Before Plantagenet - Chapter 275
May 1140 - Bordeaux, Kingdom of Aquitaine
The cathedral in Bordeaux was quiet, as but a few people knelt among its pews.
There were times in the recent past where it was filled to the brim with worshippers, Christians spilling out onto the steps. The day of Geoffrey’s coronation was one such occasion. Recently, Christmas, when the king had returned from England and was honored was another example.
Today it felt cavernous with so few around and yet that suited Queen Ælfflæd just fine.
She was on her knees in a pew, a position that took some time to get to comfortably given her advanced state of pregnancy. But she would not let that stop her, for she was here to show her appreciation.
Thank You, she thought.
Thank You. I was not certain You would be there for me. After Tunis, there were times I thought You had forsaken me. That I could never earn Your love. But today… today I know I have. Thank you.
Tears were in her eyes, her hands clenched together so tightly they shook and turned white. In her belly, she could feel her child moving.
It was all irrelevant at the moment. For despite all odds, she had won.
Ælfflæd still remembered where she was when she heard the news. Osmund burst into her chamber one morning the month before, while she was embroidering with her ladies and a few Occitan noble women - the Duchess of Gascony and the Countess of Perigord, who’s poor relation with her husband often led her to spend time in Bordeaux with her sister-by-law Lida. Ælfflæd’s shock over the interruption paled in comparison to the one she received when her uncle delivered the news - Acre had fallen to the English forces.
Her memories of what happened next were a blur. She didn’t know when she learned more - that the Sheik of Acre’s entire family was in the hands of the English forces. That included the man’s heir, giving the queen a powerful bargaining chip in bringing the war to a successful conclusion.
At some point, Geoffrey had come to see her with Cardinal Emmanuel, Berard and Bishop Edouard. He had, she thought, offered some sort of muted praise for the English, as well as saying he and his lords would take a lead in handling negotiations. Which, in her shock, Ælfflæd did not contest. Not that she really could anyway, given the fact he was her husband and, at least outwardly, a major participant in this conflict.
Talks had begun since, with emissaries from the sheik as well as the Fatimid Caliph arriving in Bordeaux. The sheik was more interested in what it would take to get his family released, especially his heir. But the Fatimids were more intent on ending the war entirely, possibly due to talk of a united Crusade against them. In the end, nothing was agreed upon, though the Fatimid emissaries had all but told Geoffrey and Ælfflæd they would not attack their forces if they were let alone themselves. And without the Fatimids taking an active part, the war was all but over. Eventually the sheik would capitulate and Acre would return to English and Christian hands.
Just as her father would have wanted.
Father… I have done it, she said to herself
. It is not the whole of the Holy Lands… but is it a start. And it shows we can continue your legacy. That England can reclaim its place. That I can guide it there, and in time, your grandson Guilhem will as well.
A small smile came to her face. She told him she could honor their family’s legacy better than anyone else could… and she had.
Not only that, but Ælfflæd felt that she had managed a small manner of revenge for herself and her mother for Tunis.
I know it was not them, mother, the ones who did it to you, Ælfflæd thought
But they were with them. And I have beaten them now. Rest easy. I have beaten them.
She took a deep breath.
Lord, may I continue to receive Your blessings. Give me the strength to continue the fight in Your name. Let this be just the start of something more… may You use me, my children, my descendants for Your ends.
She opened her eyes and looked over to see Cardinal Emmanuel standing by her ladies. Lida and Benoite de Bourges helped the queen to her feet - not an easy thing for Benoite given she also was pregnant once more. But they were successful and the queen made her way to the cardinal.
“Cardinal Emmanuel,” she said.
“Queen Ælfflæd,” Emmanuel said. “I do not wish to interrupt you if you are not finished.”
“No, I have given my thanks,” Ælfflæd said. “And offered to do more, if He wishes it.”
Emmanuel smiled. “It is good to hear. And I know He will.”
Ælfflæd could see the cardinal wished to speak to her privately and motioned for her ladies to let her accompany Emmanuel alone.
“It is good to see you here,” Emmanuel said.
“I would have come sooner,” Ælfflæd replied. “But I wished to be certain the war is at an end. I know it is not yet official… but since the Fatimids have said they will not fight us any longer, I felt it was time to come here.”
“Your caution is wise,” Emmanuel said. “Your humility in doing so alone equally so. And your efforts - an inspiration. There were a great many doubts as to your chances, but some believe it is proof God has guided you to victory.”
Given her feelings of hopelessness and frustration at times, Ælfflæd had a hard time disagreeing. And it brought a smile to her face.
“I just pray I have helped restore my family’s legacy,” Ælfflæd replied. “It is not the whole of the holy lands, but it is a start.”
“Stopping the rot was important,” Emmanuel agreed. “And if talk of the renewed Crusade comes to fruition, the road may well be open to reclaim it all.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. “Will it? Geoffrey believes the target will be Egypt and the Fatimids. He also thinks that is why they do not fight us any longer.”
“He is likely right,” Emmanuel said. “They know a storm brews and they look to prepare. It will not save them of course. And in turn, I believe having a Christian kingdom so close could aid in your efforts.”
“Ah,” Ælfflæd said. Though she was uncertain, since she had learned the Fatimids did not practice the same form of Islam as many of the other heathens in the region. It was why those that joined them in the defense of Acre were limited in number.
“Have you heard from my fellow clergymen in your homeland?” Emmanuel asked.
“Emissaries… congratulating me on the fall of Acre,” Ælfflæd said. “But I have not seen anyone directly, aside from my master of spies, Bishop Cytelbearn.”
“Interesting,” Emmanuel said. “I was curious, for I did invite the archbishop to join me here in Bordeaux. However, I have heard nothing. I wondered if he had passed word to you.”
Ælfflæd shook her head as she heard a door open in the distance.
Emmanuel spoke through a slight smile: “Perhaps it has taken time to reach him. I’m sure we will hear from him soon. And, I imagine once you have given birth, and recovered, you will finally receive your coronation. For what more could they ask for?”
“I agree,” Ælfflæd said, though the conversation made her stomach twist. She remained on uneasy terms with the vast majority of the English clergy. They did not like her, nor did they respect her. And while she didn’t think they could really deny her a coronation after this, part of her remained uncertain. Until she actually had completed the ceremony, she would not feel good about the situation.
Ælfflæd then noticed coming up to them was a familiar face in Rogier d’Uzes. Her husband’s maternal cousin served not only as a commander for the king, but also a protector of her son, Prince Guilhem. So she greeted him with a smile, for the prince had always sung his praises to her.
Rogier bowed before them. “Cardinal Emmanuel, my queen. The king will be here shortly.”
“He has come to speak with me?” Emmanuel asked.
“He thought the queen might be coming to do a show of thanks,” Rogier said. “And wished to join her in doing so.”
Emmanuel smiled. “Of course. He is welcome. And it is appreciated.”
Rogier nodded and then bowed before the two of them before leaving to deliver the message back to Geoffrey. The cardinal continued to beam.
“I remain impressed with your husband’s piety and commitment to the cross,” he said. “I will be honest, I wish his father had shown such qualities.”
Ælfflæd's initial thought was to question Geoffrey’s actual piety, given his propensity to violate church teachings when it suited him, whether it be for his affairs or even war and killing. But her curiosity was piqued by the mention of her husband’s father.
“The late king was not a good Christian?” she asked. The way it came out was rather clumsy and blunt, Ælfflæd realized, but Emmanuel did not seem to take offense, simply shaking his head.
“His father… well his father did what he was required to do,” Emmanuel said. “But in private, he partook in things that I would consider… improper. Pursuits of an evil nature. I think he had good intentions, and I do not believe him an evil man… but one whose pride led him away from the righteous path.”
“I… I’m not sure I understand,” Ælfflæd said. “He did… evil things but was not evil?”
Emmanuel frowned. “Forgive me. I am not very clear with my words and it may let your mind think all sorts of slanderous things.”
It is not a long trip, given all the rumors, Ælfflæd thought.
“I think his father was a Godly man,” Emmanuel said. “But in time, he lost his way. After your husband’s brother was lost… it had a great effect on the whole of the royal court. I remember it well.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. She realized this might also pertain to her older sister as well.
“Rae,” Ælfflæd blurted out. “My sister. You mean her too?”
“Oh yes,” Emmanuel said. “Your sister was a lovely woman, in looks and heart. It was difficult to speak with her then - to have to explain that despite her wishes for her beloved husband to remain with her, God had other plans for him.”
Emmanuel shook his head. “It was a message I told them all then. But the truth is not always easy to hear. It is why I feel a pity for them… your sister, the king’s father and mother. I think your sister’s future… problems, stem from her heartbreak then. I truly believe, had the young Foulques not lost his life, she would have been seen as one of Christendom’s finest examples of a lady.”
Ælfflæd swallowed hard while her chest ached. It was difficult to hear such a tragic tale for her sister, even if she suspected such things already.
“But your husband’s father,” Emmanuel said. “He came frequently to the church when the young Foulques was injured. The king would have given anything to see him recovered. When he did not… I fear he lost his faith.”
“He stopped believing?” Ælfflæd asked.
“I do not know,” Emmanuel said. “I think he wished to. Does one ever fully extinguish their belief in God? I believe all of us keep it, in some form. But he did go to investigate things the church considers improper. Beliefs and teachings from the lands of the east. It was done in private, mostly, alongside a troublesome young girl.”
“You did not stop him?” Ælfflæd asked. “I mean… you did not warn him off it?”
“One can speak all one likes, but if the man does not listen… it is all for naught,” Emmanuel said. “I do not know the old king ever listened to me, even in the time when he came here nearly every day. Nonetheless, I still pray for his soul, and pray he found his place with God, or will one day.”
Emmanuel smiled. “But your husband. He listens. And that is why God has blessed him.”
The doors opened and Geoffrey entered along with his entourage, including Bishop Edouard and Berard. Emmanuel immediately went to greet them but Ælfflæd remained behind for a moment.
“Are you alright, my lady?” Lida asked.
“It was a heavier conversation than I expected,” Ælfflæd admitted. “But a good one to have. My sister endured so much. And the old king...”
“Yes… the old king,” Lida spat.
There was a surprising anger and bitterness in her voice, which surprised Ælfflæd. “What of the old king?”
Lida grew wide-eyed for a moment. “It… it is nothing, my queen. Forget I said anything.”
“You can speak to me Lida,” Ælfflæd said. “I will say nothing to my husband.”
Lida shook her head. “I should not. I just… the king was not a good man. I have heard of some of what he and my husband’s father did… I am grateful my husband does not follow in their footsteps. And in truth, neither does yours.”
The words sent a chill down her spine. Usually, the reign of Geoffrey I was hailed in Bordeaux, given he had re-founded the Kingdom of Aquitaine with few internal challenges. But she would hear things occasionally - sometimes from people like Cardinal Emmanuel or Lida, or occasionally, from Geoffrey himself - that made her actually fear the specter of the man.
There would be time to think on that later, however, for now she knew she had to greet her husband.
Ælfflæd and her ladies made their way over to Geoffrey, who was talking with Cardinal Emmanuel near the cathedral’s entrance.
“Husband,” she said when he acknowledged her with a simple gaze.
“My dear queen,” Geoffrey said. He eyed her, and she realized, given the people present, he wanted to be more official.
“My king,” she said. “Your cousin says you have come to show your thanks to the Lord for the success in the Holy Lands.”
“Alongside you,” Geoffrey said. “Since it is a victory of England and Aquitaine.”
The bit of humility, acknowledging England’s efforts, was new for the king, but Ælfflæd suspected there was little way he could spin it otherwise. Yes, he had defeated the heathens at Lydford, but it was solely the Saxon-Norman armies that had taken Acre and the sheik’s family - and a good part of Christendom had learned of that before Geoffrey had, let alone before he could spin it otherwise.
Ælfflæd nodded. “I have already done so. But I will wait for you here as you give your thanks.”
Geoffrey smiled. “I was not aware there were limits on one giving thanks. Surely for a victory so great… and so unexpected… you would show a great deal more than normal circumstances.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. What exactly constituted normal? She considered herself a good Christian, praying and following the Bible even when the difficult memories made her question aspects of her faith. Which, apparently, was more than his father had done.
But with the small entourage Geoffrey brought, Ælfflæd was hesitant to push the matter further since on this issue she guessed it would look poor on her if she did.
“Of course, my king,” Ælfflæd said. “Let us pray and give thanks.”
Geoffrey's smile widened and he strode forth, grabbing Ælfflæd’s hand and leading her toward the dais and altar upon it. Then, upon reaching it, Geoffrey pulled her to the side to allow Emmanuel passage up onto the dais.
For a moment, Ælfflæd was confused. After all, when she prayed, she had been in the pews, not this close to the dais and altar. It did not seem proper.
But then, she noticed the cacophony of sounds around her. The serenity of silence had been broken as men and women streamed in, filling the pews.
“What is this?” Ælfflæd asked.
“Others wish to see,” Geoffrey said. “After all it is a great moment for Christendom.”
And now Ælfflæd understood. It had to be public. To hail them - to elevate their accomplishments even further.
It was a strange feeling, for Ælfflæd preferred to do this in private. It felt proper. And yet, she did want to be recognized. She did want adulation. She wanted credit.
Ælfflæd met Geoffrey’s smile with one of her own. “Of course they do, husband, for it is a great moment for us all.”
….
That afternoon and evening, the hall had gathered for a small feast.
It wasn’t a large, grand affair that would feature the majority of nobles of both realms. For one, Duke Osmund was the only English ruling lord or lady present in Bordeaux. Likewise, while there were a few visiting Aquitaine lords and ladies - Geoffrey’s cousins, Ancel, heir to Brittany, and Small Fry, Count of Charolais, along with a few Gascon lords and ladies - nominally vassals of Duke Adhemar.
In addition, gathering food for a large feast would have taken a lot of time. So a modest spread was placed before them - but there were still over 30 people gathered and the wine stores were opened so those present could enjoy themselves.
Ælfflæd could not - drinking while pregnant made her sick. Even ale would be difficult on her stomach, so she just kept to a mildly spiced wine with her food.
There was also a bard present, strumming on a lute and singing. He began after toasts were made to the royals - a few to Ælfflæd but most to Geoffrey - for their great service to Christendom.
Ælfflæd could hardly have expected anything different, given Geoffrey’s massive ego would never let him give her the majority of the credit for anything. And he did save Lydford, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve some credit. It was more of an even split in her eyes.
Not that it was an even split in the celebrations. Geoffrey’s men sat around hailing him, praising his leadership and guidance, while also calling him the “greatest king in Christendom.” Naturally, he lapped it up, regaling his tales of how he outsmarted the heathen traps and ambush outside of Lydford, and cowed them enough so that they did not dare try again, even after he departed England last fall.
It was enough that Ælfflæd just rolled her eyes and sat with her ladies, taking an area on the dais that had been vacated.
Once they had been seated, Duchess Ealhflaed, wife of Duke Hlothere and daughter of the Duke of Essex, raised a cup toward the queen.
“They may not appreciate your success, my queen, but we do,” she said.
“Here, here,” Lida said as raised her cup as well.
Ælfflæd blushed, pleased but a little embarrassed. But since all of her ladies had raised their cups, she did the same.
“I cannot remember the last time I have seen a lady hailed like this,” Ealhflaed said.
“I’m sure they kissed the Duchess of Toulouse’s large ass back when she was alive,” Benoite said.
Ealhflaed looked confused so Ælfflæd explained: “She was one of Aquitaine’s most powerful lords and ladies in the first five years of my husband’s reign. But… she died of illness.”
Ælfflæd fell silent, remembering she may have sent the duchess to her doom. But she did her best to shake it off - that was in the past. And the duchess was likely plotting against her and her family.
“Ah,” Ealhflaed said. “Well, still not for a queen. It is impressive.”
“It is,” Benoite agreed. “Oh, if Agnes could see this.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, I meant no offense, my queen,” Benoite replied. “You sit here, the woman of honor for this little celebration. Alongside the king! The lady Agnes would be most pleased with how far you’ve come.”
“How far I’ve come…” Ælfflæd said.
“Oh, again, I did not mean any offense,” Benoite said. “It was… when you first arrived, who could have imagined you would one day have pushed for the recapture of a city in the Holy Lands. And have actually done it! The lady would have certainly been impressed.”
The thought of which brought a smile to Ælfflæd’s face. She most often worried about what her mother would think. But she also wished to honor Agnes, who had helped her navigate the difficult times in the first years after her arrival in Aquitaine. She did sometimes wonder how the lady would handle these situations she currently found herself in, but that she had come through successfully in at least one was reassuring.
Meanwhile, Lida’s attention was then drawn elsewhere. Grabbing Benoite, they begged their leave and departed, leaving Ælfflæd with the Duchess Eafflæd.
Ælfflæd’s entourage of ladies had been reduced by one of late. Escarlemonde, who served her for years, had joined her husband Knud in Toulouse in his recent temporary exile from Bordeaux. The queen would have expected the duchess to depart as well, since her father Sigeric of Essex hated Ælfflæd. But Ealhflaed had decided to remain anyway.
And it wasn’t all bad. Ealhflaed was one of the few people besides her uncle whom Ælfflæd could talk to in her native Saxon tongue.
“I do mean it,” Ealhflaed said. “This is truly something impressive. No one thought you would win. And here you are. You convinced the king to fight… and then our men took Acre. It is something.”
Ælfflæd nodded. “Thank you. It is nice to hear someone acknowledge it.”
“I do so in hopes one day that my accomplishments would be recognized as well,” Ealhflaed said. “If I am fortunate enough to inherit Essex one day.”
Ælfflæd knew the duchess was her father’s heir, since he had only daughters. But it was possible that Essex might find children with his current wife, Ælfflæd’s youngest aunt Seaxburgh, or with a different woman in the future.
“It would be good if you do,” Ælfflæd said. “Though I’m sure the rest of Christendom will find reason to look at England strangely. What mad world is that island where women rule all of it’s lands?!”
“It would not be all it’s lands,” Ealhflaed noted. “Though if we were able to get your cousin Hextilda back as Somerset’s heir… that would just leave your uncle in Kent.”
“And your husband,” Ælfflæd noted.
Ealhflaed laughed. “Oh yes, of course. Let us pray that there is a Northumbria to return to when we go back to England and that my husband has not found a way to lose it while he was between the legs of some whore.”
Ælfflæd’s eyes widened. “I see.”
Ealhflaed sipped her drink. “I have the lover’s pox, you know. So uncomfortable. Since I have never been with anyone but my husband, it is from him that I received it.”
“I’m sorry,” Ælfflæd told her.
“I knew
you would understand,” Ealhflaed said. “I must say you handle it with a quiet grace that I try to emulate… but often fail at.”
Ælfflæd scratched her head. She didn’t think she did a particularly good job at it. And since she wasn’t aware of the discord between Ealhflaed and Hlothere, she had to admit the duchess was better than she let on.
“I did not know of your discontent,” Ælfflæd admitted. “So I think you are better at it than you give yourself credit for.”
“Sometimes I think he is undeserving of it,” Ealhflaed said. “What has he done for me? Your husband provides you with prestige… soldiers. Mine just gives me uncomfortable itches. And children who I do not see. But at least that is one benefit from not being around him… I shall have a break from carrying children.”
Ælfflæd instinctively rubbed her own swollen belly and Ealhflaed’s brow rose. “I mean… I did not mean any offense my queen. You seem to have a natural glow about it.”
The queen waved her off. “I love my children, as I know you do yours. But it is not easy to carry them… and you had four in six years!”
“I had four children,” Ealhflaed said. “But it feels like I have been pregnant every moment since the night I was wed, even if a few did not come to term. Always swollen, always sore, often sick… I do enjoy the break from such things.”
Ælfflæd nodded. She really could sympathize with the duchess, for while she enjoyed her children, pregnancy was rarely fun for her. Her small stature always made things difficult at the end of her pregnancies, where her belly was particularly large on her frame. Nothing was as difficult as with her eldest, but her subsequent ones had not been easy either.
And as she moved towards the final months and weeks of her current pregnancy, it was not something she was looking forward to.
Her thoughts were interrupted however, as Lida and Benoite marched their way back while visibility in a heated argument.
“You need to stay quiet,” Lida insisted.
“She needs to know,” Benoite said.
“Needs to know what?” Ælfflæd asked. “And who?”
“You, my queen,” Benoite said. “And…”
“Benoite!” Lida said. “My husband did not agree…”
“Lida,” Ælfflæd interrupted. “What do I need to know?”
Lida sighed. “It is the king. The crowd around him… they are inciting wrong doing.”
“They have a serving wench on his lap,” Benoite clarified.
“His cousin Small Fry threw her there,” Lida added. “My husband tried to advise against it but he was drowned out by the crowd.”
Ælfflæd eyed Lida. “And I’m certain my husband was quite content not to listen to his friend and instead do as the others wanted?”
Lida looked down and nodded.
It was frustrating, since Ælfflæd knew where this would lead. It was no secret to her that Geoffrey often celebrated his victories with a night with a woman. Even if this wasn’t his victory directly, nor was it official, his public show at the church made this an impromptu feast a celebration.
Suddenly, Ælfflæd was to her feet. Her eyes focused on the crowd of men.
I don’t have to take this. Not tonight. Not when we are supposed to be celebrating “together.” Not when I am the hero too.
Would Æthelflæd of Mercia take this? Would Boudica? Would Agnes? Would her own mother? Would even Geoffrey’s mother?
Mother would not do as they do, Ælfflæd knew. But it did not mean she would simply accept it.
“Where are you going, my queen?” Lida asked.
She did not answer, for she knew what Lida would say. She knew what they would all say.
“You see what you have done?” Lida shouted at Benoite.
Benoite rushed forward ahead of the queen and tried to block her.
“My queen, please, it is unwise…” Benoite said.
Ælfflæd said nothing, glancing up at Benoite and then simply brushing past her. It was too late to simply back down now. There was no way she could stomach this, going to bed with the thought of her husband in between the legs of a serving wench. And the way she saw it… there was only one way that could be avoided.
She began to push her way through those gathered. One advantage of the smaller group is there was never any doubt among those gathered who she was. She did not even need to announce her presence. As she moved forth, the crowd around the king parted, allowing her passage.
She soon reached the center of the crowd, where Geoffrey sat on a chair with a serving wench on his lap. At his sides were his cousins, Small Fry and Ancel, urging him and the crowd on, as they shouted raucous chants and encouragement, and making light of the wench’s large rear.
But they fell silent quickly as they saw the queen standing before them. Just the fact they all grew quiet gave Ælfflæd confidence. So too was the fact Geoffrey quickly pushed the wench off him and she tumbled to the floor.
Well, at least her fall was well cushioned, Ælfflæd thought.
Meanwhile, Geoffrey was eyeing her, clearly unsure of what she would do next. He likely expected her to scream at him, to make a scene where she called out his unfaithfulness, his infidelity… his arrogance given the circumstance.
Part of her wanted to. But part of her wanted something else far more.
She did not say anything, instead plopping herself down on Geoffrey’s lap, causing her husband to forcibly exhale as she did. Ælfflæd wasn’t tall, but she was sturdy and quite far along in her pregnancy. It meant Geoffrey actually looked in some discomfort when she landed on him.
The queen smirked.
He earned it.
Still, after shaking it off, Geoffrey did appear a bit surprised by it. But he did not throw her off.
“Husband,” she said. “I’m offended. Is
my ass not ample enough for you?”
Geoffrey’s eyes grew wide - a reaction shared by many present. And for a moment, Ælfflæd dared not breathe - had she gone too far?
Suddenly, the king’s expression changed - he had a sly grin form on his lips.
“It’s true, I do not think there is an ass as ample in the whole of the kingdom as yours, dear wife!” Geoffrey shouted. “Nor a bosom!”
He grabbed at her chest, which Ælfflæd enjoyed much less than her rear, since her pregnancy had left her breasts sensitive. It felt like a slice of a knife across them, causing her to wince.
Still, it meant he would go along with this, despite her interrupting things with the wench, who had ended up in the grasp of Small Fry.
“We must find those bards who sang about women with large asses,” Ancel said. “And have them sing it about the queen!”
“The Queen’s song!” Small Fry shouted, thrusting his cup into the air, while holding the wench with his other hand.
“Sing the Queen’s song!” was repeated.
Since there was a bard present, he was made to drop his current song and quickly make up one about the queen and her… rather large rear.
It actually caused Ælfflæd to blush, and regret for a moment getting involved. For even more than the words, suddenly she could see the hungry eyes of many men around her, as if she were a piece of ripe fruit to be eagerly devoured.
She gripped Geoffrey’s tunic a bit tighter, which was just as well, for it soon became clear if anyone devoured her tonight, it would be him.
The king’s grip grew tighter and tighter as time went on, his hands moving across her body, all the while she could feel something else poking her.
And then as the bard sang a refrain: “A beautiful queen that Aquitaine holds most dear…”
Geoffrey shouted: “Who has crushed the heathens under her most bountiful rear!”
Ælfflæd’s eyes widened, shocked to hear her husband join in. Meanwhile the bard blushed and managed a nervous grin as he strummed away on his lute, his voice going silent. Meanwhile, Geoffrey continued.
“It grows larger with each babe she births! So does each child add to her most impressive girth!”
“One could hardly ask for a queen whose belly is more bountiful,” Ancel shouted. “The men of the realm wish they could---”
“Shut up,” Geoffrey told him as he pointed. “I’m the one barding.”
Then he fell silent and his face grew more frustrated. “Damnation. I lost my rhythm. Bard! Continue this for me!”
The bard swallowed hard and then strummed without saying a word at first. But eventually he said. “A lovely lady who had the fortune of being given the king’s hand, and now has become the envy of every lady in the land…. A more good and Christian woman few have ever seen….”
“All hail Elf, Aquitaine, England’s, and
my, all-conquering queen!” Geoffrey shouted.
“Hail Queen Elf!” the men shouted. And soon they were joined by nearly everyone in the hall.
Ælfflæd’s heart raced. From barging in on her husband’s adultery, to being made the actual subject of a lewd song, to becoming the desire of many of the men present… to having her name sung by every person in the hall.
It was a whirlwind, one that almost made her head spin. And that was to say nothing of the physical sensations she felt - the sound of the cacophony of voices, the movement and wiggling of the child in her belly… her husband’s hands all over her body and his lips slobbering up and down her neck.
She didn’t know if this was truly good, or quite what she wanted. But Ælfflæd, despite feeling a bit of heat in her face from the embarrassing aspects of it all, could not resist a small smile.
She was the toast of the hall, in some ways the realm itself, and she had her husband’s desires. Had she not done exactly as she wanted when she stood up from her chair just a few moments before?
The festivities would continue a bit longer. She might have expected Geoffrey to move on from her, but he kept her on his lap, and continued to show his affection. It was far more lustful than it had been in sometime, but given her own desires, it wasn’t exactly unwelcome.
There was a cruel irony which had emerged after her first pregnancy. Geoffrey’s affairs had left her cold to him physically, but she was bound by her wifely duties to accede to his desires. Besides, they did have a duty to produce children. So they did couple, and when they did, they usually found children without much difficulty.
But Ælfflæd had found during her pregnancies her own lusts increased. It wasn’t surprising - her midwife had explained that a woman’s monthly bloods acted as a release for their carnal desires. During pregnancy, those bloods were stored to nourish the child, so women often felt a great deal of lust while pregnant.
However, it was considered a sin to lay with a pregnant woman and Geoffrey had long refrained from doing so with her, even if she knew he indulged with his lovers. Thus the one time Ælfflæd truly desired her husband, he refused to lay with her.
His lust on this evening thus proved a good sign, and Ælfflæd began to get her hopes up. There is no way he can stop now, she thought. And her own restraint began to waver, as she encouraged him to continue and actually began to kiss him back.
Finally, she told him: “We should leave them. It would not be polite to couple in front of them. Let us go to my chambers.”
“You want to do what?” Geoffrey asked.
“To couple,” Ælfflæd said. “I cannot wait any longer. Let us go now.”
Geoffrey chuckled. “I’m sorry. Have you forgotten your present condition?”
Ælfflæd looked down, held her belly and then met his gaze square. “Oh, yes. I must have forgotten this large child, that has been growing inside me for months now and frequently kicks and punches my insides.”
“You know how this goes,” Geoffrey said.
“I know that when a woman is with child, her needs are greatest,” Ælfflæd said. “And I also know that you have no problem taking care of your whore’s needs while she swells with your child.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “She is not my wife.”
“Yes, which means you sin with her just by being with her,” Ælfflæd said. “Yet you will not fulfill your duties to me… the only time you would actually deny your urges. You clearly desire me. Or has the last bit been for show this whole time?”
Geoffrey blushed and not for the first time, Ælfflæd was reminded of the boy he had been when she first met him nearly a decade a half before.
“I did not lie,” Geoffrey said. “You are… rather fetching. Even in your current condition.”
“Are you embarrassed to speak your desires for me?” Ælfflæd asked. “Your own wife! Did you not just sing a song about me?”
“That was different,” Geoffrey said. “I was speaking… truths. In general. This…”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. But she was not angry. He spoke… almost as if he were afraid of admitting it. As if doing so would give her some power over him.
But Ælfflæd realized that it was far too late for that. If he was that terrified, she already had won.
“You need not fear this, my king,” she told him. “No one will blame you. No… quite the opposite. Did you see the looks of your knights? Your cousins? No, they will not blame you. They will wish they
were you, to be with me. Your wife. The all-conquering queen with the ass and bosom you so enjoy.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. Then he got a smirk on his face and kissed Ælfflæd deeply.
Tapping Ælfflæd to get off him, he then followed by calling over Bishop Edouard, who he instructed to take good care of the guests. Taking hold of Ælfflæd’s hand he began to pull her to his chamber.
But once they were away from the others, Ælfflæd pulled him towards her chambers instead.
He was drunk, clearly, for he simply followed. But it didn’t matter. For once, Ælfflæd had stood up for what she wanted.
And she had gotten it.
…..
But it did not turn out to be a one time thing. Over the next month, she made multiple requests for the king to join her for the evening and was accepted each time. Likewise, Geoffrey often called for her.
That was a bit trickier, since Ælfflæd was often uncomfortable due to her pregnancy. But she went anyway, for she had fought for her place and was not about to relinquish it until she had to in the immediate aftermath of childbirth.
And it was at the end of that month, when important news found the pair after coupling in the middle of the day.
It had been one of their more pleasant times, for Ælfflæd found herself comfortable enough that she had begun to drift off to sleep with Geoffrey holding her. But her sleep was interrupted by a pounding on the door and Bishop Edouard shouting on the other side.
“Not now!” Geoffrey shouted back.
“It’s urgent,” Edouard said. “You will want to hear this! The queen will as well!”
Ælfflæd, still sleepy, didn’t really want to move, nor get herself decent. But that the news interested her was enough for her to say: “Just find out what it is so we can return to bed.”
Geoffrey grinned and nodded, not even bothering with a tunic. Ælfflæd guessed Edouard had seen Geoffrey naked before and thus the king didn’t care to cover himself. But the queen still pulled the sheets over her body, especially since she felt a chill with Geoffrey away from her.
Edouard entered and stared at the pair for a moment, as if trying to make sense of what he’d seen… even if Ælfflæd guessed he had been warned before he entered.
“What is so urgent?” Geoffrey demanded. “Is this bigger than when Acre fell?”
“It is as important in it’s own way,” Edouard said. “And it too involves England.”
“What is it then?” Ælfflæd demanded as she awkwardly tried to sit up, eventually succeeding.
Edouard said nothing at first, instead simply looking at the queen for a moment. It made Ælfflæd’s stomach twist.
“Is this news I will not wish to hear?” she demanded.
Edouard shook his head. “I think it is good news for you, my queen. Your cousin Beohtfrith is dead.”
Ælfflæd’s stomach went from twisting to flipping. “What?!”
She looked at Geoffrey, who did not appear to share her surprise. Instead he simply stroked his chin, which was sporting more facial hair than it used to as he had begun to grow out a beard.
“What happened?” Geoffrey asked.
“Highwaymen ambushed him while he rode with some of his commanders,” Edouard said. “I believe it happened near Derby?”
“His men couldn’t fight them off?” Ælfflæd asked.
“Apparently not,” Edouard said. “He was not with the whole army. It was just him and a few commanders and guards.”
“The commanders died too?” Ælfflæd asked.
“I am… not sure,” Edouard said. “All we heard for certain is Beohtfrith was killed.”
“And that it is certainly good news,” Geoffrey said. “I assume his host is disbanding?”
“Yes, they have been doing a bit of pillaging in the countryside, but no longer fight the crown,” Edouard said. “It appears it is over.”
“It seems to have been quite the boon for us,” Geoffrey said. “Unless there is something else you wish to tell me.”
“Nothing cousin,” Edouard said. “We can put this behind us and forget the man ever existed.”
“Exactly what I plan to do,” Geoffrey said. “Thank you cousin. That is all.”
Edouard bowed before king and queen before leaving the room. Geoffrey turned to Ælfflæd with brow raised.
“Well that was fortuitous,” he said.
Far too fortuitous, Ælfflæd thought.
A highwayman attack when only his commanders were around? Somehow, it just seemed unlikely.
There’s no need to question it though, she thought. After all, the last active threat against me has been dealt with. This is a day of celebration.
And yet, she couldn’t, because her better instincts told her he was murdered. And if her cousin was murdered, someone went behind her back to do it. Someone she had told not to.
It could have been Adelise. She certainly had a bloodlust and a willingness to disregard Ælfflæd’s wishes.
But Geoffrey just seemed… unsurprised by it. The news had shocked her… why wouldn’t it have also surprised him?
“Killed in a scuffle with bandits?” she asked.
“The roads are hardly safe these days,” Geoffrey said. “Especially in that area of the kingdom.”
His face never showed any shock. His explanation was too quick, too readily at the tip of his tongue. Previous conversations about Beohtfrith had shown Geoffrey to be evasive on the matter.
How could she not suspect?
“Did you murder my cousin?” she asked directly.
Oddly, she had known Geoffrey to be many things. But he usually didn’t lie directly. Perhaps a lie of omission, or he would try to evade her questioning. However, telling outright falsehoods was never something he had done with her.
That had prevented her from asking questions at times. She was very confused by his decision to give the child of Duke of Poitou and the late Duchess Essa a county, but she had heard the rumors. But she left it alone, for the truth would not be something she wished to hear.
Yet in this instance, she could stomach having her suspicions confirmed. And Geoffrey wasted little time in doing exactly that.
“He attacked you while you fought in a war for Christendom,” Geoffrey said. “The man has no honor and could not be trusted with power - not if I wished to protect our children. So I acted - and told you nothing so that you would not be implicated had it been discovered.”
Ælfflæd sat in silence, unsure of how to respond. Her reflex was to be annoyed - Geoffrey had ordered a murder - of a family member no less - without her consent. He claimed to treat her as a vassal, but she doubted he would have killed the enemies of any of his lords without their consent.
On the other hand, he had solved her problem. And had he been caught, it would have been a little less problematic than what she feared when Adelise proposed the same solution. Adelise was her vassal, after all, where as Geoffrey was not required to listen to anything she had to say.
Then again, that her husband again took the route Adelise suggested when it came to murder was also unsettling.
He would badmouth her to my face and then do exactly as she does, Ælfflæd thought. And much like Adelise, had this gone poorly, there would have been some who would have believed her to be involved. It wouldn’t have mattered how much she wasn’t, especially since some of the English lords and clergy looked for any opportunity to rally support against her.
It also hinted at a ruthlessness to Geoffrey that was unsettling. She considered him arrogant, selfish and short-sighted in many ways. But turning to murder so easily, and speaking of it so glibly… signaled something more… sinister.
“No need to thank me,” Geoffrey told her. “I just solved another of your problems.”
Ælfflæd furrowed her brow. “Yes, yes. Where would I be without you?”
“Married to the brother or son of a Saxon count, birthing babies in obscurity,” Geoffrey said. “Instead, the child you carry now might be a great lord or lady. To say nothing of making you a queen… and the mother of a future king.”
Her mouth hung open. His arrogance was beyond belief.
“You speak as if I have done nothing,” Ælfflæd said.
“Oh yes how could I forget the…” Geoffrey started.
“The siege of Acre?” Ælfflæd asked. “The holy war I now stand on the verge of winning? To say nothing of the English crown - unless you think your whore could have given you sons who will one day become kings of my homeland.”
Geoffrey crossed his arms. But a small smirk formed on his lips.
“It is true,” he said. “You have proven far more capable than I daresay anyone expected. I never believed you would win in Acre. But you have. Perhaps you can prove as useful as my other lords have been in time. Or at least place England in a position where our son can be.”
Damning with faint praise, she thought. But it was the best she was going to get out of him.
But ultimately, even if Geoffrey had annoyed her, Ælfflæd knew she had far more to be grateful for than angry over.
After all, she was on the verge of victory in the Holy Lands, something that, had she been told how it would happen a few years ago, would have seemed too fanciful for even her to believe. She had earned some respect from her husband, even if it was begrudging.
And her problem with her cousin was solved. She would have preferred him beaten and not killed, but she didn’t particularly have fond feelings for the man.
In time, she would return to England. She would be a triumphant defender of the cross, as her father and grandfather had been. And surely, she would be crowned queen.
….
In the coming days, Ælfflæd went about her queenly duties - going to church services, sitting for court. All of it was more difficult than normal as the result of the advanced state of her pregnancy, which she hoped would end in a few weeks. The child was active and never hesitated to make itself known, not to mention false labor pains would come frequently enough.
But having done this three times before, Ælfflæd was fairly confident at knowing what would be real labor pains and what was not.
She also listened to business from England that was passed to her by Duke Osmund, which continued to arrive via messenger. Anything immediately pressing was handled by her council present in England - nominally led by Aevis but kept in check by Bishop Cytelbearn, Duchess Adelise and Duke Hlothere.
One day, however, Ælfflæd sat with her ladies in her chambers when Osmund entered looking rather pale. Immediately, the queen knew the news was not going to be good and dismissed her ladies.
“So what is it?” Ælfflæd asked.
“News from Lancaster, my queen,” Osmund said. “It… has begun.”
Ominous words that sent a chill down her spine, Ælfflæd nonetheless shook it off to ask which of her feared crises had finally come to pass.
“Duchess Adelise has moved against Lancaster,” Osmund told her. “Her men have raided Leicester…”
Ælfflæd’s stomach stopped and the child within her delivered a forceful enough kick that it forced the wind from her.
Adelise… she thought as she shook her head.
Adelise…
“Both sisters have made their cases to the council and thus, you,” Osmund said. “Aevis attempted to assert that this action did not take place with your consent and thus was against the law. But Adelise argued otherwise, saying you were not there to render your verdict.”
“What did the council say?” Ælfflæd asked.
“They wouldn’t get involved either way,” Osmund said. “I do not think they wished to be caught picking the wrong side in the conflict. And since neither sister could be assured of their position either, both have fled Lydford for their own lands.”
“So it is between them,” Ælfflæd said, with a small bit of hope in her voice.
Osmund frowned. “Duke Sigeric of Essex and Duchess Ecgwyn of Cornwall have both demanded you intervene to stop Adelise from her invasion. So too does Duchess Maud… though hers is more a suggestion than an outright call for action.”
And there it was. Three lords demanding Ælfflæd take the side of Aevis in this conflict.
“What if I refuse?” Ælfflæd asked.
“They will see it as choosing a side,” Osmund said. “We know Aevis lacks the strength to stand against Adelise. It may take time, but the midlands will fall without aid.”
“Then let them aid her,” Ælfflæd said. “If I stay out of this conflict, I will not dictate who gets involved.”
“I suspect they use Aevis as a means to an end,” Osmund said. “After all, they have previously made no promises to aid her. I think they simply look to use this as a tool by which to bludgeon you - saying that you will let Adelise do as she wants. Or that you aim to remake Saxon England by turning it to a Norman-Occitan fief.”
“Likely both,” Ælfflæd said.
She sighed and then fell silent. If she did take Aevis’ side, Adelise would be lost as her ally forever. Perhaps that would happen anyway, in time, but for now, it was a situation she did not want. Adelise had resources, and a willingness to do whatever it took to expand and maintain her power. If Ælfflæd and her family were her enemy, then she would turn her efforts on them.
But if Ælfflæd sided with Adelise and let her act, it was license for Aevis, Sigeric, Ecgwyn and Maud to rebel. And with them, perhaps Hlothere too, given his wife was Sigeric’s daughter.
She doubted the nobles actually wanted a queen or king strong enough to meddle in their affairs like that. But they looked for an excuse to unite against her, and be rid of Adelise. They would get one or the other here - with perhaps this being their last best chance to do it.
After all, once Ælfflæd had won Acre, she would have shown herself to be heir to the Stawell legacy and a defender of Christendom. Challenging her then would be harder, if not impossible, in her eyes.
No, it was coming to a head now. She could back Aevis and make an enemy of her closest, but also most dangerous, ally. Or she could back Adelise, and surrender to the knowledge the realm would likely be set ablaze soon.
Her eyes shifted from the floor to her uncle, hoping that he would have an answer. But she could see he was eyeing her wine. The stress was already getting to him.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“Yes,” Osmund said as he quickly poured himself one cup, drank it down just as quickly and then poured another helping for himself.
“Are you alright uncle?” Ælfflæd asked, somewhat rhetorically.
“My poor sister,” Osmund said. “Your aunt. She has dealt with much in her life… losing her first born son young. Then her husband to heathen assassins. Her youngest disinherited by her philandering disgrace of a second husband, who may have bedded and sired children with her eldest daughter. And now, that daughter and her sister will fight and one will likely be ruined, if not killed. Perhaps both shall lose their lives. It is… Gunny deserved better.”
Ælfflæd nodded, unable to say much to that. She agreed - her aunt had suffered. It was different than how Ælfflæd’s mother had, but it was a difficult life nonetheless. The queen’s mind drifted back to Christmas and her aunt’s drunken outburst… it was easier to see why that happened now.
And as she saw her uncle help himself to a third cup of wine, she realized perhaps it was just the lot for this generation of the Godwins of Kent. They had risen far in the realm’s eyes - duke and chancellor to Europe’s most Christian king, a queen consort, and a wife of the most powerful duke of the realm.
Now, Osmund was chancellor to a queen, yes, but after suffering through humiliation at the hands of Duke Burgheard, forcing him to negotiate his grand nephew’s abdication and then to Geoffrey, as Aquitaine forces had chased him to the Adriatic Sea. Gunhilda had been humiliated, her daughter disinherited, her only son dead and her daughters now fighting. And Wulfrun… dying a broken woman after years in captivity, her only son dead before his time, her eldest daughter’s reputation ruined…
“I am the lone bright light,” Ælfflæd said.
Osmund looked up at her. “You are what?”
Ælfflæd instantly regretted what she had said. It seemed pompous… and undeserved.
But was it? Her boldness had led them to the verge of reclaiming Acre. In the process, she had begun to restore her family’s reputation. And she had managed to earn the begrudging respect of her husband - a respect that might serve England well in the future.
Ælfflæd looked at Osmund squarely and took a deep breath. “I have looked so often at the Stawell side of my family - and how it must be restored. But the Godwins of Kent… you, my mother, my aunt, you have suffered greatly as well. I can help right those wrongs as well, uncle. Perhaps we can bring peace between Adelise and Aevis… perhaps not. But I will not let it destroy us. Or destroy England.”
Osmund eyed her. “Bold talk. But what can you truly do? They will not listen.”
“I want you to meet with each of them, in person,” Ælfflæd said. “And begin to arrange talks. I want peace between them until I can attend myself. I wish to negotiate some sort of truce between them, for the good of our family.”
“Aevis will accept such a move,” Osmund said. “Adelise will not.”
“Her daughter is with us here in Bordeaux,” Ælfflæd noted. “She will be cautious. And also float that the king and I are growing more interested in a union between the crown prince and her daughter… but note that if she will not agree to the temporary truce, that will be the end of it.”
Osmund nodded. “But what do you hope to achieve by this delay?”
“Myself back in England,” Ælfflæd said. “And crowned, with Acre firmly in our hands. It will enhance my stature… and hopefully give my words more weight.”
“And if it does not?” Osmund asked.
Ælfflæd eyed him. “Then, with the business in Acre completed and the threat of heathens gone, my husband will have no reason not to move to England with his men, to join my forces, in putting down any who would refuse their queen’s order.”
“That could well mean war,” Osmund said.
“So it might,” Ælfflæd said. “But if so, I just give them what they want. Adelise wants Lancaster and clearly will fight to take it. Aevis wants to be Queen of England - and there is but one way she can achieve that end without my generosity. Essex, Ecgwyn and many others want me and my children gone - how else will that end without blood spilled?”
Ælfflæd lowered her head. “I do not want to think my husband is right that war is inevitable. But it will be if I cower and hide any longer. I must show them strength - or they will feast on my weakness.”
Osmund shook his head. “I think… I think you take too large a risk.”
“You are entitled to think that, uncle,” Ælfflæd told him. “But it is my risk to take. If you do not wish to take part, then you may return to Kent, hunker down and await the storm. I will not hold it against you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Osmund said. “You have your mother and father’s will. They did not take such things lightly.”
The Duke of Kent finished his drink then slammed the cup down on the table and stood up. “We shall do it your way, my queen. May God have mercy on us all.”
Ælfflæd nodded, but was forced to grimace as she felt a strong pain in her belly. The strongest she had felt throughout the entire pregnancy.
“Are you alright, my queen?” Osmund asked.
“I think my time draws near,” Ælfflæd replied. “If you can fetch the midwife. But it will be fine, uncle. I have done this before. And God willing, I will do so again in the future.”
And she meant it. Ælfflæd’s duties were more than just Geoffrey’s. She also had to give life, in addition to protecting it.
She would do the first again soon. Then after that, it would fall on her to do the latter. For she knew if she did not act soon, her vassals would grow even more emboldened. They would strike at her by any means available… unless they had a fear of the would-be-consequences.
When was Osmund gone, Ælfflæd lowered her head.
“Please Lord, give me the strength to face what comes before me,” she said. “As You did in Tunis, against the sheik of Acre and in the births of all my children."
She paused for a moment to reflect once more on her situation, and the inevitability of what awaited.
"For I believe I shall need that strength… and more, for what is to follow.”
