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have promised him compensation and told him I will give the castle to him as soon as I am able.”
“You are surely not handing it over…” She heard the ghost of the old Brian suddenly thread through his voice.
“Not in the near future, of course not, but I have to show I am willing to conciliate. I cannot dislodge Stephen from my throne; I no longer have the men or the commanders to do so. If I could not accomplish it with Robert, then how am I to do it without? Even keeping a stalemate is hard. I must hold fast until Henry is old enough, and that means fostering strong relations with the Church—other than that snake the bishop of Winchester.” Her lip curled as she spoke of him. “Theobald of Canterbury is not inclined to crown Stephen’s son as the future king, and I must strengthen and encourage his resistance.
Everyone must look upon Henry as England’s rightful heir.
I have to keep up pressure on Stephen’s lords too. Even if I cannot field an army, I can still undermine his position. It is a different kind of war I am waging now.” She paused to draw a deep breath. Behind her the fire crackled in the hearth and Brian was so silent, she only knew he was there because she could feel him. “My mistakes cost me my crown,” she said, “but even had I been made queen, I would never have been accepted. A woman may be the power behind a man, but she is not allowed to take power for herself.” She turned to look at him. Still clad in his dark travelling cloak, his hood pushed back on his shoulders, he resembled a monk save for the tonsure. “Once I have made arrangements and spoken to all, I am going to Normandy to raise support. I am not leaving the fray, but the military side must be overseen by someone else. Henry is almost ready and I can do no more here. I have been thinking about it for a while, and now, with Robert’s death, it is time to let go of the rope and grasp it again in a new place.” As she spoke of rope, she thought of 473
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her escape from Oxford in the snowy night. That had been a triumph wrung out of a disaster. She was swinging on that rope in the darkness now, afraid but still defiant and resolute. Brian’s expression was unfathomable—or perhaps stupefied. “Have you nothing to say?”
“I thought you might ask me to take up the yoke of command,” he confessed, looking at her and away again. “I would have done so because I have made a promise, but I fear I would have failed you.”
“You have never failed me.” She dared not think in that direction, because she would have to confront her own fear that she had let down not only him but also England and her son.
“I beg to differ.”
“The differing is your choice, but I refuse to let you beg.” He swallowed. “Then let me ask you to release me when you sail.”
She stared at him.
“I desire to make my peace with God and retire from the world.” He bowed his head. “As I stand now, I cannot go before my maker on Judgement Day and expect His mercy. I have no heirs. My wife intends entering the nunnery at Bec.
William Boterel will serve at Wallingford as he always has done.
Nothing will change there.”
“Where will you go?” She felt numb.
“Your uncle David has granted Reading Abbey the Isle of May in return for prayers and attending to pilgrims who come to worship at Saint Adrian’s shrine. I shall go there and live out whatever time is left to me in God’s service.”
“And you will take vows?”
“If I am deemed worthy…and if you will release me.”
“What use will you be to me if I do refuse?” she said with a break in her voice.
“No one rides a lame horse,” he agreed.
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Going to him, she took his hands in hers and turned them over. “Then go with my blessing when it is time, and commend me in your prayers, and ask God’s grace that my son become king…” Her voice shook. “And write to me. I want to think of you with ink-stained fingers.”
“But not putting up a tent.”
It was meant to lighten the moment and make her smile, but her eyes filled. “You