personal companion. If this youngster was the current “Rascal,”
then the old one must be dead.
“I lost his great-grandsire in the spring when you were in Normandy.” Her tone held no reproach for his long absence, merely stoic resignation.
“I am sorry.”
She shrugged. “He had lost his hearing and he was blind; it was for the best.” She removed the pup from his arms and cuddled it to her breast.
“All has been well here?”
“Nothing that I or your constable and stewards have been unable to deal with. I would have written if there was trouble.”
He nodded. They exchanged words like polite strangers. He and Maude had been wed for nineteen years and had nothing in common. They did not even have the gift and mutual 42
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upbringing of sons and daughters to bind them together and that likelihood was almost gone, for she was nearly twenty years older than he was and long into her mid-life. She was always keen to try and conceive when he came home, in the same way that she eagerly bred her dogs and her oxen and her cattle, but she led her life at Wallingford and he led his at the court and their worlds seldom collided.
“Well, only the matter of the church at Ogbourne,” she said. “I would like to give it to the monks at Bec.” She set the wriggling little dog on the ground.
“I think it a good idea,” he said as he went to change his thick travelling tunic for a garment of finer, softer wool. “The empress will be pleased; Bec is her favourite priory.” As he spoke of Matilda, warmth filled his stomach.
Maude tilted her head to one side and folded her arms.
“What is she like?”
“Her father’s daughter,” he said. “She does not suffer fools gladly.
She is regal and elegant; truly an empress.” It was useless telling her of Matilda’s vibrancy, of her sharp sparkle and her beauty, because Maude would not understand, and anyway, he wanted to keep such descriptions to himself—like personal treasure.
“Will the king make her his heir?” Without waiting for him to reply she continued, “He must intend to. He has enough daughters born of his concubines to bind men to him in marriage alliances. He needs her for a greater purpose—why bring her back from Germany otherwise?”
Brian nodded. His wife was astute. She might not move in the world of the court, but she was not ignorant. “It is one of his choices,” he said. “But for the moment he is keeping many doors open.”
“He will expect her to breed sons…” Maude’s voice strengthened on the last two words and her expression grew set and forceful.
43
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Elizabeth Chadwick
Brian excused himself before she could begin a long and tedious monologue on the matter of bloodlines: he had business to see to. His constable William Boterel brought him up to date on recent building projects. He examined the seasoned oak delivered for strengthening the castle doors and inspected the store rooms; he discussed supplies and the necessity of providing secure accommodation other than a dungeon for Waleran de Meulan, who was to be kept here as a closely guarded “guest.”
He visited the garrison soldiers and talked to them, then retired to his own chamber to ponder various tallies and charters until the dinner hour. Not once in that time did he think of his wife.
When they met in the great hall to dine, Maude had finally changed her gown for a clean one of plain green wool and she wore a full linen wimple in the English style that framed her wide, round face. Her cheeks, forehead, and chin were rosy as if she had given them a good scrub. As they ate roe deer with wheat frumenty and assorted fungi, she talked to him of the minutiae of her daily existence; he let her conversation flow over him and tried to think of it as soothing rather than as dull as stodge. Maude was a good woman and without their marriage, he would not have all this wealth
then the old one must be dead.
“I lost his great-grandsire in the spring when you were in Normandy.” Her tone held no reproach for his long absence, merely stoic resignation.
“I am sorry.”
She shrugged. “He had lost his hearing and he was blind; it was for the best.” She removed the pup from his arms and cuddled it to her breast.
“All has been well here?”
“Nothing that I or your constable and stewards have been unable to deal with. I would have written if there was trouble.”
He nodded. They exchanged words like polite strangers. He and Maude had been wed for nineteen years and had nothing in common. They did not even have the gift and mutual 42
LadyofEnglish.indd 42
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Lady of the English
upbringing of sons and daughters to bind them together and that likelihood was almost gone, for she was nearly twenty years older than he was and long into her mid-life. She was always keen to try and conceive when he came home, in the same way that she eagerly bred her dogs and her oxen and her cattle, but she led her life at Wallingford and he led his at the court and their worlds seldom collided.
“Well, only the matter of the church at Ogbourne,” she said. “I would like to give it to the monks at Bec.” She set the wriggling little dog on the ground.
“I think it a good idea,” he said as he went to change his thick travelling tunic for a garment of finer, softer wool. “The empress will be pleased; Bec is her favourite priory.” As he spoke of Matilda, warmth filled his stomach.
Maude tilted her head to one side and folded her arms.
“What is she like?”
“Her father’s daughter,” he said. “She does not suffer fools gladly.
She is regal and elegant; truly an empress.” It was useless telling her of Matilda’s vibrancy, of her sharp sparkle and her beauty, because Maude would not understand, and anyway, he wanted to keep such descriptions to himself—like personal treasure.
“Will the king make her his heir?” Without waiting for him to reply she continued, “He must intend to. He has enough daughters born of his concubines to bind men to him in marriage alliances. He needs her for a greater purpose—why bring her back from Germany otherwise?”
Brian nodded. His wife was astute. She might not move in the world of the court, but she was not ignorant. “It is one of his choices,” he said. “But for the moment he is keeping many doors open.”
“He will expect her to breed sons…” Maude’s voice strengthened on the last two words and her expression grew set and forceful.
43
LadyofEnglish.indd 43
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Elizabeth Chadwick
Brian excused himself before she could begin a long and tedious monologue on the matter of bloodlines: he had business to see to. His constable William Boterel brought him up to date on recent building projects. He examined the seasoned oak delivered for strengthening the castle doors and inspected the store rooms; he discussed supplies and the necessity of providing secure accommodation other than a dungeon for Waleran de Meulan, who was to be kept here as a closely guarded “guest.”
He visited the garrison soldiers and talked to them, then retired to his own chamber to ponder various tallies and charters until the dinner hour. Not once in that time did he think of his wife.
When they met in the great hall to dine, Maude had finally changed her gown for a clean one of plain green wool and she wore a full linen wimple in the English style that framed her wide, round face. Her cheeks, forehead, and chin were rosy as if she had given them a good scrub. As they ate roe deer with wheat frumenty and assorted fungi, she talked to him of the minutiae of her daily existence; he let her conversation flow over him and tried to think of it as soothing rather than as dull as stodge. Maude was a good woman and without their marriage, he would not have all this wealth
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