by Hilary Green
‘Welcome, my lady. We have longed for your return, though I know you would not be here if matters had gone as you expected. My husband…?’
She took the small woman by the hand. ‘Let us go inside. I have much to tell you.’
She saw from Sibyl’s face that she guessed the news was bad, but she was the wife of a warrior and descended from warriors and, without asking any more, she led her guest inside and sent servants running for wine and water.
‘Pray, sit, my lady. I can see you are much fatigued. I have heard rumours of events at Winchester but I have no solid information. All is not well?’
‘Not well. We have suffered a defeat at the hands of the usurper’s forces.’ She took Sibyl’s hand again. ‘I cannot tell you what has happened to Miles. He was last seen fighting bravely but I fear he could not have withstood the number of his enemies. It is possible he is a prisoner. If so, we shall ransom him.’
Sibyl lowered her eyes and said nothing for a moment. Her throat worked as she swallowed back tears. Then she said, ‘We can only pray for that. But I know my husband. He would rather die than yield.’
She got up and began giving orders for the disposition of the wounded and the feeding of those able to eat.
Late the following evening a nervous page came to the solar where Matilda was sitting with Sibyl and Brian.
‘Madam, they have sent a message from the gatehouse. A beggar is demanding entrance. He is claiming to be the Earl of Hereford and they are afraid to turn him away.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘The Earl of Hereford! That is the title I bestowed on Miles not a month since. Do your people not know their own master?’
‘Miles?’ Sibyl rose too, staring at her. ‘You think it is my husband?’
‘Of course it is. Praise be to God! Go, boy. Tell them to bring their lord into the hall, before he has them whipped for disobedience.’
She ran down the stairs, Sibyl and Brian at her heels. As they reached the doors leading out of the hall they saw a little group of men crossing the courtyard. The page was in front and behind him two scared-looking guards supported a tattered figure who seemed hardly able to keep his feet. As she reached them it was not hard to understand why the guards, youngsters left behind when Miles took his army into the field, did not know him. His hair and beard were matted with filth and he was clad in a ragged tunic with a piece of sackcloth for a cloak. His feet were wrapped in rags in place of boots and he swayed as he walked like a man at the end of his strength.
She ran to him and would have thrown her arms round him, but he checked her with a formal bow and she recollected herself and gave him her hand to kiss. ‘Oh, my dear, dear friend! God has preserved you. I thought we had lost you.’
He staggered and mumbled, ‘It was close … too close.’
‘Forgive us, Lord,’ one of the guards babbled. ‘We meant no disrespect.’ Turning his eyes to her. ‘We thought he was drunk.’
Sibyl stepped forward. ‘Don’t be afraid. You have done no more than your duty.’ She stretched out her hand. ‘Come, husband. Enter your castle, and welcome home.’
17
GLOUCESTER AND OXFORD, 1141-42
Miles’s story was much the same as those Matilda had already heard. Left for dead on the battlefield, he regained consciousness to find he had been stripped of his armour and everything of value. He managed to drag himself away and eventually found an isolated cottage.
‘It belonged to an old widow woman. It’s a familiar story. She dealt in simples and had been driven out of the village under suspicion of being a witch. She took me in and treated my wounds and let me lie by her fire. It was two days before I felt strong enough to go on. I was not sure whether d’Ypres might have laid siege to Ludgershall, or how much of the country was still in our hands, so I decided to head straight for Gloucester. I know now how it feels to beg my bread and sleep under hedges and I’m right glad to be home again!’
‘And we to see you here,’ she answered. ‘If you can remember where the old woman lives we should reward her for helping you.’
‘Yes, when times are more settled. But now we have more pressing business. Is Robert back in Bristol?’
‘Robert was taken prisoner,’ Brian said. ‘We have yet to find out where he is being held, and by whom.’
Miles drew a deep breath and compressed his lips. ‘That puts a very different face on matters. His return must be our first priority. What of our other allies?’
‘That remains to be discovered. They have been scattered. We need to send messengers to their homes to find out how they have fared.’
‘And we must send someone to Bristol,’ Matilda said. ‘Robert’s wife and family may not know yet what has happened. Also, we must find out how many of his men have survived. I need to be sure that Stephen is being kept secure.’
By the next day Miles was sufficiently recovered to ride to Bristol and a day later he returned with his report. ‘Robert’s son, Walter, was left in charge and he is a trustworthy fellow. The castle and its garrison are in good order, though only a small proportion of the men Robert took with him have got back safely.’
‘And Stephen?’
‘Fettered and in a dungeon. Robert treated him well when he was first made prisoner, gave him two rooms and access to a stretch of the battlements for fresh air, but lately he has been found wandering around the castle without permission. Walter concluded he was looking for a way of escape, so he has made sure of him.’
‘Good!’
It took several weeks for the answers to come back from all their allies. David of Scotland was back in his stronghold in Cumbria, having been three times taken prisoner and forced to ransom himself. Ranulph of Chester, who arrived too late to play any useful part in the fighting, was back home and seemed to be prevaricating about which side to support. Several of the earls had been taken prisoner, including William of Salisbury and Humphrey de Bohun, and were waiting to be ransomed. All her allies reported that though some of their men had found their way home, their numbers were greatly depleted. It was clear that there was little hope of a new campaign.
Brian sought her out. ‘I come to ask your permission to return to Wallingford.’
She gasped. It was like a physical blow. ‘You would leave me?’
He met her eyes and she saw that he was as distressed as she was. ‘I must. It is imperative that we hold Wallingford and I cannot leave Boterell, my constable, to hold it on my behalf indefinitely. Believe me, I would stay at your side though the devil himself tried to drag me away, but I must do my duty.’
She swallowed. ‘Is not your first duty to me?’
‘That is why I must hold Wallingford for you. I cannot sit idly here while Stephen’s Queen makes herself stronger at your expense. Please, you must understand that.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ She held out both her hands and he took them in his own. ‘I wish … I could wish that there was some way we could … be more together.’
‘Sadly, fate has decreed that we must tread separate paths.’
She longed to throw herself into his arms. It was many years since she had felt a man’s arms around her, and most of the time she had not missed it. But now the desire to be held by him almost overpowered her. She raised her face to his. Any other man would understand the invitation, but whether he did or not, he did not take it. Instead he bent his head and kissed both her hands, then turned them over and kissed them again, his lips lingering in her palms. Then he stepped back and made a formal bow.
‘God keep you, my lady. If He wills it we shall meet again soon.’
He turned and left the room and very soon afterwards she heard the sound of horsemen leaving the castle.
It was a blow she was ill prepared to deal with. The physical weakness which had dogged her since London, exacerbated by lack of food during the siege and her desperate ride, added to her feeling of despair. Alone at night, she berated herself. The crown had been within her grasp and she had lost it through a momen
t’s bad temper. If she had placated the Londoners as Robert wished, the whole course of events would have been different. She remembered her first meeting with Theobald of Bec. He had warned her then that pride was her besetting sin. She had thought she had taken his words to heart, but now it was clear that they had not taken root there. For the first time, she questioned whether it was indeed God’s will that she should rule England. Perhaps, after all, she was not fit. But with that thought came another: that Stephen was no more fitted to the role than she was. Perhaps God intended that neither of them should rule and if so, who was the chosen one? There was an obvious answer. Her son Henry must be King one day. It was her job to prepare the way for him.
A messenger brought a letter from Robert. He was being held in Rochester Castle by William d’Ypres. He had been offered wealth and influence if he was prepared to change sides and had refused. He was now trying to negotiate his ransom.
She sent emissaries to offer a large sum in gold. The offer was refused. Queen Matilda would settle for nothing less than an exchange of prisoners: Robert for her husband, the King.
‘We cannot give Stephen up!’ she protested. ‘He is our only bargaining card. If we let him go we shall be back to exactly where we were before Lincoln.’
The response to her refusal was chilling. If she would not negotiate, Robert would be sent to Matilda’s estates in Boulogne, into perpetual imprisonment.
She retaliated in kind. ‘Tell her that if she were to do that, we shall send Stephen to Ireland and she will never see him again.’
Her councillors were more realistic. ‘We have to give her Stephen,’ Miles said ‘Without Robert our cause is lost.’
Reluctantly she agreed, but the deal was not straightforward. Robert argued that the life of a king is worth more than that of an earl, and therefore the other earls taken prisoner with him should be part of the exchange, but d’Ypres and the Queen refused. The earls must find their own ransoms. He did succeed, however, in one important matter. It was agreed that all land held by both factions before the rout of Winchester should remain in their possession. This meant that they still controlled most of the West Country with its vital resources in men and materials. Even then, there was still a lack of trust on both sides. Finally a deal was hammered out. Queen Matilda would bring her son Eustace and two of her barons to Bristol and they would remain there as hostages when Stephen was released. Once Stephen reached Winchester Robert would be released in his turn, but he would leave one of his sons, Roger, in Rochester as a surety for the Queen’s freedom. Once she and the other hostages had rejoined Stephen, Roger would be released.
Matilda decided to move her court to Oxford. It was a royal castle, hers since Robert d’Oilly changed his allegiance and swore fealty to her. It was more central than Gloucester, so allowed for better communications with her allies, and it had the reputation of being impregnable. Moreover, it was closer to London, and she had not given up hope that one day she might return there to be crowned.
On 1 November Stephen rode out of Bristol Castle and was greeted with wild celebration when he reached Winchester. Robert joined her in Oxford two days later. She embraced him and searched his face. He was thinner, but otherwise unchanged.
‘They have not misused you?’
‘No. I have been well treated. But how are you? You are pale. I heard that you had been taken ill on the retreat from Winchester.’
‘It is true. Had it not been for Brian and Reginald I should never have reached Devizes. But I am rested now, and much recovered.’
He looked sceptical, but appeared to accept her word. ‘That is good, for we have much to discuss and plans to make. How do our powers stand at the moment?’
After a brief conference with herself and Miles and Reginald, his expression was more sombre.
‘It seems we are in no condition to continue the fight at the moment. But winter is upon us so the campaigning season is over for this year. We must use the next months to rebuild our strength and see what new allies we can attract.’
Bishop Henry, they learned, was calling a council of Stephen’s supporters, and any who had not yet renewed their allegiance, at Westminster. She sent Bernard, Bishop of St David’s, who had remained loyal, to represent her. He returned looking grave.
‘Henry has a letter from Pope Innocent, which he read out. His Holiness rebuked him for abandoning the King and instructed him to use all his efforts to secure his release. Well, that is all past history now, but Henry was able to use it as evidence that the Pope believes Stephen to be the rightful king.’
‘So how does he justify changing his allegiance to me?’
‘He said that he believed you would respect the freedom of the Church and that you pledged yourself to do so, but broke your promises. I pointed out that it was Stephen who violated that freedom, when he arrested the bishops, and that it was he, himself, who invited you to come to England to supplant him.’ He sighed. ‘I am afraid it was to no avail. Henry has told all those who once vowed their allegiance to you that their oaths are not binding, and he is threatening excommunication for anyone who continues to support you.’
‘How many will abandon me now, with that threat hanging over them?’ she wondered.
‘Only those whose loyalty is not worth having,’ Robert responded.
Brian wrote to her, assuring her of his continuing devotion. ‘Pay no heed to Bishop Henry. He has a remarkable talent for discovering that duty points in the same direction as expediency. God will judge him accordingly in due course.’
The winter took a further toll on her health. Robert sent his physician to examine her. He diagnosed an excess of yellow bile and recommended bleeding, but that left her weaker than ever. She had one consolation. Rumour had it that Stephen had also been seriously ill and close to death. With the arrival of spring, she began to recover and early in Lent she summoned all her chief advisers to a council in Devizes. It had become increasingly clear that the losses they suffered at Winchester had not been recouped.
‘If we are to have any chance to reclaiming the throne for our royal lady,’ Robert said, ‘we must have reinforcements, and I can think of only one way of finding them.’ He turned to her. ‘We must appeal to your husband, madam. He is well established in Normandy now. Is it not time he lent you some support?’
She sighed. The same thought had been in her mind for some time, but she was reluctant to make the attempt. ‘We can try, but I do not hold out much hope. Geoffrey has made it abundantly clear that he has no interest in governing England. If he thought he might become king in his own right it might be different, but I think he sees it as demeaning to be simply the husband of the Queen.’
‘Nevertheless, many of his Norman lords hold lands in this country as well. May they not be willing to persuade him?’
‘Let us put it to the test. As soon as the sea crossing is viable I will send a deputation to discuss it with him.’
Lent passed and she celebrated Easter without any response from her husband. It was Whitsun before her emissaries returned, empty handed.
‘Duke Geoffrey refuses to negotiate with us,’ one reported. ‘He said we are not men he knows and he will only discuss these matters with Lord Robert in person.’
‘Damn him! It’s just a delaying tactic,’ she said. Then, to Robert, ‘You will have to go to him.’
‘I don’t like leaving you. Suppose Stephen decides to make an attack while I am away?’
‘He is still weak from his illness. We shall be safe for a while yet.’
‘Just the same … Can we not send someone else?’
‘I know my husband. Once he has made up his mind to something, nothing will change it. I do not understand why he is so determined that it has to be you, but if we want his help we will have to comply with his wishes. The sooner you leave, the sooner we will have his answer.’
Robert sailed from Wareham at the end of June, taking with him several family members of the earls who had transferred their allegiance t
o her since the battle of Lincoln, as surety for their continued loyalty. The weather seemed fair but that night a storm broke. She knelt in her bedroom and listened to the roaring of the wind, and prayed that God would bring her brother safely to harbour. With him gone she felt very much alone. Miles was in Gloucester and Brian in Wallingford. Humphrey de Bohan had negotiated his ransom and once again served as her steward, but he had his own estates at Trowbridge to administer. She had her servants and her ladies-in-waiting, including Hawise, who against all odds reached Gloucester safely, but she had never cared much for the company of women.
At last a messenger brought news from France. Robert wrote that several of his ships were wrecked but two of them made port, carrying him and his small band of household knights with their horses and equipment. Encouraging as this was, his next words made her stamp her foot with anger.
Your husband the Duke has made conditions for his assistance. There are several Norman lords who refuse to submit and hand over their castles to him. He wishes me to remain in Normandy and help him to reduce them. Only then will he consider sending the men we need. It seems I have no choice but to agree.
‘I might have known!’ she said aloud. ‘Geoffrey’s only concern is establishing his power in Normandy. He knows Robert is an able commander and he has deliberately inveigled him over there to help him. Who knows how long it will take to bring those recalcitrant vassals to heel?’
Another devastating blow followed soon after. Stephen had recovered and had attacked Wareham and stormed the castle. Without it they had no port for ships crossing the Channel. Communication with Robert in Normandy was now impossible.
She decided to return to Oxford, her safest stronghold. Robert d’Oilly still acted as her castellan there and though he originally supported Stephen, he had proved himself trustworthy. On her arrival, however, it disturbed her to see that he seemed to have aged since he came to her at Reading. He had a troublesome cough, which he tried unsuccessfully to suppress. His wife, Edith, was clearly worried about him, but he brushed her concerns aside.
As soon as she and her entourage had settled in, she called him to her. ‘Since Stephen has taken the field again we must assume that he does not intend to stop at Wareham. There is no knowing where he may decide to strike next, but until Lord Robert returns from Normandy we cannot raise a sufficient force to oppose him. I do not imagine that he will attack us here in Oxford, but it is as well to be prepared. Is the castle well stocked for a possible siege?’