She was given a chunk of black bread dipped in warm milk and put to bed in a huge dank chamber whose walls were covered with dark red and blue tapestries depicting the torments of the holy martyrs. The pictures of burning and other tortures were so vividly represented that Maud pulled the coverlet over her head. Miserable and lonely, she clutched the silver ring her father had given her and cried herself to sleep.
When she woke the next morning there was still no sign of Aldyth. Sick with fear and uncertainty, badly missing Beau, she huddled under the fur-lined coverlet wishing with all her heart that she was back in England. The same gray-clad woman who had met her yesterday entered her chamber, said something in German, then dressed her in the saffron-colored gown and amber tunic in which she had left England. Around her neck she placed an ornate gold cross set with pearls that Maud had never seen before, and led her down the staircase to the courtyard. Outside, the sky was overcast with gray clouds, the air warm and sluggish. They climbed into a waiting litter and were carried a short distance to where a large church stood in the middle of a cobbled square, just as the bells rang for Prime.
Inside the church, crowded with worshippers, it was cold and dim, penetrated by only a faint ray of light. As Maud was led down the aisle to her pew, she could see people craning their necks to catch a glimpse of her. The odor of incense, the chanting of the choir, the solemn intonation of the office made her head spin. At last the Mass was over and she was carried back to the palace.
When Maud returned to her chamber, she was met by the Graf von Hennstien. Thank the Holy Mother, here was someone who understood Norman French.
“Where is Aldyth?” she asked.
“I regret, Prinzessin, but all your entourage is to be sent back to England on the Emperor’s orders.”
Stunned, Maud felt an icy chill seep through her body. Send Aldyth away? The Emperor could not be so cruel. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them back, remembering her father’s injunction that a granddaughter of the Conqueror did not cry.
“Why?” she whispered.
The Graf glanced uneasily around the austere chamber. “The Emperor feels you will learn German more quickly and adjust easily to your new surroundings if you are not constantly reminded of England.”
“I want Aldyth back,” she said in a choked voice.
“I regret, that is not possible. Come, do you realize what a very fortunate little girl you are? The Emperor is a most powerful monarch, his influence extends south into Italy and as far east as Hungary.”
The names meant nothing to her. “I want to go home. At once.”
“I regret, that is not possible. All the arrangements for the betrothal ceremony have been made.”
“Then I’ll return to England afterward.”
“But of course you cannot return to England, Prinzessin. Afterward you will live in Germany and learn the language and our customs. By the time you are married, at thirteen, you will be a proper German, hein?”
Maud did not answer.
“Now eat. You must keep up your strength. The Emperor arrives this morning, do you wish him to see you in such a sorry state?”
Unable to control her tears, she tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of her tunic.
The Graf turned to the woman and said something in German. She nodded, walked toward Maud, took her briskly by the hand, and led her to a small table set with a bowl of milk, a loaf of bread, and a plate of something that smelled like salted fish.
“Eat,” said the Graf. “You will feel better.”
Maud shook her head, unwilling to sit down on the embroidered stool. The woman took her by the shoulders and forced her onto the seat. Maud felt a hot surge of rebellion as grief turned unexpectedly to anger. She bent her head and bit the woman’s hand. The woman shrieked and snatched her hand away.
Leaping up from the table, Maud threw the bowl of milk onto the tiled floor, overturned the platter of fish, kicked aside the stool, then ran across the chamber to push open the oak door. She sped along the passage, half slid down the winding staircase, dashed through a large hall where startled faces turned to watch her, and out the open front doors of the palace. The courtyard was filled with servants, grooms, and palace officials all milling about. The gates stood open to admit a pair of mounted knights in white surcoats marked with red crosses. No one seemed to have noticed her. Maud ran across the yard and darted out through the gates.
She found herself in a narrow street of cobbled stone, and stopped, uncertain which way to go. Then, at the sound of raised voices coming from the courtyard, went left. Heads turned as she raced past a cluster of men and women gossiping together and almost stumbled over two children playing with a cat. The street ended abruptly in a high stone wall and Maud turned down another street of tall narrow houses, so close together at the top she could barely see the cloudy gray sky.