was silent save for the rattle of rain against the window screens and the occasional hiss as drops fell into the glowing embers on the hearth.
She thought for a moment he was going to touch her, but he moved away again, walking over to the table that had been drawn up against the far wall of the room. It was laden with parchments and books and held the king’s pens and ink. He picked up a letter and unfolded it slowly as he turned back to the prisoners who remained kneeling by the fire. His face was hard.
“Prince Llewelyn has, it appears, thought fit to join your husband, my lady, in making trouble for me in Wales.” His voice was icy. “That is unfortunate.” He strode back to the fire, the letter still in his hand. “Unfortunate for you, that is, if your husband persists in his rebellion when he knows that I hold hostages.”
Matilda clenched her fists together nervously, very conscious of the iron fetters that encircled her wrists. She swallowed. “Will you give me the chance to raise the money to pay my husband’s debts, sire?” Her voice came out huskily and too quiet. She wasn’t sure if he had even heard her. Mattie and Will, side by side, were completely silent.
“Your Grace,” she tried again, a little louder. “Before we fled from Hay I was able to put by a little money and some jewelry. I am sure with the help of our friends and my other sons we could raise some of the money we owe. If Your Grace would accept that as a start and-”
Her voice trailed away as he turned from the fire at last and looked down at her.
“It is no longer only a matter of money, Lady Matilda.”
“I will persuade William to give himself up to you. And on his behalf I can surrender all the de Braose lands…” She could not keep the note of pleading from her voice and, though she despised herself for it, the anguish in her tone was real.
“Your lands, my lady, are no longer yours to surrender,” he said sharply. He looked from Margaret to Will and Mattie behind her suddenly. “It appears that Ireland has become a nest of traitors. The lands of the Lacys are all confiscated too, your husband’s, Lady Margaret, and those of his brother. It is as well for them, perhaps, that they seem to have escaped, for if either of them show themselves again, their lives might well be forfeit.” He spoke quietly. Margaret shrank behind her mother as the king’s cold eyes fixed on her for a moment. Then he threw the letter down on his chair, talking half to himself, half to them. “I shall subdue Ireland. Every man here shall acknowledge me as king or I shall know the reason why. And when I return to Wales, make no mistake, I shall reduce that country-and its princes too-to ashes if I must…Guards! “ He raised his voice for the first time. Their escort sprang forward and the king eyed them critically. “Take the prisoners away,” he ordered.
Matilda began to rise to her feet, awkward and stiff after kneeling for so long. To her surprise he stepped forward and held out his hand to help her. But his face was grim. “I shall consider your offer of money, Lady Matilda, but I feel that nothing short of the full amount of forty thousand will do now. And that may not be enough. Meanwhile you and your family will remain my prisoners. We leave Carrickfergus tomorrow, and you will travel with us back to Dublin.”
The king sent for Matilda only after they had been encamped for several days at Dublin. She was brought to his tent, which had been set up in the midst of his army overlooking Dublin Bay, and appeared before him in midmorning, leaning on the arm of the tall knight who had been appointed her escort. The king had ordered her fetters removed when they had reached Kells, and she and Margaret and Mattie had been allowed serving women and provided with fresh linen and hot water, but Matilda was very tired.
There was no compassion in his face as the king looked at her. “The sheriff of Hereford has written to tell me that your husband has now attacked one of my castles. He requests my instructions and begs me to declare this man, once for all, outlawed. William has gone too far this time, Lady Matilda.”
She went pale. Her escort had withdrawn from the tent and she felt suddenly weak, standing alone before the king. She half glanced around, hoping to see a stool. Finding nothing to sit on, she slowly sank to her knees.
“Give us one more chance,” she whispered. “See, I beg you on my knees. Somehow I will find the money. I will make William submit. He will surrender. Only give us the chance to talk to him.”
John pushed back his chair with an exasperated exclamation. “It seems to me we’ve had this conversation before. How many chances must I give this man?”
“Sire, I know where I can find the money,” Matilda rushed on desperately, hardly taking note of what she said. “I have thought about it much and I am sure I can raise it. I know I can. Let me see him again. Please, Your Grace, give me that one chance.”
John turned away. He went to stand at the door of the tent looking out toward the dazzling blue of the sea. Far out on the edge of the haze three small boats sailed slowly northward, trailing their nets. He watched them abstractedly for a moment, chewing his nails. Then suddenly he swung round. “Why do I find it so hard, even now, to refuse your pleas?”
For a moment she thought his face betrayed a hint of pity, but it was already gone when he spoke again. “Very well, one last chance. But this time I must have your promise in writing.” He stepped to the desk and, reaching for his bell, summoned one of the chancery clerks. “An agreement; Matilda de Braose, the Lady of Hay, agrees to pay a fine of fifty-yes, fifty, you must pay for my patience-fifty thousand marks to the royal exchequer before”-he hesitated, counting on his fingers-“before Lammas next. That gives you a year, my lady. You will sign the document and on reaching Wales your husband will sign it too. You and your family will remain in my custody until your husband pays me the first installment. That is the last time I intend to discuss this matter. It seems to me that I have already been too lenient.” He leaned forward, watching the clerk laboriously copying out the formal words of the document. “I mean to see the barons of this country learn to respect me, Matilda, whoever gets hurt in the process. I’ll not be played with, remember that. You tell your sons and your precious friends the Lacys and the Earl Marshall and all William’s cronies that if they defy me and compound treasons against the crown they will find out just how strong an arm their sovereign has. I’ll not see the safety of the realm endangered.” He bent and snatched the finished parchment from the clerk, who was blowing on the ink. “I’ve reduced Ireland and now I’ll reduce Wales.” He took the pen from the clerk and held it out to Matilda, who rose to her feet with some difficulty. “And you had better pray that this time your husband respects this agreement, because I shall hold you and your son accountable, if necessary with your lives.”
Matilda took the pen, glancing at his face as she did so. Two red spots of anger glowed on his cheekbones and his mouth was set in an uncompromising line as he stared down at the document before them. She felt the cold black shadow of fear hovering over her heart as she blinked back the sudden scalding tears. “Please, Holy Mother,” she whispered as she dipped the pen in the ink, “let William come to the king.” Her hand shook as she carefully wrote her name at the end of the lines of black, crabbed writing. Then she let the pen fall.
They landed at Fishguard on the northern coast of the Pembroke Peninsula two days later. It was raining. Matilda scarcely noticed the route they took, sunk as she was in misery and fear. Her eyes remained lowered, dully taking in the streaming chestnut mane of the mare she rode. For several miles she worried a burr out of the tangled wet hair, twisting it in her fingers, watching unfeeling as tiny spots of blood sprang up on her skin to be washed away almost at once by the rain.
As soon as they had landed the king had dispatched riders to take her message to William, if they could find him in the high fastnesses of Elfael, bidding him come to ratify his wife’s agreement.
“You fool, Mother,” Will had said. “You complete fool. You know he won’t come. If they tell him how much money you’ve promised he’ll run or die of shock, but he won’t come.”
“He will come, he will.” She clenched her fists, gazing at her son’s pale face with such an ache of protective tenderness that for a moment she was unable to go on. Then she gained control. “We have money, Will. Our tenants will raise it for us, and our friends. Reginald and the Lacys must have reached France and Giles. There are so many who can help us, my dear. And there is the money I hid. It will be there still.”
“Did you tell Father where it was hidden?”
Matilda shrank at the bitterness in her son’s voice, but she shook her head. “He could not find it, even if I had. It is in a secret place in the mountains. I think I would have to go there again myself to be sure…”
