Reine des Anglais

1011

ᛁᛊᚨᛒᛖᚢ
February 21st, 1011
The Bock, Luxembourg
           Isabeau wiped the holy oil off of her forehead as her carriage arrived back at the main building of the Castle of Luxembourg, setting the handkerchief she had used aside to avoid the strong smell of rapeseed oil. She had objected to being 'churched' after the birth of her son, but her mother-in-law had told her she was decrying herself a whore if she didn't. That was always Hedwig's go to when Isabeau dared to disagree with something she wanted from her, that she'd be admitting she was a whore and unworthy of her station in every way. It was always enough for Henry to demand she obey whatever his mother had instructed her to do.
She peered out of the carriage when they came to a stop, as per usual the attendants ignored her carriage- despite the fact that it was first in the line of them- and went to open Henry's, Hedwig's, and Giselbert's carriages first.
Isabeau would have been happy enough to let herself out, but the first and only time she had done that- Henry had shouted at her and locked her in his room for three days so she could 'learn her place'.
The servants still, even after almost two years, seemed to look down on their Countess. She was always the last to be served, the last to be dressed, and the last to be let out of her carriage.
The only person in Luxembourg who was on her side was her lady-in-waiting, Jehanne, Baroness of Esch. Her husband, Onfroi, was a prominent general under Henry and so she had been given the appointment when Isabeau and Henry had gotten married. She was four years older than Isabeau, and seemed to view her as something of a little sister.
"I'm sorry, but it is absolutely ridiculous that they're letting you sit here after you just gave birth to their heir last month." Jehanne said angrily as she leaned forward, looking out the window as Isabeau's husband and in-laws just talked with each other. "I'll be speaking to the butler about this." She folded her hands and leaned back against the cushions, folding her arms over her chest.
"I'm used to it, Jehanne." Isabeau shook her head. "It's fine."
"It most certainly is not! Whether they like it or not, you're their Countess. They should treat you with the respect your station earns you." Jehanne tapped her arm impatiently with one finger as they waited. She knew that if she shouted out of the carriage, it would be bad for her lady. The state of the marriage of the Count and Countess of Luxembourg was a fairly open secret. No one discussed it- for many in the court, it was because they saw nothing wrong with it given the station of the Countess's birth, for those who were sympathetic to her it was to save her the humiliation of having the details of her marriage laid out bare in front of her.
Until Henry decided to send her to a nunnery or otherwise be rid of her- she had very few options available to her, especially with the birth of her son.
          After about ten minutes, one of the maids opened the carriage door. Isabeau sprang out, walking directly towards the castle. As soon as she was inside, the nursery maid holding her son handed him to her.
"Hello, my love. My Frederick." Isabeau said to him, grinning as she looked down at his little face in her arms as he slept. "How has he been nursing?" She asked, looking over at the wetnurse standing just behind the nursery maid.
"Very well, ma'am. Not too little, not too much." The wetnurse reported to her. "Young Sir is quite the ideal infant."
Isabeau knew that last bit was a line any wetnurse would say to keep their post, but in this case she couldn't help but to agree. She kissed her son's head and let out a small, happy sigh as she gazed at him.
"It's good that he's finally quiet." Henry said as he walked in with his family, pulling his gloves off and handing them to their butler. "I thought the crying would never stop after I returned from campaign."
"He was just responding to the strong presence of his father," Hedwig said as she walked over to her daughter-in-law and tried to take the baby from her.
"Just give me a moment more." Isabeau said quietly, half-turning to keep her hold on her son.
"Isabeau." Henry said angrily. "Give him to my mother. Now."
The young Countess winced, and did as her husband had instructed. She yelped slightly when Henry took her by the arm and dragged her from the entryway into another room.
"How dare you deny my mother!" He shouted at her, tossing her to the floor. His temper with her tended to change with the wind.
"I was just trying to hold our son a little while longer, Henry. I meant no disrespect by it." Isabeau shrank back slightly, putting a hand on her stomach. She wasn't quite recovered from the birth of her son the month before, so when he threw her to the tiles it had been quite painful for her. "I'll apologise to her, if you'd like me to."
"You will. You also won't interfere with Frederick for the next few days." He scoffed as he paced angrily in front of her.
"What?! No, please, Henry-" her head snapped up to look up at him. "Please don't keep me from our son. Please. I'm begging you. Please."
Henry shook his head. "You're just so pathetic, Isabeau," he said as he stared down at her. "Get up."
Isabeau did as he instructed, smoothing her hands over her dress before folding her hands in front of her.
Henry walked up to her and lifted her chin. "If you deny my mother him again, you won't see Frederick for at least a month. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord." She said quietly, her eyes trained on the floor.
He struck her across the face. "Look me in the eye when you address me, Isabeau."
She put her hand over her cheek, taking a deep breath as she looked up at him and met his eyes. "Yes, my lord."
"Good. Go to your drawing room now- I don't want to deal with you. When my mother decides she's held him long enough I'll send Frederick to you." Henry walked past her and back towards the entryway.
          Isabeau collapsed onto the floor as soon as he was gone, taking deep breaths to calm herself as her hands shook. So that's his newest threat- keeping Frederick away from me. It's one I have no way to work around either, and he knows that. I can only hope that the ease of its use becomes boring to him. She picked herself off the floor and straightened herself out before walking directly to her drawing room. She sat down on one of the chairs there and looked up at the ceiling. She had been living here since she was thirteen, and still it didn't feel like home to her. Neither did Normandy, though. Isabeau had always put that up to the idea that home couldn't be somewhere you were hated or detested simply over the matter of your birth.
"My Lady," Jehanne walked in, a few servants carrying trays and trunks behind her. "We should go through the gifts and congratulations that have already arrived after the birth of your son while we wait in here."
"As long as Henry won't be angry." Isabeau said as she sat up.
"I asked him if it was alright, and he said it was. I don't think he had much interest in doing so himself." Jehanne said as she pointed to the servants where to set everything down. "This trunk was sent by your brother, Geoffrey. Carved with Frederick's name in the back, and all of these beautiful designs."
Isabeau stood up and knelt in front of it. It was carved with decorations of vines and grapes  and their leaves and flowers. She ran her hand over it gently. "Maybe Henry will let him visit soon, now that I've had Frederick. I know they argued the last time they saw each other- but he is my brother, and Frederick's uncle."
Argued was one way to put it. The last time Geoffrey had been to see them, he had accidentally caught Henry beating his wife. He had pulled a sword on him and threatened that if he didn't stop he wouldn't hesitate to take his head off, which had resulted in the two of them having a sword fight in the foyer. It had only stopped when Isabeau had tried to intervene and ended up accidentally being cut across the palm of her hand. Henry had blamed Geoffrey for starting the fight and thrown him out- and Isabeau had been too afraid to say anything. She picked up the letter that was sitting inside of the trunk when she opened it.
'My dearest sister,' the letter read, 'I hope you are well after the birth of your son. I hope to see you soon, and pray daily that the state of your marriage is greatly altered. Your brother, G'
          "The royal court of Denmark sent something!" Jenhanne said in surprise as she set the small ornate box on top of the trunk once the Countess had closed it.
"Is there a letter with it?" Isabeau asked, examining the box carefully.
"Um... yes! Here." Jehanne handed it to her.
"Oh!" Isabeau's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read the short message of congratulations. "King Sweyn's younger son, Prince Canute sent this."
"Canute?" Jehanne held back a laugh as she took the letter and read it herself. "Now there's a name."
"Vikings always have the strangest names, if you ask me." Isabeau said in agreement as she opened the box. "He had a toy of a viking ship made for Frederick- that's sweet of him." She lifted it off of the cushion it was resting on in the box. "Although the jewels embedded in it make it less of a toy, and more of a model."
"Maybe viking babies play with jewels?" Jehanne mused. "Thankfully we'll never have to find that out." She walked over to the Countess's desk. "It does say that he'll be coming to the celebrations for Frederick's birth in May, so we'll get to thank him for the gift." She walked back to the piles of gifts. "This is from your sister, Queen Emma." Jehanne handed her a fur lined hooded blanket, it was clearly made specially for wrapping a baby in.
Isabeau smiled slightly. "How sweet of her," she took it and turned the blanket over in her hands to feel the softness of the fur. "I think Frederick will quite enjoy this."
ᛁᛊᚨᛒᛖᚢ
           Isabeau sighed as she combed through her hair. Her maid had helped her change and promptly left, ignoring when her lady had tried to stop her. I need to find a way to make that stop, at least. I don't need them to think highly of me, but they at least need to behave as though they do. She set her comb down and stood up. They never brought Frederick to my study, so I'll go see him as they put him to bed. She crossed her room and pulled her door open, surprised to see her husband standing just outside her door. "Henry." She blinked and stepped aside to let him in. "I was about to go see Frederick, if you'd like to join me?"
"Not tonight." He said, untying the cuffs on his shirt.
She watched him carefully. "My lord, what are you doing?"
"I'm doing what I'm entitled to as your husband." Henry responded as he undid the collar of his shirt as well.
"I- I can't." She took a step back as he began to advance on her. "It's only been a month and the birth was very hard on me- I'm not yet recovered from it-"
"You're recovered enough. I've been more patient than any other man would have been." He said angrily. "As of yet, I haven't taken on a mistress. I will if you persist in pushing me from your chambers."
"I give you permission to take one, my lord." Isabeau looked up at him. "For a while. I'll need at least another month before I'm able. I- I can offer other ways to keep you satisfied, but-"
Henry struck her again, this time hard enough to make her fall to the ground. "You will submit to me, Isabeau."
"My lord, please!" She cried out, bringing her hands up to guard her face from him. "Your physician himself said it would be deadly for me to fall pregnant so soon! If I had another birth as difficult as Frederick's so soon, it would certainly kill me! Please! Take all the mistresses you'd like- I don't care who they are. I just need another month!"
Henry grabbed her wrists and dragged her to her feet. He pinned her to the wall, his expression full of fury. "If I got a child from you, I could get a child from any worthy noblewoman in Europe. You will submit to me tonight, or by morning both mother and son will be want of their heads."
          Isabeau's eyes opened as soon as he said that, staring up at her husband. "You're threatening Frederick? Your own son and heir?"
"I can get another one, and next time from a woman who wouldn't take a year just to get pregnant." Henry growled furiously. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "Make your choice. Watch your precious son die before I end your life as well, or get in bed. You don't have long to decide, Countess."
All of her fear, all of her anger, turned to a deadly calm as she listened to him speak. "May we use your room, my lord? The bed is larger and more comfortable."
"That request, I'll accommodate." He gripped her wrist and left her room immediately, practically dragging his wife behind him.
Isabeau could hear her son crying in his room as they passed it, and his nursery maid trying to lull him back to sleep. If he's this quick to turn his threats to harming Frederick, it won't take much more for him to make good on them. My life will be his. How long until it's simply a choice between my life and his? I can't leave my baby boy to be raised by this wild bear of a man. I will do what I have to for the sake of my son.
Henry opened the door to his room and practically threw her inside ahead of him. "Get on the bed, Isabeau."
"May I try something different tonight, my lord?" Isabeau picked herself up off the ground, brushing her nightgown off.
"It depends." He raised an eyebrow down at her. "What do you have in mind?"
She took his hands gently. "Lay down on the bed, my lord. You'll see." She stood on her toes and kissed him, moving to hold his face in her hands.
They moved back towards the bed as they kissed. Henry took a seat on the edge of his bed and laid back, moving to the centre of it.
Isabeau climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She bent down and kissed him again, she had one hand on his chest as her other hand reached above his.
As the countess sat up again, she opened her eyes. Any softness that had been in them faded, and was replaced with hatred. Her hand clenched to a pillow above her husband's head and immediately pinned it over his face. Isabeau leaned forward, putting all of her body weight into keeping it there. Due to his insistence on dragging her from battlefield to battlefield, she was used to hanging on to spooked horses when they attempted to bolt. Staying on top of her husband as he fought death wasn't so different. She gritted her teeth, ignoring each blow he managed to land on her arms or body. She was beyond used to them. She was tired of them. She was tired of threats, of being terrified of the man she had been married to. His thrashing beneath her began to weaken, and his blows landed with less strength. Slowly, his movements stopped entirely. She waited at least a full ten minutes after that before lifting the pillow.
His face was locked into a look of shock and fury, the light in his eyes completely gone.
"Oh my God-" Isabeau stumbled off the bed, falling to the ground in shock at the actions she had just taken. She had taken her husband's life. She didn't have time to fly into a panic over what she had done, though. She stood up and quickly arranged his body on the bed before he became stiff, turning him onto his side like he always slept with one hand tucked under his head. She positioned his face to a more peaceful expression, his eyes closed. She pulled his blankets up and tucked him in carefully.
As Isabeau left his room, she heard Frederick begin to cry again in his nursery again. She walked there quickly, slipping inside the room. "I was in my room and heard him, I thought maybe I could help you tonight."
"Yes, ma'am." The nursery maid handed him to his mother carefully.
Isabeau smiled as she gazed down at her son. He stopped crying as soon as he was in her arms. She rocked him carefully, holding him close to her chest. I'd do it over again each time. To keep him near me, to keep me safe... I'll do whatever I have to for him.
          In the morning, Henry's attendant found him dead in bed. The court physician presumed that it was an illness he picked up on campaign, or an internal wound that had never healed correctly.
The court had mourned him, and most of the royals of continental Europe along with them. He had been remembered well by most.
Isabeau had become the perfect grieving widow- heartbroken, begging God to give him back to her, sobbing at the banquet after the funeral.
The only people who knew the truth of her feelings were Geoffrey and Jehanne. Neither of them even suspected the role she had played in his death.
No one did.
No one even questioned it.