for ever, but just now, it felt as if they would.

While writing two novels about the life story of the great William Marshal, I came across Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, whose eldest son Hugh was later to marry into the Marshal family—a story I have followed up with in
To Defy a King
. Roger is contemporary with William Marshal, and his life and career run parallel for much of the time, although Roger’s remarkable story has not been so well documented.

Two things initially piqued my interest about Roger and Ida and made me want to write their story for a modern audience. The first was Roger’s long struggle to win back the lands, prestige, and honour that his father had lost in rebellion; the second was Ida de Tosney’s relationship with King Henry and then with Roger, and the emotional repercussions involved for all concerned.

From the records one can piece together the first strand of the story, i.e., Roger’s efforts to regain his lands. I firmly believe that Henry II was never going to give them to him. There was always the matter of trust, and since Roger’s stepmother and half-brothers were disputing the inheritance, Henry had a perfect excuse to keep the argued territories in his own hands and milk their revenues. For Henry it was a win-win situation. However, he also knew how to employ useful men. Roger proved loyal (although sometimes I suspect he was gritting his teeth very hard!). As well as being an accomplished lawyer, Roger was a clear-minded and indefatigable administrator—not to say a man possessed of a very shrewd fiscal brain. He is first found working for Henry on the judicial bench at Westminster in 1187.

During Richard’s reign, Roger was restored to the earldom and spent several years travelling the country hearing cases throughout numerous counties, dispensing justice, and, importantly for Richard’s empty treasury, levying fines on transgressors. For example, in 1195, Roger covered Northumberland, Yorkshire, Westmorland, Lancashire, Cumberland, Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, and Hertfordshire, with Warwickshire and Leicestershire following on.

Between 1189 and 1213, he rebuilt the demolished castle at Framlingham on a grand scale. Visitors to East Anglia can still see Roger’s thirteen great towers standing today with the most complete wall walk of any castle in the United Kingdom. The hall where Roger and Ida first began married life no longer stands, but its Norman chimneys can still be seen, and the wall abutting the later building work. Some fragmentary remains of the new hall are still in evidence too, part of them housing the Visitor Centre.

Roger had several strings to his bow and was not only a competent lawyer and administrator, but also an accomplished soldier. The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond, a monk of Bury St. Edmunds, tells us that Roger bore the banner of St. Edmund (perhaps the most revered saint in England in the twelfth century) at the battle of Fornham. Roger was frequently found on campaign with successive kings of England, and we know he fought at the siege of Nottingham Castle in 1194. There is speculation as to whether he did or did not attend King Richard in Germany. Certainly, he is mentioned on the “boarding” list, even if there is no charter evidence for his presence with Richard in Germany, so I took an author’s decision to send him there.

The dispute between Roger, Gundreda, and Gundreda’s sons was acrimonious and both sides fought tooth and nail for what they considered their property rights. Huon was never reconciled to the loss of his patrimony and died some time before 1203, still battling for his right to his share of the inheritance. However, some kind of accord must have been reached within the family because Roger’s nephew Thomas (Will’s son) is later found in Roger’s retinue, attesting charters. He also attested for Roger’s son Hugh. Minor land disputes arose in the early thirteenth century between the two branches of the family, but they did not have the heat of earlier exchanges. Roger was indeed fined large sums throughout Richard’s reign to retain his properties, but a new, final settlement was negotiated when John came to the throne.

Roger married King Henry’s mistress Ida de Tosney around Christmas 1181. Not a great deal is known about Ida. There is neither a birth date nor a death date for her in the records, although it is known she died before Roger because no arrangements were made for her person following his death in 1221. Even her parentage is in doubt, although she is now strongly considered on good circumstantial evidence to be the daughter of Ralph de Tosney, lord of Flamstead, and his wife Margaret de Beaumont.

For many years her identity as the mother of William Longespée, Earl of Salisbury, remained a mystery too, and it has only recently been solved by painstaking genealogical detective work. There remains much debate about the birth date of her son by King Henry and suggestions range from 1165 to 1180. For the purposes of the novel, I have chosen the later end of the spectrum. My reasons for this are that Ida’s (probable) parents married in 1155 and her father died in 1162, so that gives us a rough window for the date of Ida’s birth and means that the 1165 suggestion can be ruled out. My other reason for dating it at the later end is that Henry’s mistress Rosamund de Clifford was supposedly the love of his life and she did not die until 1176. Therefore, I postulate a time after this date for Longespée’s birth. This being a work of fiction I do have a certain leeway for speculation!

Some readers might wonder about Ida feeding her children herself during their early months and of being an involved mother, as it has been suggested that all aristocratic women handed their children over to wet nurses the moment they were born and had little to do with them. I consider this to be something of a blanket statement and believe that one size certainly didn’t fit all. The Church preferred women to suckle their own infants and the cult of the Virgin Mary, with numerous images of the Christ child being suckled, always meant there were women, even of high status, who chose to nurture their own offspring.

Eagle-eyed readers who have read my other novels may notice some personalities have aged or suddenly grown younger, or minorly changed appearance. Sometimes this is down to authorial oversight, for which I apologise. Sometimes additional research on subjects less intensively studied for a previous work will shed new light.

On the issue of the historical detail, the various human relationships and physical appearances, I have, as in my novels about the Marshals, used the Akashic Records as one thread of numerous sources of research. As mentioned in the author’s note of my novel
A Place Beyond Courage,
this is a belief that each person leaves behind an indelible record of themselves impressed upon sub-atomic material and that this record can be accessed if one has the ability to tune in at that particular vibrational level. I have based the physical descriptions of Roger and Ida on those records. The records also pointed up such details as Roger’s level determination and his fondness for hats, Ida’s skill with a needle, her nurturing qualities, the trauma of having to leave her baby behind when she married Roger, and the frictions between her two eldest sons.

For readers who are curious, here’s a sample of the kind of material obtained from these records via the skills of Akashic consultant Alison King:

Example One

Early in 2007 I asked Alison to go to the time when Roger and Ida were noticing each other at court before they were married.

Alison: Roger is calm. There’s a nice feeling about him and in the space around him. He’s looking at embellishments on the furniture; the way the light glows on it. The detail on the hems of garments. I suppose he’s a little bit in a world of his own. He’s eating now and enjoying the food. It’s warm, soft fruit served on skewers. It appears to be marinated in alcohol—red wine perhaps. It makes him feel warm inside. He and other courtiers are talking and eating, standing up. It’s a bit like a buffet with finger food. They can pick up what they want. There’s some guffawing going on among the young men because the juices are dripping a bit on the skewers. Now it’s turned to guffawing about women. Roger is trying to keep himself studiously out of that. I feel as if he feels he doesn’t want to be involved in such foolery. He doesn’t want to be a part of the making-fun environment. However he’s not successful, because the others have noticed his reticence and are trying to bring him in more—and make him more the brunt of their amusement. Roger’s feeling very nervous. They start by saying, “We think you like such and such a girl because you’re such a perfect pair—although she’s a bit too tall for you and never mind the teeth” (the girl they’re teasing him about has protruding teeth). It’s a big joke to them. “We know you really like her!” Roger is getting very embarrassed. They continue, “But then maybe you haven’t seen the looks you’ve been getting from Ida…But maybe you’re not interested in the King’s darling, lovely though she is, and you prefer the austere good looks of…” Name sounds like Esmenée. Roger is thrown into a bit of an internal cyclone by all this teasing, because he hasn’t been aware of any of this and it’s not true to his thoughts. If anything, he’s been eyeing up other girls that weren’t mentioned. Eventually they abandon the subject and he’s left alone. He drops into a calmer frame of mind, but there’s an excited spark inside him now. He’s wondering about Ida and if she really has been paying him attention. He’s quite shy and embarrassed about it. So now moving fast-forward to the event, and amazingly he does find her looking straight in his eyes. Ida has the most beautiful brown eyes—very round, solid, and alive. She has got lovely, milky, creamy skin and a coy smile with dimples, but there’s a real truth about her; a kind of integrity that she puts across, and when she smiles at him she looks as if she is truly enjoying herself. There’s something very winning about her. He meets her gaze for a little while and then, embarrassed, looks away. He is wondering if all women are like this. I get the feeling he thinks himself a novice in these matters and is very shy.

Example Two

On another occasion I asked Alison to go to Ida as a young mother, being told she can’t take William with her to her marriage with Roger.

Alison: Ida is hugging a toddler to her tummy. She’s seized up and can’t think. There are no words; she is just numb. If she tries to move, she gets a lurching feeling inside her. If she tries to move her mind or her body, it’s as if her stomach will drop out. It’s as if she’s made of stone. The toddler is wriggling and getting a bit restless. He wants to move about, so she has to put him down. But then she sits very still, not interested in anything. She’s looking down and she can see his legs as he plays. She’s not looking above floor level. She is completely numb; she doesn’t want to think or feel. Now there’s a pain in her stomach. Now she knows she will have to be shriven and now she knows these are the wages for sin and she has no say in the way God brings down His retribution. She knows she could never love anyone more than she loves this, her firstborn child, but there’s nothing she can do. It has been decided by the King, and who can countersay the King? Therefore it must be done and therefore she may have to die, because she doesn’t believe she can bear this pain. And now she’s crying.

Example Three

At another session, I asked Alison to go to the birth of Hugh, Ida and Roger’s first baby.

Alison: I’m with Ida at the birth. It’s a slow, painful process.
Alison exhales hard.
It feels like rising water, it feels like cleansing. She is saying, “Wash me, wash me again.” They’re helping the baby out. The head and the shoulders are out but the birth seems to be taking ages. The midwife is saying, “Caution, caution, not too fast.” Ah, the cord’s around the baby’s neck. That’s why it’s taking a long time. Now they’ve managed to pull the cord over his head. The birth’s a lot more easy once they’ve done that. He’s out, but he’s blue. They’re bathing him in what looks like warm milk, trying to bring him around. He has soft gold hair and wizened features. One eye’s opening now and he’s starting to whimper. The women gently wrap him up. Ida is glad that he’s all right, but she’s much more fixed on her own emotions. They’re not the extreme, exuberant ones that often accompany childbirth. They are solid like rock. It comes from having to be strong. “Please God that it’s all right, thank God that it’s all right. I’ve been vindicated, thank God. I’ve been welcomed back into the enclave of virtuous women. Thank God.” She is so relieved. When she looks at little Hugh she gives a smile of satisfaction, but it’s not a big emotion. It’s softer than that, more centred.

I ask about Ida’s feelings with reference to Hugh and to William, the child she bore to King Henry. We fast-forward to six months later.

Alison: Ida is very happy now. There are little dimples in her cheeks. “I have a son. I have a son who I am allowed to own.” She’s trying to cut off her feelings for William, but she can’t. She feels it deeply, as if she has been cut in two. She tries to cope with it in her head by telling herself there’s nothing she can do about it. It’s just the way it is, but the emotions are not dealt with except by cutting them off, which doesn’t work.
Does she ever see William?
Yes, when they go visiting to court. Oh! She sees him with some other ladies who are playing with him. She can’t bear it. Absolute grief. It breaks her in two. It makes her take even more special care of her young ones she’s had with Roger and love them more to make up for it. She never wants them to bear this as she does. And she would love him so, but she must be brave and put on a face. And one day she will meet a fine young man who will happen to be her son, and she knows it will have been for the best.

***

Obviously this information can’t be corroborated (and there is always the chance that it comes from the imagination) but there have been numerous other occasions in the course of this research when it can, and when it has been spot on with the known history. I leave it to the reader to decide. All I will say is that, braided together, the varying strands of research have illuminated for me the rich and tangled lives of people long gone, people very different from ourselves—and yet not so different at all, and, I hope in this small corner at least, not forgotten.