Isouda was a charming, pretty woman, much like Alianor with her warmth and ease of manner although they were not blood kin. I found her company restful and she was, as Alianor had said, a woman to whom I could turn for all manner of advice and knowledge.
In most things I knew I could trust her. I knew also, however, that sometimes I would not be able to trust her, or depend on her loyalty, and I kept myself watchful for these times.
For the moment, Isouda became a good friend, and I relied on her immensely.
I kept court myself — entertaining honoured guests in the solar during the day, and, after nones, keeping a larger company in the hall. Here nobles, knights and squires came, as well as jesters and jugglers and minstrels and poets, filling the hall with their chatter and sweet music. I did this latter only when I knew Edmond did not keep court — that he had spent the day hunting, or travelling to a nearby priory or manor, and would not be keeping formal court later in the day. I did not want to compete. The de Lacys and the Pembrokes were frequent visitors, as was the Earl of Chestre and his wife, and sundry minor nobles.
Thankfully, Henry and the Templars kept their distance; they never attended court at my house, nor did I see them at Edmond’s court.
One of my visitors was Ranulph Saint-Valery. He came one day when Alianor was with me, but she sat at some distance away in the solar, working on her stitching, to give us some privacy to speak.
‘I had hoped I would be the man to wed you,’ Saint-Valery said with a wry smile.
‘I am sorry, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘Life was turned upside down and before I knew it my lord Pengraic had determined we should wed.’ I gave my own wry smile. ‘I had little say in that matter.’
‘But you are happy.’
Now my smile was far more genuine and wide. ‘Yes. He is a good husband to me.’
‘I remember once that you feared him.’
I gave a soft laugh. ‘Once, if I had known I would become his wife then I would have fainted with terror! But he is a good husband and I regard him well.’
‘Better than well,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘Lady Maeb, I would have married you, and honoured you, even when you were but Mistress Langtofte.’
‘I know, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘I am sorry.’
He gave a nod, and our conversation turned to more general matters. From then on, Saint-Valery became one of my good friends at court and he came to visit two more times, when he knew Alianor to be with me.
I went to the Tower frequently, as Raife had asked. Largely because both Henry and the Templars were absent (where, I wondered?). I enjoyed myself there. Edmond showed me much courtesy, often sitting me at high table, although not again at his side — not without my husband present. I made deeper acquaintance with many of the other nobles, secular and clergy alike, and slowly found my way about this gallantry of aristocrats with a degree of confidence. Edmond and I spoke often, although usually only in generalities, and I became more comfortable with him, too, and often I would find our eyes meeting across some crowded space and a gentle smile exchanged.
Alianor continued to be a good friend and companion. Together with Isouda and Evelyn, as well as Alianor’s women and various attendants, we sometimes wandered the markets and streets of London, or visited the churches. I also spent time at the Pembrokes’ house, as I did at the de Lacys’. Alianor graced me with a most beautifully crafted and jewelled eating knife, and I accepted it gladly, giving the one I’d had since childhood to our house steward, fitzErfast, as evidence of my regard for his service.
My pregnancy continued well, for which I thanked the Virgin Mary every day. From time to time I was indisposed, but I found that much of my energy returned now that I was past the first few months. My belly had rounded out, its plumpness pleasingly displayed by the jewelled girdle that I wore often. I spent much time in prayer, asking that my confinement would not be injurious to either myself or the child, and that the child would prove a son and healthy. Alianor and Isabel both suggested good midwives they knew in London, for it appeared I would not return to Pengraic before the birth.
Overall, the weeks that Raife was away passed pleasantly enough and with little to note, save for three incidents, the last of which, occurring the night before Raife returned, destroyed my hard-won complacency.
The first incident I put behind me quickly. It was the second week that Raife was away, and I lay fast asleep in our bed. As Raife liked, so I had come to like, and I had no sleeping companions, either in my bed or in the chamber: Isouda and Evelyn both slept in a chamber nearby.
I woke, suddenly. I thought I could hear snuffling in the chamber, as if a snotty child was rummaging through one of the chests. I could also smell something horribly malodorous — like dog droppings left to steam in a puddle of water in the sun. I was so confused by this, the soft noises and the terrible odour, that I sat bolt upright.
‘What’s this?’ I said, peering into the blackness.
There came a bang, as if of a chest slamming shut, then a slight scuffling sound, then nothing. I sat, terrified, my heart pounding, the bed covers clutched to my chest.
‘Who’s there?’ I cried, louder this time, my voice thin with fright.
There came a banging from outside the door, and it suddenly opened.
It was one of the house servants who slept in the chamber beyond. He carried a candle.
‘My lady? What is wrong?’
‘There was someone here!’
The man shouted instantly for aid, and within moments two guards had appeared, weapons to hand.
They looked about, but there was no one. No place to hide and the shutters on the window were securely closed and bolted on the inside.
‘There is no one, my lady,’ one of them said.
My heart had ceased pounding now.
There was no one.
Even the odour had vanished.
‘I must have had a dream,’ I said. ‘I am sorry for disturbing your rest, but thank you for coming so quickly.’
Isouda and Evelyn had appeared by now, too, their faces worried as they clutched robes about them.
By now I was feeling severely embarrassed. ‘A dream only,’ I said again. ‘A night vapour.’
‘Would you like one of us to stay, my lady?’ Isouda said.
‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Go back to your beds.’
I lay awake once everyone had gone, but I convinced myself as I had the others that it had been nothing but a dream, and I drifted back to sleep within a short while.
Three days later I was at court when I found myself talking with Maud de Gernon, wife to the Earl of Chestre. We had been taking part in a lively game of bowls down the centre of the lesser hall and now sat drinking small beer by one of the fires.
‘I have heard,’ she said, as we watched two squires further down the hall start pushing each other in the chest over some slight, ‘that Madog ap Gruffydd came to parley with your husband.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was a tense day.’
Maud laughed. ‘I can imagine! His name is cursed in our Marches. He has caused such terrible dismay and destruction.’
‘So Raife has said.’
‘Thankfully most of his raids have stopped now that we have his wife.’ Instantly, my interest in the Welsh princess was renewed. ‘Where is she now?’ I said.
Maud looked at me with round eyes. ‘Here! Beneath our very feet! Both Edmond and my husband felt it too dangerous to keep her within the Marches — saints alone know what Madog might have been capable of if he thought she were near — so now she lives in an apartment on the ground floor of the Tower.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘It is commodious enough, and airy, and less chill than her Welsh homeland.’
Here? Beneath our feet? Our conversation turned to other matters, but my mind kept worrying over the presence of the princess below.
Later I had opportunity to speak with Edmond privately.
‘My lord king,’ I said. ‘You know that Madog came to parley with Raife?’
He gave a nod.
‘Madog spoke of his worry about his wife and son, and now I hear they are confined to an apartment on the ground floor of this tower. I said, perhaps foolishly, that if I could I would let his wife know of his love and care. May I have your permission to visit his princess?’