The Emma of Normandy 2-book Collection: Shadow on the Crown and The Price of Blood. Patricia Bracewell

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СКАЧАТЬ but apparently he was mistaken. She clearly had some matter of great moment that she wished to discuss with him. Certainly she had not summoned him for the pleasure of his company – he had no illusions about that.

      Quaffing the wine, he considered the girl who was his wife. Was it possible that she had come to the same realization that he had reached – that she would be far better off living in a convent than at his side? The nuns might have had some influence upon her during her stay here. Certainly they would welcome her with open arms – and greedy hands – should she retire here. She might even become abbess one day, who could tell?

      He tried to imagine Emma as an abbess, and he thought that she might do very well at it. Indeed, he might be willing to settle enough gold on her that she could found her own abbey and adorn it however she pleased. And if Emma were to agree to retire to a convent, he could take a more fitting consort. The bishops could have no argument against it, for surely Emma was barren. He had done his duty by her and she had not conceived. He could put her aside with the church’s blessing.

      As he gazed at the coals in the brazier, they seemed to glow with a darkly malevolent light, and his thoughts, too, darkened. He must consider more than just Emma. Her brother Richard would have some say in his sister’s fate. Richard might object to her retirement, might even want her returned to him to see if he could peddle her elsewhere. He would want her dowry back as well – an unpleasant consequence. And there was the additional problem of the Danes and their easy access to Normandy’s harbours. Richard would have to be convinced, somehow, to keep those ports closed to the Vikings.

      Æthelred frowned. There had been no coastal raids since Emma’s arrival, so Richard appeared to be keeping his end of the bargain. Still, if Emma did not produce a child, Richard’s goodwill would likely vanish.

      He shook his head. This was a pointless exercise. First he must hear what Emma had to say. Then he could decide what to do about her.

      The queen’s chamber at the abbey had been designed by Æthelred’s mother to meet her requirements, and her son was no stranger to its comforts. The embroidered hangings that lined the walls, the thick draperies around the massive bed, even the brass-bound garment chest at the bed’s foot were all familiar. As soon as he entered, though, Æthelred felt an old anxiety begin to gnaw at him, for this was a world of female power – as foreign to him as if it were another country. His glance swept over the servant who sat in a corner with distaff and spindle, past the abbess seated to one side of the low brazier, and at last settled upon Emma.

      She was sitting in a cushioned chair, garbed in a saffron gown, its bodice embroidered voluptuously in all the colours of the rainbow. Upon her head she wore a creamy veil fastened with a circlet that flashed golden in the candlelight. The veil framed a face even more lovely than he remembered.

      She did not look like any nun that he had ever seen.

      To his surprise she held in her lap a golden-haired girl dressed in the plain brown robe of the novice. The child gazed up at him with solemn blue eyes, and it dawned on him that this must be his own daughter, Mathilda. She was the right age, and she had the flaxen hair that marked all his brood but Edmund.

      Upon seeing him the women rose, and he acknowledged the abbess first, accepting the ritual cup that she offered him. He was relieved when, after murmuring a brief welcome and muttering something about his daughter and his queen, she excused herself and slipped away. One less female to deal with, he told himself, as he eyed his wife and the child who clung to her.

      ‘Sit,’ he said to Emma, going over to the chair that the abbess had vacated.

      He glanced irritably at the child, who had curled up in Emma’s lap like a contented kitten. He had forgotten about this girl, although he had brought her here himself after her mother died. He had had little to do with any of his children until they reached the age of ten, and nothing whatever to do with his daughters. This one was his, certainly, with her limpid blue eyes and bright hair, but he had no idea what he was meant to say to her or do about her. Faced with the two of them now, the child gazing at him with wide eyes, he felt as if he were up against some female mystery that he did not comprehend. His irritation grew.

      ‘Send the girl away,’ he growled.

      The servant scurried from her corner, plucked the now whimpering child from Emma’s lap, and left the room.

      ‘Pardon me,’ his wife said coldly. ‘I had forgotten that your children hold no interest for you. My own father took a great deal of pleasure in his children. Even his young daughters.’

      ‘Did you summon me here to counsel me in my duties as a father? It is somewhat late for that. I’m not likely to change my ways, particularly when it comes to a child, such as that one, who belongs to God now rather than to me.’

      ‘I have not summoned you to counsel you, my lord,’ she said. ‘Indeed, you have made it clear that you have no wish to listen to my views upon anything.’

      He had not expected penitence from Emma, and so was not surprised that he got none. Her eyes blazed at him, and she held her chin high and proud. She mystified him. She was but a powerless instrument, first in her brother’s hands and now in his, yet she did not seem to understand how weak she truly was.

      Unable to resist goading her, he said, ‘Advise me about your brother’s dealings with Swein Forkbeard, and I promise you, lady, I will hang on your every word.’

      He was perfectly aware that her brother had confided nothing to her. What missives she had received from Normandy had passed through his own hands first.

      Her face bloomed red, and he knew that his barb had struck home. Her chin, though, remained high, and her face determined.

      ‘I must disappoint you,’ she said, ‘for I cannot speak to my brother’s intentions. Yet I hope that the news I have to impart will be of some interest.’

      ‘Then I am eager to hear it,’ he said, pouring a cup of wine from the flagon on the table next to her chair and holding it out to her. She shook her head, and he looked down at her in some surprise. ‘Ah, you are abstaining from wine. Is that because of your Lenten fast or something more significant? I have been speculating that you may have taken a liking to convent life, and that you summoned me here to announce that you have chosen to immerse yourself in a world of prayer and contemplation. Dare I hope that this is so?’

      Clearly it was not. Her face went white now, and she rose slowly to her feet to stand before him, her hands fisted at her sides.

      ‘I must disappoint you again, my lord,’ she said, ‘for I have asked you here to tell you that I am with child.’

      It was as if a veil had suddenly fallen from his eyes. He could see it now: the gravid thickening of her waist and the fullness of her breasts. This was the source, then, of the confidence that radiated from her like light, for she understood only too well what new power it could give her.

      He scowled his surprise and disappointment, and he saw her mouth twist into a bitter smile.

      ‘This is customarily a happy occasion,’ she said, ‘but I see that you are not pleased. Did you think to set me aside so that you could wed your leman?’

      He raised an eyebrow at that. He had been out of her company for some time and had forgotten just how clever the minx was – likely as clever as her damned brother. He would do well to bear it in mind.

      Then a second revelation struck him, СКАЧАТЬ