Chapter Ten
Hours passed. Bronwyn paced inside the cell.
“Stop that, would you? You’re making me nervous,” Lady Alice said.
“It’s better than doing nothing at all.”
“There is nothing to do,” Lady Alice said grumpily.
Since they had been locked up, Bronwyn had taken note of their surroundings.
The jail in the depths of Wolvesey Castle was large and held several cells.
These ranged from being quite small and narrow to stretching to a space of about ten feet wide.
The cell Bronwyn shared with Lady Alice and Sister Rebecca was one of the latter, for she’d walked its width and length countless times over the past few hours.
“Will we be here long, do you think?” Lady Alice asked.
Bronwyn looked at her askance. “I couldn’t say.
” But inwardly, she shook her head at the naivety of her cellmate.
They lived in a world now where siege was commonplace, and personal freedoms could be lost within minutes.
This wasn’t just a minor inconvenience. This could be their lives now, for weeks, or months.
They might not see daylight again, or fresh air, for quite some time. Bronwyn swallowed at the thought.
“I’m hungry,” Lady Alice said.
Bronwyn shrugged. There was nothing she could do. The soldiers had taken Agatha’s bag of provisions she’d pilfered from the pantry stores, and there was nothing in their cell but straw on the floor and a chamber pot. Bronwyn dreaded this.
They didn’t have to wait overly long, for more prisoners were brought into the jail and locked in the cells.
“Who is that they’ve brought in?” Lady Alice asked, coming up to stand at the iron bars beside Bronwyn.
“I don’t know. I can’t make it out.” Bronwyn gripped the bars and looked out, but aside from a series of men talking, she couldn’t tell and it was too dark to see.
A cacophony of voices sounded near them.
“What’s going on?” Lady Alice asked.
“Don’t know. More prisoners, it sounds like.”
A woman’s voice demanded, “Who else is here?”
Bronwyn leaned forward. She knew that voice. It belonged to not just any noblewoman, but a ruler.
“Just a handful of women, Your Grace,” a voice said.
“Women? Why have you imprisoned women? They are harmless.”
There came some quiet discussion, and the woman commanded, “Show me.”
The sound of footsteps drew closer. Bronwyn stepped back from the iron bars. A familiar face appeared before them.
“You?”
Bronwyn curtsied. “Your Grace.”
It was Queen Matilda. The empress’s mortal enemy in this war, the director of the siege they had faced for the past six weeks, harrying Empress Maud’s defenses.
It was also the woman whose husband had months earlier had imprisoned Bronwyn’s father for a crime he had not committed, and who herself had challenged Bronwyn to prove his innocence before imprisoning her as well.
For all intents and purposes, Bronwyn should have reviled the very sight of her.
And yet, a part of her was glad to see her former mistress.
The queen was beautiful, but in a demure, feminine way.
Whereas the empress was all fire and might, Queen Matilda was quiet, her expression calm, her movements graceful.
One might even call her wise. She looked at Bronwyn and Lady Alice with some emotion, but whether it was sympathy or pity, Bronwyn couldn’t tell.
“Mistress Bronwyn. What are you doing here?” the queen asked.
“I was captured, Your Grace.”
“We were captured, Your Grace. And rudely imprisoned, I should add,” Lady Alice said.
Queen Matilda blinked. “Lady Alice. I am surprised to see you here, although perhaps I should not be.” The queen turned to the guards by her side. “What crime did these women commit?”
The men looked sheepish and exchanged a few looks and mutters, avoiding the queen’s eyes. They don’t know, Bronwyn realized.
The brewer’s voice called out, “They were with the empress’s people and were trying to escape, Your Grace.”
Queen Matilda sniffed and approached another cell. “Who are you?”
“My name is Peter Fforde. I’m a brewer at Winchester Castle.”
“I see. And you are a prisoner here too?”
“By mistake, Your Grace. There was some confusion during the fighting and the guards thought I was leading them to safety rather than to your forces. It was I who led to these women’s capture.”
Bronwyn imagined that at that moment, he was puffing himself up like a toad, so proud he seemed of his treachery.
“Thank you for your confession.” Queen Matilda turned to the inhabitants of another cell. “And you are?”
“Lady Agatha Carre, Your Grace. I am the empress’s formal taster. I too have been imprisoned unjustly. That man, the brewer, forced me to do horrid things, things no woman should ever have to do. I am loyal to your cause, Your Grace. I too helped escort these prisoners to the cells.”
Lady Alice sniffed and muttered, “She most certainly is not a lady.”
Not hearing Lady Alice, the queen asked, “You did nothing to warrant your capture?”
“Only trying to escape with my life, Your Grace,” Agatha said.
“And are you a good taster?”
“None of the rulers I have worked with died from poison.” Agatha added, “I am a useful person to keep around.”
The queen did not respond to this and looked past her. “You there. Who are you?”
“Sister Joan, Your Grace,” Sister Joan’s sweet voice said. “That is my Sister Rebecca in the next cell. We are sisters of St. Mary’s nunnery in Winchester.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We sought refuge from the fighting and hid in the castle of the empress, then when more fighting broke out, we tried to flee but were captured and brought here. We desire nothing but a peaceful life, Your Grace. We would care for the men and pray for their souls, if you would but release us.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Peter called from his cell. “They’re probably not even real nuns, but traitors, masquerading to deceive you and take advantage of your kindness, Your Grace.”
The queen ignored him and moved on to the next cell.
And so it went on. In each cell, the queen asked why the inhabitants were there, and who they were. She asked intelligent questions and wanted to know their circumstances. Eventually, she turned to the guards. “Release the women.”
“What?” Peter protested. “Your Grace, you are mistaken. There’s been a mistake. These women are treacherous. They’re foul. They’re—”
The queen held up a hand. “From what I have heard, these women were trying to escape from the fighting. That is no great surprise, considering what may have awaited them on the streets. I have seen no evidence that any of these women bear me any ill will.”
“But, Your Grace—”
She silenced him. Or rather, he grew silent. She repeated her command, “Guards. Release them.”
The guards fumbled with the keys and soon let out Agatha and Sister Joan. But when they approached Bronwyn’s cell, the queen said, “Wait.”
The guard paused, his hand raised with the key in the lock.
Bronwyn tensed, as she knew the next few moments could either spell out their release or continued activity. She swallowed as the queen approached the iron door.
“Mistress Bronwyn,” the queen said, “and Lady Alice. I had not expected to see either of you here. I am inclined to release you. Bronwyn may work in the kitchens, as I am fond of those sweet white rolls you make. Lady Alice…” She paused.
“You were once part of my retinue. Whilst I am glad to see you are alive, I did see you were one of that woman’s ladies-in-waiting. You were in London, I believe.”
Lady Alice inclined her head. “Yes, Your Grace. I was at her coronation.” She raised her head and met the queen’s firm gaze.
Bronwyn liked Alice more for it. She was unafraid to meet her fate, whatever it was.
Queen Matilda’s nose wrinkled at Lady Alice’s mention of Empress Maud’s failed coronation. “You were not a prisoner, then. You were there of your own free will.”
“I was, Your Grace.”
“And are you still loyal to that woman now?”
Lady Alice ducked her head. “I am, Your Grace,” she said meekly.
“Lady Alice,” Bronwyn hissed.
“I am, Your Grace,” Lady Alice’s voice grew louder. “I am loyal to a fault, but I am loyal. I believe in what the empress stands for.”
“And what is that?” the queen asked.
“That the Crown of England is hers by right, and does not belong to your husband, or any man who decides to take it. As Henry I’s daughter, it is her birthright.
Had William Adelin not died at sea, it would have been his, and no one would have contested it.
This is all because she is a woman, and it is not right. ” Lady Alice spoke with passion.
Queen Matilda looked at her thoughtfully. “I disagree. But you are entitled to your opinion. What shall I do with you, Lady Alice? By all rights, I should keep you here in jail.”
Lady Alice raised her chin, defiant.
A moment later, the queen said, “But I will not. You are a lady, and even if you are from a rival court, I would not treat a noblewoman thus. You may sit with my ladies and me and converse.” She paused. “But do not expect preferential treatment, or for them to trust you.”
Lady Alice nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Queen Matilda motioned to the guard. “Open it. Let them out.”
Bronwyn breathed a sigh of relief as the iron door was unlocked and they were set free.
The queen looked them both up and down. “You are both thin. Mistress Bronwyn, report to the kitchens. You will work there. Lady Alice, with me.”
“What will become of us, Your Grace?” Sister Rebecca asked.
The queen surveyed the nuns. “It is not safe for women outside, alone, without protection. You may stay here in my court for the time being.”
The nuns expressed their thanks. Queen Matilda began to lead the way out, when the brewer called, “Your Grace, what about me?”
The queen stopped. She turned and approached his cell. “Master Peter, I thank you for the confession you made.”
Not far behind the queen, he nodded. “So, you’ll let me out now.”
“No.”
“What?” He stared and gripped the iron bars.
“You knowingly deceived these young women and led them to be captured, by your own admission. You are a traitor and didn’t have their safety at heart at all.
That I cannot forgive, and despite having your loyalty, I find I do not want it.
” Queen Matilda spoke simply, quietly, but with an undercurrent of anger.
She glanced back at the nuns, at Agatha and Lady Alice, her gaze finally resting on Bronwyn.
“Do not expect Christian charity from me, Peter, when you deserve none. From what I understand, you are a blackmailer and a traitor, and you therefore cannot be trusted. Not a single person here has spoken well of you. That alone tells me it is more valuable to have you stay here, than to let you wander around my court, causing mischief. You may stay here and think about your actions. Maybe in time, I will find it in my good humor to see you again.” She swept away, and the ladies followed.
The queen led the way out of the jail, holding her skirts up as she walked.
Bronwyn followed, when a voice caught her attention. “Bronwyn? Is that you?”
She turned toward the cell to her left, nearest the door.
It was dark, but a torch outside the cell lit up its space slightly.
A young man came up to the bars. His hair and face were dirty and streaked with blood, but her heart began to pound at the familiar sight of curled, black hair, what would normally have been fair skin, and eyes that sought her whole body.
“Theobold,” she breathed. “You’re alive.”