Twice Royal Lady Read online

  He stared at her for a moment in impotent fury. Then he said, ‘Very well. Get into bed.’

  She knew she had no choice but to comply and he stripped off his gown and climbed in beside her. She noted that he had an erection, but it was an uncertain one. He reached out and fondled one of her breasts and suddenly she was seized by a vivid recollection of Drogo’s touch, and of the quivering delight which it aroused in her. But the memory only served to increase her repulsion. She pushed his hand away and pulled her nightgown up to her waist.

  ‘Do what you must. Just get on with it.’

  He climbed on top of her and pushed a hand between her legs. ‘You frigid cow! You’re as dry as a stone.’ She made no reply. He attempted to enter her, but his penis had gone soft. He rubbed at it with one hand, swearing under his breath. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled it down. ‘You do it!’

  She snatched her hand away. ‘If you are not man enough, don’t expect me to help you. I am not your whore.’

  He made another frantic effort and then rolled off her. ‘So be it. Why should I want to fuck an ugly cow like you? I can have any pretty girl I want.’

  ‘Then go to one,’ she responded. ‘But think what the gossips will say tomorrow.’

  He was silent. They were in Henry’s castle, so he did not have a room of his own to retreat to. The realization dawned on both of them that they were bound to spend the night together. He turned his back on her and she allowed some of the tension to drain out of her limbs. It was a mercy, she reflected, that no one would expect to be shown a bloodied sheet in the morning.

  Neither of them slept much that night. Once she thought she heard him weeping. She nursed a sense of bitter triumph, mixed with misgivings about the final result. Towards dawn she turned her thoughts to practical details. He rolled restlessly onto his back and she said, ‘Wake up. We need to talk.’

  ‘I am awake,’ he growled. ‘I haven’t slept all night.’

  ‘Neither have I. But now we have to think about today. Listen …’

  ‘Why should I listen to you?’

  ‘Because I am ten years older than you. Because I have been a queen and an empress, the consort of one of the most powerful men in Europe. I have more experience of ruling than you will ever have.’

  ‘So? What are you trying to say?’

  ‘First, if you value your manhood, you must behave as if everything last night had been to your satisfaction. So you must appear your normal, happy, confident self. If you sulk everyone will guess what the problem is.’

  ‘I’m not a fool. Don’t treat me like one.’

  ‘Very good. Next, we must both behave as fits our rank. In a day or two your father leaves for the Holy Land and you will be Count of Anjou and I, God help me, will be your countess. We have a duty to show all your vassals that we are fit to govern them. If they guess what is wrong between us they will have no respect for either of us. My father has made this marriage to give him secure frontiers on the south of his domains. There are enough rebellious barons on both sides to seize upon any excuse to rise up. We have to present a united front. Do you understand me?’

  He glowered at her for a moment. Then he said, ‘Very well. Look to your own behaviour. It is not my gloomy face that will give the game away.’

  He was a better actor than she expected, laughing and joking with the other men over breakfast, but neither he nor she made any attempt to assume the role of loving newly-weds. Any one of their immediate entourage would have seen through the pretence immediately.

  The celebrations went on for days, with jousting and hunting by day and feasting at night, and they played their parts as expected of them. Only when they retired to bed were the masks discarded. On the first occasion she anticipated the coming night with foreboding, but Geoffrey made no attempt to repeat the fiasco of the night before. He turned his back on her without a word and soon began to snore.

  While the festivities continued, news came that occasioned further celebration. William Clito had been killed in battle. When Henry announced this there was a cheer and a babble of excited voices. Undercover of the noise, he turned to her.

  ‘Make me a grandson, daughter, and no one will dare lift a sword against us!’

  On the final day they all gathered in the cathedral to pray for God’s blessing on Fulk’s enterprise. He was to set out for Jerusalem with his entourage of chosen knights as soon as the service was over. Outside the great doors, he bowed to Henry, embraced Geoffrey and kissed Matilda’s hand. Then he swung himself into the saddle, a trumpet sounded and the whole cohort clattered off towards the city gates. She looked at Geoffrey to see if he was moved by his father’s departure, but instead he looked triumphant. He was now Count of Anjou.

  At the final feast Henry presented gifts to all the knights who had travelled from far and near to take part in the tournaments. There was an atmosphere of raucous good cheer. For everyone concerned except the two central figures in the proceedings, it had been an unqualified success. But as soon as the meal was over Geoffrey requested a few minutes’ private conversation with her father. She watched them suspiciously as they withdrew into the solar. Surely he could not intend to complain about what happened on their wedding night? No, she convinced herself, he could not do that without laying himself open to ridicule. When he reappeared, his handsome face was contorted with fury, and her father had the satisfied look she knew meant he had had the best of an argument.

  As soon as they were alone she said, ‘Something is wrong. What is the matter?’

  He turned to her, glowering. ‘You and your father have taken me for a fool! I was promised the castles along the border, the ones confiscated from Robert of Bêlleme, as part of your dowry. Now Henry is refusing to hand them over.’

  She suppressed an ironic smile. That was so typical of her father. He promised and then withheld at the last moment. There was no point, however, in adding fuel to the flames. She said, ‘I think perhaps what my father intended was that the castles should pass to us on his death.’ She laid the lightest emphasis on the ‘us’.

  ‘On his death! That could be ten, twenty years from now! I want those castles under my control.’

  She decided there was no point in prolonging the argument. ‘Well, there is nothing to be done about it now. Perhaps with time we may be able to change his mind. We should get some sleep now. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.’

  The journey to Angers, the principal seat of power for the Counts of Anjou, took eight days and in each village or town they were greeted with cheers and flowers. It was easy to resume the mask of royalty. She had had plenty of practice. She smiled and nodded and accepted the tributes offered to her with dignity. Geoffrey, on the other hand, was quickly bored. He wanted to be off hunting or practising in the tilt yard. He urged them on through the welcoming crowds and resented any hold-up. To her relief, they spent the nights in the manor houses of minor nobility or failing that in inns. Either way, there was little privacy and no likelihood of a repetition of their wedding night.

  In Angers itself the whole populace turned out to welcome their new count and his countess. The façades of the houses along the main street had been draped with costly tapestries and choirs waited for them at every corner to sing songs specially composed for the occasion. Flowers were thrown down from balconies and their horses trod over carpets of petals. At last they reached the fortress, its grey bulk poised on its hill above the River Maine. As they rode over the drawbridge she looked around her, at the place that would be her home for the foreseeable future. Within the massive curtain walls there was the usual agglomeration of outbuildings – kitchen, stables, smithy, bakehouse and so on, and on one side a garden with vegetable beds and fruit trees. Beyond these rose the walls of the keep, the central hall flanked by two towers. It was a well-built castle, though far smaller than the ones she lived in with the Emperor Henry, or indeed those belonging to her father.

  Grooms came running as they entered the stable yard and led
the horses away. The house servants were crowded into the great hall to welcome the master home. It was clear that Geoffrey was well liked, at any rate within his own household. Her own reception was more guarded. She guessed that her reputation for haughtiness had preceded her but reckoned that it was no bad thing for them to be somewhat in awe of her. She had brought only a small entourage. There were half a dozen knights whose loyalty she trusted, but she had left behind the ladies who had attended her at her father’s court. They were Henry’s choice, selected to be her jailers when she refused to comply with his wishes, and she felt no affection for them. She had brought only a girl called Eloise, the daughter of one of Henry’s knights, to be her waiting woman.

  Looking round the hall, she noticed signs of neglect. The rushes that covered the floor had not been changed for a long time and mixed in with them were bones and scraps of food and, her nose told her, piss and dog excrement. She remembered that Fulk had been a widower for some years and the castle had obviously lacked the oversight of its chatelaine. More evidence was presented when they sat down to eat. The food was plentiful, but not well cooked and carelessly served, and the pages who served it were grubby and unkempt. She made mental notes of work to be done.

  The private rooms for the family members were situated in the two towers flanking the hall. When they had eaten she was conducted up the narrow spiral staircase to the one she would share with her husband. There was a big bed in the centre of the room, a chest for storing clothes, a table and a couple of stools, and in one corner a small stack of straw pallets. Now that Geoffrey was a knight he had squires to attend him. They would sleep on the pallets and the only privacy the married couple would have would be afforded by the heavy brocaded bed curtains. That evening she noticed that Geoffrey was drinking heavily and guessed that he was trying to bolster his courage. She was proved correct. As soon as her maidservant had helped her undress and withdrawn, he stamped in with his squires in tow. The curtains were closed but she heard him mumbling and guffawing with the boys as he undressed.

  Then he said roughly, ‘Now get out, both of you. Go and find somewhere else to sleep.’

  They giggled and murmured good nights and she heard the door close. Then Geoffrey flung back the bed curtains, ripped off the covers and without preamble threw himself on top of her. She forced herself to lie still. With sudden vivid recall, she remembered Magda’s scornful tones telling her that she was not the only woman who had to grit her teeth and shut her eyes. So this was to be her fate. This time he succeeded in entering her and gave a shout of triumph. He thrust and thrust and to her dismay she found her body responding of its own accord, so that her hips pushed upwards to meet him. It was not pleasurable, but yet it felt somehow right, even necessary. It seemed to take a long time before she felt him ejaculate, with a choking groan, and even then he continued to lie on her, panting. Finally he pulled himself out and raised himself on his elbows.

  ‘There! So now you know you are wedded to a real man.’

  She looked up into his eyes and replied coolly, ‘Quite. So now you have proved that to your own satisfaction there will be no need to repeat the experiment.’

  ‘Oh yes! I intend to repeat it every night. You can look forward to that!’

  There was only the one bed, so they had no choice but to share it. Soon he was snoring, but she lay awake while the pattern of moonlight from the unshuttered window moved across the floor. This would be her new life and somehow she had to make the best of it. It seemed she had no choice about how she passed the nights, but the days were still her own. She must concentrate on what they offered and put the rest to the back of her mind, like a nagging tooth that can be forgotten when the attention is elsewhere.

  She woke when he climbed out of bed and shouted for his squires. At least he had the sense to pull the curtains closed before they arrived. She waited until he had dressed and left before she got up and called for Eloise. She had decided how she was going to spend the day. For now she would concentrate on her role as chatelaine. Wider matters of the governance of her husband’s domains could wait. Geoffrey, she learnt without surprise, had gone hunting. As soon as she had broken her fast, she sent for the steward and gave her orders. By midday the floor of the hall had been swept and scrubbed and fresh rushes mingled with sweet herbs had been spread. Meanwhile, she made her way to the kitchens to interrogate the chief cook. He had heard, vaguely, of the spices she had been accustomed to in her time as queen and empress, but made it clear that he had no wish to trouble himself with such foreign concoctions. She picked out a scullion who looked more intelligent than the rest and sent him off into the town with precise instructions. He returned with some of the ingredients she had ordered and a message that a certain merchant would be happy to supply the rest as soon as he could get a message to a colleague in Marseilles. Next she inspected the kitchen gardens and found, as she expected, that much of the ground had been allowed to revert to weeds. She castigated the gardener and gave him a list of herbs, culinary and medicinal, that she expected him to sow. That night, at least the food had some savour and the page boys had clean hands and tidy hair. Geoffrey did not notice any difference, or at any rate he did not remark on it, but he clearly enjoyed his meal. He had had good hunting and was in a good mood.

  At bedtime he kept his promise and fucked her energetically. It was the only word she knew to describe it. There was no love involved. It was as mechanical as the mating of dogs. It happened every night until her monthly flux came on. When she told him that he would have to abstain, he glared at her.

  ‘You are not with child, then?’

  ‘It seems not.’

  He slammed his hand against the bedpost. ‘By God, I have been doubly cheated! The castles and revenues your father promised are not forthcoming and I am shackled to a barren wife!’

  She forbore to remind him that, according to the ancients, conception was more likely to occur when the woman had some pleasure in the process. He continued to glower for a moment, then he turned and strode out of the room. She learnt later that he left the castle and spent the night somewhere in the town. After that he rarely came to her bed. It was an open secret that he had a mistress, a young widow reputed to be extremely beautiful. She did not protest.

  Once his lust was being satisfied elsewhere, they were easier with each other. He had little experience in the routine administration of the affairs of his new domain, and less patience. She had been learning these skills from the age of twelve. It seemed that Fulk had left these matters to a small group of clerks and Geoffrey was happy to follow his father’s example. She summoned the treasurer and insisted on going over the accounts. In this she was taking a leaf out of her father’s book. He had put her half-brother Robert and Brian fitz Count in charge of a similar audit in Normandy, with results that were beneficial to his treasury. She wished wryly that she had their services at her command.

  The dispensation of justice was another duty that Geoffrey preferred not to bother himself with. Very soon the first plaintiffs presented themselves at the castle. A minor lord had a complaint against another for hunting on his land. A peasant had died without issue and there was a dispute over who should inherit his holding. A merchant in the town was accusing another of defrauding him. Geoffrey tried to pass the decisions down to local bailiffs or merchants’ guilds. Matilda knew that this would only store up trouble for the future, so she offered to adjudicate on his behalf. When matters arose which he had to deal with himself, she offered counsel and he took it, reluctantly at first, but then with grudging appreciation.

  As the months passed, Geoffrey’s true character revealed itself. He had a superficial charm that drew people to him, but he was also given to outbursts of unreasoning rage. She often recalled the legend that one of his ancestors married a mysterious woman called Melusine, who was in fact a devil, giving rise to the family’s appellation of ‘the devil’s brood’. There were times when it seemed fully justified. She was forced to acknowledge, however, th
at in the one quality which was more important than all others for someone in his position, he excelled. He was a consummate warrior. He was a superb horseman, and unequalled among his peers for his ability with lance and sword and an excellent shot with the crossbow. Not only that, but he had that indefinable brilliance that made men glad to accept his leadership. In a world where authority depended on military power, he was well equipped to rule.

  She made a point of going to watch him with his knights in the exercise yard at the castle, where they practised swordplay or tilted at the quintain. It was an essential discipline for knights in preparation for battle. A ring of straw hung from a post in the tilt yard and each man in turn rode at it at full gallop with his lance couched and attempted to thrust the weapon through the centre of the ring. If he missed and hit the ring instead the quintain pivoted and the knight received a nasty blow on the back of the head from a heavy sack at the other end of the arm. Geoffrey never missed.

  Once she had established her position with his household she had more time to herself and when next he planned to hunt she declared her intention to come with him. He demurred, saying that she would get hurt, or be in the way. She insisted and he was forced to concede that she was as good a rider as he was, and no less daring in the pursuit of their game. He was amazed to discover that she could fire a crossbow, a skill she learned from her first husband’s master-at-arms. When she first took up the weapon, he was inclined to mock her.

  ‘A crossbow is about as useful to a woman as a distaff would be to a man.’

  ‘You think so?’ she responded. ‘You might recall that a woman can wield one of these to good effect. My own half-sister, Juliana, almost killed our father with a crossbow bolt when he besieged her and her husband in their castle of Breteuil.’

  In spite of this easing of their relationship, Geoffrey made his dissatisfaction with the marriage clear at every opportunity. It was not only what he regarded as her frigidity in bed. Her father’s failure to hand over control of the Norman castles was a constant irritant. He was building up to one of his famous rages and finally found an excuse to vent it when an embassy from Henry arrived bearing a charter document. It was not an important matter, merely a grant of money to the abbey of Fontevraud to be paid out of rents from farms in London and Winchester, but it required her signature to authorize it.