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She noticed that several people were looking at her.

She began to talk of State matters.

* * * * *

In the solitude of her own chamber she could not sleep. She could not shut out of her thoughts the sneering face of William Warren. What had he been implying? It was something Henry had done, or was doing. What could he mean?

Henry was away a good deal. Of course he was. He was a king with a kingdom to govern. But where was he and whom did he meet on these occasions when they were separated?

She sat at her window until the dawn appeared. Then she sent for one of her women.

‘I wish to have speech with you,’ she said.

‘My lady?’

‘Have you ever heard of a woman called Nesta...Nesta de Windsor?’

The woman immediately looked startled. She cast down her eyes.

‘Come, tell me,’ said Matilda. ‘You have heard of her, have you not?’

‘Y...yes, my lady.’

‘In what co

‘I...I believe she is a Princess of South Wales.’

‘And what have you heard of this Princess of South Wales?’

‘I...I know nothing, my lady.’

Matilda took the girl by the arm and shook her gently.

‘You do know something and I want you to tell me.’

‘My lady, I dare not.’

‘You will tell me or suffer my displeasure.’

‘Others...may know more than I.’

‘That may be, but I will hear first what you know.’

‘My lady, I daren’t. The King would be angry. My lady...’

‘Why should the King be angry?’

‘Because...because...he has been her lover.’ The woman raised startled eyes to Matilda’s face. ‘All know it, my lady.’

‘All!’

‘Except you, my lady.’

She closed her eyes and misery swept over her. All knew but his wife. While she was living in her blissful state he was no more faithful to her than Eustace was to Mary.

‘When did this happen?’ demanded Matilda.

‘It has been happening over a long time. There are the children...’

‘The children!’

‘My lord’s sons by the lady. Oh, I have said too much. But you asked me. And all know save you.’

She said: ‘Leave me.’

And the woman went away and she was alone.

What was this wave of desolation which swept over her? Her dreams had become nightmares. The beautiful romance which she had built up out of the simplicity of her heart and mind had no reality.

He pretended to love her. He was practised in the art, and all his protestations of love, his endearments which she had believed had been for her alone meant nothing to him. It might well be that while he was with her he was thinking of this woman whom he had long loved and who had borne him sons.

* * * * *

Henry came back from the Welsh border, refreshed, gay and seeming delighted to be reunited with his wife,

She had been asking herself how she should deal with this new situation. What could she do? Accept it. Was it not the lot of royal spouses? Not all. He had talked to her of the love between his father and that other Matilda and she had believed that theirs was similar to that. She had often said: ‘But I would never support any children I might have against you.’ And he had fondled her and said that their love match had everything that of his father had had and more also. And all the time he was going off whenever he could to visit his mistress!

She was not subtle enough to hide her discovery and as soon as he returned he knew that something was wrong.

‘Why, Matilda, my dearest love, what ails you?’ he wanted to know.

‘You will not have far to seek for the reason,’ she answered.

As he looked nonplussed she went on: ‘I know that you have been visiting the borders of Wales, which is a very attractive part of the country in your eyes.’

‘Attractive. A troublesome spot, I do assure you.’

‘But with consolations. I refer of course to your mistress. Nesta I believe is her name.’

He stared at her in dismay. ‘By God, who has told you this?’





‘It is unimportant. Suffice it that I now know what has been common knowledge to everyone else—for how long? How long is it?’

‘Listen. I will explain.’

‘What explanation is there? You must go to this trouble spot. It is not the first time since our marriage that it has been necessary to visit it. And there resides the irresistible Nesta, your ever attractive bedfellow and the mother of your children.’

‘Matilda,’ he said, ‘there is much you have to learn of life.’

She said: ‘I am quickly learning that it can be very bitter.’

‘You must not take it so. You must be wise, my dear. You must understand that life ca

‘I did not wish to learn. I have been happy. I know I shall never be so again.’

‘What nonsense is this? Have I not made you Queen of England?’

‘I bear that title being married to a faithless husband.’

‘You have a loving husband, my dear.’

‘Loving to other women, I agree.’

‘And to you.’

‘I should be grateful to be one of a number, I suppose.’

‘You are the first because you are my Queen.’

‘I became your Queen because I am the sister of a King. I am Saxon and therefore it was wise to marry me.’

‘That’s so.’

‘It is a pity that you had to perform the painful duty of marrying me because of my position.’

‘Let us not be foolish. It was no painful duty but one of pleasure. You know that is so.’

‘Not as pleasurable as it would have been with this...Nesta.’

He hesitated and thought of marriage with Nesta. One thing was certain he would never be having this conversation with her. She was a worldly woman; for all her experience of marriage and the bearing of a child, Matilda still retained a nun-like i

He shrugged his shoulders. This revelation had to come to her sooner or later. A King who had illegitimate children scattered over the country and who was determined to remember them in due course could not keep his many indiscretions secret forever.

He had always been aware that she would have to know sooner or later and this was as good a time as any.

‘I see that you would have preferred her.’ With that Matilda threw herself down on the bed and gave way to tears.

He let her weep passionately for some minutes while he sat beside her stroking her hair.

He was fond of her. She was a good woman. She loved him sincerely. He almost wished that he could have been all she desired of him. That was folly. He was himself. He must try to explain to her. Once she grew up, once she understood the ways of the world, he would have no trouble with her.

‘Matilda.’ he said gently, ‘I have known this revelation would come sooner or later. I want you to listen to me. Of course I would not wish to marry anyone but you. We have been happy, have we not? Answer me.’

‘Until now.’ she said. ‘Now I know I shall never be happy again.’

‘You are talking like a child, thinking like a child. When I came to the throne I was thirty-two years of age. Could you expect a man such as I am to have lived without women until that time?’

‘I did,’ she answered. ‘You were not married.’

‘Oh, you are so i

‘If they prayed for help...’

‘There speaks Aunt Christina. Nay, Matilda, you have much to learn.’

‘And this Nesta...she was your mistress before our marriage?’

‘Yes.’

‘And after?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you preferred her to me?’

‘Because you were not there and she was.’

‘But you went to Wales to see her.’

‘You will never understand.’

‘I understand that you go to her when I am here. She is beautiful I suppose?’

‘She has an appeal which is rare.’

‘I understand. And she has borne you children?’