Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,48

by nurturing them. I foresee no difficulty in having them retake the oath.”

“And in having all keep it? If you are making everyone swear again, is it only for legality’s sake, or are you trying to double-bind people because you fear they will break their bonds?” His face darkened. “No one will gainsay me,” he said. “No one will break their bonds.” The clenched fist tightened and the force of his stare made it clear that he included her in the equation. “You will give me strong grandsons to follow in my stead and they will rule with guidance from me, and then from you and their kin should that be necessary.” Matilda did not ask what would happen if God chose otherwise because she knew it would only provoke his temper. She would go to England and a second time men would kneel to her and bestow their oaths for whatever their owners felt they were worth. Kings and bishops and magnates. And then she would return to Geoffrey and the petty Angevin court, more than 350 miles from England and 120 miles from Rouen. If God did choose otherwise, what chance did she have?

ttt

Her cloak flapping around her body, Matilda stood beside Brian FitzCount on the wall walk of Northampton Castle and gazed at the town laid out to the west below the hill on which the keep stood. The first autumn winds were shredding the leaves from the trees and the river Nene ruffled under the walls in quenched shades of grey and blue. If the wind continued like this, her sea crossing would be brisk and unpleasant, but probably short. In her chamber her women were packing her chests ready for her journey. Feeling hemmed in, she had left them to their task.

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doubted their sincerity. Feeling their reluctance, she had faced it with a set jaw and unbending gaze. If they wanted her to be as stern as a king, she would not disappoint them.

Brian leaned against the palisade. “The oath is retaken, domina,” he said. “You will be a queen one day.” Matilda said nothing. They had spoken little since her return to England; two people skirting round each other because of all the traps lying in wait if they did begin to talk on a level beyond that of servant and vassal. Brian had not spoken of her marriage, but then what could he say? He did not know the full extent of what Geoffrey had done to her. Rumours were rife, but in England no one had seen the bruises. No one had watched her crawl because she could not stand up. And, when all was said and done, Brian was a man.

She was aware of how close to her he stood. Separate but within touching distance. Their cloaks billowed against each other, performing a wild mating dance. She risked a glance at him. His dark eyes were fixed on the river where a fisherman was busy pulling his boat to shore and sorting his catch. She observed the curve of his collar bones above the line of his shirt and the strong, masculine swell of his Adam’s apple.

“Do you know how many times I have wished I had stayed in Germany?” she asked.

“I am glad you did not,” he said without looking round.

Matilda gave a slight shake of her head and felt sad. How could she expect him to understand or go beyond his own desires? He said he was glad, but she had been talking of her feelings, not his.

She looked at his hands: the gold rings; the long, elegant fingers; the smudges. “You still wear your ink stains,” she said.

He took his gaze off the river and turned a little to give her a half-smile. “Robert and I have been working on an audit of the exchequer for your father, and I have been writing some thoughts on the vows that men swear.” 121

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“Indeed?” She raised her brows.

“All in your support,” he qualified. “Some may say their oaths are not valid because they were made to a woman, but that is an excuse. Any oath taken before God, to whomsoever it may be, is binding. Nor was the allegiance sworn under duress.

There were enough here today to have banded together and refused had they so desired,