Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,16

Men said that Wallingford was impregnable, and Brian could almost believe it was true.

As a groom arrived to take Sable, his wife emerged from the guest hall to greet him. “My lord.” She dropped him a brief curtsey.

“Madam.” He forced a smile. Untidy wisps of iron-grey hair escaped her wimple and she wore an everyday gown with the sleeves hooked back and pale dog hairs decorating her ample bosom. A pack of assorted, exuberant canines bustled around her feet, threatening to trip anyone who tried to take a step.

Brian tightened his jaw. She had had plenty of notification of his arrival, but he knew from experience that changing her gown was never a priority for Maude, and that, unless prompted, it would not occur to her to do so. However, when he entered the private chamber in the domestic block, he found a jug of LadyofEnglish.indd 41

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wine waiting on a cloth-covered trestle with fresh bread and good cheese. There was a ewer of warm water for washing, and clean raiment set out for him. Maude ran the household efficiently, but when it came to herself, saw no need to bother beyond the practical and mundane.

“I am surprised to see you,” she said as he stooped to wash his hands and face. Her tone was neutral. “I suppose you are not here for long.”

“A few days only,” he said as he dried himself. “I’ve to rejoin the court by the end of the week.” He looked down. One of her dogs had grabbed his shoe thong in its teeth and was worrying at it with ferocious growls. He stooped and picked up the creature, one hand under its tummy. It curled its lip at him and yapped and wriggled. Its eyes were almost hidden under a shroud of silky white fringe.

“He’s still a pup.” Her voice grew syrupy and fond. “He hasn’t learned his manners yet, have you, Rascal?”

“Rascal?” Maude always had one dog of that name as her personal companion. If this youngster was the current “Rascal,” then the old one must be dead.

“I lost his great-grandsire in the spring when you were in Normandy.” Her tone held no reproach for his long absence, merely stoic resignation.

“I am sorry.”

She shrugged. “He had lost his hearing and he was blind; it was for the best.” She removed the pup from his arms and cuddled it to her breast.

“All has been well here?”

“Nothing that I or your constable and stewards have been unable to deal with. I would have written if there was trouble.” He nodded. They exchanged words like polite strangers. He and Maude had been wed for nineteen years and had nothing in common. They did not even have the gift and mutual 42

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upbringing of sons and daughters to bind them together and that likelihood was almost gone, for she was nearly twenty years older than he was and long into her mid-life. She was always keen to try and conceive when he came home, in the same way that she eagerly bred her dogs and her oxen and her cattle, but she led her life at Wallingford and he led his at the court and their worlds seldom collided.

“Well, only the matter of the church at Ogbourne,” she said. “I would like to give it to the monks at Bec.” She set the wriggling little dog on the ground.

“I think it a good idea,” he said as he went to change his thick travelling tunic for a garment of finer, softer wool. “The empress will be pleased; Bec is her favourite priory.” As he spoke of Matilda, warmth filled his stomach.

Maude tilted her head to one side and folded her arms.

“What is she like?”

“Her father’s daughter,” he said. “She does not suffer fools gladly.

She is regal and elegant; truly an empress.” It was useless telling her of Matilda’s vibrancy, of her sharp sparkle and her beauty, because Maude would not understand, and anyway, he wanted to keep such descriptions to himself—like personal treasure.

“Will the king make her his heir?” Without waiting for him to reply she continued, “He must intend to. He has enough daughters born of his concubines to bind men to him in marriage alliances. He needs her for a greater purpose—why bring her back from Germany otherwise?” Brian nodded. His wife was astute. She might not move in the world of the court, but she was not ignorant. “It is one of his choices,” he said. “But