Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,121

straight in the eye, but she dared not look at Brian now. “I think you are wise,” she said. “Let the words become ash.”

“I do, domina, but it does not mean they were never written. Their imprint stays in my memory, and all you need do is ask me for them. My life and my honour are yours to do with as you see fit.”

“Then keep them both intact if you would serve me,” she said. “Other than your loyalty, that is all I want.”

“Is it?”

She stopped and turned. Her own voice was pitched low so as not to carry. “Do you think you are the only one with a pile of ashes in your hearth? I burned my dreams to build my nightmares.” Removing her arm from his, she swept indoors, walking briskly so that it looked as if she was moving on to the business in hand rather than running away.

ttt

Her sewing unattended in her lap, Adeliza gazed into the fire, watching the flames and trying not to think. It was a raw morning in early November with the trees almost bare of leaves and icy rain in the wind. Helwis the nurse was changing Wilkin’s swaddling while singing a nonsense song to him and blowing on his tummy, making him squeal.

Will arrived in a flurry of cold air. He was dressed for travel in his sturdiest boots and a thick wool tunic, with a heavy 299

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cloak over the top. He was also wearing his sword. The cloak sparkled with rain and his hair had twisted into tight curls.

Adeliza gnawed her lip as she watched him stoop to their son and tickle him under the chin. The baby giggled and waved his little arms. Will straightened and turned to her. The softness in his eyes and the broad smile given to the baby faded into caution.

Adeliza left her sewing and came to him. Last night they had lain together and it had been the sweetest thing. Now, in the cold, drizzly morning, he was leaving her to ride with Stephen in order to besiege Brian FitzCount at Wallingford. She was finding it difficult to reconcile these two parts of her life: lying with this wonderful lover, the father of their son, fulfilling her duties as a wife, all the time knowing he was going to war to prevent Matilda from claiming her rightful throne. He would be facing men with whom he had once been friends at court, and where an army went, death and destruction inevitably followed, usually of the innocent.

“I know you do not want me to go,” he said, “but it is my duty, even as you felt it yours to welcome the empress in the first place. My oath is to Stephen and I must obey his summons.”

“That does not make the situation less deplorable,” she replied. “When Henry ruled we had peace, and no one dared to break it.”

“But he left a legacy of bitter strife, and now we all suffer the consequences.” He touched her face. “All will be well, don’t worry.” They both knew it was a meaningless platitude. Words to glide over a surface of broken shards without repairing the underlying damage. She did not agree with him, but she was his wife and she would not send him off with sharp words and recrimination. Instead, she kissed him and bade him look after himself, but it was a pale imitation of the sensuous intimacy of the night and she hated the feeling of distance.

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She accompanied him to the courtyard to bid farewell, playing the formal role of chatelaine. She knew it looked to all their retainers as if she was endorsing all this, and it made her feel sick.

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Thirty-five

Wallingford, November 1139

Brian stood in the great undercroft at Wallingford Castle with his constable, William Boterel, and gazed at the piled stores he had been amassing ever since King Henry’s death. Even as he had been kneeling in homage to Stephen, his household officers were buying in stores and making plans to conserve supplies. He eyed the piled bales of dried stockfish, hard as stone.

“You could build walls with them and they wouldn’t fall down,” Boterel said, plucking one of them out of the bale and slapping it against his palm. “Last for years.” A faint fishy-smelling dust drifted under their noses and Brian grimaced. Stockfish had to be one of the most evil foods on earth, but