The Heart of the Lion - Plaidy Jean - Страница 7

From a turret of Marlborough Castle Hadwisa of Gloucester watched anxiously for the cavalcade at the head of which her bridegroom would be riding.

Her father had told her that she must be prepared. There would be no delay. As soon as the party arrived the marriage must take place.

It was not a very romantic wedding, she had complained to her attendants. She wondered what John was like.

‘Suffice it,’ said her old nurse, ‘that he is a king’s son. And he is young too. It could have been that an old man was chosen for you. At least you have one who is young and by all accounts not ill-favoured.’

‘Tell me what you know of him,’ Hadwisa had begged.

Tell her what she knew? Tell of the stories of the wildness of Prince John? Better not. It might be that they had not been true . . . not entirely that was. By all accounts the bridegroom was young in years and old in sin; and Hadwisa was not experienced of the world. The child would never understand. Therefore she must discover gradually and for herself.

‘It is not an easy position,’ said Hadwisa, ‘to be half royal as it were. Kings should think of that when they have sons outside their marriage.’

‘’Tis my belief it is the last thing they think of in the heat of their passion.’

‘But my grandfather was a great good man.’

‘Ah,’ said the old nurse. ‘I remember him. A fine gentleman, an honourable man. His father respected him, and his father was King Henry I.’

‘I know my grandfather Robert was one of his natural sons.’

‘And the King loved him dearly. He was the great champion of the King’s daughter Matilda in her fight against Stephen.’

‘She was a difficult woman but he believed her cause was the right one and I know that he was partly responsible for helping Henry II to the throne.’

‘You know your family history, my child. That is good. It helps you to bear your lot.’

‘Why should it, nurse?’

‘To talk to those who are long ago dead and to remember that troubles beset them makes you feel your own are not so important.’

‘You think I have troubles?’

‘You, my love! About to be married to a handsome prince!’

‘I trust he will like me.’

‘He’ll not be able to help himself,’ the nurse assured her.

If only it were true, thought Hadwisa. She knew she was not beautiful. Her sisters – all married now – had been far more attractive than she was. She was not a fool. She knew that her father was one of the richest men in the kingdom and it was for this reason that she had been affianced to the King’s brother.

Now she could see the riders in the distance. There was the royal standard and at the head of the band would be her bridegroom.

Her mother was at the door.

‘Hadwisa, are you ready? You must be at the gates to greet the Prince.’ She noticed her daughter’s anxious looks and thought: It’s a pity the poor child is so plain. Nervously Hadwisa went out to greet her bridegroom.

He was of medium height and like all the sons of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine he had some claim to good looks. But although he was young yet and his character had not yet drawn lines on his face there was that about it to strike a note of warning in the heart of his bride.

Cruelty peeped out of those eyes; the mouth was hard yet weak; to some extent he disguised his true nature but it could not be altogether concealed. Lust, envy, greed – yes, every one of the notorious seven sins could be detected there.

He took her hand and kissed it. His eyes gloated but not on her. The richest lands in England! When they were his he would have possession of a goodly part of that country.

‘Come,’ he cried. ‘Let us get the marriage done with. My bride and I will need a little time together before I go to my brother’s coronation.’

‘My lord,’ said her father, ‘a banquet is prepared. We had thought tomorrow might be the best day for the marriage ceremony.’

‘Nay,’ cried John. ‘We’ll have it tonight.’ He took Hadwisa’s hand and pressed it firmly. ‘I declare that having seen my bride . . . in her home . . . I cannot wait.’

So they prepared her and her mother came to her and she asked that they might be alone together.

‘Come,’ said her mother, when the attendants had gone, ‘all is well. Every bride is nervous on her wedding day.’

‘This is so quick.’

‘My child you have been betrothed to the Prince for years.’

‘But I never thought . . .’

‘You are of a marriageable age now and so is he.’

‘Mother, it is not meet that we should marry. We are third cousins.’

‘It is because you have royal blood in your veins that you are a worthy bride for the King’s brother.’

‘But we are third cousins.’

‘It is a slender link.’

‘King Henry I was my great-grandfather. He was also John’s.’

‘Do not fret over such things.’

‘I believe the Church might not sanction our marriage. There should be a special dispensation.’

‘My dear child, do you realise that the King has given his consent to the marriage?’

‘The King is not the Church.’

‘What would you have us do?’

‘Wait,’ cried Hadwisa. ‘Wait!’

‘Can you imagine the wrath of your bridegroom if we suggested such a thing! What do you think he would do?’

Ah, there was the crux of the matter! What would he do? Would he burn down the castle? Would he cut off her father’s head? Would he hang him on the nearest tree?

She was silent, thinking of what she had seen in her bridegroom’s eyes.

The ceremony was over; they had feasted, the minstrels had sung, and Hadwisa and her bridegroom were conducted to the bridal chamber.

She was afraid of him.

Her fear amused him. A virgin! He had had his fill of such and they were interesting only for such a short while. When he had pillaged towns with his followers they had taken the best of the women; that had been good sport. The fear of others always excited him. It soothed him in some way. It made him feel important. He had the power at that moment to rule them absolutely. It made up for the fact that he was the youngest son.

Hadwisa was afraid of him and that pleased him. Not much else about her person did. But he had to remember the riches she brought him.

The richest heiress in the kingdom! That was worth a good deal.

‘Why,’ he said, ‘you are reluctant. Do I not please you?’

‘Why, yes, my lord . . . but . . .’

‘But! What buts are these?’

‘There is a strong blood relationship between us . . .’

‘Ah, indeed our great-grandfather scattered his seed far and wide. I’ll swear that there is many a young girl in this kingdom who could be my cousin. So it is with princes. None daresay them nay.’

‘I had thought we should have waited for a dispensation from the Church.’

‘’Tis too late . . . the ceremony has taken place. I am your husband now.’

‘But I meant to wait for . . .’

‘For?’ He raised his eyebrows, taunting her. ‘For what, my reluctant wife?’

‘You know to what I refer.’

He caught her by the wrist and his grip was painful.

‘You tell me,’ he said. ‘Come, let us hear it from those innocent lips.’

She lowered her eyes. ‘The consummation . . .’

He laughed aloud. Then he seized her and she knew that her fear had not been groundless.

For five days he stayed at the castle. He terrified her but she knew her ordeal would not last long. He was becoming weary of it already.

‘It may well be,’ he said, ‘that I have already planted our son within you. Pray that it may be so for I know not when we may meet again. I shall go now to my brother’s coronation and there may well be much to occupy me.’