tried to smile.
He was sitting in a room with some of the most important and noble people in both England and Normandy in London, and his head hurt. The more the discussion continued, the more fractious everyone became – and the more wine that was drunk. The letter that he had carried to London for Odo had concerned this meeting, and once again Fitz cursed the moment that he agreed to carry it.
A tall man stood up, and without him saying a word, the din settled down to silence.
“Now,” said King William, “this has bored me. My wife’s coronation is not a matter for discussion. It is a stupendous event, which all of you are honoured to be a part of, let alone consulted on.”
His fierce eyes scanned the room, and men that had charged into battle roaring dropped their gaze, ashamed.
“You,” the King pointed at Fitz. “And you two. You may stay. Everyone else must leave.”
“But your Majesty,” protested a bishop who Fitz could see was swaying slightly from the sheer amount that he had drunk.
It did not take a single word from the King. He simply looked at his subject, and the argument was won. Without a moment’s hesitation, the room had emptied.
Fitz looked around him, barely aware of who else King William had wanted to stay. He saw that Matilda was exactly where she had been throughout the entire evening; sitting by the fire, a piece of embroidery work in her lap, her delicate hands working her needle whilst her vibrant eyes followed the intense discussion that had surrounded her since she had first sat down. Beside her was her husband’s chair; he was still standing.
A man stirred to Fitz’s left, and he saw it was his brother Osbern.
“Osbern?”
The man looked up, and smiled nervously. “My lord?”
“God’s tears, you cannot fail to know me?”
But then, it had been several years since the brothers had last met. Their father Osbern had always wanted both of his sons to succeed, and for all of his lowly beginnings, had powerful relatives. His aunt had been not only the grandmother of the previous King of England, Edward, but was also the grandmother of its current king, William the Conqueror. This in some way made the FitzOsbern brothers cousins to royalty, and their father had taken advantage of that fact in a way which had been brilliant and daring. Placing his eldest son in the care of William’s father, Robert, he had made sure that his younger son, Osbern, became King Edward of England’s chaplain. And so the seeds were sown: whatever happened, the FitzOsbern boys would have a friend.
“Fitz!” Recognition covered his brother’s face as he searched out those familiar features that made them almost look like twins – and yet it had been almost ten years since he had seen it. “Goodness, what are you doing here in my country?”
Fitz laughed, almost with relief, to see a familiar face he did not have to speak to with care, lest he offend.
“Your country?”
The heavy tones of the King swept over their smiles. Osbern’s face dropped in horror, but Fitz touched him reassuringly on the shoulder.
“It is an expression, my lord King,” Fitz said to the man who commanded two of the largest kingdoms in Europe. “Our father made sure we were loyal to one country each: Osbern went to England, and I remained in Normandy.”
The King nodded briefly. “Then all is well. Come, draw close with us and Ealdred; there is much to discuss.”
Fitz saw that an elderly man in the robes of an archbishop now sat next to Matilda. The two brothers picked up a bench that was nearby, and moved it to the fire so that the five could continue to talk to make preparations for the coronation.
“It has taken too long,” King William said ruefully, shaking his head. “I had meant for you to be crowned with me, my love.”
The two shared a look that radiated understanding and joy. Fitz was almost embarrassed to witness it.
“It is of no matter,” Matilda said softly, finally putting down her
He was sitting in a room with some of the most important and noble people in both England and Normandy in London, and his head hurt. The more the discussion continued, the more fractious everyone became – and the more wine that was drunk. The letter that he had carried to London for Odo had concerned this meeting, and once again Fitz cursed the moment that he agreed to carry it.
A tall man stood up, and without him saying a word, the din settled down to silence.
“Now,” said King William, “this has bored me. My wife’s coronation is not a matter for discussion. It is a stupendous event, which all of you are honoured to be a part of, let alone consulted on.”
His fierce eyes scanned the room, and men that had charged into battle roaring dropped their gaze, ashamed.
“You,” the King pointed at Fitz. “And you two. You may stay. Everyone else must leave.”
“But your Majesty,” protested a bishop who Fitz could see was swaying slightly from the sheer amount that he had drunk.
It did not take a single word from the King. He simply looked at his subject, and the argument was won. Without a moment’s hesitation, the room had emptied.
Fitz looked around him, barely aware of who else King William had wanted to stay. He saw that Matilda was exactly where she had been throughout the entire evening; sitting by the fire, a piece of embroidery work in her lap, her delicate hands working her needle whilst her vibrant eyes followed the intense discussion that had surrounded her since she had first sat down. Beside her was her husband’s chair; he was still standing.
A man stirred to Fitz’s left, and he saw it was his brother Osbern.
“Osbern?”
The man looked up, and smiled nervously. “My lord?”
“God’s tears, you cannot fail to know me?”
But then, it had been several years since the brothers had last met. Their father Osbern had always wanted both of his sons to succeed, and for all of his lowly beginnings, had powerful relatives. His aunt had been not only the grandmother of the previous King of England, Edward, but was also the grandmother of its current king, William the Conqueror. This in some way made the FitzOsbern brothers cousins to royalty, and their father had taken advantage of that fact in a way which had been brilliant and daring. Placing his eldest son in the care of William’s father, Robert, he had made sure that his younger son, Osbern, became King Edward of England’s chaplain. And so the seeds were sown: whatever happened, the FitzOsbern boys would have a friend.
“Fitz!” Recognition covered his brother’s face as he searched out those familiar features that made them almost look like twins – and yet it had been almost ten years since he had seen it. “Goodness, what are you doing here in my country?”
Fitz laughed, almost with relief, to see a familiar face he did not have to speak to with care, lest he offend.
“Your country?”
The heavy tones of the King swept over their smiles. Osbern’s face dropped in horror, but Fitz touched him reassuringly on the shoulder.
“It is an expression, my lord King,” Fitz said to the man who commanded two of the largest kingdoms in Europe. “Our father made sure we were loyal to one country each: Osbern went to England, and I remained in Normandy.”
The King nodded briefly. “Then all is well. Come, draw close with us and Ealdred; there is much to discuss.”
Fitz saw that an elderly man in the robes of an archbishop now sat next to Matilda. The two brothers picked up a bench that was nearby, and moved it to the fire so that the five could continue to talk to make preparations for the coronation.
“It has taken too long,” King William said ruefully, shaking his head. “I had meant for you to be crowned with me, my love.”
The two shared a look that radiated understanding and joy. Fitz was almost embarrassed to witness it.
“It is of no matter,” Matilda said softly, finally putting down her
Similar Books
