He turned to her. “As usual you are relentless.”
Maud could see he was making an effort at banter, but from his drawn face, the haunted look in his eyes, it was evident that he was besieged by a terrible inner conflict.
She held her breath while the battle raged, then his shoulders sagged, his face crumpled, and tears glazed his eyes. Maud rose, held out her arms and he walked into them, dissolving the last barrier between them. He clutched her so tightly she could hardly draw breath; his body trembled violently in her embrace and she realized that he was sobbing.
At last Stephen drew back, took a last shuddering breath, and wiped his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. “So that stubborn, hotheaded young rogue is my son,” he said. “Now that I look back, the sequence of events becomes much clearer. To think of you living alone with that fearful secret all these years.” He shook his head in wonder.
“Well, Aldyth knew, and my father. Brian must have suspected.” She told him what Brian had said to her and he smiled.
“Yes, Brian, bless him, was always the wisest among us. I wish him well in the Holy Land.”
He bent and gently kissed her lips, the kiss growing longer and deeper. As always Maud felt an instant response, yet there was a difference. The warm sweetness between them was still there, and the aching tenderness, but the hot obsessive urgency, the agony of being consumed by a passion so intense it must be fulfilled regardless of the cost, no longer held them in thrall. Stephen lifted his head and smiled down into her eyes. A tide of love flowed through Maud, giving her a new, wondrous sense of completion.
“Will you return to Normandy now?” he asked.
“At once. Neither Henry nor anyone else must know I have been here, so I dare not linger. When I left Rouen I let it be thought I was going to Anjou.”
Stephen released her and, walking over to the oak table, poured himself another cup of wine. “As soon as you are well on the road, the Duke of Normandy will be sent an unexpected message.” He thought for a moment. “King Stephen wishes to meet with the Bishop of Winchester, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Duke of Normandy. He agrees to sign the treaty and hopes that Henry of Anjou will do the same.”
Tears of joy coursed down Maud’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, “thank you, thank you, my dearest love.” A sudden thought chilled her. “Eustace? What will you do about him?”
A shadow passed across Stephen’s face and he sighed. “At the moment I don’t know, but he is my cross to bear and I will deal with him.”
From a nearby church came the sound of the Vespers bell tolling the hour of service.
“Do you attend Vespers, Sire?” The squire’s voice came from outside the pavilion.
“Do you go,” Maud said. “While everyone attends the service I will slip away. My two knights await outside the camp and they will grow anxious if I don’t return.”
Stephen embraced her for the last time, then walked her to the door.
“In all probability we will never see each other again,” he stated.
“No,” she agreed. “But our son will sit on England’s throne. We must be content with that.”
“Our son,” he repeated, as if testing the words upon his lips. “Our son.”
Maud noted that the lines of strain in his face had eased and he looked much more tranquil. Having come to terms with her, he had also come to terms with himself. For both of them it was a transcendent moment of profound peace.
Fearful she would not have the strength to leave, Maud exchanged with him a silent look of love, pulled up the hood of her cloak, then hurried from the pavilion.
Before a bend in the road took her out of sight of the camp, she turned to see Stephen still standing motionless in the doorway of his pavilion. The path turned and he was gone from view. The past had finally been laid to rest, she thought, tears running down her cheeks. Only the future remained.