“Look here, Daughter,” the King said in a gruff voice. “I’m not unmindful of your loss. If there had been any other way I would not have uprooted you as suddenly as I did. But the situation grows desperate and I had to act.”
Maud swallowed the tears. “What situation? Why was I not consulted first? Why was I—”
He held up his hands to stop her outburst. “Enough. All in good time.” He poured some cider into a wooden cup and sipped it. “In your husband’s letters to me there were a few omissions that I found puzzling. For instance, why did he never mention the womanly arts? Surely these were not neglected?”
“Of course not. I can manage a castle, care for minor ailments, brew simples and herbal mixtures. I embroider, and know about the weaving of cloth—” She stopped as a smile crossed the King’s face.
“Ah, now that would have pleased your Flemish grandmother. Did you know the weavers of Flanders make the finest tapestries in the world?” He paused and a small frown appeared between his thick brows. “Your accomplishments are most impressive but you’ve left out the most important one of all: Why are there no children?” He shot the question at her so abruptly, she almost fell off the stool.
“Children?” she repeated, trying to collect her wits.
“Your education, the duties you performed, commendable to be sure, but the main purpose of a woman’s existence is the bearing of children. Why do you have none?” He leaned across the narrow table in a manner that was slightly threatening. “Did your husband not honor your bed?”
Maud turned scarlet. Shocked and embarrassed at the brutal frankness of the question, she had no intention of answering him. How dare he question her like some hapless serving maid. The subject of children had never been broached in her presence, except by Aldyth, her confessor, and a humiliating interrogation by the Emperor’s physician. It was certainly not a subject she would ever have dared discuss with the Emperor himself, who loftily ignored all matters of the flesh.
“Well? I’m waiting for an explanation.” The King’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “By God’s splendor, you did not refuse him your bed?”
Maud rose to her feet. “I never failed in my duty to my husband, Sire.”
“I should hope not, I should hope not. Well?”
“You’re not my confessor and have no right to ask me such … such immodest questions. I refuse to be insulted further.”
His black eyes flashed and he started to raise his arm, then swallowed, obviously trying to keep control. Maud, determined to maintain her dignity, turned and started to leave but the King followed her and grasped her arm.
“Perhaps I put the matter too harshly,” he said with an effort. “I have little gift for diplomacy and do not care to mince words. Trust me, the matter is of vital importance or I would not ask.” He led her back to the stool. “After all, I am your father. It’s safe to reveal the secrets of the bedchamber to me.”
Maud sank back down on the stool, and the King patted her hand, the first private gesture of affection he had shown her. Her resistance softened; she had long wanted to tell someone the truth. Before she had fully made up her mind the words were spoken.
“He … he honored my bed,” said Maud. “On occasion.”
“On occasion? How often?”
“Rarely,” she whispered.
“Rarely? But why? You’re young, beautifully formed—as far as one can tell.” He peered at her suspiciously, as though she might be hiding some gross deformity. “Were you unwell in your female parts?” A look of distaste crossed his face. “Your mother, God rest her soul, was frequently unwell.”
Maud shook her head, wanting to close her ears to this unforgivable violation of her mother’s privacy, but her father seemed to have no sense of decorum.
“You cannot afford to be squeamish with me, Daughter. Modesty must be overcome. The matter is too important. Why didn’t he honor your bed?”
“In truth, Sire, I never knew.” Now the shameful secret was out. She had never understood the reason for her husband’s indifference to her body, but wondered if it might be due, in part, to some fault of her own, some lack of feminine appeal, although she had no way of knowing. “I don’t think he was greatly interested in matters of the flesh.”
Knowing the King’s notorious reputation with women, the numerous bastards he had fathered, Maud could almost have laughed at the look of incredulity on his face.
“Did other women lure him from you?” A prurient gleam appeared in his eyes. “He would not be the first man who took his pleasures where he found them, but that is hardly an excuse for failing in his conjugal duty.” He paused, his face suddenly like a thundercloud. “Boys? Was he a sodomite?”