THREE WEEKS LATER STEPHEN’S squire, Gervase, raced into the great hall of the White Tower and up to the high table where Stephen and his friends were just sitting down.
“There is to be a Christmas court,” he announced, “and the King will have a very special announcement to make. All nobles in England and Normandy are ordered to attend.”
“The King is back at Westminster?” Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. If the King were in London surely Maud would be, too. He had not seen her since he left Windsor. “The Queen and his daughter are with him?”
“Yes, they arrived last night,” Gervase continued, “and all Westminster is agog with the news. Not only that, my lord, the King of Scotland has been invited to attend the court as well.”
In stunned silence, Stephen glanced quickly at Brian FitzCount and Robin of Leicester, who were taking their evening meal with Matilda and himself. By God’s birth, this was news indeed.
“Something of great import must be afoot if my Uncle David of Scotland is coming,” Matilda said.
She caught her breath, her pale blue eyes suddenly widened, and her hands flew like small white birds to her face. “Stephen—you do not think—can it be—oh, my dearest!”
“My thoughts exactly, Lady Matilda,” Robin said softly. “If King David attends the court, it must be the news we have all been waiting to hear.”
Stephen’s heart began to pound as the meaning of their words became clear. Barely able to conceal his excitement, he looked to the Lord of Wallingford for confirmation. Stephen trusted Brian’s judgment above anyone else’s. Ambition did not goad him; neither fear nor favor swayed him.
Brian, picking his teeth with the point of his dagger, paused before replying: “Well, certainly that is a possible explanation.” There was a slight reservation in his voice.
Stephen frowned. Did Brian have doubts or was he merely being cautious? Impossible to know what the clever Breton was truly thinking.
Robin smiled and rose to his feet. “As always, the Lord of Wallingford is reluctant to commit himself. But I am not. In fact, it’s time to do honor to our host—and his lady.” He held out his goblet, his eyes radiating goodwill. “My friends, I give you the next King and Queen of England, long may they reign.”
Brian lifted his goblet and drank.
The words rang joyously in Stephen’s ears. A confluence of emotions—pride, triumph, satisfaction—surged through him. Rising to his feet, he spread his hands in a deprecating gesture.
“My dear companions, perhaps it’s premature to speak of such things. After all, my uncle still lives and the Queen may yet conceive—”
Robin interrupted him with an impatient wave of the hand. “And pigs may fly! Now is not the time for false modesty. If the King has at last decided to make a public announcement of what everyone has long since surmised, we will all breathe a sigh of relief.”
Matilda gazed lovingly at Stephen. “At last you will be recognized as you deserve, dear husband.”
Such a loyal, dutiful wife, Stephen reflected, smiling down at her. What an admirable queen she will make. Yet at the back of his mind, his thoughts were of Maud, wondering if this confirmation of his hopes would impress her. It was absurd, this desire to look well in her eyes, but her approval was important to him.
He grinned at Robin and Brian. “You all know that I hoped my uncle would favor me, and if he has at last decided to bestow this great honor upon the House of Blois—I will spend my life trying to be worthy of his trust.” The words had an earnest ring that sounded well in his ears. He must try and remember them.
There was a moment of respectful silence. Then Matilda clapped her hands. “We must invite Cousin Maud to the Tower to celebrate with us. Why, I’ve hardly set eyes on her and I was devoted to my aunt, her late sainted mother. I so want us to be friends. Do you go to Westminster in the morning, dear heart, and bring her back with you for a few days.”
The suggestion caught Stephen by surprise, and he hesitated. He longed to see Maud again, but he would have preferred it be elsewhere. On the other hand, sooner or later Matilda must spend some time with Maud. Such an occasion could not be avoided.
“A good thought, Wife. I will do as you suggest.” Stephen, his blood quickening at the thought of seeing Maud so soon, could not now sit still. He rose and strode toward the open doors of the great hall.
“I will join you tomorrow morning,” Brian called out.
“Tomorrow is Friday, we are to attend the horse fair,” Robin reminded him.
“I’ll meet you both at Smithfield,” Stephen called over his shoulder, determined to have at least a short while alone with Maud.
Elated at the impending proclamation, he knew he must get word to his brother in Glastonbury at once. Christmas was less than three months away. Only a short time to wait and then the whole of Europe, including his mother retired to a convent now, would know he was to be the King’s heir!
It was still dark when Stephen left for Westminster the following morning. He reached the palace about noon only to be told that Maud and Aldyth had gone to the drapers’ stalls in Cheapside.
He rode to this section of London with Gervase, left his horse in the care of a groom, and, followed by the squire, wandered through the crowd. Every so often someone hailed him, or stopped to talk. No matter if the person were a great lord or simple yeoman, Stephen always made it a point to inquire about the man’s health and family. He had always been popular in London and he knew it was because he had the common touch, readily available to exchange a jest or share a pint of ale at a tavern.
At a goldsmith’s stall, Stephen stopped to examine an exquisite enamel box from Limoges. He must buy it for Matilda, he decided. Then a stall selling boots of Spanish leather caught his eye and he ordered two pairs to be made for him. A peddler with a tiny monkey on his shoulder, carrying a large wooden cage of brightly feathered birds, passed him. He must have one for his children. The smell of roasting chestnuts wafted through the air, and Stephen took a paper cone of the hot nuts from a strolling vendor.
Finally he caught sight of Maud, standing alone in front of the stall of a merchant whom he knew specialized in fabrics from the Levant. A bolt of sky blue silk shot with gold thread was draped over one shoulder. Maud saw Stephen at almost the same moment, and his heart leapt at the blaze of joy radiating from her wide gray eyes. With the exception of the Limoges box, which he thrust into the pouch at his belt, Stephen handed all his purchases to Gervase and pushed through the crowd toward her.
“I—well, it’s good to see you, Cousin,” he said in a husky voice, the urge to take her in his arms almost overpowering. “That blue is a wondrous color, like a midsummer sky at dawn.” He could not stop himself from touching her arm, letting his hand linger a little too long for propriety. “It favors your hair and eyes.”
She smiled up at him. “I will buy it then. What a happy surprise to see you here.” Her body seemed to sway toward him in response to his touch.
“The truth is I’ve been looking for you,” he said, quickly withdrawing, aware they were in a public gathering place. “My lady wife, your Cousin Matilda, invites you to the Tower for a few days.”
“Oh. I see.” Her voice was heavy with disappointment.
“I also wish it. Very much,” he added impulsively at the look of naked hurt in her eyes. She was so open, so obviously vulnerable that Stephen knew an instant of disquiet. Matters were moving too fast, he thought, regretting the easy flow of compliments which came so readily to his lips where women were concerned. This could never be a lighthearted dalliance, he had always known that. It had been a mistake to touch her, he realized. Now was the moment to draw in the reins and curb his growing desire before—he did not allow himself to complete the thought.
Maud said nothing but bent to examine another bolt of silk, this one saffron-colored with silver threads.
“Of course, if you prefer not to come at this time,” Stephen said, now hoping she would refuse. He understood her reluctance only too well. If anyone were to perceive what was happening between Maud and himself, it was sure to be Matilda, who would have the opportunity to observe them together over the next few days. Had he not had similar doubts? On the other hand, seeing Maud under the very eye of his wife might be just the damper he needed to bring him to his senses. “Matilda and your mother were very close,” he added. “She is eager to see you again.”
“Of course,” Maud said in a tight voice, her face set. “If I seem hesitant it is only because your wife so resembles my late mother that our first meeting pricked old memories. I will be glad to come.”
Aldyth appeared, immediately on guard when she saw Stephen.
“I’m going to see my Cousin Matilda at the Tower, Aldyth, so I won’t be returning directly to Westminster,” Maud told her, then to Stephen: “Let me complete my purchase and I will join you.”
Stephen nodded, aware of an awkwardness that had arisen between them but making no effort to dispel it. Perhaps this sudden coolness was all for the best, he decided in relief. The nature of his feelings for Maud both confused and dismayed him; Stephen preferred everything in his life, including his emotions, to be easy and uncomplicated. With Maud he had been caught off guard, unprepared for the strongly sensuous pull between his cousin and himself, an undercurrent as powerful as the treacherous tides in the channel. She had cast a bewitching spell over him and he knew he must exorcise it before it led to trouble.
He watched Maud smile sweetly at the silk merchant, who returned her look with a bored expression on his swarthy face.
“How much for this bolt?” she asked.
“Ten silver pennies, gracious lady,” he said in a thick accent, bowing obsequiously.
After all, Stephen reminded himself, Maud was the King’s daughter, his own first cousin, Matilda’s first cousin, Robert’s half-sister—Jesu, he must have been mad ever to entertain carnal thoughts of Maud considering the intricate coil of family relationships involved. Why, even his future as king might be affected.
“That is outright thievery,” Maud cried, her eyes suddenly flashing.
There was such a note of indignity in her voice that Stephen was taken aback and glanced quickly at the merchant. To his astonishment, the man brightened immediately.
“Thievery? Gracious lady, I’m as good as giving this silk away. May God strike me dead if I ask an unreasonable price.” His eyes rolled heavenward. “I have a wife, ten children, aged parents, not to mention aunts—”
“You are a liar, the son of a liar, and the grandson of a liar,” Maud interrupted, then began to speak haltingly in a tongue Stephen did not recognize.
Clearly delighted, the man, beating his breast, responded with an incomprehensible flow of words and extravagant gestures. After what seemed an eternity to Stephen, Maud and the merchant finally came to some kind of agreement. The man handed her the bolt of silk and they parted with mutual expressions of respect and goodwill.
“I didn’t know you spoke a heathen language, Cousin,” Stephen said, taking the bolt of silk from her arms. “What did you finally pay him?”
“Five silver pennies. Still too much, but to bargain properly takes a long time. There were many visiting Semites at the Emperor’s court, so I was fortunate enough to learn a few words of Arabic,” she replied as they strolled through Cheapside, followed by Gervase and Aldyth.
“Where did you learn to bargain like that?”
“At the straw markets in Italy, and from a clever Semite who sometimes advised the Emperor on matters of finance.”
Stephen laughed. “There is so much I don’t know about you. What other talents lie hidden under that lovely exterior, I wonder.” He kept his voice light so she would know he was only teasing, but she did not smile in response.
When they arrived at the place where they had left their horses, Stephen heard himself telling Gervase to accompany Aldyth back to Westminster. “The Lady Maud will ride with me to Smithfield.” It was not at all what he had intended to say.
Stephen climbed into the saddle, then reached down to lift Maud up in front of him. Aware of an open-mouthed Aldyth radiating disapproval, Stephen quickly spurred his horse forward before Maud could change her mind. What about his own change of mind? he wondered. What in God’s name was the matter with him? His horse’s sudden spurt threw Maud against him and his own course, so clear only a moment ago, was once again in doubt.
It was early October, his favorite time of year. The sky was a deep blue, fleeced with white streaks of cloud; the air, crisp and cool, carried a hint of winter in the sudden gusts of wind that blew about them. With the excuse that he wished to show her the sights of London, Stephen rode as slowly as possible through the crowded streets, savoring the feel of Maud’s body within the circle of his arms.
He stopped to show her plain wooden houses with tile facings, prosperous dwellings made of stone quartz, public cookshops with their tantalizing aroma of roast meats, and leather craftsmen busy at their benches. A band of students ran by shouting at each other, and Stephen slowed his horse to point out a group of apprentices practicing archery.
“Of course you’ve heard about the Christmas court,” Stephen said.
“Oh yes, some weeks ago. At Windsor various people were speculating that the King has chosen this occasion to name you his successor. I must congratulate you.”
“Has your father spoken to you of this matter?”
“As usual, my father says nothing.”
Stephen felt her body grow tense. “Not even about his future plans for you?”
“Least of all about that. All in good time, he replies when I ask, like a cat toying with a mouse.” She paused. “I cannot help but feel bitter. He brings me back here with the utmost urgency, as if his very life depended on it, and now that I’m here, there appears to be no urgency at all.”
Prudently, Stephen decided to say nothing. It was hardly politic to voice a criticism of the King, lest Maud, in all innocence, might repeat it. But he tightened his grip ever so slightly about her waist, hoping she would feel his silent flow of sympathy. He had managed to put all his doubts aside and was now simply enjoying the moment.
Finally they came to Aldersgate. Here they waited to be let through the city gates, double doors of heavy oak reinforced with iron. Atop the massive eighteen-foot walls that surrounded the city of London, guards armed with tall spears carefully watched the throng of people coming and going.
“You will fall victim to this queen of cities,” Stephen said in her ear. “London has captured my heart ever since I arrived here from Blois.”
“But I have known Rome, Paris, and the great cities of the Empire,” she teased. “What is London compared to such as these?”
“What indeed. She will cast her spell over you in time.”
They rode through the gates into the open area of Smithfield where the horse fair was already well under way.
“Keep an eye out for my lords of Wallingford and Leicester. We are to meet them here,” Stephen told Maud.
They first visited the area where the colts were tethered, then the section where the palfreys were gathered. When they came to the war-horses, Stephen dismounted and helped Maud down.
“I’m in the market for a new destrier. You can help me pick one out.”
As they wandered companionably around the compound observing the great stallions, Stephen discovered that Maud not only shared his love of horses but was surprisingly knowledgeable about them. Finally the big event of the day was announced: the horse races. A great crowd began to gather at one end of the field.
“Over here, Stephen,” Brian FitzCount called. When they had joined them, he turned to Maud. “A good afternoon to you, Lady. Robin and I have a wager going: I say that the bay colt in the corner will win over all the others.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Robin said with a grin. “Anyone can see that the bay is too flighty to control. I favor the chestnut over by the fence. What do you think, Stephen?”
Stephen raised his hands in protest. “Oh no, I have learned never to take sides when the two of you wager against each other.” He pointed his finger at Maud. “But my cousin is no mean judge of horseflesh. Let us hear what she has to say.”
Maud looked carefully over the racing pairs. “I rather fancy the black colt with the white blaze on his forehead.”
Robin hooted. “I wager two silver pennies you’re wrong. Look at those spindly legs. By my faith, I will be a rich man this day.”
Maud gave him a cool smile. “Indeed? That unchivalrous remark will cost you three silver pennies, my Lord of Leicester.”
“Done. Three silver pennies it is.”
Stable boys, using only a headstall and no other harness or saddle, jumped on their mounts and rode to the starting place. With much shouting from the onlookers, the colts started running across the wide field. The black colt fell back at first, while the bay frolicked ahead of the others.
Maud had an eager look on her face and, to Stephen’s amusement, she began to shout words of encouragement to the rider of the black colt. Brian’s bay bounded forward, running neck and neck with the chestnut. The colts were about three-quarters of the way across the field now. In her excitement Maud gripped Stephen’s arm with tense fingers; he doubted she even noticed. Her face was taut with expectancy, her coral lips parted, and Stephen was surprised to realize that she very badly wanted her colt to win.
Slowly the black colt began to gain speed, finally he shot forward like a dark arrow to overtake the others and reach the end of the field first. The bay colt was half a head behind him.
Flushed with victory, Maud looked up at Stephen. “You see, I was right.”
“I never doubted you for a moment,” he said, smiling at the sense of triumph in her voice, astonished that only a simple race held by yokels should matter so much to her. Before he realized what he was doing he had reached into the purse at his belt and pulled out the Limoges box he had intended for Matilda. “You must have this as a reward.”
“How lovely. But I’m not sure—”
“As a favor to me. I want you to have it.” Stephen was absurdly pleased when he saw her fingers curl around the box. Fortunately the others hadn’t noticed.
Brian was jubilant. “A fool, eh, Leicester? Where is our money?”
“Well, Lady Maud wins, I agree,” Robin said, disgruntled. “But you? The bay did not come in first.”
“You’re not very sporting, my friend. A close second is almost as good as a first. Surely you can see that.”
Stephen and Maud left them arguing while they rode to the White Tower.
The sky had darkened, and London was covered in a swirling fog by the time they reached Stephen’s home. Maud knew this fortress had been built by her grandfather, the Conqueror, to keep watch and ward over defeated Saxon London, and that her father had made a gift of it to Stephen when he married Countess Matilda of Boulogne. Built to inspire terror and submission, the Tower’s heavy walls, pierced by thin slits, were buttressed from ground to battlements; the massive keep, topped by four turrets, was protected by a wide moat. As they approached, a guard shouted from the gatehouse, the wooden drawbridge thundered down, and Stephen and Maud rode across the causeway into the outer bailey. Huge torches borne by waiting attendants cast an eerie light on the pale stone walls.
Maud did not look forward to this second meeting between herself and Matilda. Her anxiety increased as she followed Stephen into the Tower, past the great hall, the sword room, and the chapel, then on up a winding staircase to Matilda’s solar on the third floor. Steeling herself, Maud resolved that neither by word nor gesture would she reveal how she felt toward Stephen.
Seated before a charcoal brazier on a woven wool rug, Matilda, dressed in a soft blue tunic over a white gown, played with her son, Baldwin. With a welcoming smile, she rose at once when Maud and Stephen entered.
“Cousin, I’m so happy you agreed to come.” Matilda held out her arms in a spontaneous gesture. Reluctantly, Maud came forward to receive her cousin’s kiss.
“How like my mother you are,” Maud said awkwardly.
“Everyone says the same. I’m deeply honored, for my aunt was truly a saint. We must go together to visit her tomb.”
“Yes, I would like that.” Maud looked down at Baldwin, a large rosy child who, with his green eyes and honey-brown curls, looked just like Stephen. “He is big for his age—three years is it?”
“Just two,” Stephen said with pride, sweeping Baldwin up into his arms.
“We have a new daughter,” Matilda said. “Perhaps you would like to see her?”
“Why—yes, indeed, that would be very nice.” Maud forced herself to smile, growing more ill at ease with every passing moment. She was painfully aware of Stephen’s affection for his son.
“Stephen, do you take our cousin to the nursery where the babe is being fed by the wet nurse. Then we will take a light supper. Afterwards I will show Maud the tapestry I’m working on, a scene depicting Our Lord and Our Blessed Lady at the wedding in Cana. By then it will be time to attend Compline in the chapel.” Matilda beamed at them.
Silently, Maud followed Stephen out of the solar. There was no mistaking the bond of affinity between Stephen, his wife, and his child. Unprepared for this kind of domestic happiness, which she herself had never experienced, Maud felt like an intruder. She had always known there could never be anything between Stephen and herself, but now, seeing him with his family, that knowledge was confirmed beyond all doubt.
“You will now see the fairest of all maidens,” Stephen said, pushing open a sturdy oak door to reveal a small stone chamber warmed by several charcoal braziers.
A large woman, the bodice of her gown open, sat on a stone bench nursing a tiny infant wrapped in a wool shawl. Seeing them enter, she closed her bodice, stood up, and handed Stephen the babe.
“Your daughter thrives, my lord,” she said proudly.
Stephen took the child in his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Is she not beautiful?”
“Yes, indeed, most beautiful,” Maud said dutifully. In truth, the infant looked like every other she had seen: red, wrinkled, its head covered with flaxen fuzz like a newborn chick.
As Stephen continued to croon over his daughter, Maud found she could not bear to watch. Heartsick, she turned away. Behind her she heard Stephen give the child back to its nurse. He took her arm and quickly led her out of the chamber.
“You have a lovely daughter, Stephen,” Maud said in a low voice, knowing she must escape from all this familial contentment. “I—I find myself unwell, very fatigued after the journey from Windsor and the activity today. Is it possible I could return now to Westminster?” She started to walk down the passageway when Stephen caught her arm.
“No, it is not possible. You would not arrive until early morning and Matilda would not understand your urgency to leave.”
“But I must go, don’t you see—” she said, her voice trembling, and turned to walk quickly down the hall.
Stephen reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her to him in an iron grip. “If you think this is any easier for me—” he began.
Their eyes met, locked, and neither could look away.
Slowly Stephen bent his head, found her lips, and began to kiss her with a fierce hunger that had suddenly, savagely unleashed itself. Instead of pushing him away, Maud found herself yielding to his hunger, and then not just yielding but meeting it with the force of her own need. The warm insistent pressure of his mouth parted her lips, sending currents of fire throughout her body. The urgency of her own response, which shocked and frightened her, seemed to amaze Stephen, whose passion quickened like a bonfire as he crushed her pliant body closer, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as if he could never get enough. His hands slid under her cloak to seek the fullness of her breasts, when the sound of laughter made them jump guiltily apart.
Breathing heavily, her head reeling as if she had drunk too much wine, Maud stood rooted to the stone floor as two guards rounded a corner and walked by them on their way to the battlements.
“Good evening, my lord,” they said, nodding to Stephen.
After the guards had passed, Maud and Stephen stared at each other for a moment.
“I will see that you are escorted home at first light,” Stephen said in a husky voice.
Deeply shaken, Maud followed Stephen back to the solar. Her body was in turmoil. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the overwhelming feelings Stephen had evoked. It was as if she had been set adrift in a stormy sea with no land in sight. Terrified, she knew that she must never allow herself to lose control again.