Say one thing for having bodyguards, say they made getting through crowds easier. Edric took the lead, shouting for people to make way for the princess Eleanor. Hubert and Edward flanked Eleanor, encouraging people to keep their distance with a combination of glares and hands on sword hilts.
Say one thing for a coronation, say it brought half the country together into Waltham. Even with her honour guard it took Eleanor a ridiculously long time to make the trip from garden to inner bailey. The palace had never been so busy in her lifetime. Every notable in the realm was here, including quite a few from across the Narrow Sea. Roughly half those men had brought family with them; an eldest son, favoured younger sons, more than a few wives, sisters and daughters. The making of a new king was the single most important occasion which could occur in any person’s life. Men needed to witness it done, to see with their own eyes that all had been done correctly and that thus there was no grounds to question. They needed to give their homage. Heirs should be introduced, both to mark them clearly in that status and to ensure that they, too, understood that the man they would one day serve was God’s own chosen. As for the female relations, well what better chance for them to deploy their social skills on behalf of their men?
With the exception of a few honoured cases – Eleanor being one - Hugh had declined to relax the arse in the crown’s ruling that each man might bring only three retainers to Waltham. Even so Waltham palace and the nearby town fairly teemed with servants. Three multiplied by several hundred came to a literal army, and that army filled the streets and buildings, rushing to and fro in a bid to settle their masters in to whatever cramped quarters they had managed to arrange.
Well over a thousand people. Four times that number of horses. Hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of finery. Weeks of preparation. A timetable of festivities more rigorously planned than the campaign which brought down Trempwick. Eleanor bit back a grin – all of this for her brother, a man most found difficult to imagine as the source of any good party.
Eleanor and Fulk had been assigned the same quarters she had occupied during her previous visit to Waltham, and whether that was Hugh’s own idea or a simple continuance of her father’s she had to approve. The building best known as the royal nursery: what better way to honour someone and mock them in the same breath? In practicality she had more space than any but the royal couple, and the rooms had proven themselves defensible.
When she finally made it back Eleanor was relieved to see that servants no longer hurried in and out of the doorway, and dared to hope that all had been set up in her short absence. Organising which objects went where was all part of a wife’s duty and could not be neglected were she present, whatever more important things she had to consider.
That hope was dashed the instant she set foot across the threshold. A liveried man tugged his forelock. “Your Highness, we were wondering where we should put-”
Eleanor held up her hand, listening to something other than him. “Is that my sister-by-law I hear?”
“Yes, your Highness. Her ladyship – that is, her Majesty, arrived some short time ago. She’s speaking to lord Fulk at present.”
Saved! “Then I had best go through. Continue to ask Hawise about where things should go; she knows my preferences.”
Eleanor turned into the first ground floor room which had, once again, been set up to act as an improvised man hall. Constance’s voice grew louder, sufficient to pick out a word here and there above the clamour of unpacking. As she crossed to the far end of the room she heard Fulk’s voice saying, “I am sensible to the honour, please don’t misunderstand. It’s only that … it’s not my place.”
“Your place is where your lord and king wishes you to be.”
“With all respect, I am not my lord’s squire.”
The conversation cut off as Constance noticed Eleanor in the solar’s doorway. “Ah. Eleanor, at last. I had expected you sooner.”
Eleanor stood by Fulk. “It is very busy out there. One can scarce move faster than a cripple’s shuffle even with guards.”
Constance stood, easing her back with one hand. “I wish to speak with you. Without all of this.” She indicated her maids, Fulk and the servants with a wave of a hand.
“As you wish.”
The rooms other occupants silently filed out with the exception of Fulk. He started to leave, changed his mind and turned back.
Constance’s eyes narrowed. “You have been requested to serve your lord in a capacity and so you shall, unless your loyalty is lacking.”
“He knows it is not.”
“Then I see no need for you to linger here. Report to the master of ceremonies before the end of the day and have him educate you as to what is required.” She turned her face away from him, signalling a definite end to the matter.
Yet still Fulk didn’t withdraw. Eleanor looked at him in askance; he ignored her. With the utmost care he said to Constance, “I am not a boy.”
Constance’s head snapped back around and she marched right up to Fulk. A inch or two shorter than he, she was able to stand toe to toe with him and make him appear faintly preposterous - somehow uncertain of how he should stand or react. With razor-edged enunciation Constance said, “I am sensible of the loyalty you have shown my husband, and of how hard you have fought for him. That gives you a modicum of license. Do not let that make you overbold or encourage you to forget
what you are and on what sufferance you are permitted to be here! Must I remind you that Hugh would have been entirely within his rights to make of you an exile within your own homeland, in reality if not in name? Or to cut his sister off without a word or coin to her name?”
Through gritted teeth Fulk ground out, “I am aware of that my every waking moment.”
“Then be grateful that you are to be more than a spectator, whatever the capacity. It is an honour you would not get close to sniffing if Hugh did not think it unjust to leave you out where all others who came to his side are recognised. Now get out and if you say but a single word more I shall have the honour withdrawn and your invitation to attend here at Waltham revoked.”
Fulk bowed very stiffly and marched out.
Constance said to Eleanor, “Now for the love of God, shut that door!” Once Eleanor had done so the elder woman relaxed with an expelled breath. “Next, for Christ’s sweet love, teach that husband of yours some sense. He should never have questioned me where others could hear. Had he not I would not have needed to crush him in front of those same itchy ears.”
Eleanor’s feet ached from the slow walk out to the garden and back; she sat down in one of the window seats and eased her new shoes off. Flexing her toes and enjoying the freedom from leather that, while soft, still managed to rub at her heels, she asked, “What was that about?”
Constance slumped down into cushions. “He is to be included in the procession to and from the coronation. Hugh desires the lords who fought for him to occupy the traditional roles in that procession, as a mark of his gratitude to them.”
“And what is Fulk to carry?”
Constance had the grace to look embarrassed as she answered, “Hugh’s banner.”
“Ah.” That task traditionally fell to the soon-to-be king’s squire. To assign it to a grown man … “I have to admit to a degree of respect for the mind behind that.”
“It is no more than expediency on our part. To grant him a more prestigious role would have provoked an outcry. To leave him out entirely would encourage the wolves to circle closer in the hopes he will become prey.” Constance smoothed a tendril of hair out of her eyes. “There is a need for someone to take the place; Malcolm will be attending as a prince not a squire.”
“It is not the easiest thing for Fulk, this balance between rejected and accepted.”
“Then he should not have married you,” Constance replied simply.
That delicate point blunted, Eleanor tried a stronger approach. “You shamed him before his own servants. Before your nobly born companions. Word will spread throughout Waltham within the hour, and within the day there will not be a soul within five miles who has not heard. A man hated by the queen is halfway to finished.”
“He should have displayed more sense. I am under the impression he usually does; it is a part of why Hugh chose not destroy him after your marriage.”
“You know how much pride and honour matter to men of rank. To accept a boy’s place without objection would have made him seem weak-”
“Yes, yes,” Constance interrupted. “I have a great many other things to do today, and I do not wish to waste further time on this. You have some small point, though it pales when stood next to my larger one. I shall say something pleasant to the man as I leave. My current state has made me famously ill-tempered.” She caressed her swollen stomach, all signs of temper gone and her face glowing with love. “I confess that I use the poor little darling as an excuse. It is astonishing how much more one can do with a few hard words and a show of irritation.”
Despite herself Eleanor laughed. “One may only hope that the child does not absorb the trick for itself. I am not sure another bad-tempered William is needed.”
Constance’s hand fell still. “Not William. No more of mine shall be William.”
Eleanor felt her face burn; she should have remembered that the son murdered within minutes of his birth had been christened William.
Constance smiled sadly. “So few remember him. There are those who think I have never carried a child longer than a few months.”
“It is not uncommon to use a name again if the child bearing it died.”
“No, it is not. When a family wishes its names to live on.” She placed slight stress on the ‘when’.
Eleanor blinked slowly. “William is the family name; the eldest son is always William. With the exception of my own eldest brother.” The arse in the crown had wanted to break from tradition and establish his own: Stephan after his favoured saint.
“William is a declaration of continuity. That would leave Hugh as a hiccough in the otherwise smooth procession. Something other than William is an announcement of a break with that past, with all the varied interpretations people will place on that. We could have another Hugh.” Constance pursed her lips. “I do not want another William. Nor does Hugh feel it right. We had that time – child, idea, vision of the future - and it was murdered.”
“It could be a girl,” Eleanor suggested, coming at the matter from a different angle.
“A girl would be Constance, after myself and my own mother. Hugh will not countenance Joanna.”
“He could come to change his mind. Perhaps for a second daughter?”
Constance had been tapping her fingers on her leg; now she pressed her hands flat to still them. “Let us save the pleasantries for another day, when we can appreciate them.”
Eleanor shrugged. “As you like.”
“I came here to speak with you about Trempwick.” That relaxed, motherly glow died a swift death; Constance leaned awkwardly forward and said in a low, matter of fact voice, “I understand the reason why he is still alive. I understand the prison you have made for him, and can almost reconcile myself to his living because it must be a special kind of hell for him. If that man sets a single toe outside of that prison I will have him torn to shreds, and those shreds will be burned, and the ashes scattered into the sea. The only thing keeping me from doing that is the fact that it would place Hugh and myself in the most perilous of positions. All I need is for him to give me an excuse and I
will avenge the murder of my children.” She paused a moment for that to sink in. “So make sure he stays in Repton or get out of my way when the time comes.”
Eleanor considered a moment. Trempwick’s standing was as low as it could get, he had no lands, no status, no friends. Hugh’s position was growing slowly stronger. Should he be fool enough to attempt treason a second time it might be possible to hustle him onto the scaffold for a traitor’s death without causing uproar. “If he breaks faith I shall sit beside you as they burn his entrails.”
“Then we have an understanding.” Constance struggled back to her feet.
“A moment?”
“If you are quick. As I have told you, I have much to do.”
Eleanor said bluntly, “Hugh is falling to pieces.”
“Is that surprising?” Constance pressed both her hands to her stomach, one stationary and one working to soothe the child within. “Hugh has long worked to follow the pattern laid out for him; to be dutiful, righteous and follow the best of examples. He built his life on foundations based on an understanding of who and what he was, and built towards those ideals. Now his foundations are gone and his ideals in conflict, and he is
hurt, deeply and badly hurt and betrayed.”
“I know-”
“A dutiful son honours his mother. A righteous man abhors an adulteress. Go on, resolve the conflict between the two in such a way that you remain both dutiful and righteous.” Eleanor barely had chance to take a breath before Constance snapped, “That is right – you cannot. It is an impossibility. Instead choose which is more important out of the two virtues.”
Again Eleanor had no chance to speak.
“Impossible. Now think how many such conflicts he is suffering under. What he knows points in one direction, what he wishes to be in another, no way to find a settlement and no way to chose one direction. You might say it is a simple matter of turning away form the ideal and dealing with the reality. That would be a disaster for Hugh – the ideal is what makes him move forwards. He knows it is seldom possible and yet as long as he thinks there is a chance, no matter how slender, he will keep working towards it. To admit that there is no chance is to give up.”
That confirmed Eleanor’s worst fears; Hugh would never pick his way free of his demons. “The conflict will destroy him.”
“No. The conflict is one he has lived with for all the years I have known him. It will settle itself eventually. Where others failed he will not, and where he has failed he will do better. And so on.” Constance rubbed her brow and sighed. “No. The difficulty comes from the heart. How hard and for how long did Hugh strive to be a good son? A son his father could be proud of? Out of all William’s children, Hugh was the only one who cared something for him. The rest of you were – at very best – indifferent to him. Hugh loved him.” After a moment Constance qualified, “In a way. Not the foul-tempered bully, the kinder parts. To be rejected … Do I need to tell you that it tore out his heart?”
“He hates our mother for placing him in this position, and he hates my father for setting him up for this disappointment.”
Constance corrected softly, “‘Our’ father. Whatever he claimed at the end, William was Hugh’s father. There is more to the matter than blood. And if I am honest, I believe the blood is William’s. Why else did he spend twenty-six years calling Hugh his son and raise him as heir? The tune only changed when he was on his death bed and it looked as though Trempwick would succeed in setting you on the throne. I believe William was motivated by the belief Hugh was a complete failure; we both know he had no tolerance for that.”
“I tried telling Hugh that, more than once. He would not listen.”
“One minute he is filled with anger, the next he is close to weeping. It is not something which will resolve quickly. Or easily, though heaven knows if I could make it easier for him I would. “ Constance sighed again. “He does not really know who or what he is any more. Many of the ways he used to define himself he will not use now. Even the most basic: Hugh, son of William.”
“Hugh, husband of Constance, father of as yet unnamed, king of England?” Eleanor suggested.
“With time, I think so. It will be a little easier once he is anointed; it is harder to doubt one’s worthiness when one is a member of God’s own chosen elite. And easier again once he is a father. A healthy child will do much to repair the holes torn in him by Trempwick.” Constance squared her shoulders and let her hands drop to her sides. “But you are wrong in one thing: he is not falling to pieces. No. He is letting his true feelings show on those limited occasions where it is safe for him to do so. No one can maintain a façade so opposed to what he in truth feels every moment of every day. Should he attempt it, then he would crumble under the weight of it. No, no person alive could keep such turmoil contained every moment of every day for weeks at an end.”
That was well and good – and not entirely what Eleanor meant. “He refused to attend my father’s-” At a glare from her sister-by-law Eleanor amended, “Our father’s reinterment.”
Constance tilted her head to one side. “Did you honestly doubt he would refuse to go once the arrangements were made? Whatever protests he made, it was always obvious Hugh would be there to play his role.”
“I all but had to twist his arm to get him to agree.”
“But his agreement was inevitable.”
“Which makes the whole matter a waste of my time – and a risky one at that. If a whisper of it had escaped-”
Constance raised her eyebrows. “You think a few minutes of Hugh uttering some heartfelt curses so he does not go insane is a waste of your time?”
“That is a cruel way to twist my words,” Eleanor said quietly.
“Hugh will do his part. He will find a way to recover his harmony, with time. He will maintain whatever act is necessary – do whatever is necessary – to safeguard his family. You and I will do whatever we can to aid him in that, whether it means ‘wasting’ time as he expels some anger or shouldering a part of the load so he has less to carry. And that is all there is to be said.”
Eleanor gave up the battle; she would have to trust Constance to prevent Hugh from making any more potentially dangerous moves. “He is my brother. And I do worry. And so much depends upon him that it cannot but make matters worse.”
Constance touched the crucifix she wore at her neck. “May I be forgive for thinking it so often, but you could have prevented this had you only killed that messenger. Then no one but yourself would have known of a dying man’s cracked wits.”
“And would that not make me that much closer to becoming a second Trempwick, ready to kill any who get in my way?” Eleanor spread her hands. “How small is the step from removing inconvenient adults to removing inopportune children?”
Constance blanched, and snapped, “Quite a large one.”
“I would prefer not to find out.”
“What is done is done. The situation before us is the one we must live with. And now, I must go.” In the doorway Constance halted, and said over her shoulder. “We currently favour the name Arthur.”
Fulk returned from his trip to the master of ceremonies, pensive, his fingers absently stroking the braided leather grip of his sword.
“What is it?” Eleanor enquired. This was not the state of mind she’d expected him to be in after hearing the fine details of his humiliating honour. Fit to murder people, yes. Thoughtful, no.
He wandered across the solar to the fireplace and bent to throw another log onto the flames. “There is to be a small tourney the day after the coronation.”
Eleanor’s breath caught. “You are thinking of entering?”
“I rather think I must.”
“Everyone will be out to crack your head-”
He turned to give her a faint smirk. “It’s team based. Only half of them will be after me.”
As if that helped! “They could kill you and claim it to be an accident!”
“I don’t think so.” Fulk against the wall next to her window seat, one foot raised to rest on the stonework. “Your brother has made it clear he won’t look kindly on any such mishaps, in tourney or out. It’s all going to be quite peaceful. Whalebone swords, blunted lances, full armour – even ransoms are to be friendly. Half a mark, no more. No one will be indebted because of capture.”
Eleanor knew that if she made this a matter of courage or ability she would have the reverse of the effect she wanted, and encourage him into it. “If you are fighting, who will I have for company? I am less popular than I was at my father’s wedding, if you can believe such a low exists.”
“You have Hawise and Aveis, and Constance won’t shun you. If she lets you into her circle then others must accept you.” Fulk flashed a grin and raised his sword arm in a pose to show off his biceps. Not that you could see them through his loose tunic sleeve. “And you’ll be the lady of the dashing knight sweeping the field with his prowess, which’ll make you the envy of every woman there.”
His silly pose had left his ribs exposed so Eleanor poked them. “Clod-brain, you have too high an opinion of yourself.”
“Dearest gooseberry, I know you’re fond of me, but to the point where you can’t survive an afternoon without me?”
“I need someone to rest my feet on; we neglected to bring a foot stool.”
Fulk rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I shall have paraded before all in a place that belongs to a boy. I will have been derided and mocked a thousand times behind my back, and a hundred times politely to my face. Folk will be busy hashing over that greatest knight business, assuring themselves that I don’t deserve it. People will suggest its cowardice that keeps me from entering, or a lack of skill.” He set his hand on her shoulder and said without looking down, “I cannot have that. My reputation for skill at arms is most of what I have to defend us with. I need to be too dangerous to risk challenging in combat – we can’t rely on your kinship to the king alone. People will bite at us if they think Hugh will not notice, but not if they know I shall challenge them to combat and likely win.”
Eleanor bowed her head. “And you want to enter.”
“And I want to enter,” he confirmed. “I am a fighting man, for better or worse. I enjoy it.”
“Eleanor!”
She had, of course, been warned that Anne would be waiting in London. Given the distance the girl had to travel, and the timescale, there had been no point in her coming on to Waltham only to turn around and plod back to Westminster with the coronation party. The simple message had failed to do justice to the gale of words and energy that was the dowager queen. Eleanor extended her arms to receive the girl’s embrace. “You shall have to tell me how you escaped Scotland.”
“It was easy. Well, mostly easy. Well, not that hard, anyway. I just reminded my father that he needed a representative here and that Malcolm cannot count now they have fallen out, and that as the last king’s wife I’m perfectly suited to the job. I already know most of the people, and the places, and everything, and I hinted that I might be able to spy a bit and get him some information and maybe wring some concessions out of Hugh, since he is my son in the eyes of the law and such a nice, good man as well. And since William is being moved to join his first wife at the cathedral I should be here to witness that, since he was my husband too. I do miss him, even though it has been a quarter of a year since I last saw him. Oh, it is impossible to believe it has been so long! ”
“Breathe!” Eleanor implored.
Anne laughed. “You always say that.”
Eleanor unfastened the brooch pinning her cloak, and folded the garment a few times so it could hang comfortably over her arm. “You always talk too much and too quickly. I swear I do not know how your lungs cope.” She stepped to one side in order to permit two men bearing her clothing chest to rush by. Giving Anne a wry look she said, “This is the second time in four days I have arrived somewhere, so one would hope that this time they have practice enough to set our chambers up without putting Fulk’s armour by the bed and his clothes in the solar.”
Anne laughed again. “Did they really do that?”
“Sadly, yes. They got the chests mixed up.” Eleanor felt a pang of guilt; if she’d been doing her duty instead of talking then the mistake would not have happened. “My second best shoes were lost as well.”
“Oh dear.” Anne hooked her arm through Eleanor’s and started to walk her down the colonnaded passage. “Well, my rooms are all nicely set up and calm, so you must join me there until yours have been settled, unless you want to oversee the servants, but then we would not have chance to talk and that would be such a dreadful shame. You can recover from your journey, and tell me all the news and everything, and I can tell you more about how I got away from home.” She craned her neck to look about the teeming mass of humanity that had descended on the palace. “Where is Fulk?”
“Seeing that the horses are given proper stabling.”
“But shouldn’t his grooms be able to do that?”
Eleanor grimaced. “How many people do you think there are, fighting for the best? Fulk can use his rank to gain what is our due. Alone, our grooms would be pressed out of the way by those belonging to better known lords.”
“It is not really what an earl should be doing.”
“No,” Eleanor agreed curtly, “he should not have to do it.” Having been negligent once Eleanor was not about to allow Anne to tempt her into repeating the mistake. “I will oversee my servants. Come with me,” she urged. “We can talk at the same time.”
Anne stared. “Gosh, how very normal and proper of you! It is something of a shock to think of you doing something so mundane and unimportant, and I know you did not used to like to bother with such boring things. I suppose it is true what they say: marriage does change people and make them grow up.” Anne clamped a hand to her mouth. “I did not mean it like that!”
Eleanor rolled her eyes and said with exaggerated seriousness, “It is hardly unimportant; I only have so many shoes.”
“Well, you will have to tell me all about everything, and about Alnwick, and I hear you have Carlisle as well now. Do you have them nicely furnished or are you still finding the right items? What are the people there like? I want to hear about the battle; was it as dreadful as it all sounds? And about Trempwick’s capture, and about when he was brought before Hugh and confessed his crimes, and
all of that. How I wish I had been there to see it!”
“Truly, you do not.”
“And you absolutely have to tell me about your marriage. How is it? Are you both still happy? Have you managed to settle together or are you still a bit awkward about being seen together and settling disagreements and stuff?
Do you disagree, for that matter? I do hope not! Is Fulk still all kind and charming and gentle and everything? What does he do with his days? Is he managing to find his way with his new title and powers and stuff? Is he treating you considerately? And is
that actually fun? Because I remember the day after your wedding …”
Eleanor kept walking and let the chatter flow over her like water over a stone. It was good to see Anne again.
That’s 8 pages. There’s around 12 pages left, still in need of work here and there.
I admit that the banner bearer bit is entirely my own invention. Much searching of historical accounts of English medieval coronations didn’t turn up a position which offered the required potential for (dis)honour; it’s not too much of a stretch to believe there would have been someone carrying the king’s personal banner somewhere in the procession. That’s the known anachronism in the event.
That first scene is possibly the single most revised in this entire story. I wrote and rewrote, tweaked, adjusted, fiddled, honed and played with it, and hated it each time. Then I deleted close to 5 pages of content and rewrote it so the conversation about Hugh took its present form. Much better! Far less of the “wah wah sob!” air that the other attempts had. I played delete with Anne too. Paragraph by paragraph that scene got hacked back to 1/3 of its original length, and I told her that if she did not cooperate then I would bin the entire thing. It’s nice to have in there; it’s not vital. 4 pages of Anne chattering on about everything she has been doing and interrogating Eleanor is not tolerable at this point in the day. Or perhaps any point in any day.
Conversely, the scene after this needs a bit more wordage. It’s too light, and it is important. So that one you shall have to wait for. A few of the others need some polish too; can’t have a coronation sequence which sits badly on my writer’s sense. Hopefully that one won’t take as long. :glares out of window at morons having a noisy barbeque less than 12 feet away under her open window: I hate summer. It’s too hot to keep the window closed, and too noisy to think it with open.
Scrooge, thanks.
Yes, Hugh as he is now is one of the better characters. He’s the one who has changed the most over the course of the story; the Hugh we first meet is all head and no heart. The best thing about eroding the ground out from under his smug feet is that it forced him to become gradually more human. I can’t stand the self-righteous, stilted Hugh who will not understand that there is more to justice (to take but one example) than the simple statement of the law and that one case is not the same as every other.
Coz1, the story is only 1253 pages long. Practically a day’s lunchtime reading
