The Forsaken Monarch Read online

  He then returned to his usual upright position and placed his hat back on his head, adjusting one of the flowers, and for the first time I heard him speak.

  “God save King Henry!” he proclaimed, with the same manner of voice I had often heard among men from Anjou or Aquitaine. The tone was neither high nor low, strong nor weak. It betrayed nothing of his feelings.

  “You must be Lord Geoffrey!” said the archbishop of Rouen. “Let me bid you welcome to Rouen and to Normandy!”

  “Thank you,” the young man said, with a slight smile that was almost a smirk. “Your duchy is very … nice. Very proper.”

  I thought this reply a bit odd, but then again, I was disposed to think ill of him. I also noted that at no point since he had arrived had he given me more than a passing glance, while I seemed unable to look away from the spectacle before me, almost as if I were at a bloody joust.

  The archbishop continued, “Allow me to introduce his grace King Henry of England, Abbot Rainfroy of the monastery of Saint Ouen, Earl Robert of Gloucester, and of course, Her Royal Highness, Empress Mathilda.”

  “Well met, Lord Geoffrey! We are glad to have you among us at last!” the king said, stepping forward.

  The young man clasped arms with the king. I was a bit surprised to see my father raise his right hand and pull the younger man’s face toward himself until their foreheads touched. It was a rather intimate gesture for two people who had just met, and I wondered if the king saw it as a mark of fatherly affinity, as if he hoped that Geoffrey could take the place of William. Perhaps he merely thought it the usual custom in Anjou, but given the look of slight confusion on Geoffrey’s face, I guessed it was not common there either.

  “Tell me, how is your father, Count Fulk?” King Henry asked, as the two men—if indeed they both deserved the title—let go of each other.

  “As well as always,” young Geoffrey replied. “He sends his greeting.”

  “Here is my daughter, your future bride,” my father said, stepping back so he could have a clear view.

  Geoffrey looked me up and down, rather as one might a horse for sale. He took a step closer to me, and his eyes examined my face. However, he said nothing, nor did he smile. I sensed that he was not impressed.

  “Well met, Lord Geoffrey,” I finally said, hoping to break the silence.

  Three of the men with young Geoffrey had by that point walked up behind him, and he turned and whispered something to them. All three nodded with vigor.

  “Thank you, Empress Mathilda,” he finally said to me with a bow of the head. “Thank you, lords of Normandy. We have come to you as soon as we could. This is the bishop of Angers and the bishop of Le Mans.”

  I felt compelled to engage him further. After all, this young man was to be my husband. I chose a subject that seemed in line with custom.

  “Did you have a pleasant journey?” I asked.

  Young Geoffrey made no answer, but simply shrugged his shoulders. The man in secular garb behind him then stepped forward and spoke.

  “Our journey was most pleasant, Your Highness. You must forgive Lord Geoffrey. We have ridden many miles, and he is tired.”

  “And who are you?” I asked.

  “Hugh of Durtal, my lady. I serve as chancellor. Count Fulk was most sorry that he could not be with us today, but he is just completing his affairs in Anjou, and will be present for your wedding day in the next few weeks—that is, before he departs for his own.”

  “Yes, we can discuss that inside. Come, we have plenty of food made ready!” the king said.

  As we all turned and entered the palace, I muttered to myself in the English tongue in order to avoid being understood. All I knew of it I learned from my mother, and she never used the words that might have been most helpful in that moment. How fortunate then that I remembered my German!

  “What are you saying, sister?” Robert asked.

  “Never you mind,” I replied.

  Young Geoffrey was walking beside the king, shaking his hair back and forth like a fool.

  God damn you, William Clito! I thought. This is no lion! He is half cock and half ass!

  Ever since the White Ship went down along with all our fortunes, King Henry of England had desired three things above all else. First, he wished to have the marriage alliance with Anjou restored to Normandy. Second, he wished to have a son restored to himself. The king was now to have both his wishes granted through my marriage to Geoffrey of Anjou. Not only would it ensure the Norman union with that county, but my father would once again have a son to mold after his own image.

  This is how things might have appeared, but the truth was less clear. To start with, Geoffrey of Anjou was no William Ætheling. He was not of the same flesh and blood, nor was he likely to share the Norman view of the world. He would have the interests of his own house to defend. Second, it was not certain how much of a son Geoffrey would be, for there was some debate even in those early days over whether he was a true heir of King Henry.

  That Geoffrey and I were to be joint rulers upon my father’s death, no one disputed, but as is so often the case with legal matters, there was much disagreement as to what that actually meant. You need not doubt my opinion: the lords of England and Normandy had sworn to me before the marriage was ever announced. They were not asked to make such an oath to young Geoffrey when we were betrothed. Therefore, although my future husband would likely play some role, authority would lie with myself and our children, if indeed we were able to have children. Needless to say, the Angevins always saw things differently, and in the interest of ensuring the match, King Henry did his utmost to avoid lending clarity to the matter.

  Thus, as the day drew near for young Geoffrey to be made a knight, to be quickly followed by our wedding, there was as much unknown as known. This is all without mentioning the war that continued in Flanders, which filled our thoughts daily. On account of the fighting, neither Count Stephen of Boulogne nor Countess Mathilda would be in attendance. I am sure that pleased them both, for they despised the Anjou alliance. I only wished that I could be absent as well.

  On the eve before the knighthood ceremony, we were all packed into the small chapel of Saint Romain within the palace walls for a vigil led by the king’s chaplain, Adalulf. The young Geoffrey was then left alone to spend the night fasting and praying. The rest of us did exactly the opposite, engaging in much feasting and mirth. Of course, there was little mirth on my part, for I had still found nothing to love in young Geoffrey, his charms with the ladies notwithstanding. The only good thing I could say for him was that he seemed to be a good rider. The rest of the women at court, on the other hand, were quite taken with him, and were he not ensured a marriage with myself, I am certain he might have had his pick. I cared less about his appearance and more about his inner person: would he be a good husband and father? Of this I was less certain.

  The following morning, after young Geoffrey had purified himself and been clothed in his knightly garments, he set out for the cathedral of Rouen accompanied by his two sponsors: William de Warenne, earl of Surrey, and Earl Robert of Gloucester. I had gone ahead to the cathedral before him in the company of the king and queen, but I could still hear the cheers of the crowd as they made their way to the front gate. I stood at the front of the nave with the queen, while the king stood next to the archbishop just above the altar steps. We all turned to watch Geoffrey’s entrance.

  The great doors at the opposite end of the nave were opened, and Geoffrey of Anjou made the long walk toward the altar, where his vestments stood ready to receive him. He was a rather magnificent figure that day with his red robe and locks of the same color. On this occasion, it was appropriate for him to look so grand, but I could not help but think that Father Adalulf, whom I had once heard deliver a passionate sermon against the long hair favored by some noble men, might have loved to take the knight’s sword and offer that hair as a sacrifice to the Almighty. That might have amused me; however, it was not to be. The procession stopped at the e
nd of the aisle, just in front of the altar, which is to say directly next to us. The two patrons stood in front of young Geoffrey, with two other nobles carrying the train of his robe.

  “My lords,” the earl of Surrey called out, “we present to you His Excellency, Geoffrey of Anjou, son of Count Fulk V of Maine and Anjou, descendant of Emperor Charles the Great, who has come this day to be knighted.”

  “Lord Geoffrey,” the archbishop asked, from his position near the altar, “are you willing to take your vows this day as a knight in the service of King Henry of England, duke of Normandy?”

  “I am,” he replied softly but with conviction.

  The young Geoffrey then climbed the three stairs carefully and knelt before the altar as his sword and shield were blessed by the archbishop of Rouen. The vestments were then handed to the king and the oath was recited.

  “I swear before Almighty God that I will faithfully serve King Henry of England, lord of all Normandy, giving due obedience to the same, that I will not keep company with traitors, nor commit evil in word or deed, but safeguard the helpless, observing all the commands of our Lord Jesus Christ, and doing justice by the oppressed. I make this pledge of my own free will.”

  Something then happened that neither Geoffrey nor any of the Angevins foresaw. It is the tradition in many parts of this world for the lord to tap the knight on the cheek with the flat of his sword, or perhaps on the shoulder. But the Norman lords never do things halfway, and as I watched my father step forward, I remembered the story of what my grandfather William had done when he knighted his son, and I was certain that King Henry was about to do the same. Sure enough, the king lifted his hand and struck the knight on the side of the face, hard enough that the sound could be clearly heard. I was seated in just the right position to see the expression on Geoffrey’s face when this happened, and to say he was displeased would be putting it mildly. His face was turned away from the king because of the blow, and his eyes were wide, nostrils flaring, lips almost clenched together. After a few seconds, he seemed to gain control again, and made to continue with the ceremony.

  Fortunately, the rest of it went well, and for the first time I had a small amount of respect for Geoffrey, who despite his plain frustration continued on as if nothing odd had happened. He was given his spurs, sword, and shield by the two earls, and was then proclaimed to be Sir Geoffrey, knight in the king’s service. It occurred to me that the two of us were in the same position: we were both being forced to go through with a marriage although we were not entirely happy with the choice of spouse. More than that, we were both forced to act happy about it. It was not much to have in common, but it was something.

  Once the ceremony was completed, we all moved back to the palace yard for the tournament. Stands had been built on either side of a course for tilting, and they were covered in bright banners bearing the symbols of Normandy and Anjou. A chain of tents was set up around the course for the preparation of the riders, while the horses were lodged in the stables north of the palace.

  At the queen’s suggestion, I walked back to where the knights were gathering to wish young Geoffrey good luck. Whether or not I actually wished him to have good luck was perhaps an open question, for were he to fall and break his neck, I might escape the marriage yet. However, I knew that as much as I may have loathed that young man, I needed to make the best of the situation. If we could learn to be allies, then at least we might produce heirs to the throne and thus provide for the security of England and Normandy. Were I to give birth, I might finally gain the respect of my father, or at least have a greater sense of purpose for myself. In any case, it was all I had left to hope for after those I loved were taken from me along with my freedom. But oh, the thought of having to lie with him! I would have as soon bedded a hog, which I suppose makes sense, since my new husband had something of that nature about him.

  I made my way to the tents that were set up near the gardens. The largest and grandest of these was being used to dress my future husband in armor for the tournament. When I arrived near the entrance of the tent, I was surprised to see that I was not the first person to wish the knight well. In addition to his squire and groom, Sir Geoffrey was joined by a lady, the daughter of some minor lord. Geoffrey was already clothed in armor save for his helm, and the two of them were conversing while the other men were busy putting things away. Rather than making my presence known, I remained out of sight just outside the tent so that I might hear their conversation, for I was curious to see how the young man would act when the lords of the kingdom were not about to set the fear of God in him.

  “What is that on your shield?” the fawning maiden asked.

  “Three lions. It was the symbol chosen for me by the king,” he responded.

  “How magnificent! Is that real gold?”

  “The very finest,” the boy crowed.

  I do believe that I rolled my eyes at that remark. I wanted very much to see what was happening as well as hear it, but I was afraid that if I peeked, I might give myself away.

  “My lord, shall I go with William to tend to your horse?” one of the men asked.

  “Yes, tell the beast I look forward to riding him!” young Geoffrey replied.

  I suddenly recognized that they were coming my way and I would need to hide, but there was no good place to go. Fortunately, as the men walked out of the tent, they threw open the flap. It hit me in the face, stunning me but also concealing me for the space of a moment. As soon as they were gone and I had recovered from the sudden blow, I heard the maiden say, “You know, my lord, if you wished it, you could ride me.”

  Oh! Apart from being utterly repugnant, that was not even close to clever! I had it in mind to storm in and beat that whore to the ground, but I was more interested in hearing the response of the man I was to marry. As it turned out, he said nothing—at least, nothing I could hear. Well, that silence was enough to drive me mad! I pulled back the cloth just enough to peek inside, and what I saw rather alarmed me: she was kissing him all over, as if she were some wild beast.

  “Stop this!” he said, pushing her back.

  “But why? Do you not like my kisses?” she whined.

  “I have to joust,” he told her.

  “But sir, will you not wear my colors?” she pleaded. “My love will bring you good fortune!”

  “Madam, please, go and watch the tournament.”

  “Will I see you tonight?” she asked.

  Say no, you fool! I thought.

  “Speak with my man. He will take care of you,” he said, then left the tent so fast that I was forced to run around the corner to be out of sight. I glanced back carefully, just in time to see him begin a new conversation.

  “Who was that?” the squire asked him, having just returned from his duties.

  “Some local of little significance,” young Geoffrey said. “She begs to share my bed, but I’ll not have her. She lacks a thing or two, if you take my meaning.”

  Even as they walked off laughing, I turned the other way and saw the lady slipping out the back. I was not so very wounded by the possibility that I did not have the love of Geoffrey of Anjou. After all, he certainly did not have mine. It was the utter lack of respect that so deeply offended me, both on his part and on hers. Without giving the matter much consideration, I rounded the corner and caught her off guard.

  “Stop right there!” I called.

  She turned and looked at me, then quickly bowed upon recognizing who I was.

  “Empress Mathilda!” she cried. “I did not see you there!”

  “Yes, you will find that I am often where you least suppose,” I said. “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Margaret, daughter of the lord of—”

  “Really, you must forgive me, Margaret. I don’t actually care who you are, for I know what you are: a rotting whore! You are not to see Lord Geoffrey again. Do you understand?”

  “But my lady, what if he wishes to speak with me?”

  I honestly could not believe th
at she would ask such a question. Who did she think she was speaking to? I was not about to advise her on how to proposition the man to whom I was betrothed! I took a step closer to her and looked down at her with a firmness of will. She was shorter than me, and indeed she seemed to become shorter with every second she spent under my gaze.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Then if you wish to make it to sixteen, do as I command. From this moment on, you are to stay where you belong: far below my notice or that of anyone else. I will not have you corrupting Sir Geoffrey, but more to the point, I will not allow you to dishonor me in such a way! I am an empress and the daughter of a king! You do not dishonor me! Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lady,” she said quietly, her eyes by that point wide with fear.

  “Now, get out of my sight!”

  “Yes, my lady!”

  Once she had run off, I turned and made my way back to the lists, taking my seat on the platform next to Queen Adeliza. She looked at me and smiled.

  “How did it go? Did you give your colors to Lord Geoffrey?”

  “I would have, but it turned out someone else beat me,” I replied.

  “What?! Who would dare do such a thing?”

  “Oh, she did far more than that!” I replied with a laugh. “She offered him her body as well.”

  “And what did he do?”

  “He refused.”

  “Well, at least there’s that!” she said, the expression on her face oddly hopeful.

  I shook my head and cast my eyes forward. “He only refused because she was common, plain, or both. I have little doubt that he would have taken her to bed were she more to his liking.”

  “You cannot know that for sure. Take care that you do not poison this marriage before it begins.”

  “How is this my fault?” I objected, snapping my head back in her direction. I am sorry to say that I glared at her.

  She cast her eyes down and raised her hands with palms downward, as if hoping to temper my fury. “I am not saying that it is your fault, but if he denied her attentions, then he did as much as he could have.”