The Fatal Crown (7 page)

There was certainly nothing unusual in this familiar scene, yet the feeling of alarm persisted. Over the years Stephen had learned to trust his instincts, as finely honed, he prided himself, as any forest creature’s. From across the river he heard the sound of hammering, and immediately walked through the meadow grasses down to the riverbank. Putting down his knife while he removed his shirt, he waded into the river which swirled in brown circles around the golden pelt of his chest. The shock of the cold water against his skin was invigorating. On the opposite bank he parted the clusters of pale green reeds and climbed soundlessly onto the moist earth. Now, surely, the source of the danger, if such existed, would be revealed.

Through the reeds Stephen could see servitors unloading carts and erecting pavilions. Several grooms were leading pack horses and mules down the riverbank to drink.

The sense of danger abruptly vanished as a woman dressed all in black came into view. Although he could not see her features clearly, Stephen was aware of a graceful neck supporting a flushed ivory face tilted slightly backward, and a luxuriant fall of russet hair that cascaded down her back. She slipped off her black cloak to reveal an elegant carriage, slender body, and swelling bosom.

When she began to walk toward the river, something about the woman’s face and the color of her hair seemed vaguely familiar, although he could not place her. Who could she be? he wondered, before suddenly connecting the raised pavilion, the carts, and why he was here. This could only be his cousin Maud, widow of the Imperial Emperor. She had grown into a heart-stopping beauty, more than fulfilling the early promise of the lovely teary-eyed maiden he had seen, and never totally forgotten, the day he arrived at Windsor fourteen years ago.

The sudden sound of hooves pounding across the stone bridge that spanned the river made Stephen sink to his knees in the reeds. A party of nobles trotted past; among them Stephen recognized two of his companions, the de Beaumont twins, riding from Muelan into the tiny village of St. Clair to meet the King’s daughter.

The church bells rang for Prime and Stephen turned back to feast his eyes upon Maud once more. Suddenly a voice in his ear startled him.

“What holds you in such thrall? I made enough noise to wake the dead yet you heard nothing.”

Caught by surprise, Stephen whipped around to find the saturnine face and ironic blue eyes of Brian FitzCount, who had slipped silently into the water to join him. Brian, bastard son of the Count of Brittany, had arrived in England at about the same time as himself and they had been brought up together at the King’s court.

Silently Stephen parted the reeds so that Brian could observe the new arrival.

“Jesu,” Brian murmured, “yes, I see. Now I understand the reason for your concentration. Can that breathtaking creature really be the German widow?”

“What did you expect?”

“A dumpy German Frau like as not.” Brian paused, a frown creasing his brow. “Still a mystery why the King has summoned her back.” He stretched his arms then ducked his head of tight black curls under the water.

“No mystery to me,” Stephen said lazily, his eyes riveted to Maud who had suddenly bent to remove her shoes and a pair of black stockings. “The King has a new alliance to be made and his daughter is now an available widow.”

“If that was all there was to it why not say so? Why keep the matter secret? Normandy is at peace with both France and Anjou now, pray God it lasts. With whom does the King need an alliance? Much more sensible to have left the lady in Germany where she could be of use to him. No, there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Stephen shrugged. “There are always alliances to be made. Perhaps the King wishes to see the only remaining child of his late queen. There could be a hundred reasons.”

Brian lay on his back in the water and gently kicked his legs. “In all the years I’ve lived at court I’ve never witnessed King Henry take any action that did not first serve the interests of the realm.”

“Must there always be a political reason for everything?” Stephen said, impatience in his voice. “You’re as bad as my devoted brother, Henry, who scents intrigue as my brachet scents game.” He drew his breath in sharply as Maud lifted up the skirts of her black gown and tunic, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of a delicately shaped ankle. She then proceeded to run through the grass directly toward his hiding place.

Brian laughed. “If your brother’s keen nose hasn’t uncovered the King’s secret no one can.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Stephen continued, “my cousin is here. Now. And I intend to make the most of it before she is shipped off to another husband.”

“God’s face, I hope that doesn’t mean what it usually does. Such talk from you invariably spells trouble—for the damsel in question. Listen to me, Stephen, it’s one thing to pursue a lady of questionable virtue or a tavern wench, but the King’s daughter, who is also your own cousin? Remember what happened with that baron’s wife last year? You only just escaped her husband’s vengeance by fleeing through the kitchens.”

Stephen chuckled. “With boots, hose, and cloak left behind as evidence! Will I ever forget? If you hadn’t been waiting with the horses—” He gave a mock shudder, his eyes intently watching Maud.

“Exactly. Be warned.”

“Don’t be tiresome. If I required a sermon, I would go to my brother. Henry’s recent appointment as Abbot of Glastonbury has made him more insufferable than ever. You should hear him on the subject of lechery and lust.”

Brian laughed. “I can imagine.”

Stephen turned to grin at his companion. “My cousin will be lonely and need consolation after her recent loss. I have a most excellent remedy for pining widows.”

“By my faith, now I’m really worried for the lady’s safety. You’re incorrigible.”

Stephen did not reply. For a moment Maud had vanished from his sight and he poked out his head from between the reeds to see where she had gone. Not ten feet from his hiding place a pair of startled smoke-gray eyes met his. For the space of a heartbeat their eyes held. There was an odd, sharp little ache in Stephen’s chest, and a sensation in his belly as if he had just fallen from a great height. Before he could speak, Maud’s face turned pink, and she quickly ran through the grass back to the camp.

“Look, Stephen, did you ever see such a sorry sight?” Brian asked, laughing.

“What?” Dazed, Stephen tore his gaze away from Maud to see his cousin, Robert of Gloucester, standing across the narrow river, a blanket wrapped around him. Small but strongly built, with a shock of thick brown hair cut straight across his forehead in the Norman fashion, he resembled a hardy pony from the Welsh hills.

“Why do you wear a blanket?” Brian asked, swimming toward Robert. “Come join us.”

Robert thrust his foot in the water, then drew back. “By the Mass, the water is cold.” A chord of Welsh music ran through his voice, reflecting the heritage of his mother who had been the daughter of a Welsh chieftain when King Henry had captured her during his first campaign in Wales. “Others are abroad and I have no wish to offend by my nakedness.”

“Such modesty would do credit to a nun,” Brian said, with a wink at Stephen.

Shaking off the effects of his encounter with Maud, Stephen swam through the water after Brian, climbed onto the opposite shore, and before Robert could stop him, pulled off the blanket. Shouting with laughter, Stephen took his arms, Brian his legs, and, ignoring Robert’s curses and protests, together they lifted him high then dropped him into the cold water. He emerged, shaking himself like an angry dog, then came after Stephen. Together they wrestled in the water, each trying to throw the other off balance. Stephen was the taller but Robert the more solidly built; neither could best the other.

That had always been the case even as youths, Stephen thought, trying to get a firm grip on his cousin’s slippery body. Despite the fact that they were the best of companions, equally favored by the King—he had married them to wealthy heiresses and showered them with land, power, and influence—the two had always been rivals as well. He and Robert competed for the King’s affection and attention, for prowess in hunting, skill at arms, and success on the battlefield. But since Robert, as a bastard, could not even be considered to inherit the throne, both he and Stephen knew who would ultimately triumph.

“Ah, now we see what it is that endears him to his wife,” Stephen cried. “You shouldn’t hide your light under a blanket. Would he not put a stallion to shame, Brian?”

“Indeed, the prowess of the Welsh is well known,” Brian replied, “for they breed like hares. Listen, my friend, I have a mare that wants servicing—”

Robert let go of Stephen to leap at Brian and they both disappeared under the water in a flurry of thrashing limbs.

“My lords?”

Stephen turned to see his squire, Gervase, approaching at a rapid pace through the grass.

“The King is calling for you, my lords. His daughter is across the river and he’s anxious you attend him before she arrives in his camp.”

“We caught a glimpse of her. Tell him we’ll dress and be there at once,” Stephen said.

“My sister has arrived?” Robert asked, emerging from the water. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He hastily climbed onto the bank and wrapped himself in the blanket. “Dearest Maud. Do you realize it’s been fourteen years? I cannot wait to see her.” He ran up the hill.

Stephen and Brian climbed onto the bank, pulled on their long shirts, and followed at a leisurely pace. The mist was rapidly burning off now, revealing clear blue skies. It promised to be a day of brilliant sunshine, Stephen observed, a day of good omen.

“Tread carefully with your beauteous cousin,” Brian advised him in a serious undertone. “You have sufficient conquests to testify to your manliness a hundred times over.”

“Now that is arguable.” Stephen bent to pick up a grass straw and slipped it between his lips. “Like glory or riches, can one ever have sufficient?”

Brian smiled. “You’re beyond redemption, I fear. There will come a day of retribution, mind.”

“By God, you can be tedious. I only jest. Do you think me such a fool as to go against my own interests?” Stephen grimaced. “I’ll be the very model of chivalry, have no fear. Unfortunately, the lady is as safe with me as in a cloister.”

Which was God’s own truth, Stephen thought regretfully. He would sooner poke at a wild boar with a short stick than incur his uncle’s displeasure. Besides, there was something about that brief, wordless exchange with Maud that did not suggest an easy conquest, a moment’s sport easily forgotten. But he had no intention of revealing that to Brian.

Flinging an arm over his friend’s shoulders, he gave him a rough squeeze. “I wonder you never took holy orders. You’re wasted away from the pulpit.”

They reached the pavilion. Before entering Stephen paused, suddenly remembering the sense of danger he had experienced earlier. He had never uncovered the source of that feeling, he realized. Odd, it was the first time he could remember that his instinct in such matters had played him false.

M
AUD RACED THROUGH THE
grass carrying her shoes, stockings and cloak. Still tingling from the impact of her heady encounter in the reeds, she ran full tilt into Aldyth who was waiting for her at the door of the pavilion.

“Where have you been? By the Rood, you have no shoes on and your face is scarlet! If you’ve caught a fever—” She put an anxious hand on Maud’s forehead.

“I’m fine. Don’t chastise.” It was ridiculous how out of breath she felt.

Aldyth, looking like a suspicious pouter pigeon in her white wimple, rumpled gray gown and tunic, held open the door and Maud, with a quick glance over her shoulder at the riverbank, walked into the tent. Unprepared for the wild disorder confronting her, she looked in dismay at the feather bed lying in a heap on the floor, coverlets and linen sheets spilling out of an open oak chest, stools, a small table, silver basins, ewers, and ivory caskets scattered everywhere. Two female attendants from Germany, Truda and Gisela, were busy shaking out gowns and tunics, then hanging them on wooden hooks fastened to the tent walls. In the middle of the floor stood a large wooden tub half filled with water.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have gone into Rouen as planned,” Maud said. “This … backwater seems an unlikely place to meet my father.” Nor did it bode well for her reception at her father’s court, she thought.

After removing her tunic, gown, and shift, and stepping into the tub of water, Maud’s attention returned to the man she had seen rise from the reeds like some mythic god. She had almost expected to see nymphs and satyrs prancing about him. But she had immediately recognized her cousin, Stephen of Blois, whom she had not seen for fourteen years. Those unforgettable eyes, deep green flecked with gold, had reminded her of the day she left Windsor. What irony that her cousin was the first person she should encounter on the day of her return.

“The King has his reasons for meeting you here, whatever they may be,” Aldyth was saying now, interrupting her reverie. “If you want to get along with him, best not to question what he does.”

She began to scrub Maud’s body with a damp cloth, then rubbed oil scented with rose petals into the smooth skin of her slender neck, rounded arms, narrow waist, and long straight legs. The soreness and fatigue of the long journey eased under Aldyth’s skillful fingers.

“Well, I intend to question everything. After all, I’m no longer a child. The King cannot do merely as he wants with me,” Maud said, stepping out of the tub as Aldyth wrapped her in a long, thick towel.

“You’re as much a chattel now as you were at nine years of age, make no mistake about that.” Aldyth lowered her voice. “As I’ve told you, King Henry needs you, just as he did when he married you off to the Emperor, just as he needed your Saxon mother, may God rest her soul, to grease his way to the throne.” She sighed. “I always said your late husband spoiled you, Lady, in shielding you from the ways of this world. But you’ll learn.”

Maud, having heard this diatribe many times before on the long journey across Europe, knew there was no point in arguing.