The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [95]
“What a joyful reunion that was! What a day! After that night of adventure to come to this. I shall never forget that descent on ropes down to the cold ice; and then to come here and find my boy waiting for me . . . it was wonderful.” She smiled and the softening of her face was remarkable. “Just a boy . . . but ready to fight. You know the power of him. He only has to appear to make you feel that because he has come all will be well. Do you feel that too, my dear?”
I nodded, feeling too moved to speak.
“I think you know the rest. It is common knowledge. Robert brought up my boy to be a soldier, but my cause was a lost one. The people of England had rejected me . . . and they would continue to do so. I might be the King’s daughter, but to them I was a German and they do not like Germans. Stephen, for all his weaknesses, was preferable.
“My brother Robert was very wise. He knew that further fighting could only bring us defeat, and I could not hope for more miraculous escapes. I had been lucky to have achieved that twice. It would be tempting fate, said Robert, to hope for more. But he had great belief in Henry. ‘One day,’ he said, ‘he will take what is his but we must wait for that day.’ I knew he was right and I believed that although the people of England would not accept me, when the time came they would take Henry.
“There was nothing vindictive about Stephen . . . nor about his wife. They wanted peace. She was a deeply religious woman; he was easy-going. That was well for us. I stayed in England for five years after that, living mostly at Gloucester or Bristol. And meanwhile Henry was growing up . . . learning to become a soldier. Robert took charge of his education, too. I have Robert to thank, in part, that Henry is the man he is today.”
“And it has all worked out well. England will one day be Henry’s.”
“With no more fighting. When Stephen dies . . .”
“That cannot be very long now,” I said.
“Five years . . . ten years. In the meantime Henry has a great deal to look after here. There will always be vassals ready to seize opportunities to rebel. But I thank God that in time he will be King of England.”
The bond between us was growing stronger. She had shown me a vulnerable side to her nature which few saw. In her turn she understood my feelings for Henry, and each day she let me know in many ways how contented she was with the match.
She was delighted when I was able to tell her that I was pregnant once more.
“You will be the mother of many sons,” she said, and she embraced me warmly. “Sons,” she went on. “Although I deplore this denigration of our sex, what power they bring to a family.”
“I wish William’s health was better.”
She nodded gravely. “You will soon have others, my dear. The only way to guard against sorrow in one’s children is to have a quiverful.”
Now our talk was all of babies. I often smiled to think of two women such as we completely absorbed in this domestic talk.
It was October. Henry had not yet returned when a messenger arrived at the castle. He came from the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Stephen had died unexpectedly of a flux. Henry, Duke of Normandy, was now King of England; and it was imperative that he cross the sea at once and lay claim to his kingdom.
Messages were immediately sent to Henry. He came to Rouen without delay. There was no time for anything but intensive preparation. He was taking an army with him, for how did he know what he would find on the other side of the Channel?
“You must come with me,” he said. “You must be crowned with me. A king is not a king until he has been crowned.”
Matilda’s eyes were shining with