It was the rumours that either myself or Edmond had pushed him to his death that were the most damaging, however. We both stood to profit from Raife’s death: Edmond gained control of Raife’s vast wealth and power; I gained the king. Edmond had never hidden his interest in me, and the fact — noised about within the day by servants from the palace of Westminster — that I had gone straight from the tragedy of my husband’s death to the king’s bed did neither myself nor Edmond any favours.
It was a tense six months. The country had been devastated by plague and, subsequently, there was still unrest in many parts, while Raife’s untimely death prompted a power struggle within the aristocracy and a small, but no less unnerving, power struggle against the king. I saw little of Edmond for many months as he rode about the country at the head of what amounted to a medium-sized army, gleaned from his own lands as well as those of the earldom of Pengraic.
The Church and the Templars, now a powerful force within English and European society, aided Edmond, backing him against claims he had murdered Raife. They did not back me. I think both Church and Templars would have happily thrown me over the parapets of the Conqueror’s Tower after Raife if they thought they could manage it.
But they backed Edmond. Edmond, from both his position as King of England and his control of the Pengraic wealth and estates, was now a supremely powerful man, and one from whom the Church thought it could profit.
The Templars wanted more land and wealth in England.
Edmond could manage that for them.
The Church wanted total freedom from secular control, taxes and influence, as well as land and patronage enough to establish half a dozen new monasteries.
Edmond could give it that.
It was a heavy price for Edmond to pay, but he paid it.
He could have abandoned me — he could still have exerted control over the Pengraic wealth without me through his wardship of Geoffrey — but he did not. He brazened out some of the rumours, he led his army into the thickest of the rest of them, and he did what he had to in order to ensure the support of the Church and the Templars.
At least there was a Pengraic son and heir for whose paternity there could be no doubt. I thanked God for that, day and night, for otherwise I think the earldom of Pengraic would have been broken up. If Edmond did not have wardship over an undoubted legitimate Pengraic heir, then Edmond could not have held onto the lands and wealth for Geoffrey’s majority.
I stayed at Westminster for some of this time, but under Edmond’s orders and a heavy escort removed myself from Westminster to the royal manor at Elesberie for many months until the fuss died down.
Eventually, given Edmond’s efforts and the fickle nature of rumours, the scandal lost its force. Edmond returned to Westminster for a few weeks, then came north to Elesberie to see me.
I was waiting in the courtyard of the manor house, nervous and excited in equal amounts. I was concerned that the time apart, and the efforts Edmond had been forced to go to on my behalf, might have dimmed his passion for me, but I need not have worried. He jumped down from his horse, a wide grin on his face, his eyes alight with joy, and seized me in a bear hug from which I could not escape for long minutes.
Eventually he put me down, breathless from his embrace and kisses.
‘You are well, my lady?’
‘I am, my lord.’
He held me out at arm’s length and looked me up and down.
‘You look well. You have grown some roundness. It suits you.’
I blushed. The roundness he referred to was all in my belly.
Edmond smiled at my discomfort, and then, arms linked, we went inside.
That night we made love for the first time in many months. I was deeply relieved that he still felt passion for me, and that his eyes still warmed whenever they looked my way. I did not deceive myself that he would remain true to me, or that I would remain forever by his side, but I was grateful for whatever time he gave me and knew that he would not cast me away without support. I had the four manors Raife had given me on our betrothal, but I did not doubt that Edmond would eventually add to those.
We lay side by side, still slightly sweaty from our love-making. Edmond gave a small sigh, and ran his hand over the mound of my belly.
‘It would be best,’ he said, ‘if you named Pengraic as the father of this child.’
Raife was the father of the child, but it suited me if Edmond thought he himself might be.
‘Of course,’ I said.
Edmond’s hand continued to rub, back and forth, back and forth. It was enormously soothing.
‘The King of France has approached me,’ he said.
‘He has offered me the hand of his youngest daughter in marriage.’
I froze, all the pleasure of our reunion vanishing in an instant.
‘Maeb, no matter how much I wish it, you know I cannot marry you.’
‘I know,’ I said, unable to stop the tears from running down my cheeks.
‘The scandal … no one would accept you as queen.’
‘I know,’ I said, dashing the tears away with the back of a hand and wishing they did not flow. And I did know that Edmond could never wed me, but even knowing it did not stop the pain.
‘Shush,’ he whispered, kissing away the marks of the tears.
‘Negotiations can take years. We will bicker this way, and then that way, back and forward.’ He kissed me again, and smiled a little.
‘Possibly even sally forth on a small war or two to make our points.’ Another kiss.
‘And besides, the girl is but eight. I could not bed her for years.’
‘I know.’
‘And yet still you cry for me. Ah, Maeb, you shall not lose me. Believe me, any wife I take to queen will weep ten times the tears over my adoration of the Lady Maeb and her hold over my heart than you will ever weep over me.’
I smiled a little now. He was teasing, I knew it, but I loved him for making the effort.
‘Oh, Maeb, surely you know I loved you from that moment you fell at my feet? You were, are, so lovely, so transparent, so honest. Raife adored you. This king adores you. I have half a mind to lock you in a dark, dark dungeon so that the Pope shall never see you for he, too, would forgo all his vows to have you at his side.
‘But, all jesting aside, my lovely woman, do not think that I will ever let you go, nor let go the hold you have over my heart.’
I thought he was being kind. At that time I did not truly believe him. I thought that eventually his fascination with me would fade, his passion ebb, and I would be put aside, albeit with a gentle kindness.
I did not know then that Edmond would keep every promise he made to me for the rest of his life.
In the middle of a cold, frosty winter, six weeks after Christmastide, I gave birth to my second son, Hugh. It was an easy, gentle birth which hardly pained me at all, and, compared to his brother’s, accomplished in comfort and safety.
I delighted in this baby from the moment of his birth. I could not wait to hold him — I think I snatched him from the midwife’s hands — and I put him to the breast immediately. Edmond, who, while not present at the actual birth, had been pacing about in the hall of Elesberie manor and was in the birthing chamber the moment the midwife allowed it.
If I had ever doubted the strength of Edmond’s love, I did not at that moment.
He had tears in his eyes, whether of relief or happiness (or both) I do not know. He reached out a tentative finger and touched the baby’s head.
‘Look at his hair,’ Edmond said.
‘It is as black as yours.’
I have to admit some relief that Hugh then, as later, always took after me in face and form and did not in any manner resemble Raife.
My son thrived. Edmond loved him as his own.
We spent until early summer at Elesberie, then Edmond made the decision to bring me back to Westminster for his summer court.
It was risky. Neither of us knew if there remained any widespread ill-will against me, or if indeed, there might be any risk to my life.
But my major enemy, the Templars, were now negated. They had more land, more wealth. Their murmurings about my sins and possible connection to witchcraft had vanished. I do not know what Edmond told them about the diadem, but to my knowledge they never mentioned it again.