‘You will delay my attendance at court,’ he murmured.
‘Good,’ I said, and kissed him again, more deeply this time.
Later, when he was dressing, I propped myself up on an elbow and waited until his valet, Charles, had stopped fussing. Raife was garbed in a magnificent tunic, a jewelled sword belt I had not seen before (and with my purse attached to it, I was glad to see), and a mantle of such richness that, had I not been so languid from our travelling, and our early morning love-making, I would have been hard pressed not to have risen from our bed and buried my hands and face in it.
‘What is the Conqueror’s Tower?’ I asked.
Raife sat down in a chair while Charles handed him his shoes. (I had seen none of this clothing before, and thought that Raife must keep it exclusively in this house for court wear.)
‘It is the tower that William the Conqueror had built in the north-east corner of London,’ he said, pulling on one shoe then reaching for the other. ‘You will see it clearly once you have risen and can find the energy to walk to the window.’
His eyes crinkled in amusement as he said this, and I knew we were both thinking of our earlier ardent activity. It had not been easy to find time for love-making during our travels as either I was too fatigued or we shared a chamber with too many others, and to find ourselves once again with the privacy of our own chamber was a luxury we had taken full advantage of. I blessed again Raife’s somewhat unusual habit of not having any of our servants or attendants to sleep at the foot of the bed.
‘And Edmond being there is unusual?’ I asked, remembering Raife’s reaction last night.
‘Yes. It is a great palace, but usually Edmond, as other kings before him, prefers the more commodious palace at Westminster. But the Conqueror’s Tower is far more defensible.’ Raife paused, the final shoe half on, half off. ‘I wonder what he fears …’
He shrugged and pulled the shoe on, then came over and kissed me. ‘I will not stay for the evening’s entertainment, but will be back to sup with you. My worry for you shall be excuse enough for Edmond. Ask fitzErfast to fetch the chest of new clothes I ordered for you — that should keep you and Evelyn happy enough until I return. And rest. And eat.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ I said, and then he was gone, shouting for his knights and companions to accompany him to the Tower.
A few minutes after he left I rose, opening the shutters of the window. I was just in time to see Raife’s party ride out. Thirty or forty strong, it comprised some of Raife’s most senior knights, their squires, and about ten ordinary soldiers. Everyone was dressed in their best, and at the head of the column rode a young man with the Pengraic pennant fluttering from a staff.
Raife rode just behind the young man with the pennant, and I watched until he grew too distant for me to make out his features.
I lifted my eyes to the Tower. It was massive, rising some three levels above ground and composed of grey-brown stone with creamier stones delineating its corners and narrow windows. Four towers rose from each corner: three square and one round. It looked impregnable.
A curtain wall, looking to be of somewhat newer construction than the Tower, ran about it, and a moat outside that.
I looked down. There were mostly fields, dotted with only a few houses, between the Tower and where this house stood just off the crest of Cornhill. A tournament field had been set up in one of the fields closest to the Tower.
I looked for Raife and his escort, and saw them cantering down a track that led through the fields.
He was going to be there in only a few minutes.
I raised my eyes to the Conqueror’s Tower again.
There waited Edmond.
I spent the day quietly, but in a welter of worry for what was happening at court. I remembered Henry’s antagonism for my husband very clearly, as well as Saint-Valery’s words about how Edmond distrusted Raife, and I hoped, quite desperately, that Raife would return safe and well at the end of the day.
After I had prayed and then broken my fast with Evelyn, fitzErfast sent to my chamber the chest of clothes Raife had caused to be made.
I thought the silken kirtles I, Evelyn and Sewenna had sewed in Pengraic were rich and beautiful, but they were as nothing compared to these. The silk fabrics had been delicately stitched with intricate patterns of flowers and leaves in threads of gold and silver, crimsons, emeralds, turquoises, azures and creams. One gown had golden figures of dancers and minstrels about its hem, another figures of stags and horsemen. They were astounding, rich beyond belief.
Evelyn smiled wryly as she delicately folded them back into the chest. ‘The earl makes a grand statement with these, Maeb, as he does with you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His power,’ she said. ‘His wealth. The beauty he commands. Poor Lady Adelie never cut a fine figure at court, but you …’
‘Lady Adelie was beautiful!’ I said, remembering how she had looked the night of the royal feast at Rosseley.
Again that wry smile from Evelyn. ‘Not as you are, Maeb. You shall outshine everyone there, even Edmond.’
‘Surely not,’ I said, thinking that would be a dangerous thing to do. Evelyn chuckled. ‘Wait for a night of grand feasting, Maeb, and, you will see … Raife and yourself shall groan under the weight of the jewels the earl can summon!’
I shivered, and for a moment wished I was the wife of a minor nobleman who did not have to play such courtly games, nor attract the envious and bitter gazes of those who wished to strip my husband of his power and seize his wealth for themselves.
Later in the day fitzErfast showed Evelyn and myself about the house. While smaller than Pengraic Castle, of course, it was nonetheless impressive. The house was divided in two by a stone spine wall. Down one side of this wall ran the hall; on the other side of the wall, over two levels, ran store rooms on the lower level, and a solar and various privy apartments on the upper level. Underneath the whole was a vaulted crypt, one part of which was arranged as a small chapel, the other as storage. As at Pengraic, the crypt also held large cisterns of water collected from the roof.
Outside was a sizeable courtyard bounded by the kitchen, a well, dormitories and stabling — accommodation for a large number of men and their horses. Beyond the courtyard, fitzErfast said, were several fields, an orchard, and a training ring for men and horses.
All in all, it felt like a small, wealthy estate, but one held within the walls of a city.
‘You will need to learn to play the lady, fast,’ said Evelyn.
The afternoon I spent resting, then bathing in a large wooden tub Evelyn had caused to be brought to the privy chamber, draped with linens, and then filled with hot water. I luxuriated in the soak, washing away the grime and stink of travel, and Evelyn washed out my hair before combing it through with oil to make it shine.
That evening, to my relief, Raife returned. ‘I have found you a friend at court,’ he said. ‘She shall be waiting for you tomorrow.’
Chapter Four
I stood, smoothing the fine linen kirtle over my body, feeling as nervous as I had at my betrothal. It was a warm day and this, combined with the fact that it was not a feast day or other special occasion, had dictated my choice of kirtle. This one, a beautiful cornflower-blue embroidered with crimson, gold and green, was rich and opulent in its own right — more magnificent than anything I’d ever worn previously — but was not among the most splendid of the gowns available to me.
I wore also the lovely jewelled girdle Raife had given me on our betrothal day, its gold and jewels reflecting the embroidery on the kirtle. Evelyn had plaited my hair again in the loose plait over my shoulder, the braiding ending at my waist so that a mass of hair hung freely to my knees. The braid was interspersed with golden jewelled flowers, glinting amid the blackness of my hair.
I felt a pretender. Some fool woman who thought she could attend the court of the king and pass herself off as the Countess of Pengraic.
‘You will do well,’ said Raif
e, giving me a smile and kissing my hand in courtly style.
‘I have no idea —’
‘Lady Alianor will guide you,’ he said.
Lady Alianor de Lacy, wife of the lord of Bouland and of Blachburnscire. A powerful neighbour in Raife’s lands in the north of England. An ally. Lady Alianor was to be my friend at court, my guide through its intricacies, and my mentor in its dangers.
‘I will not always be able to be with you,’ Raife had told me last night, ‘but Lady Alianor can be. Let her guide you.’
‘Can I trust her?’ I asked my husband now. ‘Almost completely,’ he said, stepping to one side as he drew on his gloves. Evelyn came to help me with my mantle, brushing aside my trembling fingers to fasten it with a large bronzed brooch.
‘Almost?’ I said as Evelyn left the chamber.
He gave me a significant look. ‘There will be some matters best kept to yourself,’ he said. ‘Remember always that your loyalty is to me first, even before Edmond.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘There will be people who will come to court you today, flatter you and all the while hunt for your secrets,’ Raife said. ‘Be wary of them all. You are the road to me, the doorway to my vulnerabilities. Keep that door closed.’
He took me by the shoulders. ‘Maeb, you and I … there has grown an affection between us, I think. It is comforting, and makes our nights the sweeter, but I fear it also, for how easily it could undo me. Be careful, Maeb, for in holding my heart in your hands you also hold the power to create such havoc …’
Dear God! I silently thanked him for undermining my confidence with his unfathomable words. What if I betrayed Raife in my first nerve-ridden babble of conversation with some meaningless, thoughtless remark born of my unease? I had been so grossly indiscreet with Madog ap Gruffydd, a man I had already been uncertain of, what might I do at Edmond’s court?
‘Ah, I am sorry,’ he said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. ‘Thus speaks my nerves, only. Just be careful today, Maeb, eh? Now, come. We shall go to court and I am sure you will do me proud.’
And thus poor orphaned Mistress Maeb Langtofte, left by her father with no dowry and nowhere to call home had, by a set of remarkable and tragic events, found herself the Countess of Pengraic, off to court to meet the king.
We approached the Conqueror’s Tower slowly. Yesterday Raife had ridden with his escort at a full canter. Now we proceeded with grace and elegance at a leisurely pace. Behind us rode a half score of knights and their squires, and a squad of some sixteen soldiers, and enough banners and pennants to decorate a great hall. Overhead the sun shone, about us various riders and walkers stood to one side and watched with curiosity as we passed, and a group of knights practising with their swords on the tournament field came to a halt, turning to peer at us with their hands shielding their eyes from the sun.
I felt ill, but could not blame the pregnancy for it. Raife — as resplendent as I — gave me a concerned glance, but said nothing.
As we approached the outer curtain wall, I swallowed and squared my shoulders. I would cope and I would make Raife proud.
There was an enormous gate, protected by a square tower, in the western aspect of the wall, and we approached it across a long stone bridge that gave access over the deep moat.
‘The wall is new,’ I said, speaking not so much for the sake of discussing the wall, but to let Raife know that my mind was not completely consumed by my nervousness.
He gave a nod. ‘Edmond has spent much of his reign extending the defences of the wall, as well as building new quarters and a new great hall within the inner bailey. That inner building is still underway, we shall have to content ourselves with the great hall within the tower, but one day, perhaps in five years or so, this tower complex shall be a great glory to the king and to England.’
We were clattering under the gate now, guards standing back and saluting with their long-handled axes and lances, and then we were in an outer bailey. Most of the area was grassed, with two stands of trees, but I saw several large wooden buildings to one side that were likely barracks for soldiers as well as falcon mews and hound kennels.
I looked up at the tower, which we now approached.
This close it was massive, its huge walls punctuated by the slit windows, and corner towers rising even higher than the walls connected by battlements and parapets. I could see guards, their weapons glinting in the sun, pacing slowly along the parapets.
We rode toward an inner wall — not such a massive construction as the outer curtain wall — and yet another gateway.
And then we were in the inner bailey, and a richly dressed man was striding forth to greet us.
‘Chestre!’ Raife said, and I could hear the false cheer in his voice.
Chestre, a man to be careful of, then.
We reined in, and Raife dismounted, leaving a groom to assist me. I tried to remember where I had heard the name before. Chestre … ah, yes. Ranulf de Gernon, Earl of Chestre, close kin to d’Avranches … and the man who had seized Madog’s wife and son … yes?
For a brief moment I remembered that the Welsh princess might well be secured somewhere close by, then I put all thought of her to one side as Raife brought Chestre over to meet me.
He was a big, dark burly man, reminding me of a bear, with a beard so bushy it kept catching in the fine embroidery of his tunic.
‘Lady Maeb,’ he said, surprising me by leaning forward to kiss me on the lips. ‘The court is happy to welcome a Countess of Pengraic back into the midst of its pleasures. Lady Adelie was always so shy.’
‘My lord earl,’ I said, almost dipping in courtesy until Raife’s fingers tightening about my arm stopped me just as one knee began to bend.
‘Edmond has asked to see you both privately,’ Chestre said, ‘before court commences.’ He glanced at me. ‘He is keen to re-make the countess’ acquaintance.’
Raife slid his arm through mine as we walked toward a wide wooden set of stairs that led from the grass up to an enclosed porch on the first floor of the Tower’s southern wall. We talked of inconsequential things as we walked … the brightness of the sun, a knight who had died yesterday by toppling off the parapets while drunk, the wife of a baron who had just given birth to twins — a remarkable event.
‘I have heard you are breeding yourself, my lady,’ Chestre said as we reached the top of the stairs.
‘Yes, my lord,’ I said.
He glanced at my belly. ‘Well, you are not yet far enough along to keep you from courtly sport,’ he said, and waved us through the doorway ahead, leaving me wondering what he meant.
We entered a great hall running north–south (I discovered later that this was known as the lesser hall). It was a large chamber, easily taking up one half of the entire level, and with twin rows of columns running down either side, creating shadowed aisles. There were several score people inside: knights, guards, serving men, and many nobles and noblewomen. But even this number could not fill the hall, and they were scattered about in groups, talking, playing at dice, drinking, or just sitting on the benches that ran along the walls, looking and noting. There were several fireplaces in the hall, two of them with fires burning, and both of these with small groups standing before them, chatting and laughing.
It did not seem so intimidating after all, and I relaxed a little. Chestre led us down the hall, our way lit by thin shafts of light from the narrow windows and torches on the walls. As we proceeded, individuals and groups stopped chatting and turned to us, bowing and dipping in courtesy as we passed.
Their eyes were watchful, careful.
Raife occasionally acknowledged someone with a nod of his head, but otherwise we passed silently and steadily down the centre of the hall to the end, where Chestre indicated a doorway in the eastern wall of the hall. Just as we reached it I noticed two men standing to one side.
One was Saint-Valery. I had a start of surprise, and he smiled at me, bowing graciously.
I wondered what h
e was truly thinking, seeing me now as Raife’s wife. Perhaps that I had my sights set far higher when he had asked for my hand and that was why I had hesitated over him?
Another man was standing with Saint-Valery. He was very tall, with short-cropped, thick dark hair and a hard face. Unlike everyone else in the hall, he was dressed plainly in a simple white tunic with no embroidery or decoration of any kind.
He stared at me, his eyes hard and uncompromising, and I looked away quickly, grateful for the door.
We walked through into another, smaller chamber and from there Chestre led us to a narrow, dark stairwell in the north-eastern tower. We climbed slowly, emerging into a lovely gallery that overlooked the northern fields. Here we turned almost immediately into a doorway on our left, entering a large chamber that was clearly the king’s privy quarters.
There were perhaps a score of people in this chamber, and, with another start, I recognised Prince Henry among them. He had not seen either Raife or myself, and was standing with another man dressed in a plain white tunic, laughing with him as they drank wine.
Then two of the noblemen in the room moved, and I saw Edmond, sitting in a chair by the fire.
He was looking directly at us, as if he had intuited our entrance the moment we’d stepped through the door.
He rose immediately, waving aside the nobleman he’d been talking to and those who turned to him as he moved toward us.
‘My lord earl,’ he said by way of greeting to Raife, then he turned to me. I dipped low in courtesy, remembering how I’d fallen that day I’d first met the king, and praying my balance would not give way again.
‘My Lady Maeb,’ Edmond said, once more extending his hand to me that I might rise safely.
I looked at him fully, then, the first time I had done so since entering the chamber. He was much the same as the last time I’d seen him, with the short-cropped wiry hair — now with a little grey in it — and the olive-skinned face more suited, I remember thinking from my first glimpse of him, to a more ordinary man. But, as at that first meeting, it proved to be those warm brown eyes that were so compelling.