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CHAPTER SIX – FIRE AND INTRIGUE

(Caen, Normandy, April 24-25, 1066)

 

Tossing about in restless slumber Duchess Matilda perspired and moaned softly within grip of a familiar nightmare’s shivering visitation, tears falling from her tight-shut eyes as sultry streams of sweat poured from her contorting frame amidst her unconscious terror’s ghastly confrontation. Lying beside her tormented mistress Godeleva of Ghent, the Duchess’s devoted attendant, sighed with melancholy resignation and arose to prepare for Matilda’s inevitable frightful awakening by fetching a fresh nightgown and a cloth for the Duchess and setting a large cup of wine upon the wood table near the bed Matilda normally shared with her estranged husband. Matilda groaned, and a frowning Godeleva knew it wouldn’t be long until the Duchess required her comfort from the vexing vision’s evil effects.

She was wandering about an immense crypt, trying desperately to escape its cold suffocating confines. No matter which way Matilda turned, she was faced with the grim sight of sepulchers, and her heart pounded within her ever harder owing to a rising sense of panic. Suddenly voices began calling her name, drawing the trembling Duchess down a winding corridor leading her to a large chamber overlooking a vast yawning precipice from which a foul stench arose to curl the nostrils of the pale and palpitating Matilda. There were several tombs present in the crypt, one of which opened to her great wonder and horror to release its festering resident, a gross entity that had once been a woman but was now a vile rotted corpse of unholy animation, its eyes red with hellfire and its putrid flesh hanging in tatters from white bones. The awful creature raised a grotesque talon that had once been a hand and pointed at the aghast Duchess, its voice hollow like the sepulcher from which it had arisen to heap fierce condemnation upon Matilda.

“Hear me, Matilda of Flanders, o treacherous, faithless daughter of wicked Jezebel! In life I was your mother-in-law, Arlette, and with all my strength opposed your conniving manipulation of my dear son William, whom you seduced from the path of righteous allegiance to France for the sake of plying your own vicious vengeance! You proved yourself the malignant scorpion of my son’s Ducal reign as I knew you would, spurring William on through your sex’s cheap and deceitful sting to pursue campaigns of infinite aggression against all who opposed your cruel agenda centered upon usurping the crown of Paris. Now your villainous machinations have reached across the water to ensnare innocent England within the tawdry mortal web of your incessant conspiring, and because of your conscienceless scheming two realms totter on the brink of carnage, and if war comes with all its splashed crimson and feast of sorrows, fault for such a harvest of woe and ruin shall lie with you, Matilda of Flanders! Thanks to your privy plotting, my darling son William may lose his life and honor upon some gory English ground and all Normandy be left vulnerable to merciless assault and destruction, because of you, Matilda of Flanders, all because of you, thrice-accursed disloyal strumpet!” Duchess Matilda reddened at the fiend’s savage and unjust accusations, and stamping her feet and balling her fists issued an immediate ardent rebuttal of anxious defiance to the revenant’s charges, a gust of chilling wind swirling through the crypt at the Duchess’s hot retort which swept Matilda perilously close to the precipice’s edge. A chorus of mournful voices swelled to set Matilda’s teeth on edge, and she had to brush hair and perspiration from her eyes to maintain vision and equilibrium.

“You lie, Arlette, just as ever you did while still alive! It was you who sought to maintain William in perpetual subservience to that despicable royal uncle of mine King Henry of France, and not just as his vassal but as his unnatural intimate as well! If I hadn’t moved my husband to achieve liberty from Henry’s influence William would be on his knees to my uncle still, enduring manifold indignities too wretched to articulate! You pawned your own son to my villainous and depraved kinsman, all so you could keep William firm beneath your own dissolute thumb’s evil press, and you despised me from the start for encouraging my good lord to be his own man, by Christ and His blessed saints! Whatever storm of vengeance visited upon Henry Capet in the ensuing years since your passing that degenerate filth rightly earned through his abominable mistreatment of me and William both, by God, and never in all eternity shall I tender apology for hounding that old Gallic goat unto his blasted damnation! Never, you hear? I’ve only ever done what necessity bid me do to survive and advance the interests of my dearest spouse, and I regret none of it, I’ve striven to prevent war between William and Harold Godwinesson, Blessed Virgin Mary as my witness, it’s not my fault the folly of men prevails over their wiser angels’ whispers! I can be held to account for my own sins, I grant, but not for those of others I neither approved of or inspired, that is not fair, and I won’t stand for it!” Lady Arlette cackled at Matilda’s hot refuting of the condemnation heaped upon her and there was a blinding burst of fire and noise as several other tombs were rent asunder to expose their decayed but horribly writhing occupants, these then groping from the fetid confines of their coffins to surround Matilda. The Duchess’s blood froze at the terrible sight, but she forced herself to refrain from shrieking.

“You dare proclaim yourself the injured party in this instance, whore of Flanders? You who employed the covert agency of poison to bring me and several here arisen to their agonizing and premature ends to defend against our righteous resistance to your rank hostile intriguing against us? Base perjuring murderess, cavorting adulteress and bearer of bastard seed into my darling son’s noble house! You dispatched me to lingering suffering and mortality, as you did the King of France your late kinsman Henry Capet, Count Geoffrey of Anjou, and Cardinal Udolini, who perished in wracking pain after having been allured by your physical charms to advise papal consent unto your false marriage’s legal upholding! And as for your liability for the mortal transgressions of others, what have you to say to your other victims yonder, Count Walter of Maine and his wife the Lady Biota? Did you not conspire with the latter for the treacherous disposal of King Henry, and Count Geoffrey, in exchange for your solemn oath Walter’s pending estate would not be threatened by military aggression? Lady Biota murdered for you at cost of enduring everlasting torment after death and how was her service to you repaid, pray? Rapine, conquest, capture, and ultimately death in abject misery, her husband left to expire of his many wounds without mercy starved and screaming, while Biota herself was driven by despair to the supreme offense against God of self-destruction, cursing your treachery with her final breath! Do you dare deny your full measure of responsibility for encompassing the eternal agony of your accomplice in secret selfish slaughter, Matilda of Flanders, and for instigating the campaign against Maine that brought Walter and Biota to their pathetic fate? Further, do you dare deny to me you have grossly abused your own child young Agatha, utilizing her as a mere instrument in your strategy of revenge against Harold Godwinesson, him who you viciously entrapped in retaliation for his spurning of your further advances after he had been given to have his illicit pleasure of your wanton prostitution abroad, leaving your belly to swell at length with the son of Harold’s illegitimate conception? Not only have you deceived my son regarding the paternity of his cherished namesake, disingenuous wench, your lusting for vengeance against your English lover has brought Normandy and England near to bloodshed, all to satisfy your own petty and pretentious passions! You are guilty, Matilda of Flanders, guilty, and before heaven and hell you must pay for your scarlet crimes, now and for all time!” Once again there was a flaming eruption and a cacophony of wild crying out at Lady Arlette’s harsh decree, and the specters of King Henry of France, Count Geoffrey of Anjou, Cardinal Udolini, Count Walter of Maine, and Lady Biota crowded about the shaken petrified Duchess, their staring crimsoned eyes gleaming as they reached for Matilda with tearing claws, bearing the weeping and begging noblewoman aloft above their heads in preparation for hurling Matilda into the abyss of perdition awaiting her. The Duchess implored the monstrous sextet to spare her, but to no avail.

“No, please, please, in the name of Our Blessed Lord Jesus who died to redeem all sins, great and small, I beg you, please, please, mercy, mercy!” Matilda’s cries were for naught as she was thrown high into to the air screaming and flailing as her body was caught within the icy grasp of a tremendous tempest, the force of the gale spinning her around and around until consciousness began to fail and nausea rose in her stomach from the incessant whirling. Then to the laughter of the reanimated dead Matilda found herself hurtling downward at a terrifying speed towards a great pit of boiling expanse surrounded by huge tendrils of freezing fire, the Duchess losing all power of reason as she crashed into the malodorous sea, its searing clutch assailing her with an indescribable excruciation as the flesh was burnt from her bones and her eyes, nose, and mouth were filled with the annihilating flood of acid doom …

As Matilda awoke in a drenched fever wailing and sobbing, her eyes bulging and sightless in absolute mindless dread, Godeleva seized hold of her convulsing mistress and held her firm, the Duchess as usual resisting such restraint in unconscious panic. To conclude Matilda’s clawing and kicking Godeleva resorted to her normal measure of striking the Duchess quite hard across the face, thrice in succession, the stunned noblewoman collapsing to her knees as she regained a modicum of cognitive rationality. Helping Matilda tenuously to her feet Godeleva hugged and kissed the Duchess in ardent reassurance, pointing to the table and the wine as Matilda swayed on unsteady legs, blinking hard and fast and breathing heavily as she raised a hand to mop her dripping brow and queried Godeleva concerning the cause of her agitated condition.

“Godeleva, what … happened, I … was …was I dreaming … again? Oh, sweet blessed Jesus, when shall this accursed nocturnal torment end, pray? When, Lord?” As the Duchess swore in frustration Godeleva guided Matilda to the table and raised her mistress’s cup to Matilda’s lips, watching with an anxious empathy as the Duchess quick gulped down the cold spirit, the wine dripping from her mouth to mingle with Matilda’s profuse clinging perspiration. After she had quenched her thirst and recovered her wits sufficiently the Duchess set the cup on the table and arose to disrobe, Godeleva assisting Matilda to dry herself and don her fresh garment.

“You’ve been plagued by the same dream now for the last several nights running, ever since the appearance of that damned firedrake in the sky. Would to God I could banish it from sight, or bring it down with a well-aimed stone that it might vex you no more, my lady. I’m sure that it bodes no good as such celestial omens rarely do. May I inquire as to what you believe the fiery star’s visitation signifies, Madame?” The Duchess sighed, shrugging, and walked out onto the balcony overlooking Caen castle’s courtyard, placing a hand above her eyes as she gazed up at the evening sky to catch a glimpse of the comet passing far overhead, the week old phenomena exciting manifold emotions, melancholy curiosity and wonder foremost. Godeleva joined Lady Matilda in her scan of the night horizon, as always moved to profound awe by the glow exuded from the heavens’ infinite twinkling tapestry of starlight.

“It’s truly a marvelous spectacle to behold, isn’t it, Gode? That firedrake has been traveling the firmament for God only knows how many ages, reaching to the far ends of Creation and no doubt penetrating cosmic mysteries as forever remote from the terrestrial likes of us as are the secrets of the seas. Ah, I swear, ma cherie, sometimes I wish with all my heart I could leap to the sky and attach myself unto some restless star-rover, so I too might pierce that enigmatic veil which renders us earthly mortals blind and distant to the illumination the universe’s penultimate confrontation could unfold to our innermost imagination’s staggered comprehension. Perhaps I might discover a base of greater tranquility out among the vastness of the void than is available to any searching soul marooned upon this oft-dark and desolate rock. Ah well, it’s only a wish, after all. And as for the meaning of the firedrake’s abrupt manifestation, I could hazard a guess, but for reasons you know well, Godeleva, I’d frankly prefer not to.” Godeleva nodded, casting a nervous glance at the bright streak of flame shooting across the empyrean highway and crossing herself in effort to ward off its presumed evil influence. The Duchess smiled at the gesture with tentative amusement, still experiencing a rush of combined thrill and terror in the shadow of the swift-soaring cosmic farer.

“That firedrake’s a sign of impending trouble, God help us. There’ll be a war for certain now between us and the English. I only pray your good husband’s standing in victory when the blood to be spilt ceases its mortal flow.” Duchess Matilda reflected, musing as Godeleva entwined her arm with Matilda’s as they stood studying the brilliant and endless expanse of darkness split by star-shine. Closing her eyes, Matilda imagined herself catapulted deep into the bosom of space to hurtle throughout time and the inexhaustible fathoms of the limitless azure ocean beyond all worldly reckoning, free of the incessant wearying travail of her daily existence and its struggle to survive amidst constant pain and peril.

“Can you imagine it, Godeleva? What it would feel like to fly like the birds, high above this petty plain to traverse the fantastic heights of outermost infinity? Ah God, in Thy sublime grace and mercy, grant unto me the rapture of my soul’s flight in escape from this dusty sphere at my life’s end, and give unto me to be reborn as some fair errant comet journeying for eternity to seek a divine wisdom attending that incomparable university of the heavens’ arcane tutelage, and thou shall earn my everlasting praise and gratitude, truly. If I recall correctly, Godeleva, the omen of a firedrake’s appearance some seventy-five years ago augured the defeating of an English army. We could take some small comfort from that, I suppose, but I hold we shall be better served by averting conflict rather than resigning ourselves to its tragic and unnecessary costs.” Godeleva viewed the Duchess with cynical skepticism, considering such possibility to be rather unlikely. Matilda turned to walk back into her bedchamber, sitting at the table as Godeleva poured more wine and waited upon her mistress’s intriguing elaboration of intent.

“In all frankness, Maud, I really don’t see how war can be avoided at this juncture. Harold Godwinesson has seen fit to reject the means afforded him to prevent your husband’s invasion in pursuit of redress for the English crown’s usurping, deliberately allying himself to the house of Leofric rather than your own, and I doubt that there can be any sensible and mutually satisfying resolution of differences between them given the apparent intractability of their positions. The Duke has alas called your bluff regarding your allegation of Prince Hugh’s sexual misconduct towards Agatha and her wedding with King Philip of France is imminent. Soon your husband will dispatch Archdeacon Gilbert of Lisieux to Rome to petition His Holiness’s blessing upon the English enterprise, and with the bond between your house and of Robert Guiscard still intact His Holiness won’t dare refuse to countenance the Duke’s expedition. Earl Tosti shall depart soon to test the defenses of his native land and incite open rebellion against his own brother, and I don’t doubt he’ll attempt to bring Norway into the fray despite Duke William’s directive. Given all this, Madame, I ask with all due respect how you might expect to forestall the combat between William and Harold when even the very sky itself appears to portend the conflict’s irrevocable occurrence, my lady?” Matilda took a long sip pondering her reply, her face solemn with care. After a few moments the Duchess responded in a tone of cautious confidence.

“I realize my efforts might seem futile, Godeleva, but recent events abroad have given me a new hope that our situation remains yet resolvable without resort to violence. I received report earlier today of a most serious and scandalous falling-out which occurred between the Godwine family and their Mercian relations at the annual Easter feast. Queen Aldgyth has been accused by her own daughter of committing adultery with the captain of her Welsh bodyguard, a charge the gentleman is evidently prepared to confirm. What’s more, the royal slut is with child by her lover. Can you believe this is the sort of wench Harold jilted my sweet daughter in favor of? I laughed so hard when I first heard the news I almost soiled myself! I also heard rumor about the purported existence of a certain testament of King Edward’s which proclaims Edgar Aetheling as the old dotard’s chosen successor and that it might reach Rome before William’s emissary. If this is true, it could yield me time and the critical lever I require to persuade my lord William and Harold Godwinesson to a rational compromise. Oh, and lest I forget. That child of Aldgyth’s, the one who’s condemned her? Princess Gwendolyn’s her name, a decent girl from what I’ve heard. Anyway, she was supposed to marry the Emperor Henry at Aachen, to seal an alliance between England and the Empire. Well, now the Princess is in protective residence with one of Harold’s brother’s, Earl Gyrth of East Anglia, and Harold has designated his own daughter by Lady Ealdgyth Swanneshalles to replace her, with her unhappy mother in attendance at young Lady Ggytha’s ceremony of political prostitution!” Godeleva gasped at her mistress’s tidings, as Matilda grinned and raised her cup in a toast to what she perceived as excellent developments to her strategy for peace’s advantage. Godeleva shared the Duchess’s optimism at first, but then a frown appeared on her face to Matilda’s irking.

“That’s incredible, Maud, and cause for cheer on your part, to be sure, but … I heard Tosti’s requested to visit this Earl Gyrth during his impending mission abroad. Do you think he intends some as yet occulted evil when he arrives at the home of the same kinsman guarding this young witness against Harold’s faithless consort? I mean, being as your husband has stated how he’d hold any attempt by Harold Godwinesson to assert conjugal rights to Lady Agatha if only as a ploy to spare his realm from the Duke’s armed assault as totally unacceptable, it could be that Tosti is assigned the task of silencing Gwendolyn so Harold will remain burdened with Queen Aldgyth, instead of being set at liberty to seek a new royal partner.” Matilda laughed and with wry humor reassured her attendant against such a possibility. Godelava sighed, still wary.

“Trust me, ma cher, William knows nothing about of all this, and even if he did he wouldn’t prove so diabolically devious and dastardly on his own to conceive of having Tosti slay Harold’s step-daughter in the house of their noble brother. That sort of scandal is the kind my lord always strives to avoid and besides, with Aldgyth’s lover still available to denounce her the divorcing of that wretched woman is no more avertable than the snows of winter. Not to mention that I have made it quite clear to Tosti in private that if he acts to heap any more heartache and disgrace on my dear sister Judith, and her children, the most savage precincts of Africa shall not afford him sufficient refuge from my wrath. Personally, I doubt Tosti will return from England. After all, it would only take a whisper in the right ear to ensure that foul scum a sanguine reception from his sovereign kinsman’s retainers, and as we know, Godeleva, every passing wind’s full of whispers. Isn’t this so, ma cher soeur?” Godeleva giggled at the Duchess’s insinuation, pleased to ponder Earl Tosti’s well-earned justice at Matilda’s hands. Matilda took another deep swig of her wine before refilling and offering the cup to Godeleva, who likewise drank liberally.

“Manifique, Madame! I’ll be happy to hear of that Anglais swine’s meeting with such mortal misfortune, by Christ’s red crown! Tell me, does Lady Judith still plan on testifying that Harold ravished her and young Gundred?” Duchess Matilda’s face darkened at the mentioning of Lady Judith’s scheduled denunciation of her royal brother-in-law, arising to pace in brooding anxiety as she expressed her disapproval at Judith’s stubbornness and frustration at having failed to get her kinswoman to reconsider. Godeleva listened in sympathy, nodding in understanding.

“I’m afraid so. I tried to dissuade Judith, warning her that such a rash action would cast an enduring stigma on her daughter as well as her own reputation, even though they both be held as Harold’s innocent victims, but Judith alas remains adamant. I told her perjuring herself against Harold wouldn’t serve to help her family and would only ensure Harold’s increased hostility to Tosti, and prevent the ultimate rapprochement between them my sister foolishly still hopes will transpire, all evidence to the contrary. Judith became incensed, and reminded me rather coldly of how I myself was prepared to blight Agatha’s honor by having her charge Prince Hugh with her seduction. We argued, and our conversation declined precipitously as you can imagine. Judith is consumed by resentment of Harold, and a fear for her children whether Harold survives or falls. She believes she’ll be left in exile should Harold endure in power, and if her Godwine relations are undone my sister dreads what consequences might attend her offspring from her association with Harold’s family. I don’t think Judith expects Tosti to survive much longer herself, and the prospect of his death frightens my sister, owing to Judith’s perceived lack of personal power over her and her children’s futures. I have made it plain to Judith I’ll always see she enjoys protection and support commiserate with her status as my precious and esteemed kin, but she demands that I secure her title to Northumbria for young Ketil. This I told her may prove difficult since Lady Aelffryth is pressing my husband hard for young Waltheof to be declared his sire Earl Siward’s rightful heir, and has the ardent support of my sister-in-law Countess Adelaide for such a claim, since Adelaide’s daughter Juliana’s betrothed to Waltheof. I’m endeavoring to mediate, but the bitter vindictive rivalry prevailing between the camps renders it a labor of Herculean dimension. William is no help in the matter, leaning towards his sister one day and my counsel the next, as he’s quite preoccupied with the logistics of his English obsession’s encompassing.” Godeleva took another gulp of wine and passed the cup back to Matilda who sipped it in genteel fashion. Godeleva then inquired about Lady Agatha at Fecamp, and proffered the Duchess a disturbing morsel of information regarding the recruitment underway for Duke William’s army.

“Yes, I have heard the Duke has sent out a general summons for mercenaries to augment his expeditionary force. Word has it he’s negotiating with Count Alain of Brittany for the Talbots to join him. Have you heard anything from Abbess Bertrada about Agatha? Perhaps you can have Katerine La Fidele visit your daughter when she returns from Paris. I’m sure that would cheer the girl, those two having been virtually inseparable until Lady Agatha’s unhappy confinement.” Duchess Matilda started at Godeleva’s reference to the notorious Breton brigands being invited to serve her husband, shaking her head in disdain. Taking a sip from her cup Matilda remarked upon the maneuver with regret and contempt, before reporting upon her daughter’s status.

“The Talbots! God help William, those cutthroat robbers are the worst scum on the Continent by far, and as low as any noble lord could dare descend in an effort to fill out his ranks, by Christ and His saints! It speaks starkly of my husband’s desperation to obtain England’s crown by any means that he would stoop to hiring those wicked villains to flesh out his forces, but alas he will not heed any counsel of mine upon the matter, certainly. I daresay William would embrace the devil himself and his minions gladly in this instance to prevail over Harold Godwinesson in the battle for that blasted royal circlet. Men! More like impetuous adolescents, still striving for the approval of their sires and both gambling with precious innocent lives to establish their vaunted manhood! William believes being a king will silence the taunting whispers against his bastardy and Harold is simply too proud and stubborn to relinquish that which he’s usurped for his own best interest’s protection, and England’s! And while all this foolish masculine strutting occurs, my sweet girl sits in a lonely cell at Fecamp, growing more miserable and hopeless by the day! Abbess Bertrada now informs me Agatha is declining to eat, Godeleva, so it’s imperative that I take quick and affirmative action. And I think what’s happened in England presents me with a perfect opportunity to redeem peace from the ravening maw of Mars.” Godeleva leaned in, so her mistress might confide her plan, but a sharp knocking came at the bedchamber door, Lady Matilda motioning for Godeleva to discern her late night caller’s identity and business. Duke William strode into his wife’s presence with imperious determination, summarily dismissing Godeleva so he could confer privately with the surprised and guarded Duchess.

“You may leave us, Godeleva. I want to have a few words alone with your mistress. You needn’t go far, this won’t take long.” Matilda stood and nodded to Godeleva, who curtsied as she withdrew. Folding her arms firm across her chest the Duchess inquired in a sharp cool tone regarding William’s purpose in imposing upon her at such a late hour.

“My lord. What brings you here so late at might, pray? I had thought I’d made my position quite plain to you, William, and hence find no reason for further elaboration or discussion. You have seen fit to impugn my dignity publicly and unjustly imprison my child for undesirable and illicit ends. Until I’ve received a sincere public apology from you concerning the former injury and Agatha is released from captivity to return to my loving care, we have nothing to say to one another. Nil. Comprenez? Bonsour, mon seigneur.” Duke William darkened and advanced on Matilda, seizing her and kissing his wife fiercely, the Duchess struggling against his unwelcome embrace and clawing at William’s face and neck. When the Duke released her swearing in pain Matilda rushed onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, threatening to leap as William in mordant amusement received her threat with knowing disregard.

“Stand back, Norman, I warn you! You’d be very hard-pressed to avoid and survive a terrific scandal if your excessive pressuring forced me to suicide’s woeful alternative as my only means of escape from your violent mistreatment! It won’t be pretty having to order your men to scrape the gory shattered remnants of your late consort off the courtyard stones, my lord, so I warn you again, husband, keep your distance! What the hell are you laughing at, you God-cursed Norman mule? I will not be mocked by such disrespectful mirth, William, God damn you, stop it at once, or there’ll be hell to pay, I promise you!” Duke William tried to keep from grinning as he held a hand out to his incensed bride, requesting amicably Matilda cease her deliberate but insubstantial dramatic posturing and converse with him in rational fashion. The Duchess frowned, irritated by William’s nonchalant reaction to her implied self-destruction, but then an involuntary half-smile crossed her face as Matilda walked back into the bedchamber, greeting the Duke’s dismissal of her familiar ploy with a soft mock-indignant reproach.

“You know, Will, there may come a day when I might really deign jump. Whatever would you do under such awful circumstances, mon cher ami?” Duke William cradled Matilda’s face in his large hands and kissed her gently upon the lips, stroking her cheek as he answered her in an affectionate manner of adoring. The Duchess couldn’t help experiencing a flush of warmth at the renewed intimacy with her beloved husband she’d been craving since their recent frustrating estrangement, her heart beginning to pound faster as her thighs grew slick with wanting.

“I’d have to jump after you with such tremendous speed as to reach the ground first, Madame, that I might cushion your fall with these thick Norman bones of mine, ma petite fleur. What else is a fair wench’s good husband for, after all?” Matilda laughed and returned William’s kiss with passionate ardor, their disagreements forgotten for the moment as she contemplated him with an uninhibited fondness. The Duke regarded Matilda with equal tenderness, desiring her with such immensity his loins ached and he felt saliva forming in his mouth owing to his appetite’s intense panging. The Duchess intuited her husband’s longing with satisfaction, pleased the Duke’s heat remained high in her presence after almost twenty years of marriage.

“Merci, mon cherie. I’ve no doubt concerning the sincerity of your pledge, and I appreciate it most profoundly though I don’t anticipate testing it in the near future, granted. Ah, Will, I can’t comprehend why we should be so at odds with one another over the issue of English succession. It truly shouldn’t concern us, you know. Let Harold Godwinesson rule his realm while you take rightful custody of the French throne, my dear lord and love, and be at pains only to insist upon our sweet daughter’s rights as Harold’s royal consort being recognized, and I am confident this entire foolish squabble shall be resolved without resort to needless strife and suffering upon both sides, William. If you haven’t heard the news from England yet, husband, late events there now afford us critical opportunity to persuade Harold towards a reasonable settlement to your dispute and with your permission I’ll undertake to act as intermediary between you and Harold to effect such a happy and mutually profitable conclusion to matters. So, what say you to my proposition, ma cher amor?” Duke William’s expression hardened and he stepped back from the Duchess in immediate inflexible antagonism, Matilda at once flushing with furious resentment at William’s persistent irrationality concerning the subject of his crown endeavor. Wagging her finger Lady Matilda launched into her routine admonishment a weary and embittered Duke William had by now memorized, so often had he been the object of Matilda’s relentless hectoring.

“I’ve said it before, my lord, until it pains my tongue to articulate my consistent points further for your hopeful prudent consideration. To attempt the sort of invasion of England by sea that is currently imagined by you is an act of folly, pure and simple. Oh, I know you’ll argue that Norse fleets have been harrying and occupying England for decades, Will, but mark me, England is not the easy prey for such piratical enterprises any more that it’s proven in the past. Harold is a man to be reckoned with as a commander of men, he’s no Alfred the Great to be certain, but he’s not Aethelred the Unready either. Those Huscarls of his are a most formidable fighting force, they wield their terrible two-handed axes like peasants handle scythes, only they reap men not crops, William. Harold’s reign may be precarious, but a foreign invasion will yield him the chance to unite his country behind him, and you ought be aware an Englishman fighting in defense of his native soil is no foe to sneer at with impunity. And need I remind you that thanks to your fool patronage of that scurvy slime Tosti, there’s a great likelihood that villain shall find some way to induce Harald Hardrada to join the fray, should war occur. And Norway’s reputation in the field should give both you and Harold pause ere you recklessly engage in combat over Edward’s royal estate. William, please, for the love of blessed bleeding Jesus, listen to me! Think about the cost and potential ill consequences of your present policy, I beg you! This English obsession of yours has divided Normandy sorely with many of your nobles deigning to express most grave concerns to me in confidence regarding a course they discern may result in an utter disaster for this Duchy, and your unchecked and unreasonable ambition to rule in England is aligning considerable forces against us! What happens here, to me and our family, husband, should you fall in fruitless battle upon some crimsoned ground abroad, have you reflected fully and soberly upon this, Will, have you? I tell you again for the thousandth time, my good lord! France is a near rose ripest for the plucking, requiring no vast army of mercenaries nor the braving of the sea’s manifold perils for its timely grasping, and you’d not likely face even a fraction of the hostility any reception upon English soil must entail from its resistant populace! Let me negotiate with Harold for Agatha’s recognition as his new sovereign bride, William, and it may well prove you’ll enter Paris with English troops supporting you as you cast down the accursed Capets to eternal ignominy so a glorious new era of universal harmony and prosperity may commence! I would not stop you from being a great king, William, for truly I know you’ve the stuff of incomparable grandeur within your noble spirit. All I’m counseling, nay, imploring, ma cherie, is that you consider all relevant factors judiciously in choosing which path to imperial destiny you tread, and elect to travel the road most lacking in potential regrets to an honorable sovereignty’s embrace.” The Duke attended to Matilda’s ardent lecturing in stony resignation, awaiting its conclusion with an air of annoyed indifference. The Duchess grimaced and threw up her hands in frustrated futility at William’s continuing stubbornness, turning her back upon her husband in scornful disgust as the Duke angrily refuted Matilda’s position to her most anxious and irate displeasure.

“It’s always the same old refrain with you of late, woman, by Almighty God’s gray beard! To listen to you one would assume your husband to be the same callow and untested youth who had once served as the witless footstool of Capetian contempt, as you’ve never ceased to remind me, Madame! Well, Lady, for the thousandth time I tell you that I am not, by Christ’s scarlet thorns! I’ve made a reputation for myself as a combat leader every bit as outstanding as any lord in the whole of Christendom, certainly obtaining victories on a par with your vaunted Harald Hardrada and greater within my own, and indeed widespread estimate than ever has Harold Godwinesson! When I was a child no one would’ve wagered a frightened fleeing boy hiding beneath his bed as his advisors and protectors were cruelly slain by his rapacious relations would survive to become Duke of this then lawless realm, but survive I did, and I won my inheritance upon the battlefield by my own merits, me, Matilda, not that smug and condescending reprobate Henry Capet! You helped make me aware of my potential for greatness, for which I am eternally grateful, and you have yourself witnessed how I’ve defeated two separate attempts by your royal uncle to render me once more subject to his pleasure! At this instant mine is the mightiest military power since the distant days of the Roman Caesars, since the legendary Charlemagne and his noble paladins, and I tell you no one can hope to withstand my martial effort to claim what is mine by Edward’s vow and my own virtue, not if Harold Godwinesson, Hardrada, and the arisen legions of Rome’s former pagan glory were arrayed against me! Of course I could take the easy path to sovereignty by marching on Paris to oust the cowering incompetent Capetian dynasty as personified by that quivering cousin of yours, but where is the glory, the true accomplishment in that sort of casual conquest, pray? Should I let it be said of Duke William of Normandy that at the last he proved too timid, too cautious and defensive in his strategy to dare assume the crown sworn to his sire and himself out of unmanly fear of vigorous opposition to his proper claim’s pressing? What would be whispered of your noble husband then, Maud? I’ll tell you! Not only would it they snicker at him for demonstrating himself the unworthy bastard they’ve long derided as unfit to hold himself the respectable equal of more well-born gentlemen, but they would foist the foul epithet of coward upon my name as well, wife, and to avoid such irreparable and indigestible shame I would storm the blazing shores of molten hell to confront Lucifer’s massed minions in mortal contest, so you’ll forgive me if I fail to be deterred by the prospect of meeting mere men on battle’s red field of decision and far lesser men than I at that, or do you perhaps hold Harold Godwinesson my better, Madame? Speak candidly, woman, for I would know once and for all why you exhibit such an earnest and unwavering faith in my intended expedition’s sure failure! What is it about that accursed dissembling Englishman you find so much more admirable than your own devoted husband’s perhaps too-humble nature, Lady?” At Duke William’s agitated implying of Matilda’s favoring of Harold Godwinesson, the incredulous and amused Duchess turned and gaped at the red-faced nobleman with absolute mirthful disbelief, dissolving into a fit of involuntary laughter which caused Matilda’s eyes to tear and for her need to sit down to quell her helpless humorous convulsion. Duke William glared at his giggling spouse with indignation, demanding the Duchess refrain from his perceived mocking in a stern wounded tone.

“Cease your cackling, wench, I shall not be ridiculed by my own consort in my own domain! I don’t know why you have chosen to champion Harold Godwinesson’s interest over mine, but such conduct upon your part must end, now, Matilda, comprenez, Madame? From this instant you will behave as a loyal wife ought, and refrain from all words and actions that may serve to undermine my determined policies, is that quite clear, Lady? Now, if you’re finished laughing at me, woman, I’ve instructions for you to follow, to the letter.” Duke William’s severity caused the Duchess to abruptly sober as she braced to receive orders Matilda knew would likely prove unpalatable. Her instincts were swiftly confirmed to Matilda’s restrained but profound dismay, the Duchess bristling inwardly at the outrageousness of her husband’s arbitrary injustice.

“Very good. You will proceed under armed escort to Fecamp, Maud, where you will speak with our daughter and convince Agatha to accede to marriage with King Philip. You will then accompany Agatha to Paris to await her royal nuptials, remaining there as my formal envoy for an unspecified period. After Agatha’s conceived and borne a heir for France, it may please me to recall you hence, Duchess, and in the meantime I’ll have expanded the imperial legacy of all my descendants through a martial acquisition of the English crown in accordance with my right as articulated to me by my dear late cousin King Edward. Thereafter we’ll have England and at length France together to bequeath to our noble blood in near future, and an enduring praise and hallowed glory shall be forever ours to the furthest reaches of posterity. Do you understand me fully and without question, Matilda?” The Duchess gasped in shock and abhorrence at William, rising up with her teeth grinding and her fists balled to challenge his appalling decree with fiery defiance. The Duke met Matilda’s stiff resistance with iron resolution, mind and spine set.

“The hell you say, Norman cur! You think you can just casually and unjustly sentence me to perpetual exile in the custody of my despicable Capetian relations and my sweet innocent girl to marital harlotry for life, and I will simply smile and curtsy low to you while saying, “As pleases you, my good lord?” Va te faire foutre, sale con! If you are expecting me to depart this Duchy where I have resided as your most acclaimed and I daresay indispensable partner in governance these last twenty years, fool William Bastard, and to deliver my sweet child into that unworthy and depraved bed of Philip Capet, thereafter remaining in Paris as a hapless witness to Agatha’s daily debasement and despairing without a most ferocious and expensive resistance, then your meager wits are lodged even further up your stinking arse than I had hitherto imagined, dunce! If you want me out of Normandy, varlet, you shall have to command for me to be dragged out kicking, clawing, and screaming, husband, and be advised, my outcries against such wretched mistreatment shall reverberate unto every corner of Christendom, to your very great detriment and regret! Agatha isn’t wedding or bedding Philip, William, never, and I’ll not set a foot out of Caen to undertake her false persuasion to such a despicable political prostitution as you propose, nor to accept with meek resignation the foul and unfair fortune of extended exile as a prisoner of Paris you evidently would now deign impose upon me with such a base and heartless ingratitude! I refuse to comply, Bastard, and for your selfish, short-sighted, and most grossly stupid strategy I tender only this as a righteous response, sir, and nothing more, mark me!” Duchess Matilda spat at Duke William’s feet, her hot saliva splattering against his dark leather boots as William fumed in frustration, determined to bend the obstinate Duchess to his will. Matilda placed her hands on her hips, a cold smirk upon her face indicating her preparation for the prolonged and remorseless conflict her husband’s harsh stance had precipitated.

“With all due respect, Madame, I think you’ll prove most willing to accommodate me in this instance with complete discretion. Otherwise, Maud, things may go quite badly for you and for young Taillefer as well. You see, fair Lady, I’ve just had a rather interesting conversation with Prince Hugh of Vandmois, that same guest of state whom you had recently tried to discredit as our alleged innocent daughter’s deplorable debaucher. Prince Hugh’s report has already been affirmed in a mortified fashion, you should know, so there’s no point in your denying the bare facts of the matter, Matilda. Taillefer and Agatha had been consorting with each other, before her troth to King Philip was arranged, in a covert and illicit manner leaving both vulnerable to serious repercussions, not to mention this Duchy and its ruling house. Thankfully Agatha did not yield her chastity to Taillefer’s yearning, so her marriage can still ensue with none the wiser of her careless, and frankly disgraceful premarital indulgence in certain lewd, but ultimately non-invasive practices. However, where my lusting and dissembling young herald’s concerned the price of Agatha’s improper pleasure could yet prove considerable. Terribly so I reckon, unless perhaps I’m moved to grant the boy mercy under the influence of some softening power’s bend of my fatherly ire to charity’s placated bequest.” The Duchess paled, then flushed with intense bitterness at the unscrupulous extortion employed by the Duke to thus enforce her acquiescence to his terms. Sitting upon the bed with her eyes averted and rubbing her arms as if chilled Lady Matilda shook her head in rueful sadness and deep disdain for the abysmal level of maneuvering the struggle for imperial estate upon the parts of her husband and his rivals had reduced them to, wondering aloud at the sheer sordidness of such incessant and conscienceless crown pursuit and where it might yet lead all engaged in its reckless ruthless endeavor.

“Sweet blessed Jesus, William. Has it truly come to this, that you’d sacrifice the life of one who’s been as a son to us over a perhaps impolitic but nonetheless truly innocent flirtation that has harmed no one? Is there no cheap and vicious measure you’d not stoop to in order to grasp what we both know is a purloined prize neither you nor your rivals duly merit by any true right, but covet solely owing to ambition’s insatiable avarice? What in God’s name has this ravening obsession with royal estate made of us, my noble lord, all of us, here and in England, pray? Is it worth obtaining the rank and pomp of the purple if we barter our mortal souls in the bargain for the moral equivalent of mere pence, William? What sort of esteemed and glorious sovereigns can we prove to be, if our path to crowned authority be littered with the stripped bones of our ill-discarded dignity and humanity? Oh Christ, Will, I love you more than my life, nay, my soul, but I’d rather we both perished than I should live to witness my most cherished decent spouse become this sorry age’s declined and despised tyrant, another ravaged and rending Tiberius in oppressed and oppressive nature who’d condemn countless to the cross for sake of a Caesar’s stolen scepter! I beg you, husband, upon my knees, please, think better of what you’re doing and saying, and exercise a saving prudence’s sublime grace before it’s too late, William, for all of us! Please, my dear good and wise love, take heed, in the name of Lord Christ and reason’s angels!” Duke William raised a tearful imploring Matilda to her feet, holding her firm by the arms as he issued her a hard negative reply. The Duchess sobbed, turning her face away in sorrow at such tragic inflexibility, her heart sinking like a stone tossed to the sea.

“Stop this damned whining and wailing, woman, you’re only embarrassing yourself! I have made my decision, Duchess, and now we all must live with it, and by Christ’s heavenly hosts I declare we will!” Matilda struggled to break loose but the Duke’s powerful grip restrained her.

Lifting Matilda’s chin William gazed into her eyes he opened by implanting gentle kisses upon them, the Duchess regarding him with a mixture of forlorn disappointment and a still-flickering hope for their redemption.

“Now you listen to me, Matilda. You exaggerate as you are prone to do whenever you’ve a difference of opinion with me. My soul is not imperiled by the just pursuit of my rights in this instance as even the current firedrake’s omen I know you have been observing with trepidation the last few evenings testifies to, in my perspective. It’s said that such celestial signs imply the downfall of kings, Madame, such as Harold and Hardrada. What better encouragement have I to confront my crowned rivals, pray, when even the heavens bear a plain evidence of my ordained victory, Lady? How can anyone, noble or common, deign to deny what the stars themselves so proclaim, my inevitable triumph? And if that’s not enough for you, Maud, the word of William de Marigny, our astrologer whose power I know you respect, has informed me that if I war upon England I should expect to suffer the loss of but a single ship in the effort, no more than one ship from an entire fleet, Duchess! How can you continue to manifest such unwarranted gloom when according to expert prognostication fortune is fully with me?” Matilda pushed the Duke away in aggravated annoyance, making a contemptuous sound that incensed William. The Duke reacted by stamping his feet and venting his immense resentment and bemusement at Matilda’s contrary attitude. The Duchess sighed, rolling her eyes in melancholy exhaustion.

“God damn you, exasperating wench! How dare you presume to oppose me now as though you were some injured innocent in all this! It was you who conceived of the scheme to entrap Harold Godwinesson two years ago and executed it if I may remind you, Maud, with supreme finesse without experiencing such profound stabs of remorseful conscience as you now claim to endure, and then went even farther than I’d initially approved by insisting upon the betrothal of our daughter with that infernal Aglaise, despite the rather considerable obstacle Godwinesson’s matrimony with Ealdgyth Swanneshalles would eventually present to their union’s prospect! I only consented to the match to heap more humiliation upon Harold, relying on time, and your promised facilitation of Agatha’s forgetting of Harold, my lady, to render the betrothal a moot concern! Instead, you’ve stood by and allowed the fool girl’s hopeless pining for the Anglaise to become a most serious vexation to me, threatening my entire royal agenda, and you’ve the gall to imply that I ought just sacrifice my crown objective solely for sake of ensuring a deluded maid’s marital bliss with a notorious whoremonger thrice Agatha’s age who will not even acknowledge the blind little idiot’s existence! I demand to know the reasons behind this persistent clinging to insubstantial illusion where our daughter’s relationship with Godwinesson is concerned, and the rationale behind your consistent attempt to protect that scurrilous Englishman from my justice’s righteous imposition! At once, Matilda, do you hear?” The Duchess turned to face her husband, a tart retort poised upon her lips’ ruby precipice. Matilda to William’s surprise remained silent, however, and walked out onto the balcony, leaving the Duke stewing in wrought acrimony.

“If that’s how you wish to leave matters between us, woman, c’est parfait. You’ll leave for Fecamp abbey imminently, Maud, and proceed to Paris for Agatha’s wedding with King Philip thereafter, remaining as my envoy there until it pleases me to recall you. You’ll neither do nor say anything to damage my impending expedition’s prospects, nor undermine the alliance with France, Duchess, and you’ll not attempt to engage in contact with any party beyond Normandy for any reason. I won’t tolerate another word advocating my forfeiture of the English crown or the impossible, and unwelcome persuasion of Harold Godwinesson to recognize our daughter as his sovereign consort, so don’t test my patience upon these issues further, Madame. Any further frustration of my desires won’t be met with the generous indulgence that’s hitherto greeted such insolent and unbecoming conduct. And now, Matilda, your loving if of late unsupported spouse bids you a most weary good evening.” Duchess Matilda said nothing to the Duke’s farewell, as an involuntary flinching occurred at the irate William’s withdrawal and slamming of the door in angry departure. A few minutes later Godeleva reentered the bedchamber, her expression glum with worry as Matilda turned with tears of outrage in her eyes to report upon her acrid exchange with Duke William.

“He is proceeding to enforce Agatha’s troth with my despicable royal cousin, Godeleva, and what’s worse, he proposes to send me into indefinite exile in Paris as well! Can you believe the inflated ballocks of that God-cursed bastard? It seems Prince Hugh learned of Agatha’s foolish but largely harmless dalliance with Taillefer somehow, and he’s told William all about it, damn him, no doubt as vengeance for my effort to convince my husband of Hugh’s own guilt as Lady Agatha’s alleged ravisher! William’s threatened to impose a savage justice on the herald unless I display myself his obedient servant, and ply Agatha to do likewise regardless of the misery such submission guarantees my poor betrayed child! Godeleva, I must do something! It is my doing that’s left Agatha in such a dreadfully precarious position and as it was my intent that a wedding between Harold and my daughter should forestall war between this realm and England, by Jesus Christ’s sacred scarlet, I must now find a way to accomplish the vital union of our houses so we may yet avert that disaster adherence to present policy upon both sides of the water promises us! Of course, ma cher soeur, I will require your assistance in this most crucial enterprise as always.

Have I your faithful support, old friend, come what may?” Godeleva smiled, embracing Matilda in loyal trust, confidence and affection. The two women sat at the table to begin planning for the encompassment of the Duchess’s design, Godeleva proffering her anxious mistress some critical information concerning the maneuverings of Matilda’s rivals at court, and regarding unexpected potential hazard from her sister Lady Judith.

“When have I ever failed you, ma cherie? To begin, I should inform you that your husband’s tactic of sending you to reside in Paris might not be the hostile maneuver you assume. Just now I happened to overhear a most revealing conversation between Countess Adelaide and Bishop Odo concerning you, Madame. Those two plot against you at all hours for manifold reasons I needn’t recount, God knows, and it appears Duke William spent time conferring with them ere he arrived this evening to confront you. They’re aware alas of the covert trysting between Lady Agatha and Taillefer, and attempted to cast blame upon you for your daughter’s indiscretion, and Adelaide is also striving to place onus upon you for the failure of your son Robert’s troubled troth with Lady Emmeline, holding you to account for that Italian cunt’s continuous complaining, as if anybody could prevent the spoiled little bitch, or live with her without strife. That is not the worst of the conspiracy against you, however, for it seems Adelaide and Odo are determined to resurrect the ghost of Lady Arlette to haunt you, my lady. They insist you’re guilty of effecting her untimely mortality as they’ve done for years now, and I’m afraid they might have acquired corroboration of the charge from an unexpected and potentially damning quarter. Lady Judith. Your sister is apparently willing to cooperate with Odo and Adelaide against you, Maud, unless you promise her Northumbria. Judith’s desperate to align herself with the prevailing influence in the realm, and right now it looks as though the Bishop and the Countess have usurped preeminent sway of the Duke from you for the foreseeable future. They wanted you to be charged with treason and investigated anew for Arlette’s death but the Duke conceived the notion of establishing you for a time in Paris to remove you from the malign orbit of his relations to forestall such events, at least for the moment. I would speak to Judith at once, Matilda, to assuage her perilous anxiety. She’s an even greater threat to you than Odo and Adelaide, given what she knows about your past due to your having entrusted your sister with that incriminating diary’s destruction during your dire illness four years ago. There’s no telling what Judith might say about you, Maud, or guarantee she indeed burned the book as instructed, I regret to remind you. If she’s kept the diary for use against you, mistress … “ The Duchess eyed Godeleva with rueful irritation, having once told Godeleva explicitly to oversee her diary’s consumption to fire, a task her attendant hadn’t been able to accomplish owing to sudden emergency of her own. Rising to pace in pensive brooding Matilda issued instruction to counter the menace against her.

“You were supposed to guarantee that fool testament of mine’s commitment unto the hearth, ma ami, but no matter. There’s no point regretting your lapse of duty now, is there? I will talk to my sister tomorrow and regain Judith’s confidence by sharing my private plan to salvage the present situation. That plan is as follows, Godeleva. You will inform Katerine La Fidele upon her return to court she is to proceed to Fecamp and remove Agatha to the protective custody of my mother Lady Alix in Ghent. You yourself shall embark upon a covert embassy to England, where you’ll pay a visit to my old friend, Lady Torfrida, whom I understand is a close intimate of Madame Swanneshalles. You shall convey an invitation to Ealdgyth from me for sanctuary here for her and her daughter, Gytha the Younger. You’ll make it clear to Torfrida my desire to discuss the resolution of the succession crisis through the joining of my noble house with that of Ealdgyth by matrimony with Lady Swanneshalles and that I mean Ealdgyth and her kin no harm.

If Lady Torfrida proves resistant to approaching Ealdgyth upon my behalf, well, you know what to say to encompass her swift submission to my whim, Godeleva. While you’re away I’ll regain Judith’s trust so I can employ her as an instrument of obtaining Ealdgyth’s cooperation for war’s permanent prevention. Go now, and make plans to depart Caen with utmost caution. The future of us all now depends upon our secret schematic’s success. God be with you, Godeleva, ma cher soeur de coeur.” Godeleva hugged and kissed Matilda, curtsying in deep respect as a gesture of her determination not to fail her beloved friend. In wake of her attendant’s departure, the weary Duchess strolled out onto the balcony in wry wistful contemplation, her heart full of melancholy anticipation as she once again peered skyward sighing with a profound fatalism.

“Thy will be done, O Lord, as it ever is, despite our best and truest intentions. And you, Sir Firedrake, be gone please, and I pray you not to leave me confounded by thy passing but rather permit me ever to mark your alighting of the night at this critical hour with naught save a warm recollection of victory’s achievement having been brilliantly heralded by your blazing wonder’s breathless perusal. Amen.” Having offered her earnest exhortation to heaven Duchess Matilda retired to her bed, clutching her soft pillow to her bosom for comfort. As the sands of slumber gathered in her eyes Matilda’s last conscious thought was a fleeting petition for sweet repose’s virgin entertainment, untouched by the scourging demons born out of a relentless conscience’s restless conception.

CHAPTER SEVEN