Lady of the English Read Online Free PDF Page B

wife?”
    “I know not.” Matilda had entreated the saint and her prayers on that score had been answered, but the baby had not survived his birthing and she did not know Adeliza well enough yet to open her heart on such matters.
    Adeliza sighed. “I know I must accept God’s will, but it is difficult, when I know it is my duty to conceive.”
    Matilda felt a surge of compassion for Adeliza because she had been in a similar situation herself: married to an older man and people looking at her month on month, waiting for her to quicken. When that man had already fathered children on other women, the pressure was even greater.
    “He is thinking of making you his heir; you must realise that.”
    Matilda nodded. “I also know I am not the only one he has in mind. My father always has a plan and a contingency plan and then a plan to back up both the original and the contingency.” She gave Adeliza a measuring look. “I respect him, and I know my duty, but I also know that for all my father says he loves me as a daughter, I am but another playing piece on his board. We all are.”
    “He is a great king,” Adeliza said firmly.
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    “Without a doubt,” Matilda agreed, and thought that whoever succeeded her father would have to be even greater in order to fill the void that the last son of William the Conqueror would leave behind.
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    Four
    Harbour of Barfleur, Normandy, September 1126
    W atching the gap widen between the quay at Barfleur and the deck on which she stood, Matilda shivered and huddled inside her cloak. Waves chopped and surged, frilled with small whitecaps, and beyond the harbour mouth, the sea was a heaving grey swell. Spume burst at the prow of the royal galley and wind bellied the square canvas sail so that the great red lion painted on it seemed to roar and flex its claws.
    She had not been aboard a ship to cross the sea since she was eight years old. Inevitably she thought of her brother’s last voyage from this port, ended like his life before it had properly begun as the ship struck a rock in the harbour mouth and sank in the black November night. It was daylight now and circumstances different, but although she lifted her chin and tried to look imperious, she was still afraid.
    Brian FitzCount joined her. “England will be upon us before sunset,” he remarked, “especially if the wind continues to blow this strongly.”
    “You must be accustomed to crossing the sea, my lord.”
    “Indeed, but I am nevertheless always glad to reach the shore. It is not so bad when there’s a fair wind like this.” A smile entered his voice. “And we have the extra protection of the hand of Saint James today.”
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    “I hope you are not humouring me.”
    “Domina, I would not dare,” he replied, his dark eyes alight.
    Matilda arched her brow and said nothing. Since their first meeting, she had grown accustomed to his company and enjoyed it. He was a mainstay of her father’s government and a close friend of her brother Robert. She had often sat up with them and others talking long into the night on all manner of subjects, from the best way to skin a hare to intricate aspects of papal policy and points of English common law and custom in which Brian was well versed. She loved to hear him in debate.
    “This is the next stage on your voyage, domina.” Brian’s face was straight now, and there was an intensity in his gaze that made her look down before a spark could strike between them.
    “And who knows where landfall will be.”
    “I am certain your father does.”
    “It is a pity only he knows the location and he will not share it.” She glanced at her father, standing on the opposite side of the vessel with a group of courtiers. She had attended on him in Rouen when he made judgements and spun policy.
    He had included her in the proceedings by