Enchantress Mine Part 21

THE LADY OF AELFLEAH.

England and Scotland, 10681070.

Chapter 12.

"Helas, this dampness will surely kill me!" complained the d.u.c.h.ess Matilda irritably. "A king's house should not be built on the edge of a river's bank." Standing upon a little stool she gazed curiously out of the window at the Thames. It was a placid, muddy river, not at all like the rivers of Normandy, or Flanders where she had been born and raised. Still it seemed to generate more moisture and dankness than any river she had ever known. She had never been so cold in her entire life, she thought. Perhaps it was because the sun did not shine as much here in England as it did in Normandy. Nothing ever had time to dry out. It made her cranky, or perhaps it was the child she was currently carrying that altered her moods these days.

Her children. The d.u.c.h.ess sighed. Robert, her eldest. So charming, witty, and well-spoken, but a boy who gave away too much, made lavish promises he could not keep, and was far too eager for his father's duchy in Normandy which he was not yet wise enough to govern. G.o.d only knew she loved him, but he seemed unable to attain his early promise and that worried her deeply. William had ama.s.sed such great holdings, but Robert, his chief heir, showed no signs of being strong enough to retain them.

Richard, her second-born, was too much like Robert, but he lacked ambition. Richard simply found life amusing, and had little hope of much more. Perhaps he worried Matilda most of all, for she believed a boy should not be so bored with life, nor should his direction be so aimless.

Then there was the troublesome Agatha, their eldest daughter. Matilda had left Agatha at home in Normandy to meditate upon her sin of great disobedience to her parent's will. A small smile touched Matilda's lips for a moment. Agatha was every bit as stubborn as her mother had once been, but she would never tell her daughter that. Agatha needed no further encouragement to rebellion.

Of their three sons only the youngest, William Rufus, had accompanied his mother to England. Matilda grimaced. He was her own son, and yet she found him a most appalling child. She had brought him with her in order to allow his four younger sisters a respite from his constant and unmerciful teasing. He gave them no surcease whatsoever, and only one of them was capable of matching his vile disposition, and thereby that one, Adela, at four showed every indication of being as nasty as her male sibling. She already pitied the man Adela would marry, for even beating Adela regularly did not seem to sweeten her temperament. The d.u.c.h.ess placed a protective hand over her belly. Pray G.o.d and his Blessed Mother that this child was another son. A son like her beloved husband, William.

"Madame."

Matilda turned from the window. "Yes, Biota?" she said to her serving woman.

"You asked that Josselin de Combourg be brought to you when he arrived. He is awaiting your majesty's pleasure even now." Having been with Matilda since infancy, Biota knew Josselin well. He was one of her favorites.

The d.u.c.h.ess stepped down from her stool. There was a smile upon her pretty face. "Ask him to come in, Biota," she said. Then she turned to her ladies. "Attention, mes dames! We have a visitor."

Like a small flock of chattering birds the queen-to-be's ladies cl.u.s.tered about her, giggling and preening. They all remembered the handsome Josselin de Combourg, and knew how well he had done here in England. Biota hurried to the door to admit the visitor who entering gave her a hearty kiss on her ruddy cheek, and whispered something that caused the older woman to blush though she chuckled, and smacked at him fondly. Matilda thought she had never seen him looking so well. He was taller than her husband by several inches, and handsomer than William, bless him, had ever been. Another smile spread across her lips. She had had a weak spot for Josselin since he arrived as a gift from William to serve her as a page in the turbulent days before their marriage. She could never forget his kindness to her in those years.

"Josselin de Combourg my dear friend," she greeted him holding out her tiny hands to him.

He took those two little hands, hands no larger than a child's, and kissed them reverently. "My gracious lady Matilda! How happy I am to see you, and to see you blooming with obviously good health. Is it what I suspect?"

Matilda laughed, and nodded. "Yes, Josselin, I am once more with child. This one to be born in the autumn, and pray G.o.d it is a son! But tell me of you, my friend. I have not seen a great deal of my lord William since he first came to England, and when we did meet I had so many other things to talk with him about. It is not easy being responsible for my husband's holdings in his absence. I remember him telling me that he had found an estate for you. Is this so?"

"Yes, madame. The king rewarded my service to him with a beautiful little estate in the west near the border with Wales. I am even now raising a small castle there to keep the king's peace. If you can spare me the time, madame, I will be happy to tell you all my adventures since my coming to England."

"Oh, I should so like that, Josselin! William has not had much time for me since I arrived. These English are yet being troublesome. I have traveled most simply, escorted only by Bishop Hugh of Lisieux and my youngest son. I have not even a minstrel to amuse me and wile away the long hours. First, however, I have what I hope will be a surprise for you. I have brought with me amongst my ladies an old friend of yours."

Josselin looked genuinely puzzled, and the women about the queen giggled.

"Come forward, Blanche de St. Brieuc!" the queen cried gaily, and her women playfully pushed Blanche forward with much merriment.

"Josselin, my dearest lord! Are you not surprised?" Blanche stood smiling fatuously at him, her fingers worrying the twisted golden rope of her girdle. She was wearing her favorite blue, and had silver ribbons braided in her golden hair.

For a moment Josselin felt genuinely ill. All he could think about was how he was going to explain Blanche to his wife for Mairin would be furious with him. He had honestly never expected to see Blanche de St. Brieuc again. What in G.o.d's name was she doing here? Why had she followed him to England?

Breaching all good manners Blanche threw herself into his startled arms and pressed her mouth to his pa.s.sionately. "Oh, cheri, I have missed you so!" she sighed gustily.

"Madame, you forget yourself, and where you are!" He quickly thrust her from him. He had to straighten this out immediately for here was his sweet queen looking so pleased as if she had done him a great favor.

"Why, Josselin, are you not pleased to see Blanche? It was my understanding that when you had made your fortune, you and this lady would be united." The queen looked coyly from him to Blanche and back again.

"Madame, I must speak frankly to you though my words will seem less than chivalrous. I cannot imagine how you came to believe that this lady and I had an understanding of any kind. How could I commit myself with honor to any woman when I had not the means of supporting a wife? When I could offer her nothing, not even a respectable name? Madame, you above all people know me better than that!

"I met this lady three years ago when I was at Combourg seeing my parents. I visited in her brother's house at his invitation, but never was any mention made of an alliance between myself and this lady. I am distressed she should have believed such a thing. Her brother will, I know, attest to the veracity of my words."

Matilda was very upset by this unexpected turn of events. To have offended a dear and old friend was bad enough, but to have been taken in by this . . . this adventuress who had played upon the softness of her nature was totally unforgivable. Her blue eyes grew hard. Drawing herself up to her full height, which was but four feet, two inches, she demanded, "Well, madame, what explanation do you have for this situation? Though you have not lied openly to me, neither have you been truthful."

Blanche de St. Brieuc was no fool. She had taken a gamble, but perhaps all was not yet lost. She flung herself at the queen's feet. "Oh, madame," she sobbed quite convincingly, "have mercy upon me! I have been sick with love for Josselin de Combourg ever since we first met! Can you who know him so well blame me? Knowing his honorable character I knew he would not dare to even suggest a match between us until he had made his fortune. After all," she could not resist adding, "I am a de St. Brieuc and, it is true, above him in station, yet I love him! I thought if I could but come to England now that the king has rewarded his loyal services, if he could but see me again, he would finally dare to speak the reciprocal pa.s.sions I know he holds for me. How else could I get here except traveling amongst your ladies? I realize, dearest madame, that I have been bold and even rash. Both traits of which are unbecoming in a woman of my station, but I could not help myself! I love him! Oh, please, please, say that you will forgive me."

The queen, though a practical woman, was also a romantic one at heart. Blanche's plea had moved her near to tears. "Yes, yes," she said, and bending, aided Blanche de St. Brieuc to her feet. "It is true, ma Blanche, that you have exhibited indelicate behavior for one of your rank, but I understand this wonderfully cruel emotion called love. I know the lengths to which one can be driven when caught within its thrall. I am very angry with you, but nonetheless I will forgive you." She turned to Josselin. "And perhaps Josselin will forgive you also, and rectify the difficulty between you both. What say you, my dear friend Josselin? A man with an estate needs a good wife, eh?" Matilda c.o.c.ked her head at him, and smiled winningly.

"That, dearest madame, was a part of what I had to tell you," he said. "I already have a wife. We have been married almost two years. She has come to London with me for your coronation, and I would have your leave to present her to you. When the king gave me Aelfleah, he also gave me its heiress to wive. I often fear if he knew the great kindness he had done me he should take it all back. The king gave me not just lands, he gave me someone whom I love better than life itself."

"Ohhhhhhh!" Blanche de St. Brieuc collapsed dramatically onto the floor in a swoon.

Matilda waved her little hands impatiently. "Remove her," she said to her women. She had no more sympathy left for Blanche. The woman had shown an inexcusable lack of manners, and had only gotten exactly what she deserved.

The fluttering ladies half-dragged, half-carried Blanche de St. Brieuc from the room, and Biota at a signal from her mistress barred them reentry stationing herself in the anteroom side of the queen's apartments before the door. Matilda settled herself into a high tapestry-backed chair with a footstool, waving Josselin to the matching chair that faced it.

"Now tell me everything, Josselin," she said to him, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees to listen intently as he spoke. Sometimes she smiled at his words, other times bit her lip to prevent her laughter from spilling over. When he spoke of how Mairin had defended Aelfleah, and lost their expected child shortly afterward, Matilda's pale blue eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "Ah, ma pauvre," she said. "Your Mairin is a brave woman. She is just the kind of wife you need here in England. I do not see la Blanche defending her home in such a manner. I do not think this Eadric the Wild would have been impressed by a woman stamping her foot, which is what Blanche surely would have done."

"She is very eager to meet you, my lady Matilda. She envies you your family for like me she is anxious to have children."

"Of course you must bring her to me this very day, my friend! I am extremely anxious to meet your enchantress. What a charming love name that is, Josselin. I have always suspected for all your admiration and emulation of William's character that you were a romantic deep in your soul. Now there is something else you have not told me. I see it in your eyes. Do you wish to make further confession?" Matilda was smiling playfully, but she was anxious to make amends to her old friend for her part in the matter of la Blanche.

Josselin hesitated a moment, and then he said, "It is Blanche de St. Brieuc, madame. I have not told my wife of our acquaintance."

"Surely it was not necessary, Josselin," the queen replied. "Your wife was a widow when you were wed, and certainly not so innocent that she could believe you did not know other women. I will admit it is awkward, but I shall send the creature home immediately after the coronation. Regretfully she cannot go sooner as no one is leaving for Normandy until next week. For all her lack of delicacy she is still a lady. Besides I need the tiresome wretch for the moment. Although I do not really know her, one of my ladies grew too ill to travel at the last moment, and la Blanche had some connection with the Montgomeries, a family who have influence with my husband. I am absolutely mortified to have embarra.s.sed you."

"It is worse than simply not having told Mairin about another woman of my acquaintance, madame. Blanche de St. Brieuc is my wife's stepmother."

Matilda gasped, her eyes widening with shock, and Josselin went on to explain. When he had finished she said quite sensibly, "It is very unlikely that Blanche will recognize your wife, my friend. After all she was but a little child when she last saw her. Your Mairin, however, is bound to recognize Blanche de St. Brieuc. You will have to tell her before she sees la Blanche, else she will never forgive you. Go home and confess to her. Then bring her to see me. I am certain that if I vouch for your good character, Josselin," the queen finished with a smile, "your wife may just forgive you. If she does not, how will you two ever produce that large family you so desperately desire?"

He arose from the chair opposite her, and kneeling he kissed her outstretched hand. "Mille merci, madame. I am most grateful for your aid." Then standing he crossed the room, and departed her presence. Leaving the king's house, he sought his horse in the courtyard and rode back across the noisy city to their little house by the orchard. A servant ran to take his mount and stable it as Josselin entered the building. He found Mairin in the back garden cutting flowering branches for the hall.

She turned to greet him with a smile. "You have seen the queen?"

"Yes," he said kissing her brow, and leading her to a bench by a bed of lavender. "She has asked to meet you. We are to come later today, but first there is something I must tell you, enchantress."

With a teasing tone she said, "Ah, I can guess. You did not answer me fully when I asked you about the women you knew at King William's court in Normandy. One of your old flirts is among the queen's ladies, and now you must confess to me before the lady, jealous that you are now wed, tells me herself." She laughed. "Is that not right, my lord?"

"Yes, and no, enchantress. I met the lady involved at Combourg. Later I visited her brother's home at his request and she was there also. There was never any romance between us although I will admit to our flirting with one another. My landless state, the situation of my birth, made it impossible for me to offer anything to any woman. Even had I been able to I would have offered this woman nothing. She, however, thought otherwise. She somehow learned that I had been given an estate here in England. She went to the Norman court, and when one of the queen's ladies grew too ill to travel with her mistress to the coronation, this lady used the influence of friends to be appointed to the vacant position. She led the queen to believe that we had made informal promises to one another."

"She is very bold, this lady," remarked Mairin. "You have I trust, told her that you already have a wife."

"I told the queen immediately in the lady's presence."

"And who is this lady, Josselin? You have been very careful not to mention her name, but surely you must tell me else I be embarra.s.sed before the queen and her women."

"Enchantress, you must forgive me for not having told you before, but you will understand that I did not wish to pain you. My acquaintance with this lady occurred long before I even knew of your existence. I never expected to see her again, and therefore saw no reason to distress you. The lady in question is Blanche de St. Brieuc."

"That b.i.t.c.h?" The words were hissed, but then to his surprise Mairin laughed. "By G.o.d she must be desperate to have followed you to England." She turned, and looked at him, her violet eyes carefully searching his face. "You swear on your mother's honor that there was really nothing between you?"

"I swear it, Mairin! There was nothing."

"I believe you, Josselin, but G.o.d help you if you have lied to me. I will kill you!"

He believed her. "I love you, enchantress," he said simply.

"And you love Aelfleah," she answered him.

"Yes, I love Aelfleah too, but I am an honorable man, Mairin. I have not lied to you ever."

"You split hairs with me, my lord," she said, "but no matter. I believe you when you say you sought to protect me from painful memories. Have you told the queen my whole history?"

"Yes, and she is furious at Blanche for her deception. She intends to send her back to Normandy, but she cannot do so until next week when others will be returning. Now, my wife, the question is, what do you intend to do?"

Mairin laughed again, but the sound lacked true mirth. "I am seventeen now," she said. "When I left Landerneau I was not quite six. I do not think my stepmother will recognize me despite my hair and my name. She is not that clever for all her evil. I expect she has not thought of me in years, and if she has she has thought me long dead. The only importance I ever held for her was that I stood in her daughter's way regarding the inheritance of Landerneau. Once that was taken care of I can a.s.sure you she put me from her mind."

"Then you will forgive her the past, and not make yourself known to her?" he asked.

"I did not say that, Josselin. Nay, I want my revenge on Blanche de St. Brieuc!" She caught his hand, and looking into his eyes she kissed his hand. "Grant me that, my lord, I beg you!"

"What the lady Blanche did was wrong, Mairin, even criminal. But think, enchantress! You did not really suffer by her actions. You were far better off here in England with your foster parents than you would have been at Landerneau with Blanche de St. Brieuc, your guardian. She might have killed you!"

"That," said Mairin, "was her mistake. She should have!"

"What would you do then?" he said.

"Do you remember when we were married," said Mairin, "and the king asked me if I wanted Landerneau returned to me, and I said nay? Well, when I carried our child I began to think on it, Josselin. Aldford and whatever future honors you may gather in your lifetime will go to our eldest son. Our second son should have Aelfleah. Our third must have Landerneau."

"And what of your half-sister? You will destroy her chance for marriage if you take Landerneau. You know it is her dowry. Do you think to hurt Blanche de St. Brieuc by striking out at her child?"

"Did you know my half-sister?" asked Mairin coolly.

"No. I never saw the child, but I do know that Blanche was proud to have managed a match with a younger son of the Montgomerie family."

"The girl does not wish to be wed in the worldly sense," said Mairin. "Of late I have seen her in my mind's eye. I do not understand why after all these years this should be so. She was not even born when I left Landerneau, but somehow I know she has no desire to be married as we are married. My half-sister desires to be a bride of Christ, and I will gladly dower her into a good convent. This other marriage is what her mother wishes, and she is forcing her own daughter from a true vocation, in order to further her own ambitions. It is typical of the b.i.t.c.h, but as she did not have her way with me, neither will she have her way in this matter of her own child. My revenge on Blanche de St. Brieuc is to allow my poor half-sister her wish. Without the girl or Landerneau, what does she really have?"

"How can you be certain what you believe is true?" he demanded of her. "Perhaps what you think you see is only what you desire, Mairin. Beware lest in your desire for revenge you harm an innocent girl."

"I know it is true! I do not see things that are not so! All my life I have listened to the voice within. When I act according to its advice I prosper. When I ignore the voice within I fail. It has been a long time since I received so clear a vision. The frustration of my life is that I rarely see things regarding the people close to me. If I could I would have warned my father and brother against going to fight the Norwegians! However, what I have seen regarding my half-sister is true, Josselin. Please believe me."

"Then you have surely found a perfect revenge against Blanche de St. Brieuc, Mairin. Because Landerneau was her daughter's, and her family could not afford another dowry, she has never rewed. She lives as a pensioner in her eldest brother's house, and as you might guess, does not get on with her brother or his wife. Her daughter's marriage would have afforded her an escape. She might have gone to live with her daughter and son-in-law, perhaps even found another husband. She has not lost her prettiness, not being old yet. There is always some unimportant knight eager of allying himself to a powerful family like the Montgomeries who would have been willing to take her in marriage without a dowry. She is even young enough to still bear children. Now she will have nothing."

"It is not punishment enough for her cruelty to me or to my father, Josselin! On his deathbed father called out for me, and she would not let him see me. His body was not even cold on his bier when she sent me into slavery. She took not just my estates from me, she took my good name. By declaring me b.a.s.t.a.r.d-born she shamed my mother's name and memory! If she had believed she could have killed me and escaped retribution, she would have! I do not think I am overly harsh in taking everything from her and leaving her to live the remainder of her life, which I pray G.o.d be a long one, alone!"

"For all your years in gentle England, for your marriage in civilized Byzantium, you are still a pure Celt," he said.

Mairin laughed, and now the sound was light and happy. "My lord, you flatter me!" she said. "I am indeed a Celt, and my anger burns long even if the flame seems not to be there."

"I will remember that, enchantress," he answered her. "I think you are a dangerous woman though you seem nothing more than a great beauty. You are a complex creature. I am not certain that I should not fear you."

"If you are faithful to me, my lord, you need never fear me. I love you, my Josselin!"

He took her into his arms and held her close against his heart. She was not, he knew, being overly cruel in her treatment of her half-sister and her stepmother. Landerneau was indeed hers by right and unless she reclaimed it, her name and that of her mother would never be clean from the stain that Blanche de St. Brieuc had placed upon them. It rather pleased him that she was thinking in terms of three sons. "What if we have a fourth son?" he asked her.

"A family can always use a bishop," she answered him, looking up into his face.

Josselin laughed aloud. "And at least two more in case of illness or accident," he said, and she nodded vigorously. "How many daughters?" he demanded.

"Possibly four," she said. "Three good marriage alliances, and an abbess to go with the bishop."

"You're as ambitious as a reigning queen," he chuckled, slapping his knee with his free hand.

"Make the right alliances over the next several generations, and this family could give England a queen one day," she replied seriously.

"First things first, enchantress," he answered her. "Let us go and see our queen, and you may get your first good look at your stepmother in many years. Since you so like the game of cat and mouse you will enjoy knowing she does not recognize you, although your very existence as my wife is apt to drive her to a frenzy."

"What shall I wear?" Mairin pondered mischievously. "Something elegant, but not too showy. No. Something that will bring out the perfect clarity of my skin, and flatter my hair. The turquoise tunic and the cloth-of-silver skirt! They should be just right."

G.o.d have mercy upon poor Blanche de St. Brieuc, thought Josselin to himself. She has no idea how serious an enemy she had made in Mairin all those years ago. My wife is correct when she says that Blanche is not clever. Still what she did was totally unforgivable. For a moment he imagined Mairin as a little girl barely out of babyhood, and suddenly torn from her home. Not even allowed the time to mourn the father she adored. The terrible enormity of Blanche's crime shook him to the core. There was no doubt in his mind that without the faithful Dagda Mairin would have been lost for she had been too young to protect herself.

Nara had come with them to London and with her help Mairin was quickly made ready. The cloth-of-silver skirt was long, and very full, its fabric falling gracefully into trailing folds. Over it was a second skirt of gossamer-sheer silk sarcenet through which the silver glowed in contrast. That was a fashion trick she had learned in Byzantium. The overskirt was the same blue-green of Mairin's tunic, which was made of lampas, a patterned damask-like fabric. The long sleeves of the tunic widened from elbow to wrist, and the garment was girded with a belt of linked round silver disks each one of which had a moonstone in its center. Kneeling Nara slipped each of her mistress's feet into a soft blue-green shoe that b.u.t.toned up the front with little pearls. Mairin wore her hair low on the nape of her neck in Anglo-Saxon fashion. Over it she placed a silver embroidered veil with a gold-and-pearl chaplet to hold the veil in place.

"You will have the queen's ladies gnashing their teeth in envy of your garments," said Josselin, smiling. "Norman ladies think themselves vastly superior to everyone else."

"Wait," Mairin said, "I have not yet chosen my jewelry." Studying the box which Nara held open, she finally drew out pear-shaped earrings of pink crystal, and a matching necklace from which hung a beautiful Celtic cross fashioned from Irish red-gold. She also chose two rings, one a large single diamond surrounded by amethysts, and the other an enormous baroque pink pearl. "To wear additional rings would be to appear immodest," she said wryly.

"And how clever of you to have dressed to complement me," he said with a small chuckle. He was wearing a vermilion-and-gold tunic with a matching vermilion mantle. It flattered his tawny dark blond hair.

"Have we not always complemented each other from the first, my lord?" she teased him back.

They rode together to the king's house in Westminster, drawing looks both admiring and curious from the Londoners in the streets along their route. It was unusual to see two such attractive people upon two such magnificent horses.

"Are you nervous?" he asked her as they made their way to the queen's apartments.

"A little," she managed to admit as Biota opened the door. Mairin's eyes quickly took in the women within the room as they entered. She immediately spotted Blanche, and though their eyes met momentarily there was no sign of recognition from the other woman. Then she saw the queen, knowing her instantly from Josselin's careful description.

Matilda of Normandy gave new meaning to the word "pet.i.te," for though she stood but fifty inches high, every bit of her was in perfect proportion, and she was very pretty. Her skin was fair and she had lovely rosy cheeks. Her silver-blond hair was braided into a high coronet in an attempt to add to her stature, and her bright blue eyes were lively with interest. It was obvious that she missed little with those eyes.

Mairin walked directly to the queen, and knelt gracefully, her beautiful head bowed in submission.

Matilda nodded with approval at Josselin, and then said in a musical voice, "You may rise, Mairin of Aelfleah."