The Fatal Crown (4 page)

Stephen nodded. He hadn’t the faintest idea how he would accomplish what Henry wanted, but there was time enough to find a way. As always, he found himself impressed—and slightly disquieted—by the artful manner in which Henry so easily manipulated their irascible mother.

Four weeks later Stephen left Blois to set sail for England. Although he was happy to be going, he knew he would never forget that Henry had been sent from home with honor, as a reward, while he was leaving in disgrace, as a punishment.

There was a sudden shout of warning as Maud’s litter almost collided with a young boy coming from the other direction. Startled, Maud looked up. Honey-colored waves of hair spilled out from under a scarlet cap perched jauntily on his head. The boy’s handsome face, streaked with dust, turned swiftly in her direction. Dazzling green eyes flecked with gold—cat’s eyes—met her gray ones in a long curious stare. Just before his horse rounded the corner, a smile touched his lips. He whipped off his cap, bowing his head to her. Then he and the other riders were lost to view.

Maud lay back in the litter. So that was her difficult cousin, Stephen of Blois. For a moment the boy’s image, clear as a brush stroke on vellum, stayed in her mind. A wave of emotion she could not identify washed over her, rousing her briefly from the depths of her anguish. She shivered, as if a wolf had walked over her grave, a premonition of trouble, Aldyth would say. Then the feeling passed; the boy’s image faded. Misery again settled over her like a shroud. One life was over; a new life not yet born.

I
T WAS EARLY MAY
before Maud reached the German city of Mainz where she had been told the emperor would meet her. But when they arrived at the cheerless stone palace at the hour of Vespers he had not yet arrived. Instead, she was greeted by a group of stiff middle-aged men dressed in somber colors of gray and dark brown, and a brittle thin woman with a face like a hatchet and a faint mustache across her upper lip. She wore a dark gray tunic, a white wimple covered her head, and she regarded Maud with a severe expression. Graf von Hennstien, her escort from England, had disappeared along with everyone else in her party, including Aldyth. No one explained anything and when Maud asked a question they replied in German, which she did not understand.

She was given a chunk of black bread dipped in warm milk and put to bed in a huge dank chamber whose walls were covered with dark red and blue tapestries depicting the torments of the holy martyrs. The pictures of burning and other tortures were so vividly represented that Maud pulled the coverlet over her head. Miserable and lonely, she clutched the silver ring her father had given her and cried herself to sleep.

When she woke the next morning there was still no sign of Aldyth. Sick with fear and uncertainty, badly missing Beau, she huddled under the fur-lined coverlet wishing with all her heart that she was back in England. The same gray-clad woman who had met her yesterday entered her chamber, said something in German, then dressed her in the saffron-colored gown and amber tunic in which she had left England. Around her neck she placed an ornate gold cross set with pearls that Maud had never seen before, and led her down the staircase to the courtyard. Outside, the sky was overcast with gray clouds, the air warm and sluggish. They climbed into a waiting litter and were carried a short distance to where a large church stood in the middle of a cobbled square, just as the bells rang for Prime.

Inside the church, crowded with worshippers, it was cold and dim, penetrated by only a faint ray of light. As Maud was led down the aisle to her pew, she could see people craning their necks to catch a glimpse of her. The odor of incense, the chanting of the choir, the solemn intonation of the office made her head spin. At last the Mass was over and she was carried back to the palace.

When Maud returned to her chamber, she was met by the Graf von Hennstien. Thank the Holy Mother, here was someone who understood Norman French.

“Where is Aldyth?” she asked.

“I regret, Prinzessin, but all your entourage is to be sent back to England on the Emperor’s orders.”

Stunned, Maud felt an icy chill seep through her body. Send Aldyth away? The Emperor could not be so cruel. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them back, remembering her father’s injunction that a granddaughter of the Conqueror did not cry.

“Why?” she whispered.

The Graf glanced uneasily around the austere chamber. “The Emperor feels you will learn German more quickly and adjust easily to your new surroundings if you are not constantly reminded of England.”

“I want Aldyth back,” she said in a choked voice.

“I regret, that is not possible. Come, do you realize what a very fortunate little girl you are? The Emperor is a most powerful monarch, his influence extends south into Italy and as far east as Hungary.”

The names meant nothing to her. “I want to go home. At once.”

“I regret, that is not possible. All the arrangements for the betrothal ceremony have been made.”

“Then I’ll return to England afterward.”

“But of course you cannot return to England, Prinzessin. Afterward you will live in Germany and learn the language and our customs. By the time you are married, at thirteen, you will be a proper German, hein?”

Maud did not answer.

“Now eat. You must keep up your strength. The Emperor arrives this morning, do you wish him to see you in such a sorry state?”

Unable to control her tears, she tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of her tunic.

The Graf turned to the woman and said something in German. She nodded, walked toward Maud, took her briskly by the hand, and led her to a small table set with a bowl of milk, a loaf of bread, and a plate of something that smelled like salted fish.

“Eat,” said the Graf. “You will feel better.”

Maud shook her head, unwilling to sit down on the embroidered stool. The woman took her by the shoulders and forced her onto the seat. Maud felt a hot surge of rebellion as grief turned unexpectedly to anger. She bent her head and bit the woman’s hand. The woman shrieked and snatched her hand away.

Leaping up from the table, Maud threw the bowl of milk onto the tiled floor, overturned the platter of fish, kicked aside the stool, then ran across the chamber to push open the oak door. She sped along the passage, half slid down the winding staircase, dashed through a large hall where startled faces turned to watch her, and out the open front doors of the palace. The courtyard was filled with servants, grooms, and palace officials all milling about. The gates stood open to admit a pair of mounted knights in white surcoats marked with red crosses. No one seemed to have noticed her. Maud ran across the yard and darted out through the gates.

She found herself in a narrow street of cobbled stone, and stopped, uncertain which way to go. Then, at the sound of raised voices coming from the courtyard, went left. Heads turned as she raced past a cluster of men and women gossiping together and almost stumbled over two children playing with a cat. The street ended abruptly in a high stone wall and Maud turned down another street of tall narrow houses, so close together at the top she could barely see the cloudy gray sky.

The street seemed to go on forever until finally she was forced to stop and catch her breath. She had no idea how far she had come, or where she was going. Her only thought had been to escape from the palace and find Aldyth. Ahead she could see heavy iron gates and guards pacing back and forth atop the thick stone walls. This must be the entrance to the city. While she watched, the gates creaked open; a troop of mounted knights, similar to the ones she had passed earlier, trotted through. They were followed by a majestic litter, whose curtains were partially open, drawn by four black stallions. Behind the litter rode another troop of knights.

The procession turned down the narrow street and Maud tried to flatten herself against the closed door of one of the houses so she would not be noticed. The knights trotted by; the litter approached and passed her. Then she heard a sharp command and the litter shuddered to a swaying halt. The leather curtains were pushed farther open, and a figure leaned out and beckoned to her.

Slowly Maud walked over to the litter. She saw an older man of indeterminate age, younger than her father though, she quickly decided, wrapped in a richly embroidered blue mantle lined with white fur. Under a velvet cap set with pearls, lank brown hair fell straight to his shoulders. His face was sallow, its expression austere, like a cleric’s, but his heavy-lidded eyes held a look of amused interest.

He said something to her in German and pointed to the cross she wore. Maud shook her head and replied in her own language that she could not understand. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a considering look.

“Well, mein Kind,’ he said, in heavily accented Norman French, “you are far from home, nicht?”

She nodded, her eyes starting to brim with tears when he said the word
home.
Her lower lip trembled as she fought to hold them back.

“There is no shame in crying,” he said, observing her struggle. “As long as you do not make a habit of it. Such behavior is not uncommon among little girls, so I’m told.”

Maud drew herself up proudly and lifted her head. “I am not just any little girl. I’m a Norman princess, a granddaughter of William the Conqueror.”

“Ah, well, of course, that is quite another matter.” He motioned her closer. “I think you had better get in, don’t you?”

She hesitated, her heart pounding, then got in beside him. He closed the curtains and examined her with frank curiosity. “Suppose you tell me what you were doing wandering around Mainz by yourself?”

His voice was unexpectedly gentle and Maud found herself telling him the whole story from the moment she had arrived at the palace last night. “And I hoped to find Aldyth,” she concluded, “and then somehow get back to England. I won’t stay where everyone treats me so badly. I’m a granddaughter of the—”

“Conqueror. So you have said,” he interjected, his lips twitching. “You have an unusual sense of your own value. But then you have an unusual heritage. It’s not every upstart Norman adventurer who manages to found a royal dynasty.”

Shocked, Maud was about to protest, but he held up a languid hand, ringed on every finger but his thumb.

“No, no, you must not take offense. On the contrary, I highly approve of your attitude. It’s entirely fitting for the future consort of an emperor.” He gave her a courtly nod.

Maud looked down and saw lying on the man’s lap a curious board of inlaid wood covered with squares of silver and gilt. On several of the squares stood heavy ivory figures: a knight on horseback, a bishop with his crozier, a king and queen in ceremonial robes and crowns. They were so lifelike she could not resist touching the queen with a curious finger.

“Are these toys?”

“England is more of a backwater than I thought. No, this is a very special game called chess. It requires great skill.”

Maud said nothing but slowly raised her head.

“I bought it for my future bride,” he continued, watching her carefully. “Provided, of course, she remains in the Empire and proves intelligent enough to learn the game. As far as her English retinue is concerned, the Graf was right. They must all go.” He paused. “With the exception of the woman, what is her name?”

“Aldyth.”

“Yes, Aldyth may stay. On condition my bride learns basic German within four months. If not, the nurse must leave as well.”

There was a brief pause. Their eyes met. Maud gave a tiny nod. The Emperor, for she had known almost at once who he was, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“I’m pleased to see you wearing my gift.” At her puzzled look he pointed to the cross she wore.

“I’m most grateful—” She paused. What should she call him? Your Grace? She was horrified to realize she did not even know his first name, for he had always been referred to as “the Emperor.”

“My name is Heinrich,” he said. “A familiar name, so you will feel right at home.”

She nodded. “Thank you—Heinrich.”

There was a long silence.

“What are your thoughts, mein Kind?”

“I was thinking that it will not take me four months to learn German or chess,” Maud replied.

He burst out laughing, and the harsh expression on his face instantly vanished. “Ach, here is material one can work with! Granddaughter of the Conqueror, you and I are going to get along very well. Very well indeed.”

N
INE YEARS LATER, MAUD
, now a young woman of eighteen, climbed into a gold-curtained litter drawn by four white palfreys. As she settled back against the cushions of the litter taking her back to the stone palace where she and the Emperor stayed while in Rome, she felt flushed with triumph, having just successfully presided over her second court case. It was a mild afternoon in early December and the litter curtains had been left open to provide a splendid view of deep blue skies, narrow sun-dappled streets, and iron-gated palazzos.

Early this morning the Emperor, who was indisposed, had sent her to the ecclesiastical court to judge a dispute between two priests involving the theft of church property. Maud had often acted as her husband’s representative at various social functions concerning the Imperial Empire, but this was only the second time he had given her the authority to try a case all by herself. She was so excited she could hardly wait to reach the palace and tell him how well she had done.

“Bella, bella madonna,” called an Italian courtier as the litter passed him. He placed his hand over his heart, rolling his eyes heavenward as if he would expire merely at the sight of her.

Maud blushed furiously, then quickly turned away repressing a smile. She found the Romans so extravagant, so excessive, one could scarcely believe a word they said. She settled the green headdress more firmly over the coils of her russet hair, and looked down at the sleeves of her green gown flowing out of the turned-back cuffs of her gold-embroidered green tunic. Was she truly beautiful? Maud wondered, putting slender ringed fingers to her flushed cheeks. There were times, looking at herself in her silver mirror, when she thought she was not uncomely, with her arched nose, pewter-gray eyes, and creamy skin touched with amber.