Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,71
up so rapidly in alarm that she sent the perfume bowl flying off the maid’s knees, splattering the aromatic contents far and wide.
Reynald was mired from travelling the winter roads and red-cheeked from the abrasion of the wind. She rose to face him, her hair unbound and tumbling down her back. She was only wearing a chemise and swiftly picked up her cloak to cover herself. “What is it?” she demanded. The last time she had seen him had been in Rouen, living in comfort as a hearth knight in her brother Robert’s retinue, and for him to be here now meant something terrible must have happened.
Beneath the windburn, Reginald’s complexion was grey with exhaustion as he knelt to her. “Sister, I am sorry to bear grave news, but our father is dead of a sudden sickness while at his hunting lodge.” He twisted a ring from the middle finger of his left hand and held it out to her.
Matilda stared at the great blue sapphire that was one of her father’s favourite jewels. She felt her breath stop and then start again, stop and start. Her legs buckled and her women reached for her, but she forced herself upright again, shaking them off; refusing wine; refusing to sit down. “Tell me,” she said.
177
LadyofEnglish.indd 177
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Elizabeth Chadwick
Reynald relayed what he knew, which was not a great deal because, although he was Henry’s son, he had been on the periphery of what was happening, but it was enough for her to know that her father was dead and traitors were claiming he had absolved them of their oaths to her and her son as he died. Yet more damning was the fact that it was Reynald who brought the news and not an entourage intent on offering her the crown of England and the duchy of Normandy. While it might yet happen, the omens did not bode well. All she had was her father’s ring, and that was a frippery.
“Why did no one send to me when he first fell sick?” she demanded.
Reynald shook his head. “At first we thought he might rally…and then—well, I do not know.” He lowered his gaze and looked shame-faced.
“I do,” she said with angry contempt. Amid a gathering of men all fighting for position, the rights of a woman in Anjou and an infant prince must seem small and distant—a godsend when other agendas were at work. Turning away from Reynald, she paced the room, trying to think, but her mind was a labyrinth leading to dead ends.
“There is more,” Reynald said unhappily. “William Martel left the court on a fast horse within an hour of our father’s dying.”
Matilda stopped pacing. For a moment her mind went blank as even the labyrinth ceased to exist. She felt the hard gold pressure of the ring inside her palm.
“Sister?” Reynald cleared his throat.
Awareness returned like the sun bursting out from behind a cloud, flooding everything with harsh clarity. “Where is Stephen?” she demanded, and knew the answer already. From the port of Wissant in Boulogne, it was only a short sea crossing to England.
178
LadyofEnglish.indd 178
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Lady of the English
Reynald said diffidently, “Martel might have been taking the news to Count Theobald.”
Matilda threw him an exasperated look. “Is it likely? Let me ask you another question. Where is the bishop of Winchester?
Where is the bishop of Salisbury? Where is our father’s treasury?” Her half-brother swallowed. “Surely not.”
“‘Surely’?” Matilda scoffed. “I can think of nothing more likely.” Her first impulse was to pack her baggage and ride straight for Rouen, but she knew it was important to think matters through. If Stephen had preempted everyone and made a grab for England, then she had to work from a firm foundation. She had to organise and prepare. She had to know who her allies were and what support she had. “First I must find out what has happened,” she said. “And secure what I can. If Stephen has made a bid for England, then it leaves Normandy open, does it not?” Turning, she went to Henry and picked him up. “My son is the true heir to England and Normandy, sworn three times before God, and his right comes through me. My father would not disinherit his own grandson. I will let no one take my son’s right away—no one.” She sent Reynald a fierce look.
“No one!” Henry repeated in a loud shout.
Reynald took a step forward and knelt at her feet. “You have my allegiance,” he said.