Read The Lion of Justice Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
âYou were very harsh when I was alone and unprotected. You can be so no longer. The King will take care of me for ever more.'
âI tell you this: you will never marry the King. I am making it known that you are a bride of Christ.'
âThen you lie, Aunt Christina.'
âI am saving your soul, you foolish girl.'
âI am going to be what God intended me to be â a wife and mother.'
âEdith, listen to me.'
âI am no longer Edith. From henceforth my name is Matilda.'
âWhat folly is this!'
âI feel as though I am reborn. I love and am loved. I have waited long for this day and now it has come. I shall throw off all my past wretchedness. Even my name is changed. The King has christened me Matilda. I like the sound of it. Poor Edith was a sad orphan, harshly treated. Oh, I do not forget how you stood over me with the cane. I do not forget those stinging blows. You have been very cruel to me, Aunt Christina, and I rejoice that you no longer dare. You can never harm proud Matilda as you did poor defenceless Edith.'
âYou are mad.'
âNay, only happy as I never have been in my life.'
âLet us kneel and pray to God to deliver you from your folly.'
âI will not obey you now, Aunt Christina. I will pray for you, though. I will ask God to forgive you your cruelty to me.'
The Abbess was dumbfounded. That anyone should talk to her thus in her own Abbey! It was incredible! And this ungrateful girl had the support of the King, and Christina knew that with a stroke of the pen he had it in his power to take her Abbey from her, to put another Abbess in her place. It was a different matter to prevent the marriage of her niece with Alan of Bretagne or the Earl of Surrey. This was the King.
She narrowed her eyes. âGod will not prosper you,' she said. âIf you go to your lecher king you will not find life easy. I have told you what you must expect from men. I know your wantonness craves just that. Go then. God will not prosper you.'
âThere is nothing you can say to me, Aunt Christina, to hurt me now. I am reborn.'
âYou heartless, ungrateful, wanton slut.'
The Abbess raged out of the cell, and Matilda â for she would always think of herself as Matilda in future â threw back her hood and unbound her hair. Never again would she wear this hateful garment. She would have silks and velvets to caress her skin. Never, never again the hateful serge which was almost horsehair.
She was ready and would wait eagerly for the summons.
Christina could do nothing to prevent her leaving, though she uttered threats to the effect that this marriage should not take place because the Church would not allow it.
The King rode out from Winchester to the Welsh border. News would in time reach Nesta of his proposed marriage with the Princess Matilda and he must be the first to bring the tidings to her.
As he rode he considered his relationship with Nesta. He had felt more deeply towards her than towards any other woman. It was a fact, of course, that a man who loved women as much as he did could never be wholeheartedly devoted to one. Nesta would know this. She was one of those women who had been born with all the knowledge which Eve must have acquired when she ate the apple. There were such women. They were invariably irresistible. Love was their main preoccupation. They understood the needs of men, how to
provoke them, how to satisfy them. There would never be a woman in his life to take the place of Nesta. Had it been possible he would have married her. But he had not been in a position to marry until now, and now he was in a position to marry none other than a Saxon Princess. He could not marry a woman who had been his mistress for many years, unless, of course, her position warranted the match. No, Matilda was the bride for him. Sister to the King of Scotland, niece to the man who many said should be the King of England â she was the perfect choice. A virgin, too, a woman of impeccable reputation. Nesta would have to understand.
As he expected, Nesta was eager to see him. The passion between them was as insistent as ever. It would have to be the last time, he told himself. Everything he did from now on would have to be considered. He doubted he would be a faithful husband, but he wanted no deeply emotional relationships as this one with Nesta had been and could soon become again.
Their desire satiated, it was time to talk.
âSo you are now a king?' said Nesta. âMy little bastards are the King's bastards. You have yet to see Henry, a fine little fellow, the image of his father and bearing his name. Our son Robert is delighted with him.'
âI will see him and I swear to advance the fortunes of them both.'
âThat is well for you, my King, if you wish to please their mother.'
âI wish that, as I always have.'
âYet you stay away so long.'
âI have risked much to come and see you.'
âWhy so?'
âBecause I am recently King and my position is not yet as strong as I would have it.'
âSo I am flattered. But now that you are King . . .'
He dared not let her go on.
âNesta, I have to speak to you very seriously. I have to marry.'
She drew away from him, her eyes speculative.
He went on quickly: âThey have chosen a bride for me.'
âSo you allow them to
choose
for you?'
âI must needs tread warily. There are many who would substitute my brother Robert if they could. I rely on the help of the Saxons. By marrying the Princess Matilda I please them. A Saxon Princess, daughter of one King of Scotland, sister to another, a niece of Edgar Atheling. You see what I mean.'
âI see it perfectly.'
âNesta, you have been as a wife to me. No one have I loved as I love you. Would to God I could take you to Winchester with me and proclaim you my Queen.'
âAre you not the King, to do what you will?'
âA King rules by the will of his people.'
âThat was not one of your father's rules.'
âHe used to say that while one takes a firm hand in government, the will of the people is important. This is my destiny. I have always known it. My father prophesied it on his deathbed. It had to come and, if I wish to hold my crown, I have to please these people . . . for a while.'
âWhy not postpone your marriage until you are able to please yourself?'
âI would if I could. But I could lose my crown if I refused to marry Matilda.'
âSo I am not worth a crown?'
âYou know better than that. It would not only be the crown that was lost but the head that carried it.'
She let her fingers rest lightly on his neck. âI prefer you complete with head, my faithless lover.'
âI knew you would understand. Let us talk in all seriousness. I shall not be able to see you for some time.'
âYou will be preoccupied with your bride. I wonder if she will please you as I did? Do you remember the first time?'
âNever shall I forget it. How could any please me as you do.'
âThere you speak truth. You are a man of wide experience, but you must admit that Nesta was the best.'
âI could never deny it.'
âRemember it . . . always.'
âI do. Now listen. I shall be occupied with affairs of state . . .'
âIncluding Matilda.'
âShe is in a manner of speaking an affair of state.'
âOne of the more enjoyable duties, I trust.'
âNesta, I am concerned for you. That is why I have planned for you.'
âA life which does not contain visits from you will have little savour.'
âNay. I have spoken to a good man, a friend of mine, who has always had my cause at heart. He is Gerald of Windsor. He is good-looking, a fine virile fellow.'
âSo I am to be passed to him.'
âYou will marry him.'
âThis is indeed the end, when you pass me to another.'
âI swear to you that I should be the happiest man in England if I could make you my Queen.'
âAlas, poor helpless King, who cannot marry where he will!'
âYou have been constantly in my thoughts. I cannot rest until I know you are settled. I want our children to have a good home. I trust Gerald de Windsor.'
âI have never heard of him. Is he rich?'
âHe will be. I will give him a barony in Pembrokeshire on the day he marries you. There is a fine castle there, Carew Castle. Go and look at it. You will be enchanted by it. I will send Gerald to see you. It is for you to decide.'
âAnd our boys?'
âRest assured they will always be in my thoughts.'
âAnd what is more important, recipients of your bounty?'
âI swear it on our love, Nesta.'
âIs that a firm foundation on which to swear?'
âI would swear on that more fervently than anything else.'
âYou always had the right answers. I wonder if Matilda will find it so?'
âSo you accept?'
âWhat else can I do? You are the King. It is different for a penniless prince to come riding this way and to find a loving heart waiting for him. But a king! All his actions are noted. What is Matilda like, I wonder? Is she beautiful, tell me that?'
âShe is not ill-favoured.'
âAs I am not?'
âYou are as the sun, blazing hot, without which no man could live.'
âWhich is what you are proposing to do.'
He ignored that. âShe is as the moon.'
âThe moon is considered beautiful.'
âI said she was not without a charm.'
âA man can live without the moon, is that not so?'
âI know only that this parting breaks my heart.'
âNow that is not worthy of my lawyer King. Your heart is sound enough, Henry; it's your head we are concerned with, not your heart.'
âHave done,' he said, and drew her to him.
âThe last,' she said.
âLet us make it as memorable as the first. But you know I shall come back.'
âCould I be faithless to what is his name . . . Gerald?'
âYes, I think you might.'
âAs you will be to Matilda?'
âIt seems likely.'
âOh, yes,' said Nesta, âit seems very likely.'
As he rode back to Winchester he congratulated himself that the interview with Nesta had gone off better than he had anticipated. But then Nesta was a woman of the world. She would understand.
However, when he returned to Winchester he was met by a concerned Roger, who told him that the Abbess of Wilton had made a statement to the effect that the Princess Matilda was a confirmed nun and that it would be an act of sacrilege to remove her from the Abbey.
Henry was furious. Matilda had sworn to him that she had not taken the veil and he believed her. The girl was too innocent to lie. It was that wicked old Abbess who was lying.
âNevertheless,' said Roger, âthe doubt will always be there. The Church will be against the marriage and that means that many of the people will be with them. It will not be the popular marriage you need. If you did marry, the least little trouble would be laid to its door. Remember how ready people are to see signs and portents. Remember how they were sure the cathedral tower crashed because Rufus was
buried beneath it, though it was well known that the work was too hurriedly done. If you are going to marry Matilda, it will have to be believed without a doubt that she never took the veil.'
âShe swears she didn't.'
âThat is not enough. You want the leading churchmen to confirm absolutely that she is able to marry.'
âChurchmen! The clergy are more likely to support that old harridan of an Abbess than me. One moment. An idea occurs to me. You know my father was excommunicated for his marriage to another Matilda. For years he was ostracized by the Church. He had exiled Lanfranc and then reinstated him. Lanfranc went to Rome and the excommunication was withdrawn. There is a very clever churchman who had a quarrel with my brother. I have it. Anselm. I will recall Anselm.'
âYou think he will work for you against this Abbess?'
âYes, for he will be grateful to me for recalling him.'
âThey say he lives in pleasant retirement. Is it at Lyons?'
âMy good Roger, in spite of his piety, he is an ambitious man. He lost the great See of Canterbury. What if I promised to return that to him? Do you not think that might prove irresistible?'
âWe can but try it.'
Anselm, in the house of his friend Hugh at Lyons, received the messengers from the King.
He read the dispatches and discussed the matter with his friend.
âHenry has become King. He is cleverer than his brother. He will make a better ruler than Rufus did. He will be more like his father. He is educated, as Rufus never was. We shall be able to understand each other.'
âWell, he is offering to reinstate you.'
âIt is clear why. He is determined to marry the Princess Matilda. If it is true that she has taken the veil he cannot do this. Such a marriage would be cursed.'
âBut you say the Princess denies this.'
âYes. She is, I have heard from her uncle, a good and pious young woman. It seems hardly likely that she would lie.'
âEither she or the Abbess is lying. Would the Abbess lie?'
âThe Abbess might well do so and convince herself that she was obeying God's will.'
âCould you make the decision?'
âI doubt if I could alone. I would have to convene some sort of council.'
âWell, what will you do?'
âI think I should at least return to England and have discourse with the King.'
Henry had impatiently awaited the coming of Anselm and when he arrived, greeted him warmly.
Henry said, âI intended to recall you, in any case. It is not fitting that the Church in England should have no head. You are the Archbishop of Canterbury. Even though you were in a form of exile, nothing could alter that.'
Anselm bowed his head.