Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,160
his satchel. The bread was so hard he had to smash it into pieces with his sword hilt. Matilda pouched a morsel in her cheek and sucked on it until it softened. They still had six miles to walk to reach Abingdon, and another fifteen to Wallingford.
Climbing down from a castle window and crossing the frozen moat and river was only the start of their journey. As they set out once more, forcing a path through the snow, Matilda knew she would never again use the phrase “When hell freezes over” without remembering this night.
ttt
Will sat before the hearth in Abbot Ingulph’s parlour at Abingdon enjoying the heat from the flames on the front of his body. The part facing away from the fire was protected from the cold by a thick fur-lined cloak. Teri lay at his side, his nose between his forepaws, his brows cocking occasionally in his master’s direction. Will had brought a gift to the abbot of 396
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nuggets of frankincense and two silver censers in which to burn the precious resin. He had also brought the abbot a cover for a book of the New Testament he wanted to give to Adeliza. The monks had been copying the work over the past several months and now the book was to be bound with carved ivory plates set with rock crystals, garnets, and chrysophrases.
Will’s errand was a welcome relief from duty with Stephen’s army besieging Oxford. He knew the defenders must be at the end of their resources and that surrender was close. They could not survive much longer in these bitter conditions. Stephen was expecting to be master of Oxford before Christmas. Will had been trying not to think about Matilda trapped inside the castle with her garrison because her kinship with Adeliza—and, by association, with himself—agitated his conscience. He knew that when Matilda was taken, Stephen would incarcerate her for the rest of her life.
“War is a terrible thing,” Abbot Ingulph said quietly. “We see so many dispossessed and homeless folk at our gates and through no fault of their own. All the burned crops and slaughtered animals bring famine and suffering, but not to those who make the war.”
Will flushed at the abbot’s gentle chastisement. “I do what I can on my own lands and foundations to succour them,” he said, “and it is my lady’s main cause.” Ingulph steepled his hands under his chin. “The ordinary people are being severely hurt by this war between those who should be offering them good governance. It is your duty and responsibility to sort out a lasting peace, rather than fighting each other and everyone else into the grave.”
“I agree,” Will said. “Your advice is sound.” Ingulph opened his hands. “Then act upon it,” he said.
When Will had finished his wine, he clicked his fingers to Teri, took his leave of the abbot, and made his way to the 397
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guest house. He liked Ingulph, even if the old man did tend to lecture like a sorrowful parent to a sinful child. He was right.
There had to be a lasting peace, but in order for that to happen, there had to be the will for it too, and that was less in evidence.
He hunched into his cloak as a fresh flurry battered him side-on. Teri suddenly stiffened, his hackles rising and a low growl rumbling in his chest. Will stopped abruptly and stared at the bedraggled group staggering towards the guest lodge from the direction of the gatehouse. All wore strange white robes that flapped in the wind like wings and for a moment he was filled with gut-lurching fear as he wondered just what he was seeing.
Angels perhaps, or souls of the dead in their shroud cloths. Two of them, seeing him, moved to protect a slighter figure in their midst and laid their hands to their swords. The hair rose on Will’s nape. He was not wearing his own sword because he was on monastic lands and had come with peaceful intent. Then the slighter figure pushed the guardians aside and came forward, putting down her hood and ignoring the growling dog.
Will was stunned and shocked to see Matilda—an apparition indeed. “Domina.” He bowed. She was pinch-faced with cold and exhaustion, but her eyes were fierce. “This is an unex-pected meeting indeed.”
Her jaw was taut. “A meeting that never happened,” she said, “unless you make it so.”