The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean - Страница 45

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‘Why so?’ she demanded.

‘I do not intend to be interrogated.’

‘Perhaps not. But I intend to interrogate.’

‘You forget, Madam, that you speak to the King.’

She had leaped from the bed. She stood facing him, her arms folded across her breasts.

‘Are you telling me that you want to bring one of your bastards into my nursery?’

‘I am telling you, Madam, that I shall bring one of my bastards into my nursery.’

‘I’ll not have it.’

‘The boy will be arriving in a few days.’

‘He shall not stay.’

‘He will stay with his half-brothers. That good woman Hodierna will be told that he is to have the same treatment as the others.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Some three years.’

‘A little younger than William would have been. So...’

She stared at him incredulously. ‘You...you lecher!’

He laughed at her. ‘A fine one to talk. A woman who lay with her own uncle.’

She lifted her hand to strike him, but he caught it and flung her from him.

‘Know this,’ he said. ‘I am the master here. You are a subject no less than any other.’

‘I...your subject! What were you but a mere Duke of Normandy! I brought you Aquitaine.’

‘That is in the past. I am the King of England now.’

‘And I am the Queen.’

‘Through my good grace. Remember it. I could have you imprisoned this very night had I wished it.’

‘How...dare you!’

‘You will find that the King of England dares much.’

‘So you were not faithful to me...not even at that time...in those early days!’

‘I was away a long time. How did you expect me to keep from women? She was a woman of light morals. There was nothing more than that.’

‘And I must have the bastard of a woman of light morals brought up with my children!’

‘He is of the King’s blood.’

‘Do you think I will have him in my nursery?’

‘Yes, Madam, I do. And I swear to you that should you try to harm him in any way I will take my revenge on you and such will it be that you will wish you had never lived to see the day.’

‘Do you think I am of a kind to take revenge on babies?’

‘Nay I do not. I think you are sensible enough to see reason.’

‘Henry, I am a ruler in my own right. I will not be treated in this way.’

‘You will be treated in what manner I think fit.’

‘I have done much for you...’

‘And I for you. Did I not marry you...a divorced woman twelve years older than myself!’

‘I shall hate you for this.’

‘Do so. We will beget more sons in hate. Come, we will begin now.’

She tore herself away from him but he would not release her. He was exultant. The difficult task which he had dreaded was over. She knew there was a child and that that child was coming to her nursery and she accepted this fact just as she accepted him now. He was still irresistible to her.

She would grow out of her romantic fantasies. She would forget the songs that were sung by her troubadours. Life was not like that.

Men such as he was when away from their wives took other women. He had thought she would have been experienced enough to know that. There would be separations in the years to come and other women...legions of them. She must learn to accept it and if there was a bastard or two whom he wanted brought up at court then that bastard should be brought up at court.

She did accept it. She was too much of a realist to stand against that which was inevitable. But her feeling for him changed from that time. She would no longer consider what was good for him; she would think of her own will and pleasure.

The bastard Geoffrey came to the nursery. He was an engaging little fellow and, the King was particularly interested in him and determined that he should not be made to feel inferior to his half-brothers.

As for the Queen she ignored the boy, and for her son Richard there grew up within her a tenderness of which she had not thought herself capable.

The relationship between them having changed they began to see in each other faults which they had not noticed before. To Eleanor Henry seemed often crude in his manners; his style of dress was unimaginative; she disliked his rough hands. Although he could be overbearing where his will was concerned she often thought he lacked the bearing of a king. That was not true exactly. His manner was such as to command immediate obedience. What she objected to was his lack of grace, his simple clothes and the manner in which he rarely sat down to eat but took his food standing as though eating was a habit he had little time for. When she thought of the gracious banquets which had taken place at her father’s court and that of Louis too, she was impatient. His rages too had increased. He made no attempt to control himself in her presence. She had seen him lie on the floor and gnaw the rushes in his fury. There were times then when she thought he would go mad, for his eyes would be wild, his nostrils would flare and he would indeed resemble the lion to which people compared him. It was these violent rages which held so many in awe of him.

Yet she had to admit he was greatly respected, and he bound men to him in a manner which was surprising for he thought little of lying or breaking promises. His one idea was to make England great and to hold every bit of land which had come into his possession. He wanted people to regard him as they had his great-grandfather, the mighty Conqueror. There was a difference though. Great William had been single-minded in his conquests. He had married his wife and in spite of long separations had been almost entirely faithful to her. William had been a cold man sexual y; Henry was hot. Eleanor knew this and it was a sadness to her that her feelings had changed, for he was still important to her. She could not regret her marriage.

She despised herself for having endowed it with an idealism which she should have known it could never possess. She was a romantic; Henry was a lusty earthy man. The quality they shared was a love of power and it had wounded her proud spirit that she should have to accept his infidelity. What hurt most was that while she had been faithfully dreaming of him he had been sporting with harlots, and one in particular he must have thought of with affection, since he brought her child to the royal nursery.

How many bastards of his were scattered round the country? she wondered.

She could not hate the child in the nursery, but Henry, to subdue her, made much of the boy. He had made it clear that he was to be treated no differently from Henry or the baby Richard or young Matilda. It would be a different matter when they grew up. Young master Geoffrey would learn the difference then between the heirs of the King and his bastards. She knew that Henry made much of the boy chiefly to annoy her and refused to let him see how much it did.

Her baby Richard was a great comfort to her. He was going to be handsome. Already he showed signs of his spirit, screaming for what he wanted and charming everyone in the nursery at the same time. Henry ignored the child. Sometimes she thought Richard was aware of it, for whenever his father came near him he yelled in anger.

Henry, too, considered their changed relations. She was a virago, he decided, and all kings should have meek wives who obeyed unquestioningly. Stephen had been lucky with his Matilda, for although she had been a clever woman, quite a strategist it had turned out, and had done so much to further her husband’s cause, she had never criticised him and always wished to please him. Had he married my mother, thought Henry, he would have noticed the difference. Henry laughed remembering the fierce quarrels between his father and mother. Whenever they were together there had been conflict. He could remember hearing the shouts of abuse which they had flung at each other. What hatred there had been between those two! His mother had been ten years older than his father. And he was twelve years younger than Eleanor. Was it a pattern in their families – young husbands, older wives, and stormy marriages?

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