The Fatal Crown(226)

His puzzled frown gradually gave way to a look of incredulity as comprehension dawned. “You suggest that Henry is my son?” he gasped. “No, it’s not possible. You say this merely as a ploy to force me to sign the treaty that will put Henry on the throne.” His eyes blazed with hostility. “I would not have believed you capable of such wanton trickery!”

Stephen rose up so abruptly that his stool fell over. “If this outrageous tale were true you would have spoken. How could you keep such a secret from me? No, no, it is too much to expect me to swallow such a blatant falsehood.”

Maud also rose, her heart pounding. She had tried to predict Stephen’s reaction to her news, never imagining that he would not believe her. What could she say to convince him?

“Listen to me,” she said, seizing his hands in hers. “Why would I lie? Think what you can do with such scandalous knowledge: Tell everyone that I am an adulteress, that Henry Plantagenet is not Geoffrey of Anjou’s son but a bastard. A bastard cannot inherit. You could spread enough filth to cause the magnates to doubt and question my son’s paternity.”

“Who would believe me?” He twisted his hands free.

“Some might remember how hurriedly I left England, with no explanation, and without the council’s permission, to return to a husband I had said I would never live with again. Others might recall that my son was born a month early yet thrived.”

“Jesu! I remember that,” Stephen said in a strangled voice. “It was rumored that he was large for such an early birth, and I wondered at the time, was it possible that he was mine—but it was said that he was the image of Geoffrey, so I put it from my mind.”

“The image of—who told you that?” she asked.

“Let me see—” Stephen began to walk backwards and forwards, running his hands through his hair. “It was—King Henry. Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“My father was an ally in this matter,” Maud said. “I never told him I carried your child, but I’m sure he knew. He would have said anything to put you off the scent.”

Stephen’s shocked eyes intently searched her face, trying to discern the truth. “I still can’t believe you could have been so deceitful.”

“You accuse me of deceit? Have you not just warned me that I cannot trust you? That you would use, for your own ends, whatever I tell you? Can you swear to me, here and now, that had I told you the truth you would not have used it to speed your path to the throne? With such a weapon you would hardly have needed perjury, would you?”

A dark red flush spread over Stephen’s face and he lowered his eyes. “How can I be certain now what I would have done then? But no, I cannot swear to you.” He took a deep breath. “How could Geoffrey of Anjou allow another man’s son to be his heir? Surely a man of his pride would have condemned you the length and breadth of Europe.”

Maud kept her voice steady though the blood was drumming in her head. “If ambition and pride war with one another, who can say which will be victorious? Geoffrey may have suspected, but, greedy for Normandy and England, he would never have proclaimed himself a cuckold. We will never know what Geoffrey believed, but while he lived he was a true father to Henry.”

Dazed now, Stephen sank back down onto his stool. “I’m unable to accept this,” he said brokenly. “The Duke of Normandy—my sworn enemy—is really my son? You, whom I loved above all others, behaving with such guile and deceit? My whole world has tumbled apart.” He covered his face with his hands.

With a compassionate sigh Maud sat down. “Can we not have done with mutual recriminations? I would never have told you if there weren’t so much at stake. We are both equally culpable, Stephen, for all that has happened. Can we not forgive each other and make a new start?”

He dropped his hands from his face and she could see the bitterness reflected in his eyes. “So now you think you have the means to persuade me to sign the treaty. It is easy for you to talk of forgiveness and a new start, but I swore an oath to Matilda that I would not rest until Eustace’s accession was assured. Do I betray my sworn word yet again?”

For a moment Maud let the silence lengthen between them. “We have much to atone for, Stephen. Our ambition, my desire for vengeance—between us we have almost destroyed England. I prayed that if you knew the truth you would help end the conflict and bring about peace. You know Henry will make a far better king than Eustace.”

Stephen rose again and, opening the tent a crack, gazed outside.

“Matilda and I were never friends but her character was not unknown to me,” Maud continued. “If she knew that your brother’s proposed treaty would lead to peace and restore England to what it was in my father’s day, how would she counsel you?”