What did Stephen see, Maud wondered, fearful of what she might find in his gaze. After all, she was only a few years his junior. But the familiar eyes with their golden specks mirrored only her own admiration, her own realization that neither time nor war, betrayal nor revenge, had managed to sever the ties between them.
She took a deep breath and collected herself. “Let me explain why I am here,” she began.
At her words a mask shuttered his face and the affinity in his eyes abruptly cooled. “I know well enough why you are here,” he said with an impatient gesture. “You hope to persuade me to sign my brother’s treaty. Did Duke Henry send you? An odd choice of emissary, I would have thought.”
“Henry does not even know I’m in England, much less in your camp. I left Normandy in great haste and secrecy.”
Stephen gave an incredulous laugh. “If not Henry, then Brian FitzCount sent you. I heard that Brian had left Wallingford. Did he persuade you to this fruitless errand?”
“He didn’t have to persuade me. Once I heard the terms of the treaty, and that neither you nor Henry would sign it, I knew something had to be done.”
Stephen took a swallow of wine. “And you thought me the easier mark than your flint-hearted son?”
Maud flushed, for he was not far off the truth. “It’s a sound treaty and would put an end to this terrible conflict.”
Stephen’s whole body grew rigid. “Naturally you would approve since your son inherits and mine does not.”
“You would remain king for the rest of your life with no loss of honor. The barons want peace, Stephen, they recognize that Henry is the future. Come, be reasonable.”
“What the barons want is no longer important to me,” he countered in a bitter voice. “And the rest of my life is not so long as it once was.” He grimaced, as if in pain, and put a hand to his side.
“What does that mean?” she asked, hearing the tremor in her voice. “Are you unwell?”
“Something I ate. Naught to worry about,” he said, brushing off her concern. “What I meant was that the years of conflict have taken their toll. I’m sick unto death of the whole sorry business.”
“And I. The war has afflicted us all. It killed Robert.”
Stephen sighed. “Yes, I was sorry to hear that. There was a time when I claimed no better friend than Robert of Gloucester.” His voice softened as he reached down and lifted her chin. “The years have dealt gently with you, Cousin. You are as lovely in maturity as you were in youth. How my eyes have longed for the sight of you all these years. My blood warms just being in your presence.” He abruptly removed his hand from her chin. “But this in no way disposes me to sign a treaty that disinherits my son. My mind is made up.”
Maud heard the note of finality in his voice. She wondered if she should let the matter rest there; admit she had failed and return to Normandy. The alternative carried tremendous risk: She had trusted Stephen before and he had betrayed her. Why should she imagine he had changed? Reason told her to leave; her heart dictated otherwise.
“There is something I have not told you,” she said in a choked voice.
“If it concerns the treaty—”
“Please, hear me out,” she interjected.
“Nothing is to be gained by further argument. Never will I disavow my own son.”
“You do not have to,” she said in a strangled whisper.
With a perplexed look he sat down on the stool opposite her. “How is that possible?”
Abruptly Maud rose to her feet and began to pace the pavilion, agitatedly clasping and unclasping her hands.
“Against all reason, all past experience, I’ve decided to trust you, for what I’m about to confide can be used to destroy me and everything I’ve worked for,” she began, then stopped.
“Don’t trust me, for I promise nothing.” His eyes turned a glittering green. “Be warned that if what you tell me aids my cause I will not hesitate to use it. It would hurt me to inflict more pain upon you, but still I would use it.” He signed himself. “May God forgive me but that is my nature.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, recognizing the truth and accepting it. “I know that now.” She resumed her seat on the stool. “I don’t ask for promises, Stephen, just understanding.”
“What is of so powerful a nature that you fear it to be a weapon in my hands?”
Her eyes met his and held them. “You want your son to inherit the throne. Sign the treaty and your son will rule after you, far better than you have done, yes, even better than I could have done had I … had I been given the chance. Your son, Stephen—and mine.”