April 1068, Tutbury, Staffordshire
Before passing out of the castle’s view, Elise glanced back up Burton Road to the tower. Despite her unease, she knew that Serilda would properly care for Hortense, too ill in recent days to travel. Now facing the road ahead, Elise reasoned that her aunt would be safer at Tutbury than at the king’s court, especially if Elise were held hostage or worse.
Although she did not look forward to this trip, she could not suppress her joy at leaving the castle. Her retinue consisted of a long line of mounted soldiers, carts, packhorses, and baggage wagons. Johan and Gilbert led the way. Elise, refusing the dubious comfort of sharing a covered cart with Marguerite, rode instead upon her own white mare, which seemed as happy as she to get out of Tutbury.
Since Derrick remained behind with Jeoffroi, two young monks attended Johan. Despite Marguerite’s objections, Johan had allowed Brother Herluin to accompany Elise. She relished his presence, for his odd grunts, grins, and twitches kept people away and gave her solace when considering the threat William’s summons implied.
Still, she savored each day: the sudden hard rains, the cold winds, the dappled sun, and brilliant clouds as they traveled through woodlands, meadows, valleys, beside planted fields, into villages. Along the busy, crowded road, she discovered a peaceful, verdant land, unlike last year’s encounters with hostile villagers. The people seemed to have accepted their Norman masters, stopping their work to watch their procession, made festive with flags and pennons.
During the journey, she recalled her cousin’s coronation, the grandeur and solemnity, the intrigue and danger. Like Philip had done then, William would use Matilda’s coronation to form new alliances, make trade agreements, bestow his largesse among his followers, grant privileges, land, and titles, and adjudicate legal cases. He would flatter and enrich his ecclesiastical partners, and assess the loyalty of his followers. There would be no room for ambivalence, no time to discern how the winds of William’s fortune blew before casting lots. Allegiance would be demanded and reaffirmed. William would penalize those whose loyalty had cracked, as had Eustace’s.
Eustace’s treason would affect her. Suspicion always bubbled beneath the surface of elegant surroundings and gracious courtly rituals. Until the king moved against her, he and the court would treat her according to her rank and status, not Alaric’s. Her every action and reaction, every word, sigh, expression would be observed, evaluated, and discussed, for she linked Alaric—the king’s trusted commander—to Eustace and treachery. Likewise, the court would judge Alaric through his wife and followers.
It seemed that her jailers recognized this as well, even when the discomforts of weather and travel tended to spark bad tempers. The closer they got to London, the more courteous Johan and Gilbert became. Marguerite no longer shrieked at servants. Instead, she asked after Elise’s comfort as if she were her personal handmaiden. A ploy, Elise thought, for gaining access to the greater nobles. Still, Marguerite had handpicked the women attending Elise. Marguerite’s spies, she knew.
After nearly two weeks, they spotted Westminster’s towers. Her tension swelled, especially when Royal Guards met her at the crossing.
“Greetings, Lady Stafford,” the captain said, recognizing Stafford’s pennons. He’d spoken directly to her, ignoring Johan and Gilbert.
“God’s peace,” she replied.
“Lodgings have been arranged for you and your party.”
When they entered the palace gates, the royal bailiff himself greeted her. “Lady Stafford,” he said, ordering servants to help her dismount. “The king and queen will be delighted you have graced them with your presence.”
As he ushered Elise to her chambers, she introduced Johan and Gilbert before dispatching them to have servants unpack the baggage and garrison their soldiers. Marguerite followed along and held her tongue when Elise requested separate quarters for her. Even when the bailiff augmented Marguerite’s handpicked servants with Norman noblewomen. William’s spies, Elise knew.
She received the first clue of her husband’s position at court when she entered the plush, comfortable quarters assigned to her: clean, gilded, colorful, draped, warm, and safe. She felt immediate relief to find herself a guest rather than a prisoner—for now.
May 1068, Westminster
On the eve of Pentecost, her jailers, accustomed to seeing her in drab clothing, gawked when she emerged from her chamber. Over a long azure shift, she wore a close-fitting emerald green cotte trimmed at the hem and sleeves in gold embroidery. Her crimson cloak bore an embroidered outline of a black wolf. The shoulder clasps, bejeweled with emeralds and rubies, matched the filet holding her silk veil in place and the studded chain girding her hips.
Accompanied by Marguerite, Johan, Gilbert, and four handmaidens, Elise joined the noblemen and women gathered in King’s Hall. Opulent in carved crystal hanging lights, gold and silver sconces, rich tapestries, and wall paintings, the room seemed a pale stage for the people dressed in brilliant colors, silks, samite, furs, and covered in glittering jewels.
Elise saw Abbot Juhel across the room, speaking with a bishop. She had not seen her kinsman since her betrothal, and when he noticed her, he smiled broadly and nodded a greeting. Knowing they would become reacquainted over these next days, she returned his greeting from afar.
Norman and English nobles mingled with emissaries from Francia, Rome, Germania, Scotia, Catalonia and elsewhere. People recognized her as Blackwolf’s wife, and whispers preceded her. Some speculated aloud about her lovers since all knew Alaric had left her alone for months. Some smirked at Johan and Gilbert with knowing smiles. Her glance prevented them from reacting. Johan and Gilbert, recent mercenaries, were unacquainted with courtly traditions. She would caution them to ignore these inferences, for these speculations, as well as seduction and dalliance, were customary diversions at court.
Nearby, a group of young knights wagered as to whom among them could bed her before week’s end. One leered at her as she passed. Another said bluntly, “I would never bed Eustace’s niece. Why toss away the king’s confidence for the petals beneath a skirt?”
The comment sobered the knights and told Elise how deeply Eustace’s betrayal had affected the king and his court.
She caught a glimpse of Dreux Marchand de Ville, and . . . Roland! She took a step toward her sister’s husband but a tall, elegantly dressed man stepped in front of her.
“Lady Stafford,” he said.
She recognized this man. Moments before, she had seen him laughing with the king and his brothers.
“Allow me to present myself. I am Count Guillaume d’Évreux. Your cousin-in-marriage.”
Unsure of her response, she studied the tall young man, seeing his reddish-blond hair, thin facial features, and blue eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “Clearly, Alaric never told you about me. I terrorized him and his younger brother when they fostered with us. We are first cousins.”
“I see,” she smiled. “Our lands flank the Seine, do they not?”
“Yes! You hold Fontenay in the Vexin,” he said. “Have you been to court before?”
“I’ve attended Philip’s court, but this is my first time at William’s.”
“Well, perhaps you will find it tedious, although I think the ladies tolerate it better than do we.” He offered his arm and said, “Allow me to exercise a familial privilege by escorting you.”
As they began to walk, Johan, Gilbert, and Marguerite followed. Guillaume stopped and gave them a condescending stare. Elise dismissed all but two of William’s spies. Immediately, her jailers withdrew.
“Have you met the king?” Guillaume asked.
“Not yet.” She said. “I will meet William and Matilda after the coronation.”
“Ah, Matilda. It is good to have her here. She brings peace to the king.”
At that extraordinary statement, Elise looked at Count d’Évreux as he watched the crowds and gestured silent greetings to his peers. He turned to her and said, “Perhaps you also bring peace to my cousin? With you, God and the king favored Alaric.”
“My lord?”
He laughed. “It was a compliment, my lady. Alaric has grown in stature and esteem since he joined William. He has worked hard and fights hard. He is intelligent and an exacting commander. His troops are the most disciplined I have ever seen, even surpassing my own. Therefore, it surprised only a few that the king granted him favors. What surprised us all, however, is that even sight unseen my cousin was blessed by the selection of his bride.”
“It was a match made in a dark room among men of great power.”
“Yes,” he said, “as was my own recent marriage to Countess Hewisa, daughter of William de Nevers.”
“Is your wife here, my lord?”
“Yes, I shall introduce you tomorrow, for she is resting in our chamber this night. We are newly wed, and I would be honored if you befriended her. She is unused to Englelond, and the rebellions frighten her.”
“Rebellions? It seemed peaceful traveling here.”
“If Watling Street seemed peaceful, Alaric has made it so. Since Exeter last December, there have been no more uprisings and all is quiet throughout the kingdom.”
“Even Dover?” she asked quietly.
His eyes twinkled in amusement. He steered her to a quiet corner of King’s Hall where no one could hear them.
“Dover is safe for William,” Guillaume said. “Eustace displeased him, as you well know. It was a raw betrayal and continues to irk the king. He will remember such deceit for a long time.”
She nodded. “Has the betrayal tainted my husband?”
Count d’Évreux looked deeply into her eyes as if measuring the motive behind her question. “Your kinship to Eustace and to Philip causes envious lords to wonder if Alaric has ambitions of his own. We have not always been friends, he and I, but I respect him. Alaric paid a severe price to follow William. He left his family, who supported Harold Godwinson, and when they died, his choice tormented him. Our peers remember he was born in a border hamlet near Wales. They consider him an outlander, nothing more than a richly paid mercenary, and knowing his family’s allegiance, they question his loyalty to William. They think Alaric loves his birthplace more than he loves the king, and they speculate what he would do if he had to choose between the two.”
“What do you think, my lord?”
“Alaric is a man of fearsome loyalty. He stands with William because, without him, the kingdom would disintegrate into scattered provinces ruled by competing warlords.”
“And what does the king think?”
“He knows Alaric to be true. But, if the rumors continue, the king may listen.”
She nodded. Her husband’s position was precarious. “Is the duchy well, my lord?”
“For now. William will try to unite Englelond and Normandie under one rule.”
“An arduous task.”
“Yes,” he said. “He has named his eldest son Robert, now sixteen winters, heir to the duchy, but holds the reins tightly. In William’s absence, the boy rules only through his mother.”
“He is young.”
“At sixteen, William was a formidable duke. Robert is called le Courte-Heuse. He is a weak shadow of his father, yet when the time comes, I will give him my fealty.”
“What of King Philip. And the Vexin?” she asked, hiding her surprise that people had already judged Robert unable to fill his father’s hose.
“Young Philip has been quiet,” Guillaume said. “My soldiers patrol the borderlands of Francia along the River Epte. Count Ralph de Crépi of the Vexin and I conduct joint maneuvers. Every month I send a company of men across the Seine to train with his men. Perhaps your own soldiers can join our maneuvers as well?”
A test, she knew. Demonstrate loyalty to William by joining Évreux and Crépi to threaten Philip? Join with Crépi, now married to Philip’s mother, the dowager queen, to threaten William?
“A worthwhile proposal,” she said, deciding not to convey the request to Gilbert. It would alarm him as it should. In a proper alliance with Alaric, they would together explore the implications of these maneuvers. Excluded by his orders from estate matters, she would not interfere with Gilbert’s constabulary responsibility.
Guillaume continued. “William believes Philip will seek alliances with Flanders and Maine.”
She nearly groaned. Eustace, living beyond William’s reach in Boulogne, would be right in the middle of any plan to flank the duchy with enemies. “And Brittany?”
“Tense but not likely to erupt soon. You have a new brother-in-marriage, Count Roland de Rennes?”
“Yes. I hope to speak to him about my sister.”
“I think,” Guillaume said, “Roland is not easily drawn to capricious plots, and although he is himself close to King Philip, he seeks an independent Brittany.”
At his urging, they resumed walking along the edges of the vast room, nodding to men and women on the way, although lost in their own thoughts for a moment. She wondered why he had told her so much. Had he spoken truth? Had he a sinister purpose?
“Tell me, do you stand with your husband, my lady?”
“Do you doubt my allegiance to William?”
“Yes. For the same reasons you suspect mine.” He laughed. “You need not look surprised, my lady. We have only just met, and you cannot know my intentions. William knows well my support.”
“I stand with my husband and with his liege lord, King William,” she said. She watched him assess her response.
He nodded as if he had decided to believe her. “I’m glad. Alaric needs an ally here at court. Come, let me introduce you to one of Alaric’s enemies.”
She met several members of King William’s inner circle. The king’s brothers eyed her cautiously. His seneschal Guillaume fitz Osbern’s initial surprise shifted to speculation. Alain le Roux’s glaring disfavor gave her pause and she surmised that he, the king’s chief advisor, was her husband’s principal adversary. A man whose enmity she must try to contain.
With skillful diplomacy, Guillaume extracted her quickly, and once away from the inner circle, he summarized each man’s ties to the king, the kingdom and the duchy. He told her which men supported, resented, or were impartial to her husband. His lessons were insightful.
“Alaric is new to our world,” he said. “My father stole his brother’s birthright and left Alaric’s father without title or land, an outcast from his noble roots. Alaric will need someone to caution him against possible intrigue, someone to teach him the subtler arts.” He turned to her. “I trust you will guide him.”
“I don’t know how,” she said, poignantly aware of the role denied her. “We do not see each other . . . often.”
Guillaume smiled softly and shook his head. “It must torture him to leave you at all.”