needle. “It was more important then for you to take the crown properly. I could never have travelled across the sea in time.”
William snorted. “It should still not have taken two years to get to this point. Now it is May, and you are still Queen in my eyes only!”
“I must protest, my King,” Osbern spoke up properly for the first time, and Fitz was astonished to see just how confident his little brother had become. He was still only a chaplain, and yet he spoke to King William as if they were trusted friends. But then, Fitz reminded himself, Osbern was accustomed to speaking to kings; advising them; being trusted by them. It was he, Fitz, who was new to this. “Your lady is hailed as Queen throughout this land.”
“And my lord,” the man called Ealdred finally began to speak, “you could have done nothing these last few months. The rebellions by the Welsh, and the troubles in Exeter – it was more important to deal with them first.”
William sighed. “You both speak the truth. But this is not the time to dwell on my mistakes and misfortunes – the day grows late, and I am sure that more than one of us would not say no to a comfortable bed.”
His eyes moved to his wife. Matilda was once again with child, although it was not widely known. She had recently moved into her sixth month, and in certain lights and fabrics, was beginning to show.
Matilda smiled. “It matters not to me when I return to my chamber. Our kingdom is more important than that.”
The royal couple shared a smile, and then William turned to Ealdred.
“Which date do you think would be best to organise the coronation of my lady for?”
Ealdred considered for a moment, and then spoke. “It is usually preferable to link the day of the coronation with a holy day. You remember, my lord, that Edward was crowned on Easter Sunday, and you yourself were crowned by me on the day of our Lord’s birth.”
Fitz realised now who this man was – the Archbishop of York. Despite being of English birth, he had survived the Conquest, and had even crowned William on Christmas Day of 1066. But he could not remember why it had been he, and not the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was usually the latter’s role and right. But he was falling behind the conversation.
“So it is decided,” William stated in a voice full of relief. “The coronation will occur on Whit Monday. Which day is that, exactly?”
“Easter this year was the twenty third day in March,” chimed in Osbern quickly, “making Whit Monday the eleventh day of May.”
Ealdred raised a white eyebrow, and Fitz could not tell whether he was impressed or shocked at the quick way in which his brother had spoken to the King.
“Excellent,” said Matilda, “some of the best flowers will be blossoming. It will be beautiful.”
“It is your presence which shall make the event a success, my dear,” William smiled softly, but then turned a serious eye to the Archbishop.
“I shall begin the preparations,” Ealdred said with a smile on his face. “And I thank you, my King, and you, my lady, for this honour.”
“The honour remains with me, my lord,” Matilda smiled wickedly, “for do you not think I am blessed to be crowned by a man who has made three kings?”
The smile that had cut across Ealdred’s face disappeared, and Fitz saw a similar change in William. He could not believe that Matilda could be so bold – by saying such things, she claimed that both Harold and Edgar Ætheling were rightful kings, something which was treason under William’s reign.
But Matilda was clearly more comfortable than any man in the room.
“Now,” she said, glancing at each man in turn, “what other arrangements must be made?”
Ealdred coughed, and all present turned to him. He was, Fitz reminded himself while trying not to smile, their leading authority on king-making.
“The Anglo-Saxons,” and Fitz noticed that the old man’s hands trembled as he referred to his people, “have a
William snorted. “It should still not have taken two years to get to this point. Now it is May, and you are still Queen in my eyes only!”
“I must protest, my King,” Osbern spoke up properly for the first time, and Fitz was astonished to see just how confident his little brother had become. He was still only a chaplain, and yet he spoke to King William as if they were trusted friends. But then, Fitz reminded himself, Osbern was accustomed to speaking to kings; advising them; being trusted by them. It was he, Fitz, who was new to this. “Your lady is hailed as Queen throughout this land.”
“And my lord,” the man called Ealdred finally began to speak, “you could have done nothing these last few months. The rebellions by the Welsh, and the troubles in Exeter – it was more important to deal with them first.”
William sighed. “You both speak the truth. But this is not the time to dwell on my mistakes and misfortunes – the day grows late, and I am sure that more than one of us would not say no to a comfortable bed.”
His eyes moved to his wife. Matilda was once again with child, although it was not widely known. She had recently moved into her sixth month, and in certain lights and fabrics, was beginning to show.
Matilda smiled. “It matters not to me when I return to my chamber. Our kingdom is more important than that.”
The royal couple shared a smile, and then William turned to Ealdred.
“Which date do you think would be best to organise the coronation of my lady for?”
Ealdred considered for a moment, and then spoke. “It is usually preferable to link the day of the coronation with a holy day. You remember, my lord, that Edward was crowned on Easter Sunday, and you yourself were crowned by me on the day of our Lord’s birth.”
Fitz realised now who this man was – the Archbishop of York. Despite being of English birth, he had survived the Conquest, and had even crowned William on Christmas Day of 1066. But he could not remember why it had been he, and not the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was usually the latter’s role and right. But he was falling behind the conversation.
“So it is decided,” William stated in a voice full of relief. “The coronation will occur on Whit Monday. Which day is that, exactly?”
“Easter this year was the twenty third day in March,” chimed in Osbern quickly, “making Whit Monday the eleventh day of May.”
Ealdred raised a white eyebrow, and Fitz could not tell whether he was impressed or shocked at the quick way in which his brother had spoken to the King.
“Excellent,” said Matilda, “some of the best flowers will be blossoming. It will be beautiful.”
“It is your presence which shall make the event a success, my dear,” William smiled softly, but then turned a serious eye to the Archbishop.
“I shall begin the preparations,” Ealdred said with a smile on his face. “And I thank you, my King, and you, my lady, for this honour.”
“The honour remains with me, my lord,” Matilda smiled wickedly, “for do you not think I am blessed to be crowned by a man who has made three kings?”
The smile that had cut across Ealdred’s face disappeared, and Fitz saw a similar change in William. He could not believe that Matilda could be so bold – by saying such things, she claimed that both Harold and Edgar Ætheling were rightful kings, something which was treason under William’s reign.
But Matilda was clearly more comfortable than any man in the room.
“Now,” she said, glancing at each man in turn, “what other arrangements must be made?”
Ealdred coughed, and all present turned to him. He was, Fitz reminded himself while trying not to smile, their leading authority on king-making.
“The Anglo-Saxons,” and Fitz noticed that the old man’s hands trembled as he referred to his people, “have a
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