Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,177

was going to tidy it, but I had to take Rumpus for a piss first.”

That explained the muddy paw prints and why he was still in his clothes. “Do you often wander about the castle at night?” He shrugged. “I talk to the soldiers if I can’t sleep, or I walk about and think. Sometimes I read or I write things, or I play chess with myself.”

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Given his prodigious energy, she suspected he did not spend much time in slumber. She wondered how well she really knew this child of hers. For certain he had the will and intelligence to be a king, and the education and the curiosity. She was unsure where his inclination to tear through life like a whirlwind came from, unless it was a trait that had been her father’s as a child and had become weighted down with time and the burdens of kingship.

“Your father wants you to return to Normandy,” she said.

“Now that you have spent time in England and have come to know the men who will help you rule when you are king, he needs you with him, because even as you will be a king in England, you will be a duke there and the barons need reminding.”

She watched him weigh up her words thoughtfully in a way that spoke of a calculating man, not an eleven-year-old boy, and, as she studied his expression, she knew it would not be long, irrespective of his years, before he truly was capable of governing a country. “When must I leave?” he asked. There was no regret in his voice but neither did she receive the impression he was eager to go.

“As soon as the wind is set fair for a sea crossing and your baggage packed.” She gave the wreckage of his room a meaningful look.

He jutted his jaw. “And when I come back to England again, it will be to rule it.”

Matilda swallowed. She might never be England’s queen, but she would be the mother of the greatest king Christendom had ever seen, of that she was certain, even if for the moment he had an unbroken voice and only came up to her shoulder.

“Yes,” she said. “That is your destiny.” 438

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Fifty-one

Castle Rising, Norfolk, Late Summer 1144

I can see the castle, Mama, I can see the castle! I was the first!” Wilkin leaped up and down on the ship, and pointed to a distant gleam of white, his voice shrill with excitement. Will had been telling him for a while to look out for the castle and he had been leaning at the prow, eager to be the first.

“Yes, indeed you were,” Adeliza said, and picked up two-year-old Godfrey in her arms to show him too. “See the castle.”

“Cackle,” said Godfrey.

“Almost there,” Will said to his three-year-old daughter, who sat on his shoulders, her pale gold curls ruffling in the stiff sea breeze.

Across the flat sandy heathland, the new castle at Rising stood like a gleaming white tooth in a gum. The surrounding ringwork was low and offered little defence, but that had not been his intent. He wanted Rising to proclaim itself and be an aesthetic haven amidst the chaos of war.

In the basketwork travelling cradle, six-month-old Reiner had started to wail like a little gull. The nurse picked him up, but Will gestured. “Give him to me,” he said.

“Sire, his swaddling is wet.”

“No matter. Give him to me while you find fresh.” LadyofEnglish.indd 439

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Elizabeth Chadwick

Taking his youngest child in his free arm, ignoring the heavy dampness of the swaddling clouts, Will faced him towards the shoreline and the lime-washed gleam of Rising’s walls. He wanted all of his children to see this, whether they understood or not. Scaffolding still caged the edifice and not all of the stone was painted, but enough had been to give a fine impression, especially against the deep blue of sky and sea, and the green of the reclaimed land dotted with grazing sheep.

As the ship navigated the river channel, Will handed Reiner back to the nurse and went to stand beside his wife. Adeliza had been unwell for several months following their son’s birth and was still frail; he wanted to see the pink return to her cheeks and to give her something beyond the continuing conflict to think about. He had chosen to sail rather than ride because there was less chance of meeting opposition and the late August weather was fine and clear