Unfortunately, he hadn’t lived long enough to
see his dream fulfilled, dying the year before Henry had come to
the throne. And then, although Maud had petitioned on behalf of her
six-year-old son, the king never seemed to get around to making a
formal investure. Instead, Hugh was placed in wardship and sent off
to a royal castle to learn arms and Maud herself retired to her
dower land in Gloucestershire. But the dowager countess had refused
to let the matter of the earldoms die a quiet death. She wrote to
Henry with annoying regularity and when Hugh came of age she made
it clear what she expected of him.
And she had also made it clear, over the past
twelve years, that she was disappointed with his failure. She was
staring intently at him now and he just knew that was what was
going through her mind. God, he hated her! There had never been
anything remotely maternal about her. She had despised her husband
because he was a mere earl and her grandfather had been Henry I.
She despised her son because she considered him incompetent. Ranulf
had been the only one who’d ever been able to handle her but that
had been because he’d never taken her seriously. He’d laughed at
her or ignored her as suited him. Hugh wasn’t capable of such
detachment—and suffered for it.
Maud didn’t bother to tilt her cheek for a
prefunctory kiss of greeting and Hugh didn’t even pretend he’d
thought about giving her one. He closed the heavy door to the solar
and stood with his back almost against it, steeled himself and
waited for her to speak first.
After looking him up and down, she said
critically, “You haven’t aged well.”
“I did just spend the last three and a half
years as an unwilling guest of the king, my lady,” Hugh answered
levelly.
His mother frowned at the
title. She preferred ‘Countess’ but Hugh had never indulged her.
“Yes…the war. What
were
you thinking?”
“You know what I was thinking. Getting my
earldoms. The Young King promised them to me.”
Maud sniffed. “And you believed him!”
Her tone was so scornful that Hugh felt the
anger surge up in him. His decision to rebel against Henry had not
been made lightly, but she was making it sound as though he had
been persuaded by nothing more than glittering promises that any
fool ought to have known were hopeless. “Well, Henry never showed
the slightest interest in even discussing the matter!” he
retorted.
“And now he certainly never
will!” she snapped back. “I’m surprised you came to see me after
such a humiliating episode! What do you want? Did you think a few
feminine words would soften the king’s heart? Would sway him?
There’s only one person in the world who can sway him now that his
precious Becket is dead and that’s his son. So don’t waste your
breath on me! Not that I would help you even if I could. I can’t
understand how you could have done something so idiotic!” She
paused abruptly as though a sudden thought had struck her outraged
mind. “Just why
have
you come? Why did the king release you? And with no retinue…”
Her sharp eyes narrowed. “You haven’t done the dishonorable thing
and escaped, have you?”
“No, my lady. Do you mean to tell me that I
arrived before your spies?”
His mother ignored the question. “Then you
were released. I’d heard Henry was magnanimous in his victory.
You’re lucky. I had expected death or perhaps exile for you.”
“And I’m sure you would have considered
either one just punishment and not been too upset.”
“Certainly I would have been
upset. You have yet to beget an heir, Hugh. Do you think I want to
see the one earldom you
have
got pass to the Crown?” She sighed and with her
thin hands smoothed down the skirt of her gown and plucked at an
out of place thread on the fabric. “Well, now you’re back you’ll
have to marry again and soon. Get yourself an heir or two before
the Young King decides to revolt again and dangles a carrot before
your eyes.”
Obviously she knew all about Eleanor’s
untimely demise. He’d often suspected a correspondence between his
mother and his steward at Chester; she would like to keep up on his
affairs just so she could berate him if she felt he was doing
something wrong. He wondered sourly what vestige of honor had
prevented de Gournay from telling her about her son’s incipient
betrayal of the king in 1173.
“I will find you a suitable wife,” she was
saying. “Look what happened when it was left up to you.”
“That marriage was approved by the king—”
“A no one! The daughter of a penniless
knight! The earl of Chester needs a mate of similar standing.”
He smiled brittlely and shifted position
against the door. “I now have the reputation of a rebel.”
“No matter; you’re a wealthy man, you’re an
earl and you’ve got a patrimony which goes back to the Conquest.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “You’d be surprised how quickly
past indiscretions are forgotten when there’s so much to be
gained.”
“Yes, the king gave me back my lands,” Hugh
said. “He gave me back all the honors that come to me from my
estates. But what he didn’t give back was my castle. Chester. He’s
keeping the castle for himself.”
He’d tried to say it calmly, as if to imply
it wasn’t the most devastating punishment the king could have
devised, but when he spoke the words came out tight and hoarse as
though they’d been stuck in his heart and had had to be forced
through his mouth. All castles were property of the king, Henry had
pronounced at the meeting of the council—and that’s how it had
always been. Castles couldn’t be raised without permission of the
king. The king had the right to destroy any castle as he saw fit.
Under the lawless rule of Stephen, earls and knights had built
castles to defend themselves against or take advantage of the chaos
of the time. But unless sanctioned by the king such fortresses were
illegal. A man, a handful of knights and a secure castle to run to
could bode ill for a stable government. Leicester’s two castles,
one in England and the other in Normandy, and Chester’s castle
were, and had always been, royal property. Now the two earls were
no longer permitted to live in them and castellans were to be
appointed by the king to oversee them and protect the king’s
interests in the regions around them.
Hugh had been stunned by the declaration. The
castle at Chester was his one oasis of happiness and now it was
taken away from him with a mere pronouncement.
Color suffused Maud’s face. She half rose in
her seat before sinking down again with an unladylike plop. Hugh
didn’t like the way she was staring at him. For an instant he
wondered why he’d felt he should give her this news in person; yes,
it would have been cowardly to have merely sent her a letter but
infinitely less uncomfortable.
“No,” she said in a low voice, as if talking
to herself. “No, he can’t do that. Chester is not his castle; it
never was! The king has no power in the Cheshire march! Henry has
no right to that castle!” Her eyes suddenly focused on Hugh, angry
and accusing. “This is your fault! Your stupid, ill-conceived
decision to rebel against the king caused this! How could you do
it? One foolhardy turn and you’ve lost everything! Small wonder
your wife was deranged! It’s just as well you’ve no children—what
do you have to give to them now except a legacy of disgrace? That
castle has belonged to the earls of Chester since the Conquest but
you’ve changed that now, haven’t you? Haven’t you? I can’t believe
you’re my son! Would that I had had a daughter instead—she would
have been of more use to me than you! With her wealth, I might have
married her off to a king and brought some honor back to this
pitiful family!”
The tirade continued for several more minutes
until Maud was forced to stop so that she might take a breath. She
ordered Hugh to leave and send her steward in to her. When he
opened the door he discovered the man was already there on the
other side and had obviously heard everything.
Haworth was still in his chamber when Hugh,
tight-lipped and whitefaced, entered it. But the burly knight
noticed immediately that there was a purpose in his master’s manner
which had been missing for the past month.
“Is it all right, my lord?” he asked
tentatively.
Hugh had gone to the table where Haworth had
a cup of weak wine ready for him. He took it up but didn’t drink,
swirling the wine around instead. He glanced at his captain with a
wry smile. “You mean you don’t know? God, I thought everyone within
ten miles heard the bitch.”
“What did she say to you?” Haworth demanded
in an angry voice.
“A lot. I can’t remember all of it. But I do
recall that she implied my wife lost her wits and wandered into the
forest and to her death because she couldn’t endure the humiliation
brought on her by my support of the Young King. However, she will
do the decent thing and find me another one.” Hugh gave a short,
humorless laugh. He looked down into cup and then set it again,
contents untouched, on the table. “Then she told me to get out of
Stroud and never come back.”
Haworth nodded. “Fine. I’m ready now.”
“And so am I,” Hugh said. “I’m ready now to
go to Cheshire.” He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I should have a shave
first.”
Chapter 17
February, 1177
Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd
“My lord husband, I want to speak to
you.”
William Longsword turned around in surprise.
Lady Teleri stood in the open doorway to his council chamber,
flanked on either side by an attendant. Her tone was imperious, her
expression severe. If he hadn’t been so shocked that she had sought
him out, the first time in over two years of marriage, his guard
would have gone up.
“Am I permitted to come in?” she asked
sharply when he made no reply.
He recovered his composure and gestured with
an arm. “Of course. Come in. There’s a chair…”
She swept into the room followed by her women
and they all seemed to be glaring at him. “I don’t want to sit.”
She glanced around the small chamber. “And I prefer a private
conversation.”
There were half a dozen men with him. They
hadn’t been discussing anything important; they’d all just wandered
in after dinner. The day outside was bitterly cold and dark as if a
blustery snowstorm was imminent and no one had wanted to be out in
it. But one look at the disagreeable visages of the trio standing
before them and they decided a quick jog across the frigid ward and
into the barracks wouldn’t be as bad as they’d thought.
“Well, my lady?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never
seen so much animation on her face and he was fascinated by the
change. She stared back at him steadily, unsmiling, her whole body
straight and stiff with suppressed emotion. The effect was
strangely appealing, where he had never found her remotely
appealing before.
“I’ve come about your slut,” she said
flatly.
“My what?”
“The whore whom you take into your bed!
Gladys! Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”
Her appeal was beginning to fade. He frowned.
“What about her?”
“Is that all you have to say? I won’t stand
for it! I want you to send her away! I want her gone from
Rhuddlan!”
It seemed to Longsword that the two women
standing behind Teleri sniffed and nodded. He was suddenly annoyed
with his wife’s interruption of his impromtu gathering and the
consequent departure of his men. And for what? Because she felt
herself slighted by his attentions to another woman! “I thought you
wanted to speak privately,” he said, not bothering to hide the
irritation in his voice.
“Don’t think you can change the subject and
I’ll forget why I’ve come!” she snapped.
What the hell was going on, he wondered. How
had she even found out about the girl—what did she say her name
was? Gladys? He hadn’t known her name. It wasn’t as if he was with
her every night and he had really tried to be discreet; he was a
believer in protocol even if he didn’t care for his wife—
“Are you listening to me?” Teleri
demanded.
“Yes!” He had never seen her so livid, even
when she had wanted him to send Olwen back to her uncle. He didn’t
know much about women and their moods, not as much anyway as
Delamere, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to her
insulting anger. He knew exactly what he’d do if it were a man who
was speaking to him in such a manner.
“Then I can assume you’ll do as I said?”
“Do what?” he asked stupidly.
Her fine dark eyes widened in outrage. “Your
whore!” she shouted. “Gladys! I don’t want her under this roof one
more night!”
“Keep your voice down, my lady!” he said
sharply. “What’s this all about?”
“You haven’t been listening to anything I’ve
said, have you?”
“Stop shouting!”
“I will not! You parade your pregnant slut in
front of me and you expect me to suffer it in silence? I won’t! I
refuse to be humiliated in my home and by my husband! If you don’t
get rid of her I’ll write to my uncle—”
“What did you say?” Longsword, taking a few
steps in her direction, interrupted. “This girl—Gladys, is it—she’s
pregnant?”
“You didn’t know?” Teleri laughed mockingly
at him and gave him a withering look. “Did you think she was just
eating too much?”
“If she’s slept with me, she’s probably slept
with others. What makes you think it’s my child she’s got?” For
some reason, although he spoke calmly enough, his heart was
thudding in his chest.
“She claims she hasn’t been
with any of your men. I believe her; your Norman manners are so
revolting that why
would
she want to sleep with the lot of you? The child
is yours. And now I want the both of them out of my
sight.”