Twice Royal Lady Read online

  There was a sound of hoofbeats, a cry of alarm and then Drogo flung himself off his horse and came to her side.

  ‘My lady, forgive me! I should never have left your side. Please tell me you are not badly hurt.’

  The look in his eyes almost unleashed the tears she was struggling to repress. Instead she took refuge in anger.

  ‘How dare you ride away and leave me? I might have been killed.’

  ‘Forgive me!’ the young knight repeated. ‘I know I was wrong to leave you. I will accept any punishment you give me, if only you will say you are not injured.’

  ‘Of course I’m not. It’s this stupid pony. He can’t keep up and now he’s lame.’ But in spite of her efforts the tears spilled over and she felt them running down her cheeks. ‘I’ll have to walk back.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, my lady. There’s no need for that. You can ride back on my courser.’

  She looked at the tall, black horse and shook her head. ‘I can’t ride him. He’s too big.’

  ‘I will lead you.’

  She considered the offer doubtfully. ‘We are a long way from home. You can’t walk all that way, leading me.’

  ‘I could walk to Jerusalem and back if it would do you service, madam,’ he replied.

  She looked at him, flattered and amused in equal portions by his words, and was suddenly overtaken by giggles. For a moment he looked awkward, then he laughed with her.

  ‘Then if you will permit it, I will mount behind you. My horse will carry us both easily.’

  So in that manner they had returned to the castle. It was by ill luck that Henry had been forced to abandon the hunt, because his horse was lame, and rode into the courtyard immediately behind them. The sight of his young queen, her gown torn and muddied and her face scratched, seated in front of Drogo and encircled by his arms, sent him into a fury. He ordered her to her rooms and it was only her tearful intercession that saved Drogo from being turned away to seek his fortune where he might. Nonetheless, Henry sent his physician to examine her and make sure that she was not seriously injured and the following morning she was attended by no lesser personage than the King’s master of horse. Henry had come to the conclusion that, since she had shown herself determined to participate in his favourite sport, it would be more fitting for her to be suitably mounted and taught to ride properly. She learned quickly and showed herself an adept and daring horsewoman and now, whenever the King rode out, she was at his side. Drogo, meanwhile, had become her most devoted servant and was never far behind.

  So today she rode out with the rest of the court and soon they were deep into the forest in pursuit of wild boar. The trees were dense and the paths through them narrow and winding, making it easy to lose sight of each other. Matilda found herself separated from Henry, forging her own route towards the sound of the hounds. A fallen tree trunk barred her way, but her mare jumped like a stag and she did not hesitate. On the far side there was a shallow ditch, overgrown with brambles, which tangled round the mare’s forelegs. She pitched forward, somersaulted and Matilda flew through the air. In the endless second before she struck the ground she had time to fear that the horse would come down on top of her. Then there was only blackness.

  She regained consciousness to the sensation of being held in strong arms. A voice was saying, ‘Please, my lady, wake! Mary, Holy Mother, preserve her. Let her not die! Madam, I beg you, open your eyes!’

  She opened them. Drogo’s face gazed down into hers and she was suddenly aware of how blue his eyes were. They are the same colour as the sky, she thought hazily. His face was pale and creased with anxiety, but as she stirred he caught a sharp breath of relief.

  ‘Praise God! You are alive! I was so afraid …’ He looked suddenly abashed and began to loosen his hold on her. ‘Forgive me, my lady …’

  She reached up and gripped his sleeve. ‘No, don’t let me go. Hold me!’

  She saw him moisten his lips, hesitating, but his grip tightened again and he murmured, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here. You are quite safe. Are you hurt?’

  She considered the question for the first time and responded, ‘No, not badly hurt. Just shaken, I think.’

  They looked at each other. Something was stirring deep in her body, a sensation she had always tried to suppress as sinful, but now it did not feel like a sin. Later she was never sure whether she kissed him or he kissed her, but his tongue on hers was like liquid fire and the heat of it surged through her whole body. Then he pulled back with a gasp, his eyes wide and scared.

  ‘My lady, forgive me! I never meant … it was no disrespect… .’

  She came back to the reality of what had happened with a jolt. Her mind was in tumult. Had he insulted her? Had she demeaned herself? Who was at fault here? He removed his arms from round her and she staggered to her feet. He remained kneeling and there were tears in his eyes.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered again.

  She straightened her gown and brushed dead leaves from her shoulder. Looking down at him she said, ‘We will not speak of this again. You will tell no one. You understand?’

  His relief was written in every line of his face. ‘No one, my lady. Trust me, I shall never speak of it. Only let me continue to serve you.’

  She felt a sob catch in her throat. ‘What would I do without you? You are my most faithful servant … my most faithful friend.’

  He rose. ‘Let me be that always. It is all I ask.’

  She nodded, unable to speak, and turned away to where her horse was grazing peacefully, as if nothing had happened.

  4

  CANOSSA, 1117-18

  In the days that followed it was remarked upon by Henry’s courtiers that Matilda was more devoted than ever to her duties as his consort. She was at his side when he sat in council; she was with him at dinner when he entertained his vassals and potential allies. She flattered those who held back out of pride, flirted with those who wavered out of doubt, was cold to those who presumed too much. She attended mass every morning and took the sacraments, and at confession she admitted to such minor transgressions that her indulgent confessor gave her the lightest of penances. As Christmas approached she was everywhere, consulting with the cooks, employing minstrels and jongleurs, overseeing the decoration of the great hall. Henry’s Christmas court was the most glittering occasion seen in those parts for many years. When the musicians struck up for dancing after the feast she led the measures with such grace that all eyes were fixed upon her. She danced with one lord after another, but never looked in Drogo’s direction. Only in the privacy of her own apartments, with none but her ladies-in-waiting as witnesses, she was given to fits of abstraction, gazing out of the window or staring blankly at a book without taking in a word. These episodes were interspersed with sudden outbursts of irritability, which occasionally ended in tears.

  The twelve days of Christmas were only just over when news came from Rome and Henry called a council.

  ‘Pope Paschal is dead and those whoresons have elected John of Gaeta to succeed him. He is calling himself Gelasius II. He has always been a supporter of those renegade bishops who are seeking to deprive me of my rights I must go to Rome immediately and get rid of him, and ensure the election of someone who will support my claim.’

  With Henry gone, Matilda’s moods became more volatile than ever. One evening, when she was being prepared for bed, Magda gave a deep sigh as she brushed her hair. Matilda raised her eyes from her lap.

  ‘What ails you? Are you sick?’

  ‘No, madam. I was thinking of a friend I had when I was a young girl.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She fell desperately in love with a young man who was one of her father’s squires. Of course, there was no question of marriage. He was far beneath her in rank. She tried to forget him, but it was useless. The more she tried to behave as if nothing was amiss, the more miserable she felt in her heart of hearts. And the young man, too, pined in secret. He lost all his pleasure in his usual pursuits and was
frequently taken to task for neglecting his duties. His friends began to fear that he had contracted some illness that was slowly stealing his life away.’

  She put up her hand to still Magda’s, but lowered her eyes again. ‘What became of them both?’

  ‘I hardly like to say, madam, lest you should disapprove.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘The young lady had a faithful servant who saw how she was suffering, and one night she brought the young man to her bedchamber so that they could ease the pangs of love in each other’s arms.’

  ‘But that was a sin … was it not?’

  ‘In the eyes of the Church, perhaps. But I do not believe it was a sin in the eyes of God. After all, why has he put into us the desire, the need, for love? St Paul instructs us to love one another, because love is of God, does he not?’

  ‘But carnal love?’ She was trembling.

  ‘God created our bodies as well as our souls. He implanted these desires in us. Why should a poor girl or a poor boy pine away for want of a few moments in each other’s arms? It is all very well for nuns and priests to abjure the pleasures of the flesh, but to my mind it is a sin to let another human creature suffer for want of a little kindness.’

  She got up slowly from her stool and turned to the bed. ‘And what became of your friend and the young man?’

  ‘They had great joy in each other. It could not last long, of course. The lady’s father had already chosen a husband for her and she had to go to him – but she told me that she never regretted her decision, for she had known the pure happiness of love fulfilled, and it was a memory she could treasure all her life.’ As Matilda slipped off her robe and climbed into bed she added, ‘There is a young man in like case here in the castle. He droops and pines and his friends fear for his life. Perhaps, madam, you could counsel him. Shall I send him to you?’

  She met the older woman’s eyes and read encouragement. Desire and conscience struggled briefly. ‘Send him. I will do my best to ease his mind.’

  A short time later there was a faint knock at the door. She sat up and drew the sheet to her chin. The bed curtains were open and the room was lit by firelight and starlight from the window. In a voice hardly above a whisper she called, ‘Come in.’

  Drogo slipped into the room like a shadow and stood just inside the door. ‘You sent for me, my lady?’

  ‘I am told you are in need of counsel, and comfort.’

  ‘Indeed, madam. In dire need.’

  ‘Come closer. I will help you if I can.’

  He moved to stand by the bed. ‘I am sore wounded. No one but you can staunch the bleeding.’

  ‘Then let me try.’

  His limbs were hot and he trembled as if in the grip of a fever, but when she felt his body pressed against her own something surged up within her as if a dam had broken. She clutched him close, her mouth seeking his, and the kiss was so fierce that she felt her lips bruised, but she did not draw back. His hands moved over her body and then he broke the kiss with a gasp, to fasten his mouth to her breast. She had never experienced this desire, this urgency of need before and when his hand slipped between her legs she opened to him eagerly. There was no pain this time, only a sense of triumph as she took him into her and heard his sob of joy as he came.

  Afterwards, they lay gazing into each other’s eyes in the light from the fire. He whispered, ‘I am yours, body and soul, now and for all eternity.’

  Her joy drained away like water from a leaking vessel. ‘You must not say that. You know it cannot be. Our paths must take different courses.’

  He reached out, his hand gripping the back of her neck, his expression suddenly fierce. ‘Do not tell me that this is the first and last time! You cannot be so cruel.’

  ‘No! I did not mean that. Only that we cannot be together always. The time must come …’

  ‘Until it does, let us seize whatever happiness we can find. That is all I ask.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Let us do that.’

  In the weeks that followed he came to her every night. With the King absent it was not difficult for Magda to smuggle him up to her room. She existed in an animal world, where thought was banished and only the senses were real. By day she performed her duties with such serenity that no one suspected any change, but she moved and spoke like an automaton, living only for the night to come. She continued to go to mass and take the sacraments and her confessor still found no cause to chide her. Her mind was closed to all thoughts of the future, or to any danger to her immortal soul.

  Too soon, a herald arrived with a message from her husband. Henry was on his way back. With the same unnatural calm, she ensured that the castle was prepared for his arrival. He swung down from his horse, kissed her hand formally, and turned to his steward.

  ‘Call a council meeting for tomorrow morning. There is much to discuss.’

  ‘I have secured the election of Maurice Bourdan as Pope Gregory VIII,’ he told the assembled noblemen, ‘but Gelasius remains in the Vatican and many are calling Gregory the anti-pope. God rot their heretical souls! However, there are more pressing concerns. I have news from Germany. The bishops are fomenting rebellion and the men I left in charge are losing control. It is imperative that I return with all possible speed. The Queen will remain here as my regent.’

  There was an intake of breath from the men round the table. A girl of sixteen years to be given such power! Matilda’s only thought was that Henry would be out of the way again.

  Henry continued. ‘She will require help and advice, of course. Philip, as imperial chancellor for Italy, you will of course remain here. I will also leave my chaplain, Hartmann, to assist the Queen, and Judge Iubaldus will be on hand to advise on matters of law and custom.’

  ‘When do you plan to leave, my liege?’ one of the courtiers enquired.

  ‘In ten days from now. I plan to be in Augsburg by Easter.’

  The next morning Matilda was suddenly seized by a bout of nausea. Magda brought a basin for her to vomit into and wiped her lips afterwards.

  ‘Is this the first time you have sickened like this?’

  ‘Yes. I must have eaten something bad last night.’

  Magda’s expression was taut. ‘Perhaps. Tell me, when was your last flux?’

  ‘My last flux? I don’t know. I always forget. But you should know.’

  ‘God help me, I should remember! Fool that I am, I should have taken note.’

  ‘Oh, I know when it was. It was the day the King killed that great boar. I did not hunt with him because my stomach was griping and I was angry because I missed it.’

  ‘Not since then? That was before … before I first brought Drogo to you.’

  Matilda stared at her, and the churning in her guts had nothing to do with her earlier nausea. ‘You don’t think … ‘

  ‘What other explanation can there be? You are not so innocent that you do not understand.’

  ‘I am with child?’

  ‘God help us, yes!’

  ‘But I can’t … What can I do? I cannot have a child!’

  ‘Think. Have you lain with your husband?’

  ‘No! Not since we were first married. You know that.’

  ‘Then you must make sure that you lie with him before he leaves for Germany.’

  ‘Lie with Henry? I cannot.’

  ‘You must! He is going away. Who knows when you will see him again. We can say the child came early. He will not know any different.’

  ‘But I cannot bear to lie with him.’ She was weeping now.

  Magda took her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘If you value your life, you will. And not just your own. Do you imagine Drogo would be allowed to live if the truth came out? Or me?’

  She stared up into the older woman’s eyes. ‘But how can I make him lie with me? He never comes to my room.’

  Magda’s grip relaxed and she knelt to bring her eyes level with her mistress’s. ‘He will come gladly enough if you let him see you are willing. You know wel
l enough what power you have over men. Drogo is not the only one who would give half his fortune to bed you. I have seen you smile and flirt and draw them to you.’

  ‘But it means nothing!’

  ‘Not to you, perhaps. But use those wiles on the King and he will be as enthralled as they are.’

  ‘The doctors told him he should not bed me in case I quickened. They said I was too young to bear a child.’

  ‘But you are not too young now. The Church states that a wife owes a duty to her husband, and he to her. Tell the King that it troubles you that you have not fulfilled that duty. He longs for an heir. He will not hesitate.’

  She felt bile rising in her throat again. ‘But to let him touch me … to let him do that …’

  Magda got to her feet and regarded her with something close to contempt. ‘Do you imagine you are the only wife who has to close her eyes and grit her teeth? You have experienced the delights of love, now it is time to pay the price.’

  ‘What about Drogo? What must I tell him?’

  ‘Tell him it is finished. Now you have to be a wife – and a queen.’

  That evening at dinner she leant close to Henry, feeding him choice morsels from her own plate, touching his hand and whispering in his ear. He had been drinking, but he was not drunk. To begin with he seemed amused; then she saw a different look in his eyes, a mixture of lust and suspicion. He pulled her close to him and muttered, ‘What game are you playing? What is it you want of me?’

  She forced herself to meet his eyes and smile; then she lowered her lashes in pretended embarrassment. ‘My lord, I am afraid you will think me forward and shameless if I tell you what is in my mind.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  She had prepared in advance what she was going to say. She drew a breath and made herself continue. ‘I have been thinking, it is now four years since we were wed. In all that time you have been a most gentle and understanding husband. You have not demanded of me those duties that a wife owes her husband. But now, my conscience troubles me. The Church teaches that there is a marital debt owed between husband and wife. I believe it is time that I began to pay that debt.’