Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,63

was the first time she had felt more like herself than a shadow. She had her sewing basket at her side, and had brought her penknife, quills, and parchments 156

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so that she could write some personal letters. Earlier she had been out riding for the first time in five months. Her husband had written asking when she would be returning to Anjou, the words couched as a polite, political enquiry, rather than eagerness to have her back. He had asked after his sons and her health and sent her a box of books to read and a beautiful cross on a gold chain enamelled in blue and gold. She had replied that she intended staying in Normandy for the time being to consolidate her position at the heart of the court.

Her father continued to be obdurate about her dower castles, repeating that he would yield them when he deemed the time was right and not before. He had given the custody of Dover Castle to her brother Robert, who was her loyal supporter and kin, but Matilda knew it was as much for Robert’s aggrandise-ment and power as it was for building her a strong bastion of support in England.

Her women were playing a game of hoops and skittles on the path between the beds, taking turns to throw rings made of braided straw over the necks of the wooden posts. Two little girls belonging to the women had joined in too and their giggles filled the air. Henry, a little past one year old, was watching the activity keenly. Wriggling free of his nurse, he toddled forward on his chubby little legs. The woman started after him, but Matilda called her back, because she wanted to see what Henry would do. He picked up several of the withy rings, stooping with laborious determination, and then tottered over to the skittles and carefully dropped a hoop over the top of each one, before turning round to his audience with a beaming smile. Laughing, Matilda applauded him and went to pick him up and hold him on high. “Bravo!” she cried. “See, here is the winner of the game!” And then she kissed his cheek and said softly into his neck, “That’s right, that’s how you win. You go directly to the centre of what you must do and let others strive as they may.” 157

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Nineteen

Rouen, July 1135

T hat hellspawn husband of yours has burned Beaumont to the ground and given succour at his court to barons in rebellion against me!” Henry snarled at Matilda. He shook the piece of parchment he had been reading under her nose. His voice was thick with rage. “Talvas and de Tosney. I will not have it!”

It was a hot summer evening and the shutters were open to a pale twilight woven with birdsong. Matilda had been summoned to her father’s presence shortly after a messenger had arrived bearing news that Geoffrey had been aiding and abetting Normandy’s rebellious barons. The chamber was sparse because Adeliza had been packing ready for a return to England. There were threats of a Welsh uprising that her father needed to deal with. The fact that Normandy and Anjou were suddenly bucking under him like a pair of untamed horses had turned his impatient bad temper to rage.

“I told you this would happen if you did not give me my dower castles.” She watched him pace the chamber like an angry bear. “Even now, if you handed them over, you could prevent this.”

“No man threatens me!” Henry whirled on her. “And no woman tells me how to conduct my affairs!” LadyofEnglish.indd 158

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Adeliza glanced up from supervising what was going into the travelling coffers, and bit her lip.

“I have no intention of giving up my castles to a man who plays host to my enemies in an effort to extort concessions from me,” Henry growled.

“Every other avenue appears to have failed so far,” Matilda said.

“Keep that tongue of yours behind your teeth, or by God I will lock you in a scold’s bridle, my daughter or not. Do you hear me?”

“Better than you hear me, my father,” she retorted because her blood was up. “You call my husband ‘hellspawn’ now, but when you forced me to marry him, he was a gift from God and could do no wrong. You rage as if it is my fault that this thing has happened, when surely it is