Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,59

swallowed a sick feeling of envy. “I am so pleased for you.” She forced herself to smile. “You see I was right about marrying a younger man.” Matilda shifted Henry on to her hip and, grimacing, said nothing.

“When is the new babe due?”

“Somewhere around the feast of Pentecost.”

“In the full spring then. That is always a good time to birth a child. Will you return to Anjou?”

“Not if I can remain in Rouen.” Matilda put Henry down to play with his ball. “Geoffrey and I…” She heaved a sigh. “Let us say we will not miss each other. I have borne one son in Anjou.

It will be a good thing to birth this one in Normandy.” Adeliza continued to smile, although she could feel the strain at her mouth corners. By the time Pentecost came she would be used to this, she thought, and to the fact that, in all likelihood, she was looking at the future king of England. “You know your father intends the Norman barons to swear to you again at the Christmas feast—and to this little one.”

“Yes, he wrote to say so. That was one of the reasons Geoffrey wanted me to come to Normandy. We may not agree on many things, but in matters of policy we are as one, especially where our son is concerned.” She rolled the ball towards 147

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Henry and he picked it up in his chubby little hand, and held it like a coronation orb.

The servant returned with the tisane and Adeliza made Matilda sit down and put her feet up on a cushioned stool.

“You will be well cared for,” Adeliza said firmly. “I want to see those shadows banished from your eyes, and roses blooming in your cheeks.”

“Yes, Mother.” Matilda’s face warmed with a smile as it always did when she addressed Adeliza thus. Adeliza merely looked pained.

ttt

Henry sat at a trestle table in his chamber, eating small sweet cakes off a linen napkin. He had broken a piece off the one in his hand and given it to his grandson, who was mumbling it between his recently acquired front teeth.

“He’s a fine boy,” he said to Matilda and gave her a shrewd look. “And I hear you are with child again.”

“Yes, sire.” The news did not take long to travel, she thought. Her father had been eager to meet his grandson, and proud, but she had sensed a strange reserve in him too. As if his infant namesake were almost a threat because he was a reminder of the march of time.

“I also hear you are going to stay in Rouen for your confinement.”

She nodded. “It will give me time to renew my connec-tions with the court and to study matters of government at your side. It will be sensible also if I stay for a while after the birth, and return to Anjou in full summer when the roads are good.” She hesitated. “I need to talk to you about my dower castles too.”

Her father’s expression hardened. “This is not the time for business,” he said. “We can talk another day. For now I want to enjoy the pleasure of ordinary company and conversation.” 148

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Matilda narrowed her eyes. It was different when he wanted to discuss serious matters and others were at their leisure. She knew he was trying to slip out of a discussion on the subject, and it did not bode well. “As do I, my father,” she said, “but I cannot do so until this matter is settled. I am asking you to turn over the castles that were due to me when I married Geoffrey.

Exemes, Argentan, Domfront, and Montauban.” He fed his grandson another morsel of cake. “I know full well their names and what they are.” He gave her a warning look. “You do not need to enumerate them to me as if I am some witless old man.”

She fixed him with a steady gaze and refused to be brow-beaten. “I am glad of that, sire, but anxious too, because it makes me wonder why you are withholding them from me and my husband.”

“I withhold nothing,” he snapped. “The Angevin had good English silver for your dower and riches beyond measure in the items you brought with you to your marriage. Those castles were indeed vowed to you, but you will receive them at a time of my choosing, not yours.”

Matilda lifted her chin. “You manage to give crumbs of cake to your