Free The Passionate Enemies by Jean Plaidy

brought him to the lodge in the churl’s cart – the poor muddied, bloody body of King William Rufus. Rufus had worn no armour. He had been hunting. There had been no protection for Rufus against the assassin’s arrow – if assassin it had been. There would always be a mystery about Rufus’s death but someone must know; and he, Henry, had had everything to gain from it.
    The incident of the arrow was disquieting. So near death – such a lucky chance that he was seated on his horse when he might have been lying on the ground dead.
    How vulnerable were kings – more so than most men.
    He must remember that. He should not have been spending his nights with Nesta. There was no time to lose with his true and lawful Queen. They must get a son. He decided that without delay he would go back to Adelicia. Who knew – by the time he arrived she might have some good news for him.
    Alas, it was not so.

In the Imperial Bedchamber
    IN THE IMPERIAL COURT at Utrecht, the Empress Matilda eagerly awaited news from England. She had heard that her father’s marriage had so far proved fruitless and she laughed to herself.
    How she wished she were there! How she would love to have seen Stephen’s disappointment when he heard that there was to be this marriage. How she would have jeered at him.
    He had hoped to inherit the crown. Stephen! Not even the eldest son of the Count of Blois! She would have teased him had she been there, laughed at his pretensions, maddened him until he wanted to seize her, shake her and then make love to her. Those had been the exciting days, and how she missed them.
    Here she was married to an old man who bored her. She had to take great pains to keep her temper, yet she did for the most part, because it was wise to do so. He adored her, his handsome young wife, his clever ‘wife who could advise him on so many occasions, for it was the sad truth that the once great Emperor was becoming somewhat senile.
    Often she wondered how long he would live, and what would become of her when he died. The people here were pleased with her. She was always very careful, when in public to behave with gracious charm; it was only with her immediate servants that she allowed her violent temper its range. They went in fear of her rages; and if they as much as whispered a word of them outside the household they were punished for it.
    Often she laughed when she heard herself described as a good wife and a gracious Empress. She liked to think though that she had a hand in ruling the country, and the more feeble her husband grew, the more powerful she became.
    Poor old Henry, he had changed since their marriage . . . though even then he was a poor old man. And when he died what would become of her? That was the thought which was always uppermost in her mind. What if this Queen Adeliciawas in truth barren? What if there were no son and heir? The King of England would remember that he had a daughter, for surely she was next in succession.
    A Queen! Would they accept a woman? She would see that they did. What excitement to be back again. To watch the effect she would have on Stephen, poor Stephen, who loved her – and to whom she was far from indifferent – cheated of the crown and married to the wrong Matilda!
    It was small wonder that she eagerly awaited the news from England.
    In the Imperial bed she yawned and glanced at her sleeping husband. He was more repulsive in his night attire than in his imperial uniforms. He was getting so frail. Surely soon she must be free.
    She dozed a little and dreamed of England. She awoke startled and saw that the Emperor had risen from his bed.
    She lay still, watching him. He walked to the window, groaning.
    She leaped out of bed and said to him. ‘Henry, what ails you? Are you ill?’
    She laid her hand on his arm; he was trembling.
    â€˜Matilda,’ he said, ‘my wife Matilda.’
    â€˜In truth it is I,’ she said. ‘Could it be