Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,94

had not refused him outright; she had said she would think on the matter, and while there was hesitation, hope remained. She was so fine and rare that he felt like a foolish, shambling bear in her presence. He wished he had the urbane refinement of Brian FitzCount and Waleran de Meulan, or the pugilistic arrogance of the Earl of Chester, but neither were a part of his steady, cheerful nature. She would go and pray to God for an answer and all he could do was pray in his turn that God gave her the right one.

On his return to Winchester, he was dismounting in the courtyard of his lodging house when his knight Adelard came running to tell him they had received news that Robert of Gloucester had renounced his oath to Stephen. “He’s declared for the empress and shut Bristol against the king!” 232

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Will was dismayed but not surprised. Everyone had been expecting Gloucester to renounce his oath ever since the Normandy campaign when Stephen had returned to England and Robert had stayed at Caen, nursing his grievances. It would give impetus to other rebellions, and because Gloucester had lands on either side of the Narrow Sea, both areas would be destabilised. It was bad news, yet, at the same time, Will felt a twinge of excitement. The onus on the king to reward the men who remained loyal to him would be keener still, and who knew what other riches lay in store beyond an earldom and marriage to a queen?

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Twenty-seven

Fortress of Carrouges, Normandy, Summer 1138

Matilda sat down on the bed in her chamber at Carrouges. Her crown was making her head ache. It might look a delicate thing, but she been wearing it for most of the day amid formal ceremonies and celebrations; the weight was beginning to tell on her neck and the band was squeezing her temples. Even so, she had no intention of taking it off, because while she wore it, she was a queen and an empress and she had authority.

Fetching his small stool, Henry wandered over to the sideboard and stood on it so that he could look at the two engraved silver cups standing there. They had been presented to him and his brother by the people of Saumur in exchange for a charter.

“When can I drink wine out of mine?” he asked, looking round.

“When you are a man,” Matilda replied. “They are no ordinary drinking cups, but tokens of an agreement between our family and the people of Saumur.” Her voice held a warning note. If she knew Henry, he’d be having his dogs drinking out of them or worse. “And you are not to touch William’s either,” she added as she watched his hand stray towards his youngest brother’s cup. The reason there were only two, not three cups was that Geoffrey, her middle son, was being raised in the household of her husband’s vassal Goscelin de Rotonard.

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It did not do to keep all of one’s eggs in a single basket. William would go for fostering too when he was older but for now, at not quite two years old, he was still kept close in the women’s chambers. Henry ignored him because he was only a baby and Henry knew he was the heir and the most important.

Geoffrey entered the chamber. A gold coronet embraced his brow, not as ornate as Matilda’s but still a symbol of his rank, and he was wearing a blue silk tunic embroidered with small gold lioncels. Henry’s tunic had been cut from the same piece of fabric. Geoffrey unbuckled the sword he had been wearing for ceremonial purposes and hung it over the back of a chair.

Moments later, Matilda’s half-brothers Robert and Reynald followed him into the room with Baldwin de Redvers.

Robert went to his nephew and admired the silver cup with serious interest. “If you drink from a silver cup, you will never be poisoned,” he said.

Henry gave him a severe look. “Mama says this isn’t a drinking cup. She says it’s a token of agreement.” Robert’s lips twitched. “She is right, but it is still true that you should always put a silver coin in your flask to keep your drink sweet. Did you know that?”

Henry shook his head, but absorbed the detail as he absorbed all knowledge, sucking it up like a sponge drawing up water.

“You are a fount of knowledge, Robert,”

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