The Forsaken Monarch

by Amy Mantravadi

  “What, out the back door?” Drogo asked. “Surely someone had their eye on it!”

  “You would think so, but no,” he replied. “A siege is always chaos. I was dressed the same as the rest of them. I knew I had to make it to the isle, but Stephen’s spies were all about the country, and the nearby ports were closed. I had to walk all the way to Wareham, not knowing what had become of my poor wife and my men.” Here he shook his head as if the matter was beyond belief. “I was able to bribe some fishers to stow me below deck and transport me to Wight. It was there that I learned that Exeter had fallen, and that Stephen intended to put to death all the souls inside—that is, until Earl Robert made clear his opposition. When they saw that I was not there, they must have known I fled to Carisbrooke, for it did not take long for the navy to arrive. I would have held out, but we had so little rain this spring that there were naught but a few bottles of wine to drink. What could I do? I went out to meet Stephen, and he sent me into exile. I am an outlaw now. That is why I came to you, my lady. Of course, I did not know for sure that you would be here. We only hear rumors of your whereabouts. I cannot tell you how glad I am to see your face!”

  The last few months had caused me to doubt everything and everyone, but as I listened to Baldwin de Redvers describe what it had cost him to stand against Stephen, I felt that here at least was one Norman lord who knew something of loyalty. It did my heart good.

  “I am glad to receive you, Lord Baldwin,” I told him. “You are one of the few men who has kept your oath, and at great cost to yourself and your house. Where are your people now?”

  “Stephen said they were free to go,” he explained, sighing in relief. “He declared they were innocent, as they were simply obeying their lesser lord. To myself, he was not so merciful, of course. I have written for them to come to me when they are able.”

  “There is one thing I do not understand,” said Drogo. “Why should Earl Robert entreat Count Stephen on behalf of your household? What did he hope to gain by that?”

  In my excitement to hear of Lord Baldwin’s escape and faithfulness to myself, I had forgotten this detail, but Drogo was right: it did seem a bit odd. My brother was not a cruel person, but he was a man of war as well.

  “I assumed that he must be working on behalf of Your Highness,” Baldwin replied, looking at me. “Surely you have been in contact with him?”

  “I wish that was the case, but I have heard nothing,” I said, feeling the pain of his betrayal once again. “Whatever game Earl Robert is playing, it does not involve me.”

  “Perhaps he is afraid of Stephen’s men,” Baldwin offered. “He has been watching Earl Robert from the very beginning, placing spies around him.”

  “And yet he bowed the knee to Stephen, and he continues to do so,” I replied, unwilling to let him off easily. “Trust me, Lord Baldwin, if my brother was on my side, I would know it. He has gone over to the enemy, along with the rest of my kin.”

  For a moment, I stared down at the floor and neither of them spoke. What could they have said in response to such betrayal? I had few friends in the world. My own flesh and blood had denied me. I was forsaken.

  Lord Baldwin finally spoke, changing the subject. “I did wonder why you yourself did not make more of an effort to travel to England to claim your throne, but I see the reason now,” he said, pointing at my swollen belly. “You are to have a child soon, no?”

  “Yes, I must remain in Argentan until the birth. It is a sore cross to bear in this most urgent hour, but perhaps it is for the best. My children are my greatest security.”

  “Are the princes still in Anjou then?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is the only safe place for them, for if Stephen got his hands on them, I shudder to think what he might do.” Indeed, even as I said this, an image appeared in my mind of my boys lain on a table, an apple stuffed in each of their mouths, and Stephen sharpening his knife.

  “And will Count Geoffrey invade Normandy again? We hear rumors.”

  “I hope daily to hear that he is coming north, but only time will tell. He has garnered the support of the duke of Aquitaine, which is something. To tell the truth, Lord Baldwin, I have been in a deep depression for the past several months, but your coming fills my heart with joy. It is a comfort to know that there are some men in England who still value loyalty.”

  “Always, my lady,” he said, smiling broadly. “Now, give me a commission! What would you have me do?”

  “Ride to Angers and speak with Count Geoffrey. He can command you better than I. Tell him that our child is coming soon. You may pass the night with us and take such provisions as you need. I will send a few knights with you.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said, rising to leave.

  As he began to walk away, I called, “Lord Baldwin!”

  “Yes?” he said, turning to face me.

  “Tell my sons that I miss them and want nothing so much as to hold them in my arms, but I shall not stop fighting for their inheritance.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he replied, and left the room.

  “Well, that was a matter of exceeding interest,” Drogo commented, rising to his feet. “Do you really think he is a good one?”

  “His father Richard certainly was. He was a faithful servant of King Henry. Let us hope the same is true with the son. I am sure he thinks that I can give him more than Stephen, though considering that he presently has next to nothing, that should not be hard.”

  “Do you think he is right about Earl Robert?” the knight asked, extending his hand to help me to my feet.

  “It seems too good to hope so. I would never have thought it within Robert’s character to support Stephen in the first place, so long have they mistrusted each other. Perhaps I never really knew him, but only saw what I wished to see. We must assume that he is heart and soul for Stephen. I maintain what I said earlier: we make Normandy our chief aim, so long as we will never surrender our right to England or acknowledge that traitor as king.”

  We turned and walked toward the same door out of which Lord Baldwin had lately departed.

  “I was wondering, what about Queen Adeliza—that is, the former queen? Have you heard where she stands?” he inquired.

  “She had the good sense to make for Wilton Abbey and stay out of this mess. I admit that at the present, monastic life does seem rather appealing: no wars, no betrayals—just contemplation and the work of the Lord. But no, I must be about the chase. It is my lot.”

  As he opened the door for me, I felt the babe inside me kick. It seemed it was as eager to leave Argentan as I was.

  As the time for my child to be born grew near, I was most afeard. Little wonder there, for the birth of Geoffrey had almost killed me. A woman does not forget a thing like that, and it weighed upon my mind in those final weeks. My one comfort was that I had two sons already born who could carry on our line if I were to go the way of all flesh. Yet with only their father to defend them, their chances seemed poor indeed, for as much as the Norman lords may have hated me, they hated my husband far more.

  In the end, there was no need to fear. The birth was as smooth as I could have hoped, and in the space of a few hours I held my third boy in my arms: sweet William. On account of him, I had been held in check at a time when I could least afford it, but when I was finally given the chance to meet him, all of that seemed to fade away. In the space of three years, I had brought forth three princes, fulfilling my father’s wish. If only that had been enough! As it turned out, there was no manner of sacrifice sufficient to win over those who were determined to hate me.

  I wrote to Count Geoffrey informing him that he had another son. He replied that he was riding north with an army of two thousand men. Here was some good news, and not a moment too soon! Our ally, Robert de Tosny, had been taken prisoner by Earl Waleran Beaumont, whom Stephen had assigned to defend the East of Normandy. Here I remembered my doubts about Waleran’s change of character.

  Fortunately, for all his many faults, my hu
sband at least seemed a match for Waleran. He gained Carrouges and the region around Sées, then pressed as far as Lisieux. He burned much of that town to the ground, including its cathedral, before Waleran arrived and forced him to fall back. The next thing I knew, he wrote that he was trapped near Le Sap and badly in need of aid.

  “My wife, I beg you, bid Count William gather such men as he can and march with all haste to our position!” he pleaded with me.

  I did not need to be told twice. Indeed, ever since I had given birth, I had been eager to see something other than the walls of Argentan Castle and to contribute something real to our cause. True, my husband had not asked for me to accompany the men to his position, but after talking it over with the count, we both agreed that it would be good for our forces to see me in person and know for whom they were fighting. I hated to leave my new son so soon after his entry into the world, but I knew Adela would take as much care with him as if he was her own flesh and blood. I set to work at once, sending messengers to all the surrounding country. Between the count and myself, we were able to assemble some five hundred fighting men. I allowed myself to be just a little proud of this feat achieved in a short amount of time.

  It was less than a day’s ride to where my husband was camped. I rode with my knights beside me, sending messengers ahead to ensure that we would not be entering a trap. I had set out bravely, but as we grew closer to our destination, the fear inside me increased. After all, I had never been directly involved in a war before, even in such a minor way.

  By the time we reached the camp, it was a lamentable sight. There were some tents set up in the middle of a small forest, but most of the men and goods were simply scattered beneath the trees, exposed to the elements. Everywhere, men seemed to lie about in a rather sorry state, some looking more green than white and all of them looking as if they had been half eaten by fleas. A cart passed by carrying at least ten corpses, and I had to cover my nose due to the stench. As I walked on a bit, the ground dipped down toward a small creek, and to my great dismay I saw men squatting in the water, emptying the contents of their bowels as they groaned in pain.

  “Disease has infected this camp,” Drogo whispered to me. “Those bodies you saw were not killed by the sword.”

  I made no reply, for I feared that if I continued discussing the matter I would vomit. Even as the thought passed through my mind, the flap of a nearby tent was pulled back and I saw inside a wood table covered in blood. A man who I guessed to be a surgeon dumped a pail of water on it to clean it off, and the red liquid ran off the edges and fell to the ground.

  “Excuse me, Drogo,” I said, looking away. “I need to step aside for a moment.”

  “Of course. I will wait here,” he replied.

  I walked quickly behind the tent where I would not be seen. I took deep breaths in and out, hoping that it would help to settle my stomach. Then I heard flies buzzing and turned to my right to see a pile of severed limbs lying on the ground—remnants of the surgeon’s work. Well, that was my limit. I turned and emptied the contents of my stomach on the ground. I remained bent over for a moment, my hands pressed against my knees.

  Why did I ever think this was a good idea? I thought. This is madness. What if I become sick as well? What if I pass on the disease to my son?! A new wave of fear passed through me, but then I reasoned that I could wait for a few days before returning to Argentan. In any case, whatever was infecting the men was likely due to their poor condition. Grimbald had said as much to me once—that disease could pass through food or drink, or among those who lived in filth. I told myself this, but it did not completely remove my fears.

  When I had finally recovered a bit, I walked back to join my knight, who was still standing there faithfully.

  “That is Count Geoffrey’s tent over there,” he said, pointing. “Are you well, my lady? You look a bit pale.”

  “I am fine,” I declared. “Thank you, Drogo. I will just speak to my husband.”

  I made my way over to the tent he had indicated, avoiding a few dogs that were beset with mange. I entered to find Count Geoffrey alone and lying on a pallet, his armor cast aside. One of his feet was heavily wrapped.

  “Thank God you’ve come!” he said, struggling to raise himself up a bit. “How many are with you?”

  “More than are with you, by the looks of it,” I replied. “There cannot be more than a few hundred men here!”

  “Many of them fell near Lisieux. We escaped that only to be struck with dysentery. I must have lost a hundred men a day since I came to this God forsaken place!” he complained.

  “Is there anything that can be done?” I asked, stepping nearer.

  “Well, if I knew that, then I would hardly be lying here, now would I?!”

  His face had wrinkled into a kind of scowl as his nostrils expanded and contracted. Even under the difficult circumstances, I felt there was no reason for him to respond in such a manner, especially given all I had accomplished for him. I found I was not very sad that he was in bodily pain.

  “There is no need to be upset,” I told him calmly. “See, I have brought you five hundred more men, armed and ready to fight. Only I hope they do not all succumb to this same disease. But what is wrong with your foot?”

  “I was wounded in battle!” he snapped.

  I could not believe that his injury was that serious, or it would have been reported to me already. Nevertheless, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed Count Geoffrey. Not only that, but I needed to be on good terms with him, for we were at war together. I therefore tried to play the part of a caring wife.

  “May I see it?” I asked, keeping my tone as pleasant as possible.

  “Why?” he asked, casting a suspicious glance my way.

  “So that I can tell if it is healing, or is that too much of an imposition?”

  He said nothing, but removed the cloths. The wound did not appear putrid, but I poured some wine on it anyway, which caused him to scream. I then wrapped it again, dropping to my knees on the ground to do so, for there were no chairs to be had.

  “There is no sign of infection,” I reported. “I think you should not walk on it for a few days.”

  “Not possible,” he said.

  “But you are not likely to move before then in any case, with so many men ill! I have been out there. It is hell on earth.”

  “If Earl Waleran pays us a visit, we may not have a choice.”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “Empress Mathilda,” he said, pounding his hand into the pallet, “thank you very much for the delivery of my men, but I beg you not to trouble yourself with matters of warfare. That is the domain of men!”

  I wanted very much to share some of my more pointed thoughts with him, but after everything I had just witnessed and in light of our mutual fight for our sons’ inheritance, I attempted to be gracious.

  “You know I am only trying to help,” I said, with the patience of Job.

  “Your help is not necessary,” he replied, still glaring at me. “Go back to Argentan. See to our son.”

  “Very well,” I concluded.

  I would not offer a cross word to Count Geoffrey, but neither was I about to let him avoid any consequence for his poor behavior. As I stood, I placed my hand upon his bad foot, causing him to cry out once again, then departed the tent.

  Count Geoffrey did hold Le Sap for a time, but the colder weather forced him to return to Anjou, there to gather his strength for the coming year. He clung to the hope that he might be able to sway Count Theobald of Blois to his cause, for Theobald was made bitter by his younger brother’s rise. Indeed, many of the lords had been ready to declare him king when the news of Stephen’s coronation arrived. While he consented to fate, no one doubted that even as he sat in Chartres, Count Theobald grew in spite by the day. My husband had already arranged a sort of truce with the count and hoped in the coming year to win his support outright.

  As it so happened, Stephen was just as intent on winning over his
brother. As soon as the winter broke, he came over to Normandy to make his case for the dukedom. Among those in his company were the Beaumont brothers—earls Robert and Waleran—Stephen’s own son Eustace, and William of Ypres, leader of the Flemish mercenaries. Already, that captain had earned a reputation for cruelty, and I did not fault the barons of Flanders for twice denying him the comital throne.

  Stephen’s forces marched to Evreux, where they met Count Theobald and offered him two thousand marks of silver a year for his loyalty. Well done, Theobald: Judas was only purchased for thirty! In truth, the forces of Stephen were so great that his brother was unlikely to quarrel with him. Having won over Theobald, the usurper had the French king proclaim him the true lord of Normandy, for which he was made to kneel at Louis’ feet and pay homage. Here the loyalties of Stephen were revealed: he was no Englishman, nor even a proper Norman, but simply a vassal of the French.

  With the usurper busy in the East, Count Geoffrey decided that he should press north to Caen, where Earl Robert sat in his castle. He hoped that, given the opportunity, my brother might ride to his aid. I did not share in this hope, but a small part of me naturally wanted to believe that my brother might have come to his senses and remembered our bond by blood. That was a dangerous part of me though—one that might cause me to suffer further pain or act the part of a fool. I therefore did nothing to keep my husband from going, but I did not feed his hopes either.

  As I foresaw, Count Geoffrey ended up disappointed. Not only did Earl Robert fail to lend his support, but my husband was blocked by Stephen’s men and, unwilling to face them in open battle, he retreated to his home in the South. To make matters worse, I soon heard that Count Stephen was marching his army toward Anjou, where he intended to crush Count Geoffrey.