The Fatal Crown (24 page)

He rode out of Westminster at a fast trot, anxious to reach his brother, who was staying at the Bishop’s Palace next to St. Paul’s Cathedral. The Abbot would know best how to make full use of the extraordinary news Maud had confided to him. The King’s deceit must work to their advantage, Stephen decided. Surely the nobles would raise an outcry. Perhaps they would even go so far as to state that if King Henry did not keep faith with them, why should they keep faith with him ?

The mare slowed her pace, picking her way through the snow with care. On Stephen’s left rose the dark spires of St. Paul, rearing up like a monolith against the gray afternoon sky. He turned his horse in the direction of the Bishop’s Palace.

He found his brother in a small but well-appointed chamber, unpacking a long wooden box. He had intended to pass on to the Abbot the tale of the smuggled message but instead found himself telling him what had actually transpired, omitting any mention of what had occurred between Maud and himself.

“You must have been mad to take such a risk!” Henry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What possessed you?”

Stephen avoided his brother’s accusing face. “I thought Maud might be in trouble and decided to see for myself.” This excuse sounded lame even to his own ears. “Why I took the risk is less important, surely, than the weapon we have been given by this news.”

Henry frowned and began to lift handfuls of straw from the wooden box onto the table. “A secret betrothal to an Angevin! I cannot believe the King has made such a foolish mistake. But he has played right into our hands.” He turned back to Stephen. “Our wisest course will be to say nothing of this matter.”

Stephen looked at him with incredulity. “Say nothing? But if we spread the news the King will be greatly discredited, Maud will not marry a hated Angevin, and the nobles will regard us with favor for having uncovered this plot.”

“Really, Brother, sometimes I wonder if you’re fit to wear the crown.” The Abbot gave an impatient sigh. “Nothing could prove more useful to our cause than for Maud to marry the Angevin. Don’t you see?”

“No, I do not see.” As usual, his brother appeared to be so many steps ahead of him that Stephen felt confused and resentful.

“The barons will be bitter over the King’s duplicity, but they will do nothing about it, for he has too strong a hold upon the kingdom. There will be a few defectors, of course, and demonstrations of protest here and there. Minor disturbances. But most of the magnates will comply and hope for better times. Then, when the King dies—he cannot last more than another few years—the realm will be faced with a woman ruler and a hated Angevin as their king-consort! Nothing could be better for our plans.”

Stephen nodded his head slowly as he began to understand. “Then we step into the breach. Yes, I see your point now. But how do we accomplish this?”

“How? How?” The Abbot’s lip curled in distaste. “I’m not a crystal gazer, Brother, a reader of palms, God save us.” He signed himself. “When the time comes we will know what to do and how to do it. The House of Blois will be welcomed with open arms, I promise you. All we need do is bide our time.”

What his brother said made sense; Stephen wondered why he had not seen matters in the same light. He had viewed the marriage as a threat, not an asset. He admitted to himself that he did not want Maud to marry the Count, and had allowed his feelings to overcome his judgment. Yet even now that he had seen how greatly such a marriage would benefit him—he found himself torn, unsure of what he wanted.

“What troubles you now?” Henry asked, watching him.

“I was thinking that all this intrigue is beyond my simple nature. Give me a sword, troops to deploy, an enemy, and a battle, and I know what is required.”

The Abbot laughed, and, walking over to Stephen, put his hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes, there you excel. It has been too long between battles, Stephen, that’s what has driven you to these hairbreadth deeds of rescue and disguise. What is a warrior without a war? Restless, bored, chafing at inactivity, craving the lure of danger. Go hunting. Take a raiding party across the Welsh border. Test your prowess in a tourney.” He leaned forward and kissed Stephen lightly on both cheeks and patted him on the back. “Leave the thinking to me, Brother, and all will be well. Matters will fall out as we envision them.”

If only it were that simple, Stephen thought glumly.

Two days later, Maud, still confined to the Queen’s solar, had no idea what had happened to Stephen after he had been taken back inside the castle by the guards. Unable to sleep, barely touching her food, she was half mad with worry and fear, torturing herself with all manner of possibilities: Had he been questioned? If so, how much had he revealed? Would she be questioned as well? Suppose their descriptions of events were at odds? Tossing in the carved wooden bed at night, hideous visions passed across her eyes: Stephen confined to a dungeon in chains, beaten, tortured with hot irons, blinded, castrated. Once she bolted up from the bed screaming with terror, to be soothed by an anxious Aldyth.

“The Count will not be harmed. He’s far too popular with the nobles and commonfolk alike. What are you afraid of? You told him of the marriage, that’s all. What more can the King know?” Her eyes searched Maud’s pale face. “What more
is
there to know?”

Maud dropped her eyes. “Nothing. Nothing! I’ve told you that Stephen was here disguised as a priest and what we discussed. There is no more. Why are you so suspicious?”

“I didn’t know I was.”

She sank back onto the pillows, wondering if the Saxon nurse believed her. She had debated whether or not to tell Aldyth of Stephen’s plan to inform the council about the Angevin marriage but decided against it. This was for Aldyth’s own protection, she told herself, in the event the plan miscarried. What Aldyth did not know she could not be made to reveal.

In addition to her fears, unexpected demands of the flesh also plagued her. Her body’s needs had never before been awakened, and she ached to fully consummate her love for Stephen. At night she lay fitful, tormented by the memory of his lips and hands worshipping every inch of her body, waking at dawn unsatisfied, yearning for fulfillment.

Neither Aldyth’s discreet efforts to solicit information from Alix’s women nor Maud’s direct questioning of Alix proved fruitful. No one had seen Count Stephen or had news of him.

Finally, on the afternoon of the third day, Aldyth learned from one of the guards who had just come on duty outside the solar that Stephen was in the great hall.

“And in fine fettle, says the guard.” Aldyth crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I told you he would come to no harm, my lady. Are you satisfied now? You would do better to worry about your own interests, for Count Stephen can well take care of himself, I warrant.”

At first Maud was lightheaded with relief. Stephen must have talked his way out of any difficulty, she decided. Perhaps he had not even been taken to the King, and she had let her imagination run away with her. As the hours of the day wore on, she waited expectantly for some word from Stephen. He had said he would see her again, no matter the circumstance. If no one suspected the previous visit, surely he could arrange another tryst, or get word to her of how their plans fared.

Every few minutes, she ran to peer out of the window slit, praying she would not see Stephen leave. Had he talked to the de Beaumont twins? Members of the council? His brother? Doubts and uncertainties crept over her like a channel fog. The more she thought about their plan the more ill-conceived it became. How could she have been so blind to the risks involved! One of his friends, even a council member, might betray him. When her father discovered who was responsible, he would never forgive Stephen, much less herself. His wrath would be terrible. If only she had taken the time to think the matter through!

By the time the Vespers bell sounded, with still no word, Maud was in such an agony of suspense that she paced her chamber like a penned beast, starting at the sound of every noise.

“Was that the solar door? See who it is.”

Aldyth opened the door leading to the solar. “There’s no one. The Queen and her women must have just left for Vespers. Jumpy as a scalded cat you are.” She looked at Maud with faded blue eyes that missed nothing. “Something is afoot here, my lady, for I’ve never seen you in such a state.”

When Maud turned away, Aldyth waddled after her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’m not fool enough to believe you’ve told me the whole tale, not by half you haven’t, but whatever japes you and that slippery cousin of yours have conjured up between you, King Henry will have his way in the end, mark my words.”

“Of course I’ve told you everything,” Maud retorted, twisting free from her grasp. Acutely uncomfortable under Aldyth’s close scrutiny she said: “Do you go now to the kitchens and bring back my supper.”

“What for? You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive,” Aldyth grumbled, but left the chamber.

Not long after Aldyth had gone, Maud heard voices and footsteps, then the sound of the bolt being drawn back. At last! She ran into the solar just as the door opened to reveal her father.

“I’ve come to see how you’re faring, Madam,” he said with a grim smile.

Her disappointment was so acute she was speechless.

The King stepped across the threshold. “You’re not very courteous today.”

Maud swallowed. “I am pleased to see you, Sire.”

“Have you made up your mind to do your duty?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

The King stood in the middle of the solar, his thumbs hooked in his black belt. “You’re taking too long. I can move you to a less—desirable abode that may quicken your willingness to comply.”

“You hope to threaten me into submission?” She prayed he would not hear the tremor in her voice.

“Threaten? I do not threaten, Madam, I act.” He bowed and walked briskly to the door. “Reflect upon what I’ve said. I will return tomorrow.”

He left the chamber, quietly closing the door behind him.

When King Henry returned to his council chamber he sent a page to find the Bishop of Salisbury. The King seated himself in a wooden chair, the arms and legs of which were carved in ivory to represent the head and feet of a wild boar. Outside the castle a March storm beat heavily against the stone walls. Gusts of wind swept through the window slits, causing the tall white candles to flare in their silver holders.

The Bishop arrived and Henry invited him to sit on a stool near his chair.

“Maud continues to prove intractable,” he said. “I’m convinced she will not willingly marry the young count and I dare not set her free for she will go straight to members of my council and tell them what I propose to do. At all costs that must be prevented.”

“She was always a headstrong child and maturity has not improved her mettlesome nature,” said the Bishop. “Perhaps you should reconsider—” At a look from the King he stopped. “Short of spiriting her away while she sleeps, what can you do?” he asked.

The King’s eyes suddenly widened. “Spiriting her away—Roger, you have a mind more devious than my own! Why didn’t I think of that?”

The Bishop looked bewildered. “Think of what, Sire?”

“Never mind now. Fetch me a cleric. I must send an urgent message to Fulk of Anjou. He wants a date set for the betrothal ceremony? He shall have one, far sooner than he imagines. A messenger will leave for Anjou this very night.” He rubbed his hands together. “Then have the herbalist from St. John’s monastery attend me.” He thought for a moment, tapping his finger against his chin. “I will also need to see my son, Robert, and, let me see, yes, Brian FitzCount. They won’t like the task I’ve set them but they are both loyal servants of the crown.”

Roger rose to his feet. “I think I understand now, Sire. I will tend to these matters at once.”

“Ah, what it is to be a king, Roger, what decisions that weigh upon the soul.”

“Shall I hear your confession, Sire?”

King Henry stood up and walked over to the Bishop, placing a hand on his meaty shoulder. “Later, my friend. Until this Angevin business is settled, I can put my attention on nothing else. Even my sins must wait upon the kingdom’s weal.”

Several days later Maud had heard no word from her father, nor any from Stephen. She had become so disagreeable and on edge that Aldyth finally threatened to dose her with vervain.

One evening, while Alix and her women attended Vespers, and Aldyth had gone to fetch her dinner, she was visited by the Bishop of Salisbury.

“I bring you a gift from the King,” he said. “He has received a cask of wine from Gascony and sends you a sample.”

“He’s relented?” Maud asked, her heart beginning to flutter.

“Alas, no. But be patient. All things in their time.” He held up a silver flask, then leaned toward her with an air of false intimacy, nauseating her with the malodorous stink coming from his rotting teeth. “In truth, I believe he may be having second thoughts, Madam. I suspect this wine is intended as a peace offering. Do you try some now.”

Listlessly, Maud walked into her chamber and over to the table to pick up a goblet, trying to convince herself this gift was a good omen. “Will you join me, Bishop?”

“No, no,” he said hastily, as he followed her inside. Out of the corner of her eye she noted that he closed the door behind him. “I have already had more than my fair share.” He smacked his lips. “Ambrosia fit for a king’s palate.”

Maud brought him the goblet, and he poured a generous amount of the wine into it. “Let us see how you like it,” he said, swirling the wine before handing it to her.

As the liquid touched her lips, Maud made a face. The wine had been so heavily spiced with cloves, licorice, and fennel that it was impossible to determine the true taste. Definitely not to her liking, but, dutifully, she downed the contents of the goblet. The Bishop watched her intently.

“Tell the King I’m most grateful for this gift, and convey to him that I—” She heard herself slurring the words. Why did her tongue suddenly feel so thick?

“Do you feel ill, Madam?” he asked.