INSIDE THE DUCAL PALACE at Rouen, Maud stood by the open casement window of her solar; the late afternoon sun bathed the chamber in a golden glow. She closed her eyes for a moment with a silent prayer that when she opened them again a messenger from Henry would be riding into the courtyard. She had heard of his successful march through the Midlands where more and more men had joined him, and enemy castle after enemy castle had surrendered. But since his arrival at Wallingford in August there had been no word. It was now late September and she was sick with worry.
The door opened and one of Eleanor’s ladies hurried in with a message that the Duchess sought her mother-in-law’s advice: Little William, born six weeks ago, was fretting with colic.
“Tell the Duchess to rub a little warmed wine on his gums.” Maud turned away from the window. “Find out if the wet nurse has been eating spiced foods. Give her peas, beans, and gruel to sweeten her milk.”
The woman left. Maud walked over to the straight-backed wooden chair, sat down, then beckoned to the chamberlain who was waiting to go over the accounts with her.
“Why were three yards of blue ribbon ordered?” She tapped a finger against the item.
“That was for the Duchess, my lady,” the chamberlain replied. “For the baby’s christening gown.”
Maud’s heart warmed at the thought of her young grandson, whose father had not yet seen him. At this reminder of Henry, she immediately became anxious again. Had his forces done battle with Stephen? Was Henry wounded? Or Stephen? The thought of anything happening to either of them was unbearable.
She forced herself to finish the accounts, then dismissed the chamberlain with a word of praise for his accuracy. Next she arranged with the steward to judge a dispute between two landowners the following day, and discussed the birth of four new colts with the marshal. Last, she interviewed the master huntsman, who had this morning caught two young poachers in the forest outside the city walls.
“Give them a stern warning this time and let them go.”
The huntsman’s face puckered in disapproval. “The usual punishment is blinding them and cutting off their privates.”
“I understand this goes against custom,” she said, having learned the painful lesson that everything ran more smoothly if people flowed with you rather than against you. “But these lads are so young, not seasoned felons, after all.” She gave him a winning smile. “I’m sure you can make them see the seriousness of their offense.”
He nodded grudgingly and stumped out of the solar.
Maud leaned back in her chair. She had been regent of Normandy for eight months now and there was always more work to be done than she could easily do. Yet she found herself enjoying life as she had not done in years. Each day brought a new challenge to be met and overcome. She had surprised herself—and others as well, she thought wryly—with an unsuspected gift for organization, sound judgment, and a newfound ability to deal pleasantly but firmly with people under difficult circumstances. She no longer enforced her will as in the old days but won the cooperation of those who served her. Even her father and Aldyth, two of her more outspoken critics from the past, would be impressed with her growing gift for diplomacy.
She drowsed in the warm rays of the sun, reflecting on the beginning of her regency. Shortly after her son had sailed for England, Louis of France, as Henry had predicted, broke his truce with Normandy and marched across the border. Maud promptly raised an army and Louis, unprepared for such immediate retaliation, hastily retreated into France. With the exception of occasional skirmishes, there had been no further trouble from the French king.
Her second son, Geoffrey, although complaining bitterly about his elder brother, maintained—under her watchful eye—the peace in Anjou. All in all Maud was not dissatisfied with the way she had managed Henry’s affairs and she hoped he would be pleased with her stewardship. If only she could have word that all was well with him.
The sound of horses in the courtyard startled her. Her heart quickening, she opened her eyes. Perhaps a message from Henry had come at last. She rose and ran to the window. Below she saw the tall figure of Brian FitzCount dismount from his horse. Holy Mother, if Brian had come himself, it must mean—terrified, she would not let herself complete the thought, but turned from the window, flew out the door of the solar, and sped down the winding staircase. Brian was just entering the palace when she reached him.
“Henry is not—Stephen is—nothing has happened … ?” Her eyes wide with fright, she clutched at Brian’s arms.
“No, Henry is not, nor is Stephen. Calm your fears. When I left England the Duke was in a sour mood but perfectly well. Stephen, I suspect, is in a similar condition.”
“God be thanked. I’ve been beside myself with worry. The last word I had was that he was preparing to do battle with Stephen’s forces at Wallingford, and since then nothing.”
She looked closely at Brian, whom she had last seen on the Wareham coast six years earlier. He had aged, she realized in dismay, his crisp black curls totally gray, his face gaunt and tired. The years of defending Wallingford had taken their toll. Years spent selflessly in her service.
“Dearest friend, how happy I am to see you.” She threw her arms around him. When he smiled down at her she saw that the dark blue eyes, ironic but tranquil, had remained the same.
“There’s trouble, isn’t there?”
He nodded. Glancing around her, Maud saw that many of the castle mesnie had come into the palace yard and were watching them with anxious expressions.
“The Duke is well,” she called out. “Do not worry.”
She took Brian’s arm and led him outside. They walked the length of the courtyard until they were out of earshot. “Has there been a battle? Has Henry lost Wallingford?”
“No, no. The problem is that there has been no action of any kind.
Henry and Stephen have had their troops lined up on either bank of the river for the past six weeks, ready to fight, but the barons of both sides, influenced by the Bishop of Winchester and the Archbishop of Canterbury, flatly refuse to engage in battle and between themselves have agreed to a truce.”
Maud was aghast. “But that is treason! They must fight if their liege-lord demands it. Has Stephen’s brother turned on him again?”
“Not this time. The Bishop of Winchester seems to have put aside ambition and honestly sues for peace now. He has proposed a very sound treaty, agreeable to everyone but Stephen and Henry, that would resolve the conflict once and for all: Stephen shall remain king until his death, to be succeeded by Henry, who, everyone now agrees, is the rightful heir.”
Maud did not reply as she carefully examined the proposal in her mind. It sounded a very sensible solution, the Bishop of Winchester at his most statesman-like. At last there would be an end of the bloodshed of the last fifteen years. “Why will neither Stephen nor Henry sign?”
“Stephen, stubborn as only he can be when his mind is made up, insists that his flesh and blood must rule after him. Henry, hotheaded and spoiling for a fight, is equally set that the outcome shall be determined by battle. He has hurled angry words at Stephen across the river, calling him usurper and perjurer, taunting him that he would not trust his signature on a piece of parchment. So there you have it. Stalemate.”
Maud felt her heart sink. She knew only too well what Henry could be like when thwarted. “Can no one reason with them?”
Brian gave her a weary smile. “The hunger for glory overrules reason, I fear. Henry wants the glory of victory; Stephen wants the glory of founding a dynasty—as a justification for his actions.”
“Of course,” Maud said slowly. “Such a treaty would disinherit Eustace. Now I understand. What a coil. Can nothing be done?”
“That is why I have come. To see what you might do to break the deadlock.” He paused. “You’re still so lovely, Maud, almost unchanged since I saw you six years ago.”
The Vespers bell rang and they walked through the gate of the courtyard toward the cathedral.
“What can I do?” How could she be expected to resolve the conflict between Stephen and Henry, between her son and his father. “Did Henry send you to me?”
“No. I have left England and its troubles. I’m on my way to the Holy Land to become a monk or a Templar. I can do no more for your cause, Maud, and in these last remaining years I would follow my own bent. I had hoped for your blessing.”
Concealing her shock and dismay, Maud gave him the only possible reply. “Indeed you have it, my friend.”
Maud could not imagine her life without Brian FitzCount. Strong and steadfast, duty had been Brian’s watchword, as it had been Robert’s. But never Stephen’s. Nor hers, she realized in stunned surprise. Both ambitious, she and Stephen had attempted to take what they wanted, never really counting the cost. With a start of recognition she saw that they were more alike than she had ever dreamed.
After Vespers, Maud and Brian went into supper at the great hall. “Can’t I persuade you to stay with me for a while?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “You no longer need me, Maud. You have found your own voice at last.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s hardly a secret that Normandy fares very well these days. Word has trickled back to England that the duchy is in such capable hands, even Louis of France will think twice before crossing the Normandy borders. From the moment I landed at Barfleur yesterday, all the way to Rouen, wherever I stopped I heard your praises sung: The Regent dispenses fair justice, the Regent is wise and strong, and cannot be fooled. She is her father all over again—but with a compassionate heart.”
“Brian,” she whispered, as a surge of joy swept through her, “do they really say that? Truly?”
“And more besides.” He gave her an affectionate smile. “If only you had behaved in the past as you do now, this day would you wear England’s crown.”
Cautiously, Maud drew aside the curtain of memory, long closed, to face the bitter anguish of those tumultuous seven months when the crown had been within her grasp. What demons had tormented her then, what devils had driven her to behave in so arrogant, ill-tempered, rash, and vengeful a fashion? It seemed incomprehensible now.
“I know,” she agreed in a calm voice. “But all that was a long time ago. My time has come and gone and I have accepted this. Now it is Henry’s turn.” She looked anxiously at Brian as a new thought struck her. “But I fear his stubborn refusal to sign this peace treaty may turn men against him as they turned against me. He must not make the same mistakes.”
“My thoughts exactly. That is why I came.” “But how can I stop him?”
“God will show you the way.”
Maud made no reply. People were apt to offer that, she thought sourly, when they could think of nothing better to say.
The next morning Brian left Rouen to join a party from Brittany that was traveling to Jerusalem. He took her in his arms before mounting his horse, and gave her a warm hug.
“We’ve come a long way together and I’ll miss you, Maud,” he said, his eyes misting as he released her.
“And I you, dear friend,” she said, clinging to his tall frame, unwilling to let him go out of her life. “Do you have no last word of advice before you go? No direction that I can follow?”
Brian mounted his horse. “It’s my opinion that Henry will not be convinced to alter his course of action. Not even by you.” He paused as he wheeled his horse around. “You would do better to appeal to Stephen,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Stephen?” she asked in astonishment. “How would I appeal to Stephen?”
He smiled, a ghost of a twinkle in his eyes. “It will come to you, I doubt not. Goodbye, dearest Maud.”
When he had ridden out of the courtyard, Maud climbed up to the battlements to watch him go, feeling she had lost her last close friend. He dwindled to a tiny speck on the horizon, but still she did not move, her hands grasping the stone embrasure. Why did Brian think she could persuade Stephen to sign the treaty?
Maud began to pace the battlements, then, suddenly, she stopped short. A wave of heat washed through her body, her heart began to pound, and she felt giddy. She let the idea take hold of her, looking at it, considering all the implications. Such a drastic step involved great risk, but it was the only solution that offered itself, and she must act without delay if she were to act at all.
Normandy could safely be left in Eleanor’s hands for the short time she would be gone. As soon as possible she would leave for England.