Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,67
immediately.” He placed his hand lightly over his belt area where the ruby nestled in its pouch.
Henry nodded and felt a churning sensation in his own belt area that was part excitement and part tension. The deed was set in motion. There was no going back now. He retraced his steps and considered his prized statue of Caesar. Its purchase and transportation had cost him the best part of a hundred marks, but it had been worth it because in England it was a rarity, often remarked upon by envious visitors, and to him a symbol of ruling power.
Henry continued back to his chamber and knelt at his small, personal devotional. Gazing upon the crucified Christ he lit a candle and prostrated himself. Sometimes for the greater good, a king had to die.
ttt
“Here,” said Adeliza. “I made this for you.” She held out to Henry the hood she had been sewing for him to wear when next he went hunting. “Will you try it and see how it fits?” She saw his impatient expression and felt cold. Of late it was so difficult to reach him. He was preoccupied with the business of government. His visits to her chamber had grown even less frequent and when they dined together with the court, he was brusque and distant. He seemed to have decided that since he could not beget a child on her, there was no point in bothering.
Something must have shown in her face because he checked 167
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himself and grimaced. “It is finely made,” he said, “and sure to keep my head warm if there’s a cold frost.” He tugged the hood on and allowed her to arrange the lower part around his shoulders, but she could feel his tension. He was eager to be away to his hunting and political meetings at his lodge at Lyons-la-Forêt. Women, other than court concubines and laundry maids, were not part of the arrangement.
In the antechamber a squire dropped a couple of boar spears with a loud clatter and was reprimanded by a chamberlain.
Henry removed the hood and directed another servant to pack it in his baggage.
“You should begin preparing your own things,” he said.
“I want to be in England by Christmas if the weather holds fair and I can finish sorting out the difficulties that wretched daughter of mine and her husband are causing me.” His expression soured for a moment.
“I hope you can,” Adeliza said in a heartfelt voice. “I wish you good hunting, and good resolutions.” She curtseyed to him.
“If there is not good hunting at Lyons, then I will replace my gamekeepers,” he growled. “And as to the resolutions…
one way or another, I will determine the matter.” He kissed her and patted her cheek. “Put on your ermine and come and speed us on our way.”
As he strode from the room shouting to his attendants, Adeliza bade her women fetch her cloak. She was in a pensive mood. The continuing rebellion in south Normandy was a serious thorn in Henry’s plans and his temper was vile. Matilda and Geoffrey showed no sign of backing down, nor did Adeliza believe they would. Those four castles had become a solid barrier across the road to progress.
Wrapped in sleek, soft ermine, she left the warmth of her hearth for the bleak chill of the November morning. This was always a difficult time for Henry, marking as it did the 168
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anniversary when his legitimate son and heir and many of his other offspring by various mistresses had died on the crossing from Normandy to England. Henry had said little in public, but she knew how long he had spent on his knees in prayer and how much he was fretting about not being at Reading for the anniversary mass. His chaplain had told her that the king had been suffering from bad dreams too, in which he was murdered by a conspiracy of knights, bishops, and ordinary servants.
The yard teemed with men, horses, and dogs. Slender gazehounds with broad leather collars, snappy terriers stiff-bodied and belligerent, loose-jowelled slot hounds with floppy ears, eager bratchets straining at their leashes, and all the dogs making a terrible din. Henry reached for his bridle, set his foot in the stirrup, and gained the saddle with ease. Seeing him laughing and joking with his courtiers, still hard, still tough, it was difficult to believe he was almost seventy years old.