Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,137

Stephen the usurper has been defeated in battle 339

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and captured by your uncle Robert and others of your mother’s kin and allies. Your mother is to become queen.” Henry stared at his father while his stomach gave the same kind of swoop that it had done while he was galloping Denier.

He had not seen his mother in almost a year and a half and memory of her features had blurred at the edges, but she wrote to him often and sent him things from England: a writing tablet with an interlaced design on the ivory cover, and a fine penknife. Things she had sewn, which held her scent. Bells for his harness. Numerous books. And always the promise that one day he would be a king because England was his.

“Can we go there?” He was suddenly consumed with eager impatience. Had a ship been present in the courtyard, he would have boarded it there and then.

“No, no, no,” his father laughed. “Rein back your horse a little. It is early days yet. Your mother will send for you when it is time.”

“But when will that be?”

“Soon,” his father said. “But not quite yet.” He ruffled Henry’s hair. “One battle does not a victory make, even when the enemy has been captured. Once your mother has been crowned, she will send for you.”

Henry frowned and wondered how close “soon” actually was.

When adults said such things, it was usually simply to pacify—

and it was always a long time. He did not see why he could not go immediately. He knew he could help, and it was his destiny.

His father said, “My first task now your mother has succeeded is to go into Normandy and secure the duchy. Many barons will want to pay homage to the winning side.” He looked at Henry. “And no, you cannot come there either for the time being. Your task is to stay safe and learn and become a man.” Henry grimaced, but knew better than to protest. As far as he was concerned, he was a man, and years were only numbers.

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Following a night of blustery wind and rain, a bright March morning dawned over the city of Winchester. Matilda knelt to her cousin, Bishop Henry, in the great hall of the castle, and kissed his papal ring, her emotions a mixture of relief and wariness. Yesterday he had agreed a pact of peace with her and promised to hand over the castle and the treasury. These were fine concessions, but she still did not trust him and suspected he had yielded because either he was unprepared to fight, or because, like all the others, he thought he could manipulate her because she was a woman.

She had conceded to him that all ecclesiastical appointments in England would be under his sway and she would be governed by his counsel. In exchange he had sworn to uphold her right to the throne and announce in public that she was queen designate. He had promised also to bring the rest of the Church into allegiance and had formally given her custody of the castle.

Now, as he raised her to her feet, his knights came forward, bearing the treasure chests. For show and ceremony, the most magnificent articles had been placed on silk cushions: an orb and sceptre; rings set with precious stones. A ruby the size of a hen’s egg, and two enormous teardrop pearls. A staff set with garnets and sapphires; a goblet of gold and sardonyx; and a pyx enamelled in blue and crimson. The chests contained embroidered robes of cloth of gold, and one in royal purple, heavy with pearls. There were sacks of money, and a pair of swords with ornate fittings. Superficially it was a glorious sight, but Matilda suspected that much had been creamed off into the coffers of her legate cousin. He was already wearing a fortune on his back and his fortified palace outshone the castle.

“I expected more,” she said.

“I am sorry for that,” he replied blandly. “This is all that remains.”

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She pressed her lips together and looked instead at the final cushion. A crown was set upon it, the one her father had worn at his coronation, and that Stephen had usurped. Gems glittered about the band and the finials were adorned with small golden spheres. She took it in her hands as she had once taken Heinrich’s crown in Speyer. She felt Henry’s watchful