Threads of Treason (3 page)

‘
I may have brought you to your death, child.’

‘
I will say an extra rosary for good measure.’ Therese smiled to herself. She was beginning to sound like Sister Miriam.

‘
To be sure,’ agreed the Abbess and she returned her attention to the sky.

Chapter 2

Normandy

Odon de Bayeux came out of the chapel. He was energised and comforted by his prayers. Today would be a better day. The rising sun brightened the host of painted angels on the wall. The birds captured by the artist flew among the heavenly creatures and Odon fancied they sang with the voices of the birds outside.

Feet fell on the stone corridor beyond the turning ahead of him. They took him back to his youth, when his mother’s other, elder son was already Duke of Normandy. The young Duke William would run with the same step as that which approached him now. The owner of the steps came around the bend and halted in front of him. Robert. He could see the likeness to his father in his steady eyes and strong limbs, but there was a gentleness about him that was not like his father and a laugh which could only have been inherited from his mother, Queen Mathilde.

‘
Uncle, you will risk my father’s ire coming here,’ Robert said with a frown. ‘I am already virtually an outcast.’

‘
I have risked King William’s anger more than once, Robert. But it is always a pleasure to see my nephew.’

‘
Being my father’s half-brother does not make you untouchable, Uncle. He is just as likely to throw you into prison as a plundering Dane.’

‘
You have fought him yourself, Robert.’

‘
Only because he gave me the Dukedom of Normandy but will not let me rule in my own right.’ Robert looked out of the window. ‘You have always fought alongside him.’ He turned to face him. ‘So how many sons have struck their own fathers in battle?’

‘
He has learnt to give you some distance,’ said Odon.

‘
Yes, but I have even fought for him in the North of England – as you well know – and still he will not let me rule Normandy.’

‘
You will. He has promised.’ Odon could see that Robert was turning to his old grievances.

‘
I might as well not be the eldest son. He will not name me as his successor to the English throne. He is saving that for Rufus. He is always with my father, but I have to spend most of my time here, powerless. Even Henry gets all that he asks for.’

‘
Stay your hand, Robert. Your little brother Henry is barely more than a child. He is no challenge to you. And you are not at war with your father now. Let this amnesty breathe awhile so peace may have a life.’

‘
I’ve not come for your advice, Uncle. I have come to advise you. You know my father expects you to be in England.’

‘
Protecting the South coast from the Danes. I know, I know. Like you I am a caretaker King for a king that makes endless war. And, like you, I grow weary of the demands. I have been a warrior for him, but he also appointed me Bishop and that is where I see my future now.’

‘
He will not appoint you Archbishop of Canterbury. The monk Lanfranc holds that post.’ There was a teasing glint in Robert’s eye.

‘
And I do not want it, Robert, no matter how much that old Italian monk vexes me. Bishop of Bayeux is status enough for me. Once I have completed my present task I will settle to the holy life.’

‘
You have not settled to it before,’ said Robert with a grin.

‘
Robert, that is no way to address a Bishop,’ smiled Odon.

‘
The only person who can speak to you thus is my father, the King,’ conceded Robert.

‘
One day you may have that right, Robert, but not now.’

Robert looked back out of the window and Odon could not fathom the young man’s thoughts. But he was already more than a young man, twenty-seven. Uncles can so easily forget such things. Odon scolded himself and set to take his leave when Robert caught his arm. There was a sudden loss of loneliness in his hold, as if the same blood coursed through their bodies.

‘
Edgar the Aethling has aligned himself to me,’ said Robert.

‘
To have the backing of an Anglo-Saxon with his own rights to the English throne is very dangerous,’ warned Odon.

‘
You have your own enemies Uncle. I will not tell the King you are here, but you can be sure there will be both Normans and clergy as well as Anglo-Saxons ready to betray you.’

‘
I will be careful, Robert. You know my loyalties rest with you, but for now trust me, as I trust you to do what is right.’

‘
There was one last thing, Uncle,’ said Robert. A smile robbed his face of its concern. ‘Mother wants to see you before you leave.’

Queen Mathilde sat at her embroidery caught in the light from her window.

‘
I must stitch in the good light, Bishop. My eyes are not what they were. My ageing has been worth it though for I have a strong King, fine sons, beautiful daughters and I am Queen of England. How does that sound to you?’

‘
The Archbishop of Canterbury would caution you against pride, Your Majesty.’

‘
Archbishop Lanfranc is a holy man,’ said the Queen. ‘And you, brother-in-law, what would you caution me against? The power of my men folk? Do you think my husband too hard on the rabble of England, Odon?’

‘
I am always in the fullest recognition of King William’s greatness.’ Odon bowed.

‘
There may be a time, Odon, when rulers will not need to be hard on their enemies to command respect, but that time has not come yet.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Can you imagine being a Duke from the age of eight with everyone trying to take your Dukedom from you. It has made King William a strong and ruthless man.’ Her voice trembled with admiration. ‘Do you think he would still be King if he was not?’

‘
No, Your Majesty.’ The Bishop bowed to her and knew that she was right.

She waved her hand as if dismissing all that had just been said. ‘Bishop,’ she said softly, ‘you are concerned about a vast wall-hanging you have commissioned to honour our King, I understand.’

‘
With respect, Your Majesty, I am surprised you have come to learn of the reasons for my visit.’ Odon felt a shiver of worry cross his shoulders. Secrecy, it was his code, and yet still the Queen could find out so much. If she could find out about his problems, who else might know?

‘
My nuns hear whispers, how can they not?’

Odon wrestled with the thought that his own people could gossip so loosely.

‘
And don’t look like that. It was not your Abbess Eleanor who told me.’

He straightened his face, but still could not hide his concern.

‘
Nor was it your little Therese. You dispatched them both to England so quickly no-one could have got a word out of them.’

‘
What do you know of Therese?’

‘
Enough.’

‘
You will not tell the King about her, will you?’

‘
Your secret is safe with me. He might think you weak for saving a baby, especially one that should have been slain.’

‘
No-one in England would call me weak, Your Majesty.’

‘
Even the mighty Odon cannot guarantee her safety in England.’

‘
I know that, but I will soon be there myself to protect her.’

‘
You should have gone with her yourself.’

‘
England is such hard work. I needed time away.’ Odon helped himself to a seat and sunk down in it. She did not make him move.

‘
I have not called you here to squabble, my husband’s brother.’ And she smiled. A little light caught her eye and his temper and tiredness melted. ‘I have also come here,’ she continued, ‘to see Robert. The King need not know that either of us have visited his wayward son.’ She raised her eyebrows at him, indicating the trust they now shared. ‘I have a little ruse in mind to protect your embroidery, your great English work.’

‘
What is that, Your Majesty?’

‘
You may put it about that I am making it here in Normandy.’ The Queen’s smile broadened to embrace her whole face. Odon smiled in reply, wondering how much she knew of the enterprise.

‘
Stop fussing, Odon. I do not know where it is and if I did, why would I want any harm to come to this wonderful tribute to my King?’

Odon was alarmed, as he always was, at how well she read him. Her face beamed, then a chuckle started somewhere deep inside her and rocked her until she openly laughed.

Odon laughed with her. Recovering slightly, he managed to say, ‘I will start the rumour immediately.’

‘
And so shall I,’ said Queen Mathilde. And then laughter overtook them both.

Eastern Normandy

Edgar Aethling put down the letter from his sister, Christina. This would be an appropriate time to visit her in her convent in England beyond Winchester at Wilton and then he would travel around the coast and go on to Dunfermline to see Margaret, the Queen of Scotland. He was delighted with his elder sister’s brood. Children of his own would be out of the question, but his bloodline could still sit on the throne of England with some tact and cunning. He would leave his small eastern corner of Normandy very quietly.

Kent, England

The Abbess strained her neck as she stood on the wagon seat to view the countryside around her. She addressed the wagoner. ‘We are not taking the right road, Thorkell. I said I wanted to go the most direct route and that is across country, not by way of the coast.’

Therese knew Abbess Eleanor spoke English, but it was strange to hear her speak it outside the abbey, where she had learnt the language from her.

‘
That is not the safest way,’ said Thorkell in a strong local accent. ‘We are better to go along to Dover and then up Watling Street. It was the King’s own route when he arrived in England. There are more folk that way.’

‘
There is a Roman road through the woods to Canterbury. It is part of the Abbey’s land. We will take it.’

‘
It is more dangerous, Abbess,’ said the Thorkell.

‘
It is a shorter distance. Sir Gilbert will be with us, we need not fear. Speed is essential.’

Thorkell shook his head and drove his pair of mules on up the hill away from the coast and the moonlight playing on the sea. Therese turned away from the sea too. The knight set off ahead of the cart to check that the way was clear, but Sir Gilbert’s horse was used to a faster pace and he was soon lost from view. He turned back to check on them from time to time, but he was often out of sight. The wagoner muttered endlessly about the loneliness of the route, how much better a surface the coast road had, and how many more places there were that way for gaining refreshment. Therese heard him mutter, ‘Fools,’ as he stopped the cart at the junction to the Roman road.

‘
What are you doing?’ asked the Abbess.

‘
Protecting myself,’ replied Thorkell, cutting a branch from an oak tree there.

‘
Sir Gilbert does not know we have stopped. We must move on immediately,’ said the Abbess.

He nodded in acceptance of her demand but gave one last longing look back towards the coast and trimmed his branch to make a club.

‘
Quick!’ demanded Abbess Eleanor.

‘
I need it. It is not safe down there.’ Tucking the club down beside him, Thorkell urged the mules on.

The road made a sharp turn and Therese saw, by the light of the moon, the downlands below her. The roman road cut straight into woodland and was lost among the trees. Wings rushed by her face. It was an owl flying up beside her. She looked again at the woodland but the moon was hidden by cloud and the view was in darkness.

‘
Take some rest,’ the Abbess told her, and she settled down among the sheaves of hay and straw left from the wagon’s former loads.

Sleep came, but from time to time something would wake her, but she didn’t know what. She would reach out as if something should be there, but there was nothing, not even the memory of anything. When she awoke she would notice how rough the road was and wondered if the noises she heard in the forest were really the spirits of Romans marching beside her. She liked this image. It was one of protection. Thorkell was clearly less happy with these noises and looked round like a man expecting his death. He urged his mules on.

Hooves clattered on the stony path ahead. Therese reached out to the Abbess. Surely she could not be sleeping? But, no, when she touched her she heard the mutter of prayer and withdrew her hand. Ahead, Sir Gilbert’s grey horse stood across the road. On seeing them Sir Gilbert swung his horse around and came up beside the Abbess. She continued to pray.