The Winter Mantle (47 page)

Seeing her, the enormous baron ceased talking. The look he sent her was shrewd and for a moment lustfully appreciative. Simon turned. A frown flickered briefly and was gone. Holding out his hand, he drew her to his side.

'May I introduce my wife, Matilda, daughter of Waltheof of Huntingdon,' Simon said. 'Matilda, this is Hugh Lupus, Earl of Chester. Hugh's mother and your grandmother Adelaide are half-sisters, so you are cousins of a degree.'

Leaning forward, Hugh Lupus kissed Matilda loudly on both cheeks. 'And delighted I am to greet you… cousin,' he declared salaciously.

The smell emanating from the man was almost overpowering - sweat and scented oil in equal proportions that almost made her heave. His lips were wet and red and somehow slightly obscene.

'A rare beauty you have there, Simon, look at those Viking bones.' Stepping back, Hugh Lupus eyed her up and down as if she were a brood mare at Smithfield horsefair. 'You must be glad her mother rejected you, eh?'

Simon said nothing, but Matilda did not sense any anger as there had been when confronting the Montgomery clan. Indeed, there appeared to be a glint of wry amusement in his eyes. 'Overjoyed,' he said dryly.

'And you should count your blessings too, lass,' Hugh Lupus added, wagging a sausage-thick forefinger at Matilda. 'Simon is one of the best.'

'I only have to look around me to know that, my lord… with all respect,' she said a trifle tartly.

Hugh Lupus threw back his head and gave a great, wheezy laugh. 'Beauty and spirit,' he said. 'Almost makes me wish I had been sent to Northampton in your stead, Simon.'

'Since you're her cousin, and a man already wed into the bargain, I doubt you would have had much success,' Simon retorted.

'I seldom let such trifling matters stand in my way.' Slapping Simon on the shoulder with sufficient force to make him stagger, and winking broadly at Matilda, he went on his way.

Matilda gave a small shudder of relief. Her cousin or not, she thought she would prefer him to keep his distance. 'I was worried about you,' she said.

He turned to her, his breath a coil of white vapour in the freezing air. 'Without cause. All I needed was a moment to recover.'

'You didn't get it though.'

He pulled her against him and slipped his hands beneath her mantle to find hers and grasp them. 'Mayhap not, but Hugh Lupus is an old acquaintance. We understand each other, and he too has no love for the Montgomery clan.'

'Why do they bait you?'

He twitched his shoulders. 'I have never been at odds with the father Roger de Montgomery - until recently, but I have always had small tolerance for his son Robert and he for me. He takes men's weaknesses and mocks them. From boyhood, it has ever been his pleasure to inflict pain.' His eyelids tightened. 'I have been on campaigns with him and seen what he does to prisoners. Where there is war, there is death, I accept that; I am not a soft-hearted fool. But sparing men on the battlefield in order to torture them at leisure and for sport is a different matter.'

'Robert de Bêlleme does that?' Matilda remembered the arresting pale-grey eyes and shivered.

'And more. Your father stood up to him once on my behalf, and after that De Bêlleme did everything in his power to harm your father's standing with King William.'

Matilda bit her lip. 'And now will he harm your standing with the new king?' she asked.

Simon shook his head and began to walk along the pathway between the buildings, the way through the shadows illuminated by star and torchlight. 'Not in the least,' he said. 'Rufus views the Montgomery family with suspicion, and rightly so. The Conqueror might have bequeathed this kingdom to his namesake son on his deathbed, but his eldest, Robert, claims that it should have been his.'

Matilda nodded. 'And the Montgomery's support Robert's claim. Ranulf de Tosny told me.'

Simon sighed. 'They have been reticent on the matter thus far, but their leanings are common knowledge. It is also common knowledge that Odo of Bayeux supports his eldest nephew's claim. I do not believe he is at court now to make peace with Rufus, but rather to stir up support for Robert. I have no doubt that before the twelve nights are out I will be approached and asked to change my loyalty. That was what Hugh and I were talking about when you came upon us.' He rubbed his palms over his face and pressed his fingertips against his lips.'

'What is Robert of Normandy like?' Matilda gave him a look filled with curiosity.

'Pleasant, good-humoured, indolent. He is skilled with a sword and lance - a fine soldier, if not a fine general.' He returned her look. 'What are you thinking?'

'I was wondering if he would make a more fitting king than Rufus,' she said. 'After all, Robert is the eldest son, and Rufus is…' she paused, searching for a diplomatic word.

'A buffoon,' Simon finished for her. 'A coarse, loud clown with a weakness for handsome young men and the clothes of a quean.' They paused at the river's edge to watch the lapping sparkle of black water, reflected torchlight quivering on its surface. 'You are not alone in your wondering,' he said, 'but anyone who has glimpsed beyond the first impression will know that Rufus is by far the better choice for England. Robert talks, but Rufus acts. Robert can fight, but Rufus is the better general and he has a superior grasp of the day to day task of ruling. Robert would promise all to everyone, do nothing and this land would dissolve into chaos.'

'So why do such as Bishop Odo and the Montgomerys support him?'

'To their own ends. Chaos and the wherewithal to go their own way would suit them very well. They would be able to create their own little kingdoms.'

Matilda absorbed this and eyed her husband thoughtfully. 'But do you not desire a small kingdom for yourself too?'

'I have as much as I need and at the King's gift,' he said. 'To take more would only be biting off more than I could chew. Believe me, my love, Rufus is by far the better king. Hugh thinks so too, and since his lands border those of Montgomery he will be a check to their ambition.' He stooped to pick up a stone from the path and throw it into the water. There was a splash and torchlit ripples shimmered towards their feet.

'You become accustomed to negotiating the difficult waters of the court,' Simon murmured. 'The rules for survival are to say little and observe everyone listen to what they say, both with their voices and their bodies, watch with whom they associate, and talk with the servants who are in a position to know what goes on behind locked doors.'

'You do all this?'

'When I am at court — yes.'

Matilda made a face.

'It is a skill to be learned like any other.' He faced her. 'Those who master it prosper, those who do not struggle. When you dwell at court for a long time it becomes a part of your nature. My father was King William's chamberlain and I learned the skills early. Your father did not have them, nor did he wish to learn. Fie took every man and woman as he found them, and in the end his trust was his downfall. He had no shield and they cut him down.'

Matilda shivered. The words found a hollow place within her stomach and lodged there like a leaden weight.

'And what if Robert's faction prevails?' she asked. 'What if they cut you down too?'

He raised his hand to stroke her cheek. 'Robert's faction will not prevail,' he said. 'And much as I loved and respected your father, I am not him.'

Matilda laid her fingers over his, but she could take no comfort from his warmth, for the winter evening had set a bone-deep chill over everything and her flesh was numb. She remembered her father telling her that all would be well, and that it had been a lie, because nothing had been well from the moment he rode out. Now Simon, in his own way, was asking her to trust him. But if she did, would she be paid in false coin and one day find herself abandoned to face the world alone?

Simon looked at her shrewdly. 'Come,' he said, 'let us go within. At least, whatever the company, the braziers are warm. Besides,' he added, trying for lightness, 'I would leif as not leave your sister in Ranulf de Tosny's care for too long a time.'

Matilda smiled, but it was only a token stretching of the lips. The sooner they were away from court, the better, she thought, and for the first time in her life she found herself sympathising with her mother.

Nunnery of Elstow, July 1088

The nuns were harvesting blackcurrants in the gardens beyond the west wall of the chapel. Matilda itched to join them and indulge in the satisfaction of plucking the ripe shiny fruits from the bushes, but that was servant's work, and since she was on her mother's territory she was doing her best to abide by her mother's rules. Relations between her and Judith were tepid, but Matilda had made the effort to bridge the chasm opened up by her marriage to Simon, and to her surprise her mother had built the foundations of a bridge on her own side of the divide. They would never be close, but at least they were on speaking terms.

She was not the only visitor to Elstow on this bright summer afternoon. Her grandmother, the formidable Countess Adelaide of Aumale, had been dwelling in the guesthouse for the past month, attended on by a host of servants and nuns. She was suffering from severe joint ache in her hipbones and could only get about with the aid of a walking stick and the support of a sturdy maid. The pain and the inconvenience had sharpened her naturally irascible temper until it was like a new blade.

So then,' she said, looking Matilda up and down, 'all praise be to God that you carry a child in your belly. I was beginning to wonder if De Senlis had empty seed sacks.'

Matilda flushed and pressed the flat of her hand against her stomach. 'I am glad for your concern, belle mere,' she murmured, 'but there is no cause.' She was entering her fourth month of pregnancy. The sickness had recently abated and the exhaustion of the early months had been replaced by a feeling of wellbeing and energy. Hence she had felt suitably fortified to pay a visit to Elstow whilst Simon was absent on the King's business.

'Hah, being forced into marriage with a cripple is more than enough cause,' Adelaide snapped.

'Simon is not a cripple, and I was not forced,' Matilda said with angry indignation. 'Indeed, I was very willing, and I have not a single cause for regret.'

'Doubtless they will come later,' Adelaide retorted sourly. 'Look at your mother. Hot with lust for your father she was, burning up with it. Nothing would please her but that she had him, and look what happened. Ended up they could not bear the sight of each other.'

'Mother!' Judith said sharply. She had been listening to the exchange though taking no part, but now she launched a protest. 'You are raking over old coals. It is in the past and a matter I would rather you did not discuss.'

'Because it shows your weakness,' Adelaide said. She wagged an admonitory forefinger at her daughter. 'You could have had the cream of the young men of Normandy, but you chose that wastrel Waltheof Siwardsson instead. I always knew it would end in grief.'

'Grief or not, belle mere, his name is revered,' Matilda said fiercely. 'Pilgrims swarm to his tomb, and even Normans say that he was falsely executed. King William himself repented of the deed after it was done.'