The Bastard King (29 page)

‘The honour of the Duke,' said one of the barons, ‘which is not necessarily that of Normandy.'

‘Are you such fools that you cannot see what great good this would bring to us?' demanded Fitz-Osbern. ‘There would be lands and riches, for naturally the spoils of the conquered land would fall to those who had helped the Duke to obtain it.'

‘Death could also be our reward,' said another.

The general opinion was: ‘We have pledged to support the Duke in any attack on Normandy; we have taken no oath to conquer foreign lands.'

When the Duke heard this answer he was enraged. But he would not allow his temper to take charge of him. He needed all his astute statesmanship and nothing was achieved in anger that could not be better done through calm.

He visited his shipyards. He said that work must go on apace. He was going to need many ships and of the best within the next few months.

It was clever Odo who had the idea.

‘Your vassals have refused to assist you in assembly. They stood together as one man. “No foreign adventure,” they said. But if you were to ask them singly, would their answer be the same? Invite them to come to you, flatter them, tell them you need their help, tell them that you know them for the most reliable and worthy of your vassals. Say to each separately: “My friend, I cannot do without help.” Promise them spoils. They say the Saxon women are very fair. Try this, William. I think it would be more successful than asking for loyalty and service in an assembly.'

William saw the wisdom of this.

It was surprising how successful Odo's strategy proved to be.

Matilda spent a great deal of her time at Bayeux working on her tapestry.

She delighted in it. There on her canvas blazed the comet. There was Harold taking his oath over the bones of the saints; there was Edward on his death-bed pointing to Harold. She brooded as she worked. She could not go into battle; all
she could do was help her husband whenever possible and recreate the story in her stitches. She had caused a ship to be built which would be the first of the fleet which sailed to England. She had not told William yet; the ship was to be her gift to him; she was going to name her
Mora
and she should be a ship the like of which had never been seen before and have the honour of carrying William to England.

She laughed to herself when she thought of that mighty enterprise. He was going to conquer. She could not conceive otherwise. She would stay at home working her tapestry, acting as Regent here in Normandy while he went ahead with the conquest of that country.

She smiled secretly. Somewhere in England a man of her own age would be thinking of Normandy, perhaps of her. He would be saying: ‘Matilda of Flanders will become Queen of England. Does she remember how I refused to marry her?'

No, Master Brihtric, I do not forget. Nor shall I ever forget till I have taught you what it means to humiliate a Queen.

William was preoccupied with his advisers. She did not disturb him nor ask him anything he did not wish to tell. But he talked to her, though perhaps not as much as he once had. The children had in some measure come between them; it was Robert who had done this. Robert was critical of his father and criticism was something William had never liked, and that it should come from his own family was intolerable to him. Robert was reckless and mischievous. He liked to taunt his father just as far as he could without bringing his wrath down on his head. Matilda often laughed inwardly to hear the little shafts Robert sent in his father's direction.

‘Such a pair as we are could never have expected a peaceful brood,' she often told herself and William.

William's reply was: ‘I expect respect from all my vassals, including my own son.'

Robert would not like to hear himself referred to as a vassal. He already fancied himself as Duke of Normandy.

He had said only the other day: ‘Why, Mother, if my father conquered England he would be its King, would he not?'

‘He would indeed.'

‘Then he cannot be a King and a Duke, can he?'

‘Your father could manage them both very comfortably I doubt not.'

‘If he is a King, then I should be Duke of Normandy. He cannot govern two lands at the same time.'

‘You might be considered over young to govern,' Matilda reminded him.

‘At thirteen?'

‘A great age my son!'

‘You mock.'

‘Only with love.'

‘Mother, you would always be on my side?'

‘Are you not my son?'

‘But
he
is your husband.'

‘You talk as though it must be a matter of taking sides.'

‘So must it be . . . in time.'

‘Nay, you will work together.'

But she knew it would not be so and something in her mind exulted. She had always loved excitement and conflict. Somewhere at the back of her mind she had been wondering for a long time whether her later years might not be enlivened by the pull of loyalties.

The two who touched her feelings more than any others: her admired husband, her beloved son! She would be interested to see which of them she loved the best. If it were a matter of taking sides, which would she take? Time would show her.

There was excitement at Bayeux. Tostig had arrived with Judith and the children. His eyes were alight with the desire for adventure.

Matilda received the family with delight. William guardedly.

Tostig was an attractive creature, Matilda decided. These Saxons often were. While he was closeted with William Judith talked to her, and Matilda had always got what she wanted from Judith.

‘What does Tostig hope for?' she asked. ‘The crown of England?'

Judith's eyelashes fluttered down and she hesitated just a
second or so too long. Did not Matilda remember her gestures from their childhood?

‘How could he be? That is for William,' said Judith.

‘Indeed yes, sister. But that does not stop Tostig's hoping.'

‘He has come to offer his help to William.'

Matilda nodded. She knew what was in Tostig's mind. Let William conquer England and then some sly piece of treachery and there would be Tostig waiting to snatch the crown.

‘Against his own brother?' asked Matilda.

‘Tostig has always hated Harold.'

‘He has been jealous of his elder brother doubtless.'

‘Harold was his father's favourite. Harold could do no wrong.'

‘By all accounts he is the people's favourite. Poor Tostig was outlawed, was he not?'

‘It was all due to that pair of traitors, Edwin and Morcar.'

‘Who are now Harold's brothers-in-law. How complicated these family relations are! Well, Judith, life with Tostig must be enthralling. You can never be sure where you will be.'

‘Tostig is a great man, Matilda,' said Judith earnestly. ‘One day . . .'

Matilda held up her hand. Don't say it, Judith, she thought. You will regret it. In any case there is no need to say it. It is as clear to me as daylight. Tostig wants to be King of England; and that, my dear Judith, is. a position which God has reserved for my William.

In the quiet of the bedchamber she talked to William.

‘What of Tostig?'

‘I don't trust him.'

Matilda drew a deep breath. ‘I knew there was no need to warn you.'

‘So you have sounded Judith?'

‘Poor Judith, she is a devoted wife but scarcely a good strategist. I hope I shall do better for my husband when he leaves me for the conquest of England.'

He took her face in his hands, tender suddenly. ‘My dearest love, I constantly ask myself what I should do without you.'

Nay, William, she thought, you have constantly asked yourself nothing these last weeks but how you can begin the conquest of England.

‘You would miss me sorely, William,' she said, ‘if I were not here. But here I am, your good and patient wife, stitching at her tapestry while she asks herself how best she can serve you. I gathered today from Judith that, in spite of his desire to help you to the crown of England, he rather fancies wearing it on his own head.'

‘I would not trust Tostig for one moment. He is as treacherous as his brother.'

‘Poor Harold, he had little chance to be anything else.'

‘He swore to me . . .'

‘Under duress.'

‘I believe you have a softness for the fellow.'

‘Well, he is a very handsome man and one whom I began to regard as my new son, which he would have been had he taken Adelisa.'

‘By God's Splendour how he has tricked me!'

As surely, she thought, as you tricked him, my lord.

‘What shall you do about Tostig? I gather he has come to offer to fight beside you in the expedition.'

‘I am giving him a few ships . . . nothing of great importance. If he can sail back and harry Harold in the north while we attack in the south, he could be useful.'

She nodded. ‘I might have known you would do the wise thing.'

‘Come, Matilda, do you fancy yourself as a general?'

‘I fancy myself as anything that can serve my lord.'

He smiled at her and gently stroked her hair.

‘May God bless you for ever,' he said, his voice tinged with tenderness and even a hint of passion.

But the tenderness was because he could rely on her and the passion was for the ships which were being built and which would carry him to England.

‘Why are you always watching from the turret?' Cecilia asked her sister. ‘For whom are you looking?'

Adelisa turned her frightened gaze on her sister.

‘There are always people coming. I wonder who will come next.'

‘And you are looking for someone special?'

‘I think there will be messages from England. There must.'

‘Adelisa, what is wrong with you? You eat so little. You always look so lost and frightened.'

‘What is happening, Cecilia, do you know? There is something going on. Our father is often angry. He is alone so much. He cuffed Robert the other day for no great reason. Robert is angry and sullen and said if he were old enough he would join the other side.'

‘Robert should be whipped. You know what is happening, Adelisa. Harold the Saxon who came here has broken the vows he made to Father.'

‘I don't believe it.'

‘Of course he has. Everyone is talking of it.'

‘It is a mistake.'

‘A mistake! How can that be? Harold has flouted our father. Have you not seen the messengers? Do you not see the black mood our father is in? He will be so until he sails for England and takes the crown from Harold.'

‘Harold is a king now,' said Adelisa softly.

‘He has dared take the crown after promising it to our father.'

‘The crown was his,' said Adelisa hotly.

‘You had better not let our father hear you say that. It will be every bit as bad as Robert is when he says that he will be Duke of Normandy the moment our father is King of England.'

‘I believe Harold will write to our father and explain that there has been a mistake.'

‘You are so foolish, Adelisa.'

‘I know Harold.'

‘You! What did you know of the deceitful Saxon? You should pray more, pray that Father will punish him soon and take back the crown he has stolen.'

‘He didn't steal it. It's a mistake. If he promised it to our father . . .'

‘
If
he promised. He swore on holy relics. He will go to hell for that.'

‘He will not go to hell. It is others who will go there.'

‘Hush! Do you mean our father?'

‘Of course I do not.'

‘You cannot be the friend of them both.'

‘I am Harold's friend,' said Adelisa boldly.

‘Then you are a traitor to Normandy.'

‘I am going to marry Harold. He is my betrothed. A woman must never be her husband's enemy.'

Cecilia said: ‘Have they not told you then?'

‘What should they tell me but that Harold has the crown which the King of England gave to him?'

‘Have they not told you, Adelisa, that he has taken a wife?'

Adelisa turned pale. ‘That is not true.'

‘Yes, sister, it is true. He has married the sister of two of his troublesome earls because he was afraid they would make war on him if he did not.'

‘How could he? He is to marry me.'

‘He could break his vows to you as he has broken them to our father.'

‘I don't believe it. I won't believe it.'

‘You should pray to the Virgin, Adelisa. You should pray to be saved from your folly.'

‘I won't believe it. I won't,' said Adelisa.

She ran from Cecilia and shut herself into the bed chamber she shared with her sisters. She threw herself down on her bag of straw and lay staring at the wall.

It could not be true, could it? He, that godlike creature, that incomparable man, could not break his word to her. He had been so kind to her; she remembered how he had made her have the tenderest pieces of meat; he knew that she loved him. He could not love her as she loved him. How could that be? She was but a young girl, not yet grown up, not beautiful as he was, not clever. She could only adore, but he had shown that he liked her adoration and she had been told she was to be his wife.

It was not true. Cecilia liked people to suffer. She thought it
was good for them. Then they prayed and asked God for help and were supposed to be comforted.

But if she lost him, if it were indeed true that he had married someone else and forgotten his promise to her, then there was no comfort. All she would want to do then was to lie on her bed of straw, turn her face to the wall and die.

‘My lady,' she said, ‘may I have speech with you?'

Matilda looked at her daughter. How pale and thin the child was! A sudden pity touched her. Was it possible for a girl of such tender years to feel passionate love for a man who must be thirty years her senior? Matilda believed it was.