Stewart Binns - Anarchy

She ran towards me, with tears of joy in her eyes, and rushed into my arms.

‘Hal, I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been so long! You are looking wonderful, my handsome Earl of Huntingdon!’

‘So are you, my delectable Empress of Rome!’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greta and Eadmer embrace.

‘I assume you know about those two lovebirds?’

‘I do, indeed! Isn’t it wonderful? Greta tells me he’s a beast in the bedchamber. What is it with you English – are you all stallions?’

‘Just the men! The women make the best brood mares, though. Especially one I know well – England’s finest mount.’

‘Well, good sir, we must be the perfect breeding pair then?’

‘Indeed we are, Ma’am.’

I couldn’t help laughing at Maud’s earthy humour, but our banter was short-lived. I needed to ask her some questions.

‘Your messenger and your other escort – are they Count Geoffrey’s men?’

‘No, they’re Lotharingians – my men. They know what happened to Lothar. They’re his brothers, totally loyal to me. When Geoffrey insisted that we live in Le Mans, I asked my father if I could have my own people. He readily agreed, not wanting to leave his daughter defenceless in her husband’s domain. I don’t think he likes him any more than I do.’

Then I came to the vital question – the one to which I dreaded hearing the answer.

‘So does your message mean you’re pregnant?’

She pulled away from me, suddenly tense.

‘Walk with me, darling Hal… It has been a nightmare. Do you mind if I give you the unsavoury details? They are tiresome and unpleasant, but important.’

She suddenly adopted the guise of an empress who had been regent of a sovereign domain: authoritative and precise.

‘Geoffrey is a man now, but he still acts like a child. He is passionate about his hunting, about his feasting and drinking, and about the many whores I’m sure he keeps. That is where he is now – hunting to the north, with a coterie of young girls in his entourage. He comes to me from time to time and fumbles around. Sometimes he manages a proper union, but it’s like copulating with a cold fish – there is no excitement for me. If he is planting his seed, nothing is sprouting in my belly. He has no problem tupping other women, but I think he only likes young girls – I fear he sees me as his mother!’

I held her as tightly as I could. I knew that what she was telling me was hard enough for me to hear, but even more humiliating for her.

‘In fact, his mother died young – she and I would be about the same age. I’m convinced that, for Geoffrey, getting into bed with me is like getting into bed with her… I’m sorry to have to share these sordid facts with you.’

I now understood that Maud’s message had been sent, not because she was pregnant, but because she was not.

She continued her formal explanation.

‘I keep telling Geoffrey about his responsibilities. I have reminded him that I went to him with a dowry that would buy a kingdom and that his part of the bargain was to do what most men cannot stop themselves doing – to sire a child. But he’s oblivious to reason and has got neither the will nor the wherewithal to fulfil the arrangement. More importantly, he’s threatening to destroy our dream.’

Realizing the truth behind our encounter, I looked her in the eye.

‘So I’m here as a stud bull?’

She looked vulnerable again, losing the imperious tone, and pleaded with me.

‘Is that such a bad thing?’

An image came into my head of Maud snuggling up to me and pressing herself into my loins. I suddenly began to question the diabolical covenant we had struck with her father.

‘It’s not the most romantic of circumstances–’

‘I know, my darling, but the pact with the Devil has been made. We have no option, if we are to have a life together. And wouldn’t you prefer your seed in my belly than his?’

‘But what kind of life would it bring us and the child – furtive and illicit? He would be a bastard, like me!’

‘Do you think I don’t know that! But there are only two other options. We could abandon one another and live separate lives, or we could retreat to St Cirq Lapopie and give up the throne. Do you want either of those?’

It was hard to accept, but she was right. I was desperate to share my life with Maud, even on a compromised basis. And if she were to give up the throne in exchange for a life of humble pleasures in the Lot, what would become of England’s destiny? What would become of the hopes and dreams that my family had fought for so relentlessly, for over sixty years?

My mind began to accept the strength of Maud’s logic, just as my body began to warm to her presence. My scruples about the wholesomeness of the pact with the King were waning, just as my lascivious feelings for his daughter were waxing.

She led me to her carriage, which had been arranged like a bed, and pulled me down on to the straw mattress covering its floor. She pressed herself against me, whispering in my ear.

‘I need you so much; I hunger for you. Let’s give life to the next King of England…’

The hours that followed became a blur of wild passion. Dawn came and went, and the heat of the day made the confined space of the carriage as hot as a furnace. The sweat poured from us, but the heat only heightened our hunger, our bodies slithering in their own sap. Our hair was matted to our heads, and our juices mingled as nature intended. If ever a mating was intended to produce robust offspring, this was it.

We stopped only for food and wine at midday, which Greta had dutifully left at the door of the carriage, and continued our feast of love well into the evening. By the time we had satisfied one another, my loins ached and Maud’s naked limbs were curled around me in blissful exhaustion.

Sleep was the next delight, with sweet dreams that lasted until dawn, when the gentle sounds of the mere heralded the next day. Maud was still sleeping soundly, but outside Eadmer and Greta had got the fire going and were heating yesterday’s bread and stirring fresh oatmeal. The loyal Lotharingians, taking it in turns to watch over us, were still standing sentinel, and the rising sun was making the dew glisten like a gossamer blanket.

The amorous assignation continued for three days – just as intense, and just as exhausting – until Maud called a halt, declaring that she feared her husband would shortly return to Le Mans. It was a bitter parting for all of us – made worse by the knowledge that in order for Maud’s ploy to work, she must soon take her husband to her bed to make sense of the pretence we were trying to create.

I understood, but I felt sad and not a little sordid. I rested my head on her shoulder as we said our goodbyes. She knew it was hard for me to bear.

‘I know, my darling. Believe me, it will take all my resolve to do what I have to do, but you know it’s what I must do. There can be no suspicions of anything amiss. Let’s only think about the next time we can be together. Be at the bridge in three weeks’ time. I’ll send word.’

We had one more similarly passionate rendezvous at Loudon Mere. But at our third meeting, on a beautiful day in August, her mood was less ardent, though no less animated.

Maud did not run into my arms; she walked at a gentle pace, and looked reserved.

‘Darling Hal, it’s wonderful to see you, but I’m afraid something has happened. I cannot stay for our tryst…’

I stretched out my arms, sensing her discomfort.

‘That’s fine, my darling. The important thing is to be able to see you, however briefly–’

Then I saw Greta trying to hold back a giggle, which made Maud scream with delight.