Chapter 17
Aimery did not return. Madeleine had to face the fact that he had joined Hereward and was now serving him.
Hereward had asked, “Will you help?” And Aimery had answered, “Of course,” without a trace of hesitation.
Madeleine spent sleepless nights and fretful days waiting for news of his capture, dreading his return to take up her challenge, longing to see him again.
When, three days after her mad adventure, Madeleine received her expected summons to join the queen, she was relieved.
As she packed her chests with her finery and her medicinal supplies, she told herself that Aimery de Gaillard would be justly served.
When he made his laggardly way home to his wife—with or without his secrets—and found her gone.
She had, after all, made a vow. A vow that she would not lie with him until she was sure he was loyal. And then she had told him that she wouldn’t be tricked by his lovemaking skills. Both promises would be much easier to keep with half of England between them.
Matilda had sent an escort for her. Madeleine had only to consult with Geoffrey, Hugh, and the good sisters to be sure the work at the manor would continue properly, then organize enough packhorses for all her baggage before she and Dorothy could enjoy a tranquil and easy day’s journey to Hertford.
There they would find the queen, who was resting before the journey north to join the king.
Six days after her parting from Aimery, Madeleine entered Hertford.
The queen’s train was lodged throughout the town, with the queen living in the sheriff’s substantial house.
Matilda greeted her warmly. “A married lady now, and wife to Aimery de Gaillard, of whom I have always been fond. I’m sure he is treating you well. He always had a way with the ladies.”
Madeleine gritted her teeth behind her smile and politely agreed. “And you, Your Majesty. How are you?”
“As well as can be expected for a woman in my condition,” the queen said wryly. “I carry babes easily, but at this stage it is easy for no woman.”
Madeleine chanced a protest about the projected journey. “I cannot think it wise for you to be traveling at this stage of your pregnancy, Your Majesty.”
But Matilda waved that away. “If I had let childbearing restrict my movements, I would have accomplished little. I go north by easy stages and will rest when I think it necessary. William wants the child to be born in York. It will be so.”
York, thought Madeleine, but she could see Matilda was as determined on this path as her husband.
But York. Not only was it far to the north, but that part of the country was barely under control as yet.
The queen, however, went briskly off to attend to other business and left Madeleine in the hands of her daughter and niece.
Madeleine was delighted to meet Judith and Agatha again, though the latter seemed sullen and subdued. There was nothing subdued about Judith, however, who was blooming.
“So,” the beauty said, “you have married Aimery de Gaillard. Lucky woman. He fired my blood, I must confess. I would envy you if I had not done as well or better.”
“Your betrothed pleases you?”
Judith’s sigh was eloquent affirmation. “I only wish we were married.” She drew Madeleine a little way from Agatha.
“It will be such a relief to have you here,” she whispered.
“Poor Agatha is so upset because the king won’t settle her betrothal.
And now that the Earl of Mercia has fled to raise rebellion, she’s terrified he’s going to be executed.
I wouldn’t have thought Edwin had it in him to pose that much danger to my uncle, but people can be surprising.
Look at Agatha. She was even talking at one point of running off to join the earl and live with him out of wedlock! ”
“That would stir the country.” Madeleine glanced in surprise at the girl, who had always been so quiet and shy. “And could well cost Edwin dearly if the king did not let them wed as a result.”
“Cost him his balls, you mean,” said Judith bluntly, causing Madeleine’s face to burn. “Jesu,” added Judith. “Over a month wed, and she can still blush. I was hoping you could extend my education, but you still seem a little nun to me.”
Madeleine thought of a lovemaking session by a cornfield and wished blushing were under human control. “I should think your education will be extended soon enough,” Madeleine countered. “When is the wedding to be?”
Judith sighed. “Later. After my new cousin is born. I hope at least by Christmas.” She lowered her voice. “I burn for him, Mad. Do you know what I mean?”
Madeleine nodded. She certainly did. And now, even if they should happen to meet, she had a sacred vow between her and Aimery which was likely to keep them apart forever.
She couldn’t exactly regret her vow, for it was right.
She must be firm against treason, and he was so easily able to use her lust against her.
But she burned.
“Perhaps Agatha feels the same,” she suggested to Judith. “You should sympathize.”
Judith pulled a face. “I just find her and Edwin such unlikely tragic lovers, and it’s not as if she actually carried out her plan.
An attack of the gripe dampened her ardor.
She’s only just emerged from her room after it .
. .” She broke off and grimaced. “What a cat I am. She really was ill, for there was no sign of her for nearly a week, just Aunt Matilda constantly dashing into the sickroom quite haggard with concern, and these moaning noises. I did offer to assist, but they feared it was catching. But now that she’s recovered, she has abandoned her plan.
If they tried to separate me from Waltheof, I would go to him no matter how weak I was. ”
“Do you both go north, then?” Madeleine asked, intrigued by this Waltheof, for she had thought Judith too aware of her own charms to be so smitten by a mere male.
“No. That’s Waltheof’s hereditary land, though he doesn’t have the title.
I don’t think the king trusts him there, for he’s much loved.
We’re to go to Winchester under heavy chaperonage and guard.
Agatha, too.” She sighed. “Even though I sympathize with her, you can see she is hardly the person to want to chatter of love and kisses these days. I welcome the time we have together, you and I.”
Madeleine thought she would disappoint in that regard, but she dutifully listened to Judith’s ecstatic description of Waltheof—his amazing strength, his wit, his learning, his power to stir the blood.
She formed a picture of a gigantic saint and was bemused when she was finally introduced to the man.
He was only a little heavier built than Aimery, and yet his strength was legendary.
If he was learned, he did not demonstrate it before her.
But his ability to stir the blood, that she could appreciate.
He was handsome and remarkably graceful in his movements, but there was something in his deep-set amber eyes which caused even her nerves to flutter.
Judith, she saw, was close to swooning. It was to be hoped the effect diminished when this passion was allowed to run its course, or Judith was unlikely to be any use to anyone for the rest of her born days.
Waltheof sat beside his betrothed and took her hand as if that were the most natural thing for a man to do. Aimery had never done such a thing. “I’m delighted to meet the Baddersley heiress at last,” he said to Madeleine in excellent French.
Perhaps it was the way he sat so close to Judith, the way he held her hand, the way he smiled at her that turned Madeleine sour. “And I’m delighted to meet the man who’s supposed to be descended from a bear,” she taunted.
He took no offense but smiled enigmatically.
“I grow fur at the full moon, Lady Madeleine.” He raised his betrothed’s hand and kissed the tip of one finger, holding Judith with his golden eyes.
“I’m sure my wife will find it amusing. She can comb it.
” Madeleine could almost see Judith melt.
“But remember,” he added lightly, turning back to Madeleine, “my grandmother was not a bear, but a faery-bear. It makes a difference.”
Madeleine cast a startled glance at Judith, who seemed to be swallowing this tale whole, in as much as she had a sane thought left in her lustful head. Madeleine had expected this sophisticated man to treat his mythical ancestry as fanciful nonsense, but that wasn’t so. Did he believe in faeries?
“You should sympathize, Lady Madeleine,” he said. “You, too, were a creature of legend not so long ago. Speculation about your fate was our principal entertainment.”
“Did you win or lose?” asked Madeleine tartly.
He laughed. “I don’t gamble. I judge Aimery de Gaillard to have won, however.”
It was a pretty compliment, and Madeleine bit back a sour response.
She was alarmed by how easy it was to be acerbic in the face of Waltheof and Judith’s unity.
She began to sympathize with Agatha, and wondered if the girl’s plan to flee hadn’t been inspired as much by a desire to get away from these two as a desire to join Edwin of Mercia.
Madeleine certainly felt the need to escape.
Even a week of the gripe appeared attractive. She made her excuses and left.
One thing she had noted was that Waltheof carried a skin mark on his right hand, as Aimery said they all did.
She thought it was a bear. It reminded her of the ever-present danger of someone recognizing the design and linking it with Golden Hart.
At least when Aimery was with Hereward that danger was lessened.
She realized she’d left the lovers together and wondered if she was supposed to play chaperone. She decided Judith and Waltheof were either controlling themselves or nothing on earth would restrain them. Or him, rather. Madeleine thought that if anyone was in control, it was Waltheof.