Maud would never know; her husband had taken his secret with him. Was it remotely possible he had surmised the truth and kept silent all these years? Never revealing, by word or gesture, what must have been a stunning blow to his pride, always behaving as a devoted and dutiful father to his rival’s son? A tear splashed down on Geoffrey of Anjou’s comely features, remote and cool in death as in life, as Maud wept, at last, over the dead body of her husband.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Normandy, 1152
MAUD AND HENRY REMAINED in Anjou until the new year, 1152, when they returned to Normandy. In April Henry received word that the marriage of the King and Queen of France had been annulled and Eleanor had returned to her own lands of Aquitaine. Henry immediately made plans to join her.
Maud stood in the courtyard of the ducal palace in Rouen watching Henry’s last-minute preparations for his journey to Aquitaine.
“Such haste is unseemly. After all, the annulment is only weeks old,” Maud told her son. “Your time would be better spent making plans to invade England.”
Henry gave her an exasperated look. “What else am I doing? My marriage to Eleanor gives me unlimited credit to finance the English invasion. Really, Maman, I’m not such a fool as you seem to think.”
“Indeed? You know there will be trouble if you marry Eleanor without Louis’s consent,” Maud continued.
“We have been over this matter countless times,” Henry retorted. “The marriage is annulled. It’s no affair of Louis’s if I marry his former queen.”
“Not as Eleanor’s ex-husband, no, but as Duchess of Aquitaine, Louis is her overlord, and no heiress can marry without her overlord’s consent. You know perfectly well what Louis’s reaction will be when he discovers he’s about to lose his wealthiest fief to Normandy.”
“Well, he mustn’t find out until we’re already married. I don’t want to find the entire French army between me and Aquitaine.”
Maud gave him a steely look. “Then why do you take such a retinue of knights, squires, and sumpter horses? Go quietly, make no show, call no attention to yourself in any way. You’ll put the wolf off the scent.”
“You’re right,” Henry said. “I should have thought of that.” He gave her an impudent grin. “But then I have you to do half my thinking for me, don’t I?” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “All of it, if I allowed.”
Maud could not help but smile. Henry could be so disarming when he chose—just like his father, she thought. Sometimes, when she least expected it, he reminded her so much of Stephen that she could hardly bear it.
When Henry had gone, Maud’s thoughts continued to dwell on Stephen. Eagerly following events in England, Maud knew he was beset by difficulties on all fronts: trouble with the vicious Eustace; his barons, if not in open rebellion against him, went their own way; and the church condemned almost all his actions. Backed by Rome, Theobald of Bee continued to refuse to crown Eustace. Enraged by his refusal, as well as that of the other bishops who supported Canterbury, Stephen had had the bishops locked up in Oxford Castle. Maud’s heart ached for his dilemma. Reason told her Stephen was making a disastrous mistake in this harsh treatment of his prelates, yet, she thought with a sigh, what would we not do to see our children crowned?
A fortnight later Maud heard that Henry and Eleanor had been married quietly, and without incident, at Poitiers on the eighteenth of May.
No sooner had Henry returned to Normandy, leaving Eleanor behind to follow at a later date, than all that Maud had feared came to pass. Louis of France, incensed by the marriage, and calling it unholy and unlawful, ordered his vassal, Henry, Duke of Normandy, to appear before his court to answer for his disgraceful conduct.
“By God’s splendor, I would be safer in the court of the devil,” Henry grumbled.
“I warned you,” Maud said, not without a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps in future he would pay her more heed.
“I’m Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou, and now Duke of Aquitaine,” Henry responded with an arrogant toss of his head. “Strong enough to defy Louis in this matter. Let him rant and rave and threaten. I have no intention of going to France.”
“Adding insult to injury,” Maud said. “He will be beside himself.”
As Maud predicted, Louis of France was furious at Henry’s refusal to obey his summons. She knew he would retaliate but even she did not expect him to join forces with Prince Eustace of England and, to her horror, her own son, Geoffrey of Anjou.
“I’m sure they intend to attack your possessions on the continent, with the intention of dividing among themselves whatever they seize,” she warned Henry, sick at heart at the thought of her second son turning against his brother.