"Good morrow, enchantress," Josselin said slipping his arms about her and kissing the soft hollow on the side of her neck.

She snuggled back against him for a moment enjoying his warmth and his closeness. "Ummm," she murmured as his arms tightened.

"The hand?" he murmured against her skin.

"I will survive," she said dryly. "I dressed it earlier."

"Then I don't have to worry about seeking another wife from amongst the court ladies?" he teased.

"That," she said, "is not amusing, my lord." Then slipping out of his grasp she turned, pouting. "And to think I arose to see to your breakfast myself! Well, sit down, my lord!"

With a chuckle he settled himself at the table's head and motioned to Dagda and Nara to join them. Here in the little London house they could not be bothered with formality for there was no room for it. The table here was T-shaped, and as they began to eat, their men began to drift in from the stables where they slept. Nara had consumed her own meal quickly for it was her responsibility to see that the others were fed. Each man-at-arms was given a trencher of bread filled with a mixture of cooked grains, and a mug of brown ale. The wheel of cheese was placed upon the long end of the T where the men sat. Gratefully they sliced chunks from it with their knives. The lord and lady of Aelfleah were generous to them. Having listened to the tales of other masters while awaiting their own yesterday at Westminster, they realized how fortunate they were.

"I do not want you out in the city today," said Josselin to his wife.

"Nay," she said, "I need to rest. I am yet weak from the blood I lost yesterday. The day is fair, and I would sit out in my orchards which are in full bloom."

They walked together later beneath the hauntingly fragrant pink-and-white apple blossoms in the orchard by the London house. Above them the sky was cloudless and blue. It promised to be perfect weather tomorrow for the queen's coronation. They stood and kissed long slow kisses beneath the curtain of branches.

"When I saw Blanche attack you yesterday I thought I might lose you, enchantress," he said. "For a moment my legs would not move, and I was terrified I could not get to you in time, yet only a few seconds elapsed after she drew her knife before she was taken into custody."

"It felt more like a hundred years," Mairin admitted. "I never expected her to come at me like that. It was plain that she had lost the game."

"I pity the abbess at St. Hilary's who must contend with her," he replied.

"Yes," she said, and nothing more. She did not tell him that Dagda had practically admitted to killing Blanche de St. Brieuc. If Josselin learned of Blanche's death he would not be likely to connect the death with Dagda. She knew what crisis of conscience that deed had cost Dagda for it had been many years since her former warrior had raised his hand against another human being. That he had felt it necessary to do so distressed her. It was better that Josselin not know for she would not want Dagda to suffer for his misguided loyalty to her-or had it been misguided? Perhaps Dagda had known just what he was doing. Perhaps he had been right. Blanche de St. Brieuc had never hesitated to do what she thought necessary even if it meant hurting another.

"What are you thinking of?" Josselin asked her.

"Blanche de St. Brieuc," she said honestly.

"Do not. You frown most fiercely when you do," he said and then spreading his cloak upon the ground he drew her down with him.

"What shall I think of then, my lord?" she said with a little smile.

"Lambing," he whispered, laying her back against his arm. Undoing her girdle he pulled her tunic over her head, and tossing it aside undid the laces of her camise. He slipped his hand between the halves of the soft linen to cup one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Ahhh, sweeting," he murmured as he fondled her, "I want you so very much! I am as randy for you as that billy goat you are forever accusing me of being." His thumb rubbed at her nipple, and he kissed her with mounting pa.s.sion.

How delightful, she thought, as her head spun with their shared ardor, that each time they made love it was even better than the last. She hoped it would be so forever. His mouth closed over her nipple and tugged upon her flesh, eliciting a corresponding throb from the hidden place between her thighs. She loved the feel of his mouth upon her flesh! Reaching out she threaded her fingers through his tawny hair, and pressed him even closer to her breast.

He slid his free hand beneath her skirts, and up her silky leg. Mairin shifted her body to give him greater access, and her thighs parted. "Ahh, wanton, you are eager," he murmured, his fingers parting her nether lips to tease at her femininity.

"And you, my lord, are not?" she said softly, moving so that she might reach out and slip her hand beneath his long tunic to fondle him. Her hand closed tightly about him as he pushed two fingers into her soft body. Within her grasp she felt him throbbing as his fingers imitated the deed that his manhood craved to do. He was driving her wild by both his actions and with the knowledge that he l.u.s.ted for her as much as she l.u.s.ted for him. "Take me!" she whispered fiercely to him. "Take me now!"

With a groan he rolled atop her, pushing her skirts up to her waist, yanking his own tunic up. With one hard thrust he filled her full of himself, and she bit through the cloth of his tunic to score his shoulder with her teeth. Wildly they loved one another, wrapping legs and arms about their thrashing bodies. It was as if they were both possessed by demons. Neither could get enough of the other.

Gritting his teeth he thrust over and over again into his wife's welcoming body. Her nails dug into his fabric-covered shoulders and she made soft little mewling noises while her own body met his eagerly. There was no time or s.p.a.ce any longer. There was only the two of them blending into a oneness of such pa.s.sionate purity that Mairin thought before she lost total control of her senses that they would burst into flame and incinerate themselves entirely.

With a roar that sounded almost victorious, he poured his offering into her waiting womb. Then he sank down upon her half-clad b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his breath coming in tearing gasps, and she wept with joy. The sound of her sobbing startled him, but for a long moment he simply could not move. He felt as if his very life's blood had been drained from him.

Sensing his distress she moved to rea.s.sure him, patting his head weakly for she herself felt happily exhausted. "It's all right, my lord and my love. It's all right. I am just so happy, for I love you, and I love how we love!"

He managed to roll off her, and propping himself upon one elbow he looked down into her face. "Ahhh, enchantress, you fill my life with such joy. I feel almost guilty for the love we share."

She stopped his mouth with her hand. "No. Love is the blessing that G.o.d Almighty has gifted us with, my Josselin. Pity those who do not realize it, and thank our Blessed Lord for opening our eyes to this great knowledge. I have found throughout my life that love is the saving grace. Had not Dagda loved me I should have been lost those many years back. Had not my foster parents loved me I would have had no home. Had not Basil loved me I would not have learned pa.s.sion. Had not you loved me I would not have become a woman. Death teaches one sorrow, but love teaches one life, for to love is to live. I think that is what G.o.d would have us do, my Josselin. He would have us live to love!" Then she drew his head down, and kissed him sweetly.

Her mouth was soft, and faintly reminiscent of strawberries. "I wonder if the church would agree with you, Mairin. You make it all sound so simple."

"That is the secret of life. Simplicity," she laughed. Then she lifted her hips up, and drew her skirts down. "I suggest you do the same, my lord. Should someone come to seek us you would startle them with your bare bottom."

"You were not thinking about propriety a few minutes ago when you lay beneath me clawing me and whimpering. You were quite shameless as you urged me onward. Anyone coming upon us would have been shocked."

"Shocked to hear you bellowing like a bull in stud," she teased him back.

"I did not bellow," he said, sounding offended.

"Yes, you did," she giggled. "You positively roared!"

Breaking off a stem of clover, he tickled her nose. "Did you find it exciting, my lady?"

"Did you?" she countered.

"Aye. I liked playing the bull to your little red heifer," and tossing the clover aside he took her long hair in his hands, and crushed it. "Tonight," he said. "Tonight you will wear nothing but your long hair, and I will love you again until the dawn."

"And then we will not be able to reach Westminster in time," she teased. "We will offend the king and the queen, and how will you explain it, my lord?"

He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up after him. "You are far too logical for a woman," he grumbled, "but dammit I love you!"

"Would you have rather wed with someone like Blanche de St. Brieuc?" she mocked him. At his look of outrage she chuckled. "Well, you liked her well enough to walk in her brother's garden with her. What fools you men can be! The shrew stalked you, and had you not been wed to me when she arrived in England she would have had you, for all your protests. Not knowing her vile character, you would have thought yourself fortunate until too late you realized your mistake."

"But instead," he said, wrapping her in his arms, "I wed myself to an enchantress with a sharp tongue. Now kiss me, you hotheaded spitfire! Both the air and our sparring have made me hungry once again for you."

Mairin's mouth turned itself up in a seductive smile, and she replied in a deceptively sweet and docile voice as she tipped her face up to him, "As my lord commands me, for has my mother not taught me to be a good and dutiful wife?"

"Ahhh, vixen," he murmured against her tempting lips, "I wonder that I should not beat you," and stifling the laughter that bubbled from her throat he kissed her.

Chapter 13.

It was unusual that a woman be crowned in her own right, but when William of Normandy had taken his inheritance back from Harold G.o.dwinson, his wife had demanded that she be crowned too. There were those among his own advisers who agreed with Matilda. The strong character of the king could be softened by the mother figure Matilda represented. At first William had resisted the suggestion. England wasn't yet fully conquered. It was not safe for her to come. Wasn't it enough that he was now its king? Matilda thought not. If William was king then she would be legally queen. William loved his wife deeply, and peace within his own house was a necessity. When she would not give up her dream of a coronation he found himself forced to give in to her. Besides, he reasoned with himself, perhaps his advisers were right. Matilda would be good for England.

Whitsunday, May 11th, 1068, dawned clear and warm. The blue sky was cloudless, and the sun shone beneficently upon all of England. It was most obvious that G.o.d approved Matilda's coronation as England's queen. Since there was no precedent for the crowning of a Queen of England, the Anglo-Saxon rules that had governed William's coronation seventeen months prior were altered slightly to suit a woman. In addition the Normans brought something of their own to the ceremony. The Laudes Regiae which had first been chanted at the coronation of the great French King Charlemagne were now added to the royal ritual of the Anglo-Saxon ceremony.

Although William trusted the populace of London that had so many months ago pledged him their fealty, there was still enough rebellion going on throughout England that he would not expose his wife to unnecessary dangers. The queen's coronation procession was a limited affair which suggested that William considered England totally his and loyal beyond a doubt, but not so long that a.s.sa.s.sins would have an opportunity to strike. It wound its way from the king's house along the river road into the city for a mile or so, and then back to Westminster Abbey where Matilda would be crowned.

A dozen trumpeters and a dozen drummers in king's colors led the regal parade. The horns sounded sharply in the clear air, the monotonous thrum-thrum of the drums provided marked contrast. Behind the strutting musicians rode a group of mounted knights in full regalia, pendants in the queen's colors floating from the tops of their lances. Their horses were caparisoned in red and gold. They were followed by a choir of a hundred young boys in red gowns with white surplices chanting plainsong. Their young voices drifted upward with sweet clarity filling the air with their praises of the gracious G.o.d who had been so kind as to send England Matilda for its queen. Now came those n.o.blemen especially chosen to carry the queen's royal regalia. A black-robed priest waving a censer of fragrant frankincense preceded each man.

The king's youngest brother, Robert, Count of Mortain, carried the queen's newly made crown upon a pillow of royal-purple velvet. William FitzOsbern carried upon his pillow the specially made gold coronation ring with its beautiful corundum ruby. Behind him strutted the six-year-old Prince William Rufus, displaying the queen's dainty golden scepter for all to see upon another velvet pillow. So that none could say the Anglo-Saxons had been overlooked, Earl Edwin of Mercia had been chosen to carry the royal golden orb. His brother, Earl Morkar, was entrusted with the gold-and-ruby coronation bracelets. Neither of these last two looked comfortable in his role. Watching them the king smiled grimly to himself. He trusted neither man despite their vows of loyalty. They were men who lacked vision.

Londoners and visitors alike lined the streets cheering themselves hoa.r.s.e as the procession pa.s.sed by. A bevy of beautifully dressed men and women of the court rode by after the queen's regalia, their multicolored garments like so many bright b.u.t.terflies. Then came Matilda herself upon a snow-white palfrey. Her skirts were of cloth of gold and had been spread over her mount's rump. Her tunic was of indigo blue sprinkled with golden stars. Her waist, somewhat increased in size with her latest pregnancy, was girdled with a belt of gold-washed silver and studded with blue stones. Her silver-blond hair had been parted in the middle and hung in two fat plaits on either side of her head which was smooth on top so the crown might fit without difficulty. A sheer gold veil held by a wreath of white flowers now dressed her head.

The diminutive d.u.c.h.ess smiled and waved and won the hearts of all those who saw her. Her reputation for goodness and her G.o.dly character preceded her. The English felt safer for her coming. For a brief moment William gained by his wife's good reputation even as his advisers had suggested he would. Surely a man with a wife like Matilda could not be all bad. Of William there was no sign. For the king, not wishing to steal his wife's day, awaited her at the church. The last of the royal parade was brought up by a group of nuns brought from the queen's own Abbey of the Holy Trinity in Caen. As they walked they prayed, their beads slipping swiftly through their fingers.

Back to Edward's magnificent abbey of Westminster the procession went, pa.s.sing through the main doors and down the main aisle. Within it was cool, and the light coming through the great stained-gla.s.s windows warmed the gray stone interior. The voices of the mighty choir, which was made up of men and boys, soared in the heights of the abbey as they chanted ancient Latin plainsong. At the high altar, Eadred, the archbishop of York, waited to do his duty. The coronation involved the hallowing, the investing, and the crowning of the queen.

Squeezed into an aisle s.p.a.ce somewhere between the front and the back of Westminster, Mairin and Josselin eagerly answered "Aye" along with the rest of the guests when asked if they did indeed accept Matilda, d.u.c.h.ess of Normandy, as their lawful queen. It was only then that she was administered the oath which was, in effect, a contract between Matilda and her people. The pet.i.te d.u.c.h.ess's voice was clear and easily heard even in the rear of the abbey.

Now came the consecration of the queen. Matilda knelt, and a young priest removed her wreath and her veil. The archbishop poured a thin stream of sacred oil from an ampulla upon the queen's shining head, thereby anointing her. Next, a flowing cloak of shining cloth-of-gold edged in ermine was attached to the queen's shoulders, and with surprising simplicity Eadred said in a clear, but quiet voice, "Matilda of Normandy, I crown thee Queen of England, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Holding aloft the diadem for a moment for all to see, he then placed it upon her head. It was a delicately made crown of pure gold studded with amethysts and diamonds that had been fashioned just for Matilda. The crown, which fit over her entire head, was not a high one, but its openwork design of wheat, grape vines, and lilies was thought to be not only beautiful, but lucky as well.

Anointed and formally crowned, the queen was led down several steps from the altar to a throne that had been set next to an even larger one. It was now that the king joined his wife, sitting first while Archbishop Eadred proclaimed, "My lord, and my ladies, I give you Matilda, Queen of England!" The archbishop spoke in French. "Monseigneurs, et mes dames, je vous presente la reine, Matilde d'Angleterre!"

A mighty cheer arose from the spectators within the abbey, and when it had finally died Matilda sat to receive the homage of her husband's subjects. Only the most important and major n.o.blemen knelt before the queen, for if everyone had come forward, it would have taken all day.

The king and queen then led a procession upon foot across the green back to the king's house where they would be hosting a huge banquet. Pavilions had been set up out-of-doors, for the weather was simply too lovely to resist. Great pits had been dug, and oxen, sheep, pigs, and roe deer were being roasted whole over the open fires. The turnspits with their reddened faces carefully watched the meat, turning it slowly with measured cadence. Long trestles had been set out for the guests, the royal highboard with its back to the abbey. Great tuns of wine and beer were rolled out, and soon the day turned from the religious solemnity of the crowning to merriment and ribaldry. The servants hurried back and forth from the kitchens holding aloft platters of sauced and dressed fowl, broiled game birds such as lark, sparrow, partridge, grouse, quail, and woodc.o.c.k, rabbits stuffed with pigeons stuffed with grains and dried fruit, platters of whole sea ba.s.s, river trout, and salmon. There were wheels of cheese, bowls of peas, cabbage, tiny beets, and breads of every kind. There were oranges from Spain, and candied violets from Provence, and Norman cherries and English strawberries.

Minstrels arrived to stroll amongst the guests singing the tales of past heroes and deeds. There was one in particular who caught William's fancy by making a new song that glorified the n.o.ble king and the love he had for the beautiful and gracious Matilda, by whose presence England was now made fairer. The king rewarded the clever minstrel with a gold ring from his little finger. There were several troupes of jongleurs and acrobats who entertained the guests by singing, playing upon the lute, harp, rebec, hurdy-gurdy, and cymbals, doing juggler's tricks, acrobatic stunts, and imitating all kinds of animals. As the day wore on and the guests grew merrier, some even tried to join the entertainers.

At one point during the banquet, a knight, Sir Marmion of Fortenays, dressed in full battle gear, rode forward upon his horse. Three times he called out a challenge to those a.s.sembled.

"If any person denies that our most gracious Sovereign William, and his fair spouse Matilda are lawfully king and queen of England, he is a false-hearted traitor and a liar. As royal champion, I do hereby challenge him to single combat."

The challenge, of course, was accepted by no one.

Since Josselin and Mairin were not of the court, they departed to their house early, not wishing to do so in the dark. Matilda's coronation was something that they would tell their grandchildren about, but now they were anxious to take their leave so they might begin their journey to Aelfleah tomorrow. First it was necessary to pay their respects to the king and the queen. Making their way up to the highboard, they waited politely until they were noticed.

"Speak, Joss!" The king was well fed, and feeling kindly disposed toward all.

"We must go, my lord, but before we do we would thank you for your hospitality."

"The lady Mairin's hand?" the queen graciously inquired. "Is it all right?"

"There is no infection, my lady," replied Mairin, "and in time I will be healed."

"I will feel safer for my wife when Blanche de St. Brieuc is once more across the water," said Josselin. "I did not realize how dangerous a woman she was."

There was a pointed silence, and then the king said, "Blanche de St. Brieuc is dead, Joss. I thought you surely knew it."

"Dead!" Josselin de Combourg looked genuinely surprised.

"Dead?" said Mairin, pretending to also be surprised, and feeling a little guilty about deceiving her husband.

"Yes," said William. "After her attack upon your lady I gave orders that she be confined in a small storage room in the attics of The King's House. She was put there with a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. We intended that she be kept there until she could be returned to Normandy. The door was bolted from the outside, but no guard was placed upon it, for who would want to help her escape? Late yesterday afternoon a servant went to bring her another loaf and a pitcher. He unbolted the door, and entered the room to find Blanche de St. Brieuc upon the floor. She was quite dead. Her neck had been broken. We have questioned everyone in The King's House, but no one saw anything unusual. Nor did they see any strangers, or even hear something that might tell us who did this deed."

"It was as if," said Matilda, "the devil had come for his own," and she crossed herself devoutly.

"I do not remember her as being a woman who easily made friends," said Mairin slowly. "Perhaps among your great train she had a serious enemy. She came to England intending to entrap my husband into a marriage. When that path was closed to her she may have foolishly turned onto another and more dangerous course. She was not a woman to be deterred from her chosen goal. She was my enemy, but may G.o.d have mercy upon her soul."

"Yes," said the queen. "May G.o.d forgive her her sins."

"Please, madame," Mairin said, "do not tell my poor half-sister of her mother's violent end. I am certain that she loved the lady Blanche, and whatever my stepmother's faults, I believe that she loved her child."

"She will eventually have to learn of her mother's cruelty, my lady Mairin," said William. "Otherwise she will wonder at the loss of Landerneau. There is no way we can explain it but with the truth."

Mairin looked genuinely distressed. "I have never met her, of course, but I know that Blanchette is nothing like her mother. It would be like trying to compare night and day, fire and water. She is a gentle soul. I fear you will break her heart."

"I will tell her myself," said the queen. "She is still with the Montgomerie family, and will remain with them for the time being. With her mother's death she becomes a royal ward. No one can decide her future but the king, and my lord William had decided to allow her to enter the novitiate of Holy Trinity at Caen. When I return to Normandy I will have your half-sister sent to me. She will stay with me until next year when our own daughter Cecily also enters the novitiate at Holy Trinity. The two girls will go together."

Mairin knelt and kissed the queen's hand gratefully. "Merci, my queen! What you have offered to do is far more than I could have ever hoped."

"Mayhap," said Matilda, "you would like to write to your half-sister so that she may be a.s.sured that you bear her no ill will. If you can get a letter to me before you leave tomorrow, I will see it delivered to Blanchette St. Ronan."

Mairin nodded, and arose to her feet once more to curtsy to both the king and the queen.

The royal couple smiled at them, and William said, "Go with G.o.d, and, Josselin, you will keep me informed of the progress of Aldford. Keep your piece of the border safe for me."

"I will, my liege," came the reply, and then with a bow Josselin de Combourg withdrew from the royal presence, taking his wife with him.

On the following morning they departed for Aelfleah, arriving to find the walls of Aldford Castle almost twice the height they had been when they had left. The good weather and the lengthening days combined to allow the workers longer hours at their task. The well, within the safety of the inner ward, had already been dug and walled about. Scaffolding was already in place with plank ramps up which heavy material could be either dragged or pulled or carried.

As the walls of the outer curtain rose, their battlements were constructed. The higher sections of the battlements were called merlons, and had arrow loops within them. The merlons were topped with sharp stone spikes. It was obvious that by summer's end the walls of the outer curtain would be finished, and its towers begun, provided that the weather held. Once that was done it would be difficult to halt construction of Aldford.

Several weeks after Matilda's coronation, word began to filter into Aelfleah's valley of rebellion and revolt. Harold G.o.dwinson's three sons by Edyth Swansneck sailed from Ireland, where they had been exiled, to raid the countryside of the Bristol Channel, and part of the West Country. Fortunately Aelfleah was too remote to be bothered with, but that was not so when Earl Edwin and his younger brother, Earl Morkar, raised a revolt with their Welsh allies.

During those tense weeks of midsummer, no one slept easy. Mairin feared that Edwin and his forces would attempt to take Aelfleah. That would mean that Josselin would fight, and he might be killed. Now that she was certain she was with child again, her concern for her child's father became almost an obsession. When they learned in late summer that Gospatric, newly appointed by King William to govern Northumbria, had revolted and declared for Edgar the Atheling, Mairin was almost hysterical.

"How can the king hold England with all these rebellions?" she fretted.

"I have never known William of Normandy to release his hold on anything he considers his own," Josselin tried to rea.s.sure her.

"Edgar the Atheling has sought refuge with his mother and sisters in Scotland. The Scots are raiding!"

Josselin laughed. "It was my understanding that the Scots and the Northumbrians are always raiding each other's holdings. There is rarely peace in that part of England. The Atheling is still too young to seriously challenge King William. Much is done in his name that I suspect he would rather not be done. I think he fled to Scotland in possible preparation for a return to Hungary where he was born, and where he will be safe from all of this. William would have eventually had to either lock him up or kill him. He and his family know this." He put his arms about her, and gently patted her belly which did not yet show her condition. "Do not fret, my love. Rest easy, and care for our child."

"Eadric the Wild is on the march again," she challenged him.

"Do you seriously believe that Eadric would return to Aelfleah after the way you treated him the last time? From what I hear, the man is no fool. Besides, he knows there is nothing here of any real value."

"There is Aldford," she replied.

"Which would take too much of Eadric's time to tear down now, and not being finished yet, is not worth having. A castle, Mairin, is only valuable when it is habitable, and can be used for defense against one's enemies. Aldford is neither. There are easier pickings for your old friend Eadric the Wild than Aelfleah. He knows I am here now, and that I will defend this holding."

The three major revolts of that summer of 1068 each died a stillborn death. The late Harold G.o.dwinson's three strapping sons with their Irish, Danish, and English adherents could simply not consolidate a serious landing on English soil. They caused some damage, and were generally troublesome, but in the end they departed, never to return again.