Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,118

counts.”

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Matilda arched her brow. As far as she was concerned, the family feeling could remain in its crypt. “But that is not the sum of it. I do not believe my lord of Meulan would be pleased to know we are having this conversation.” Henry made a gesture of dismissal. “He will know anyway in the morning. His spies are everywhere.”

“And Stephen will know too.”

His expression said without words that he was not unduly bothered. “He would expect me to report back all that I can find out.”

“Or all that you are willing to tell him, because even with his spies, Waleran will not know what was said between us.” Amusement curled his lips and she realised how much he thrived on this intrigue.

“So, what are you willing to do for me and at what price, my lord legate?” she said. “Let us be precise on this. What would be the price of a crown?” She reached for her wine again, took a deliberate sip and swallowed slowly. “An opportunity to weave policy? Or the head of Waleran de Beaumont on a platter perhaps?”

He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

“I am here to fight for that crown. Some have already risen to join me, and others are waiting their moment. Your brother may have followers, but how many will remain loyal when he has spent all the money in the treasury—some of it stolen from the Church? I have a son, my lord; he is growing fast and he will be a king. I see it in him; it is not just a mother’s fondness. You have more reason than one to look to the future.”

Henry pursed his fastidious lips. “We both have matters to consider, I agree, but let us not be hasty lest we repent at leisure. My brother is not well versed in policy, but he is still an anointed king and nothing can change that.” 292

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Matilda said quietly, “I have often thought that changes cannot be made, and often been surprised.” She did not trust her cousin; indeed, without him, she suspected Stephen would not have been king in the first place, but he would prove useful as long as he thought there was something in it for him. She knew he was probably thinking the same about her. Her task was to play upon his self-importance and his desire for power. Stephen was his own worst enemy and the Beaumont twins were busy digging him into a deep pit while he stood by and let them. Sooner or later he was going to fall in—either by accident or design—and when that happened, she wanted no one throwing him a ladder.

ttt

The mist was still low the next morning as they continued on their way, and it was like travelling through a swathe of grey cerecloth. The bishop exchanged an eloquent glance with Matilda as she climbed into the covered wain, but he said nothing. Waleran de Meulan was keeping himself to himself and plainly nursing a headache to judge from the frown between his eyes and his greenish pallor. Of his nocturnal companion there was no sign. Matilda suspected that the key to dealing with Waleran lay in his extensive Norman lands and that it would be her husband’s policy to deal with the issue by seizing them and holding Waleran to ransom. For the moment, however, let him cause unrest at Stephen’s court.

Shortly after noon they arrived at the boundary marker where it had been agreed that Robert would meet the party and escort Matilda the rest of the way to Bristol. Leaving the wain, Matilda alighted on to dank, straw-coloured grass. The marker was a stone in the shape of a bent old man with calluses of yellow lichen growing on the long curve of his back and she shivered as if ancient fingers had traced a pattern along her own spine.

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Within moments she heard the jingle of harness and the soft thud of hooves. Riders appeared out of the mist, wraiths becoming solid shapes. Matilda saw Robert at the head of a group of knights and nobles. As one they dismounted and knelt to her in the wet grass beside the marker stone. The hair rose on the nape of her neck and her eyes filled. Suddenly being a queen did not seem so far away, yet they were in the middle of nowhere with the mist swirling around