The Forsaken Monarch Read online

  This Leir is not unlike all his royal brothers, for a king seldom knows what to do with a daughter. A son may be a successor, a foe, a treasure above all else. But a daughter: what is she? At times a tool, at times a burden. She is the last hope if all else should fail, and such was I to my own father, who was bereaved of his prize son, the boy who was born to be king.

  In those days, I waited upon whatever destiny the king saw fit to bestow. A thousand fathers may seek to better their own lot by giving their daughter in marriage, but my father sought to better the lot of a kingdom. And I who felt as distant from him as London is from Jerusalem—I would have to find some way to influence his choice on my behalf. But how could such a thing be done? Who can stem the fury of a Leir?

  Such questions filled my mind continually that spring—that is, when I was not devising some means of speaking with Brian, which was more difficult than you might suppose. We could not even send each other letters or give each other gifts, for those might be discovered. I simply treasured the few moments we had alone together and the amber moth he had granted me in my youth.

  In the week leading up to Saint George’s Day, the court was consumed with preparations for the tournament that would take place in the yard of the palace of Rouen, and all else was thrown aside in pursuit of this one object. Therefore, when upon the morning of the feast I received a knock on the door of my private chamber, I was most pleased to hear one of the ladies declare, “Sir Brian is come to speak with you, my lady.”

  My heart leaped at this announcement, but I attempted to remain calm and not reveal my feelings.

  “Send him in,” I instructed.

  The three other ladies in the room were all seated on the floor stitching flowers on the bottom of a new silk gown the king had allowed me to have made for the feast at no little expense. Meanwhile, I had been sitting on the ledge of one of the two windows in the room, reading some of the poetry of William of Aquitaine to which Brian had first introduced me. I quickly set the book aside and felt my veil to make sure nothing was out of place. As the servant who had originally informed me of his presence entered the room with Brian, I stood and pressed my palms together in the hope of appearing more formal than familiar, not wanting to give the game away. He bowed deeply and we exchanged a smile, though for my part I might have preferred far more.

  “It is good to see you, Sir Brian,” I said.

  “Likewise, Empress Mathilda,” he replied, stepping carefully around the four ladies and their project until he was closer to my position.

  I observed that he was wearing his blue mantle. This was my favorite, both because it gave his appearance a great advantage and because he had worn it the very first evening we danced together in Caen. I might have liked to simply stare at him for a while, but as that would have seemed exceedingly odd to the ladies in the room, I spoke instead.

  “What message do you have for us on this fine day?” I asked him.

  “The king has summoned you.”

  “Oh? To what?”

  “To a meeting—just the two of you. He bids you come now, before the games begin.”

  “I am the king’s servant,” I replied. “Now, if you think it proper, I would speak with you in private, for I have a surprise for the king that I prefer to keep secret.”

  “Certainly,” he said, his face breaking into a smile.

  “Perfect. Ladies, be about your business.”

  To my great relief, none of the four women so much as looked up from their work as Brian opened the door for me and we stepped out into the hall. As soon as the door was shut behind us, I instructed, “Follow me.” We made our way down the stairs in the main tower and out the back door of the palace that led toward the stables, animal pens, and armory. There was a cistern right next to the palace wall, hidden on all but one side by a stone curtain. When I had looked around and ensured that no one was watching, I took his hand in mine and led him to this chosen hiding place.

  “We shouldn’t be seen here as long as we keep our eyes and ears open,” I told him.

  “Thank God for that! I have missed you so!” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

  I placed a hand on his chest to hold him back. “Not half as much as I have missed you, but that is not why we are here.”

  “It’s not? Pity.”

  Poor man! He pulled back a bit, and I could read in his features that he was badly let down.

  I took each of his hands in mine. “I actually wanted to ask you about the king. Do you have any sense of what he wishes to discuss?”

  “I repeated every word he told me. There was nothing more.”

  I considered the matter for a moment. “Brian, can I tell you something in confidence?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have reason to suspect that the queen was struck by someone.”

  “Someone? Meaning the king?” he asked, raising his brows.

  “That is my fear, yes.”

  I had clearly surprised him, but as always, he adopted a careful approach. “What evidence do you have?”

  “The last day of the Easter feast, I saw a bruise on her face. She had attempted to hide it and became quite angry when I looked. She left the room and has avoided me ever since.”

  For a moment, he stared at nothing in particular, as if deep in thought. He then seemed to snap out of it and looked back at me. “Might she have had some accident?”

  “I think not. She would have no reason to hide that.”

  “And you really think it was the king?”

  “Who else could do such a thing without being skinned alive?”

  “But why should he treat her so?”

  “Because she has disappointed him, and he is not the most forgiving of men.”

  “Hmm. It does seem unlikely that anyone else could have wounded her without reprisal,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you believe the queen is in any kind of danger?”

  “Some danger, certainly—how urgent, I cannot say. Should I raise this matter with the king?”

  “Oh, I think that is a bad idea,” he said with conviction. “If his temper is truly as violent as you say, then charging him with his misdeed might only increase his anger and direct it toward yourself.” His grip on my hands seemed to increase just a bit as he said this.

  “It would give him a chance to deny it, if it is not true,” I offered.

  He raised his right hand and ran his fingers through the bits of hair that peeked out from under my veil. I closed my eyes for just a moment, allowing the feeling to sink into my bones.

  “Well, if you seek my advice,” he said, stroking my cheek, “I say let the matter rest for now, until more evidence comes to light.”

  “I suppose that is most prudent. My spirit is troubled though. If he tells me that I am to be sent away from you now, I do not think I could bear it.”

  His brow furrowed a bit as I said this, and he shook his head slightly, as if he refused to accept it. “You would find a way to bear it. I am certain you would.”

  “I just wish …” I began, but found it too difficult to continue. I simply reached out and held him, allowing my thoughts to churn.

  “What is it, my love?” he whispered.

  “I wish that I had the strength to overcome my fear of him: to make known my desires and see them done. When I was a little girl, I simply did as he said. I had no choice. Now even though I am a woman who has ruled in my own right, I doubt he has any regard for my opinions. Add to that his apparent abuse of his own wife, and I cannot help but feel concern. Despite my position, there is little I can do to oppose his will. I do not wish to think ill of my own father. Truly, I do not! He has never caused me physical pain: only pain of the soul. Even so, were I to tell him my desires, I fear what he would say or do.”

  “And what are your desires?” Brian asked, pulling back slightly so he could see my face.

  I might have answered him, but there was a noise and we let go of each other.

  “There you two are!” Earl Robert c
alled out.

  He had evidently seen us as he was walking back into the palace. For a moment, he looked at me and then at Brian, and I greatly feared that he was about to accuse us of something entirely true. However, he did not.

  “Father sent me to find you, Maud. He says that if you choose to follow the example of Queen Vashti and reject his summons, he shall make you share in her fate.”

  “Tell him I am coming,” I replied.

  He then left as quickly as he had come, and Brian and I were once again alone.

  “Do you think he saw anything?” I asked.

  “No, but we ought to be more careful in the future. Come! Let’s get you to the king.”

  “Wait! Before we go, I just—”

  “Just what?”

  Unable to come up with anything better to say, I uttered, “I love you, Brian. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

  “That is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “And you may rest assured that I will love you until I die. Your beauty dazzles me. My soul delights in you. You bring me to life.”

  It seemed terrible to end our conversation there, but we had no choice. He led me out to the stables by the northern wall, where the king was surveying the horses that were to be used in the games. There were ten stalls on either side of an open path, with a wood roof overhead. When we arrived, I thanked Brian and made my way over to the third stall on the right, where my father stood feeding parsnips to one of the beasts. Upon hearing my approach, he looked up from his work.

  “There you are, prodigal daughter!” he said in a rather rough manner, not moving from his work and returning his eyes to the beast instantly. “I thought you might have gotten lost, but then I reasoned that no child of mine could have done such a thing.”

  “You think me free of error?” I asked, stopping a good two paces from where he stood.

  “You have it in you to commit venial sins, but nothing truly heinous: it is not in the nature of noble women, at least not any of our stock.”

  I wondered to myself if he would consider my dalliance with Brian to be truly heinous, but decided not to pursue the idea. In any case, I was happy to accept any praise he might lend me, even if it did flow from ignorance.

  “So what is the horse’s name?” I asked, moving a bit closer.

  “Hal, for he is my other self, the spirit of a king in the king of beasts.”

  “Whatever happened to Merlin?”

  “Merlin?!” he cried with a laugh. “Dead. Stone-dead! That must have happened ten years ago.”

  “Pity! I liked him. I remember Herbert would let me stroke his mane when you were at Westminster.”

  My father shoved two parsnips into the horse’s mouth at once, and the animal seemed to inhale them. “Herbert: there’s another name from the past, and just as dead as the horse! Indeed, it was on account of his profession that he died, for he fell while riding and broke his neck. That about did him in.”

  “Oh no! Did he have any family?”

  My father looked off into the distance for a moment, as if deep in thought, then shrugged and returned to feeding the horse. “Never thought to ask. I cannot keep track of these things! I have a kingdom to maintain.”

  “Very right,” I replied, though I was somewhat appalled that he had failed to note whether this man who had served him for years had anything else in his life. Perhaps the king did not believe there was such a thing as existence outside of his presence.

  “Now, you must be wondering why I called you here,” he stated, interrupting my thoughts.

  I had done more than wonder. I had been afraid since the moment he called me over. I watched as he patted the horse’s nose and then rubbed his hands on his cloak to remove any dirt. My stomach seemed to be forming a knot. Was he about to speak of some possible marriage?

  “I have about given up on my queen,” he said, “if indeed she is a queen, for she has failed in the only duty I ever bestowed upon her, and I could hardly blame someone for thinking that I had not even bedded her, for where is the proof? Yet I have bedded her every chance I have had—unceasingly, with vigor! But though she seemed fair to me at first, now I find her small and weak, as barren as a corpse. And how she cries when we are together! Such weeping, it puts me off my work! As if everything she has was not given to her from my hand! I tell you, daughter, I have begotten as many children as any man I know. I must have one in every county of England and Normandy, so let no man claim that I am impotent!”

  The noise of this declaration was so great that even the resting horses were beginning to stir, the sound of their breathing and neighing adding to the tension of the moment.

  “I truly doubt that anyone is claiming that,” I replied, praying to God that I would not have to hear him discuss this part of his life any longer.

  “Well, if he does, then let him rot, I say!” he declared, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Any woman would count herself blessed to receive my generosity. Except for Queen Adeliza. I have no hope of an annulment, so I must simply endure her. I place my trust in you, my daughter. Swear to me that your womb is fertile!”

  What a demand! Even as he said it, he pointed his finger directly at me, the look on his face utterly serious, although the absurdity of his words made me want to laugh. But I dared not laugh at the king. Having little choice, I said the best thing that came to mind.

  “As fertile as I can make it and as God intends.”

  “Hmm …” he muttered, placing his hands on his hips. “That is not much of an oath, but it will have to do. Now comes the matter of choosing a husband.”

  The dreaded moment had arrived. I held my breath, waiting for my doom to be announced. He began pacing in a small circle, hands clasped behind his back.

  “I have received inquiries from every corner of Christendom. Never you mind who!” Here he shot me a glare as if I had said something particularly rebellious rather than standing there in silence. “Most are of little merit, but a few could prove beneficial. But I will not accept their word on its face—oh no! I have sent forth my ambassadors to seek out the truth of their claims.” He ceased his pacing directly in front of me, placed his left hand firmly on my right shoulder, and said, “Rest easy, Maud! Soon enough, I’ll have you wedded and bedded.”

  Perhaps it seems odd that a man would act in this manner—jesting one moment and blustering the next—but that was my father. He never did anything halfway. There was a recklessness to every aspect of him, which allowed him to speak freely and even absurdly while striking at his enemies in an equally free manner. I certainly did not want to become his enemy: I could endure crude talk, but his aggression would likely be my undoing. Thus, I attempted to arrive at a reply that would achieve what I desired without angering him.

  “There is no need to rush,” I said. “Such matters call for careful consideration, and you will surely wish to take counsel from all the lords of England as well as those here in Normandy.”

  “Yes, and we shall not return until Michaelmas. Therefore, have patience, my daughter!”

  Good, that gives me a bit of time, I thought. My aim was to delay things as long as possible, for that would give me more days with Brian—at least, the few moments of those days that might be afforded us. I say it was my aim, but actually another had been forming in my mind: one that spoke to my very deepest desire. I had been too afraid to mention it before, nor even to acknowledge it fully to myself, but as the king turned his back to me and picked up the bucket to feed Hal again, I summoned as much courage as I could.

  “I wonder, my lord, will you be considering men from our own kingdom?” I asked, taking great care not to betray any particular longing in my tone.

  “Certainly not!” he cried, turning his head toward me even as the horse stuck its nose into the bucket. “What is to be gained from that? You were not born yesterday, so you know that the purpose of marriage is to create alliances with those who might do us good.”

  “Yes, of
course, my king, but is it not also true that the greatest alliances and those of most lasting value are built upon shared aims and principles rather than the convenience of the moment?”

  In desperation, I had actually hit upon a good line of argument. I could see it in my father’s face: he looked slightly confounded, as if it was the first time he had ever heard good sense from a woman. Either that or he had no idea what I was referencing.

  “What is this?” he sputtered. “Something they taught you in the empire?”

  “It is merely my own observation, my king,” I continued, attempting to remain as deferential as possible. “Consider that our great father, Rollo, was wed with a lady of France and gifted the duchy of Normandy in the hope that he would be faithful to Paris, but he was not content to remain a vassal and contended with his former ally on more than one occasion. Therefore, marriage alone does not preserve alliances if there is not that mutual desire that can sustain the union.”

  “I hardly think I need to be taught the rules of government! As I said, leave this matter with me, and I will see to it that we have an alliance that lasts.” Having contented himself that his reason had prevailed over mine, he looked back down at the bucket, which by that point was empty. “Ah, I see there are no more parsnips for Hal. Bid one of the grooms bring me some, then make yourself ready for the tournament.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  As I left, I knew that unlike Saint George, I had not slain the dragon, but I hoped I had laid the seeds that might create a change of heart in my father.

  “Give me the strength of Siegfried, and the cunning of Brünnhilda,” I prayed.

  For years I had treasured the amber moth that Brian gave me as a symbol of home, but in my twenty-fourth year of life, it took on a new meaning. It became a symbol of love: a pure affection that I had only ever received from the woman who bore me, and now I found in a man. How I craved that love! I felt I should become drunk of it and still not be full. When I saw myself through those eyes, I was bolder than ever before, and I believed I might take on the world and win—yes, even my father.