by Jean Plaidy
The Pope was on the side of the King of France and William’s enemies. For this reason they sought to stop the marriage through this absurd suggestion of consanguinity.
And Matilda? Matilda would doubtless have heard of the Pope’s decision. He was afraid. He did not know her well enough to assess her reaction. Quickly she had decided she would have him for her husband. Could she as quickly decide against it? One thing he had learned about Matilda. The decision would lie with her, not with her father.
He must see her without delay. He set out for Lille.
She was delighted to see him.
She embraced him. How exciting she was, how unexpected. No coy looks from under golden lashes, no reluctance. That was not Matilda’s way.
‘I could not wait to inform your father of my arrival,’ he said.
‘Nay. It is enough that you have come.’
‘I have had disquieting news from the Pope.’
‘The old fool!’ said Matilda. ‘He is saying that we are cousins. Six times removed! Have you ever heard such nonsense?’
‘I feared you might not see it as such.’
‘You feared! And I thought I was to marry a man who knew no fear!’
‘The only fear he knows is that he might lose you.’
‘Come, my lord, you know full well what you would do if I showed signs of taking heed of this fool’s pronouncement.’
‘Carry you off by force.’
‘It is what I would expect of you.’
‘So we go ahead with our marriage plans even though this may mean excommunication for us both?’
‘Even so, my lord.’
‘You are the most wonderful woman in the world.’
‘Remember that only the most wonderful man in the world is worthy of me.’
William rode back to Rouen.
‘To the devil with the Pope,’ he said to his mother. ‘To the devil with the King of France. To the devil with Mauger and all my enemies. What care I for them when I have Matilda?’
The Pope’s threat of excommunication was recognized for what it was by the Duke’s enemies.
To have made the very distant connection of Matilda and William the reason for it was seen as the insubstantial pretext it was. What it did mean was that William’s enemies were men of influence and that these men did not wish to see his position strengthened by alliance with Flanders.
It was the signal for revolt throughout Normandy. William must perforce, if he were going to keep a firm grip on his ducal crown, indulge in lengthy conflicts. Instead of marriage there must be battle and months had to be spent besieging the castles of those who rose against him.
His ancestors had scattered their illegitimate offspring rather liberally throughout the Duchy and the opinion of the descendants of these men was if one bastard could wear the ducal crown why not another?
One of these was William Busac, whose grandfather had been Richard the Fearless and because of the connection was in possession of a fine castle and lands. He led a revolt which resulted in a siege of his castle and this kept William occupied for months when he would have preferred to make arrangements for his marriage. Much as he longed to make Matilda his wife he could not do this if, by neglecting to protect his possessions, he had become a Duke without lands.
To add to his difficulties, the Pope had threatened to excommunicate Baldwin if he allowed his daughter to marry the Duke of Normandy.
Even Matilda could not persuade her father to allow the marriage to be celebrated with the threat of excommunication hanging over him. She might storm and rage but all he would do was shake his head sadly.
‘We must find a way out of this,’ he said. ‘But we must wait . . . wait until we have.’
Matilda fumed, but in any case she knew that William was fiercely engaged in defending his dukedom, and all she could do was wait. Strangely enough she found consolation in her needlework. It soothed her to work her stitches depicting the scenes from her life.
She was at her work one day, her ears strained for arrivals because she always hoped that William would come unexpectedly, when there was a shout from below and hurrying down the stone stairs to the hall she saw that a party of travellers had arrived.
To her amazement there was Judith with her husband Tostig and an older man of commanding appearance.
Matilda called to her father and they ran down to the courtyard.
Judith threw herself sobbing into her father’s arms.
‘There there, my love,’ said Baldwin. ‘There has been trouble, has there not, and you and Tostig have come to me for refuge? You did right to come home, my love.’
‘Father, we had perforce to flee. This is my father-in-law, the Earl of Godwin.’
Matilda studied this man, whose name was well known throughout the whole of Flanders. The Earl of Godwin, son of a cowherd who had become a kingmaker, and who, she had heard, was King of England in all but name.
‘Welcome,’ said Baldwin, and he took them into the palace.
Chambers were prepared; the scullions were set to prepare meat. The visitors must be refreshed before they told their story.
Matilda was excited. She was exhilarated by drama and such was her nature that she preferred even tragic happenings, no matter what they might involve, to the boring routine of the day. Chafing as she was against the delay of her marriage, she thrilled to the story her sister had to unfold.
There was one fact which she stored away in her mind. William had said to her: ‘It may well be, Matilda, that I shall make you not only Duchess of Normandy but also Queen of England!’
Queen of England! Ever since she had thought a great deal about that. She imagined Brihtric’s thoughts when he realized that the woman he had insulted was his Queen. Beware, little Saxon, she said to herself. I shall not forget that day if you do.
The fact that she now laughed to scorn that girl who had thought she could marry the feeble Saxon and delighted in the fact that her affianced husband was a mighty man who would have been debarred from her had Brihtric accepted her proposal and her father indulged her wishes in it, did not make her forget the humiliation he had caused her; and the thought of being his Queen gave a delightful satisfaction.
Why should William not be King of England? He was connected with the family through Emma of Normandy, and Edward the Confessor was fond of him and had made this suggestion.
Matilda knew who would stand in the way: this man Godwin.
And here he was at the Court of Flanders. Life was exciting even though the rebels and his dukedom and the Pope were keeping her and William apart.
She learned as everyone in the palace did that Godwin had quarrelled with Edward and that his cause was just – as told by Godwin. But she believed that in women’s gossip it might be easier to get at the root of the matter.
She said it should be her task to care for her sister and they would go to the sewing room and find solace, as they always had, in their tapestry.
She dismissed their women; they would sort out their skeins themselves and she would tell Judith about the forces which were keeping her and William apart and Judith would tell her about affairs in England.
Tostig was a good husband, but inclined to be wild.
‘I liked him,’ said Matilda. ‘Nor would you want a dullard for a husband, Judith. My Lord Godwin must have been a fine man when he was younger.’
‘He is said to be the cleverest man in England.’
‘Not clever enough to stop himself being exiled by old Edward! Tell me about Edward, Judith. What a strange man! Is it true that he has never taken his wife to his bed?’
‘True indeed. He made a vow of celibacy.’
‘She is your sister-in-law, this Editha.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what manner of woman?’
‘Beautiful, learned and good.’
Matilda grimaced. ‘I would never allow a husband to treat me as Edward treats her.’
‘You would, perforce, if your husband were Ed
ward. Now she is in disgrace and has been sent to a monastery.’
‘There she will learn to be as pious as her husband. William knew this Edward years ago when he was a boy.’
‘Yes, Edward was many years in Normandy. Therein lies the heart of the trouble. Edward is more Norman than English. The fashions have become Norman. They never wear the long Saxon cloaks now; it is always the short Norman mantle with the wide sleeves. They say that if you wish to ask a favour of Edward you must ask it in the Norman tongue. It is spoken at Court. It is the fashionable language.’
‘I thought King Edward did not care for fashion.’
‘Nor does he. He will have nothing finer than lambskin to line his coats. My father-in-law and Tostig line theirs with sable, beaver and fox. He said it is well for such people who are skilled in the artifices of the world to wear the skins of cunning animals but he is a plain and artless man.’
‘He is too pious to be a good king.’
‘The people think highly of his saintliness.’
‘Bah, Saxons!’ said Matilda, thinking of Brihtric. ‘Now tell me of this quarrel between your father-in-law and the King.’
‘Although the King is admired for his saintliness there are many who deplore his preference for Normans. Why, Matilda, many of the high offices of the land are in Norman hands.’
‘Which does not please Father Godwin.’
‘It was my father-in-law who sent for Edward. His support made him King.’
‘And now there has been this quarrel.’
‘Of course many of the lords are jealous of my father-in-law. And because the King has no children he will have no son to follow him.’
‘Who will do that?’ asked Matilda quietly.
‘Clearly it should be one of my father-in-law’s sons.’
‘Tostig, for instance.’
‘Why not?’
‘So, my sister, you fancy yourself Queen of England?’
‘Tostig would be a good king, such as the country needs.’
‘A country always needs a good strong king . . . and queen.’
But not you, Judith, she thought. My William, not your Tostig, should be king of that land and I its queen, not you.
She must curb her tongue. She must discover all and betray nothing. Thus she could best serve William and herself.
‘Tell me again of this quarrel.’
‘You have heard of it already.’
‘Not the intimate details. And, Judith, you tell the story to me far better than your father-in-law does to our father.’
‘It is the fault of those Normans. You know it was when Eustace of Boulogne visited England with his wife.’
‘Who was Edward’s sister, was she not?’
‘Yes. He landed at Dover and thereupon behaved as though he were the feudal lord. He and his followers went through the town, deciding where they would lodge and forced their way into the chosen houses and insisted that the owners therein treat them as honoured guests.’
‘When they had no will to!’
‘Why should they behave as servingmen and women to the intruders who ordered their servants to cook for them, who turned the masters of the houses from their beds and took their pleasure from their wives and daughters. Would you expect the English to stand aside and suffer that?’
‘Indeed not.’
‘And as you can imagine it was not long before the intruders were attacked, many killed and a battle broke out in the streets of Dover. The citizens were victorious and nineteen of the intruders were killed and many more wounded. Count Eustace escaped and went with all speed to Gloucester where Edward was staying, leading his monastic life, and there told him a false tale of how the men of Dover had risen against the visitors.’
‘Which he believed.’
‘He would always believe a Norman rather than an Englishman.’
‘And he ordered Earl Godwin to take troops to Dover to teach the citizens a lesson. Is that so?’
‘It is, and Earl Godwin refused to take up arms against his own countrymen.’
‘Moreover,’ put in Matilda, ‘he was already complaining about the King’s preference for Normans.’
‘Rightly so,’ said Judith warmly. ‘He told the King that he would protect his fellow countrymen against foreigners, not chastise them for defending their rights.’
‘And the King?’
‘He had other matters to occupy his mind at that time. There was trouble on the Welsh border. Therefore he could but fall in with Earl Godwin’s wishes.’
‘For which the people of Dover were grateful.’
‘They are loyal to the Earl and they know the King to be a weak man.’
‘Yet he is here now . . . in exile.’
‘Earl Godwin has explained what happened. A few years after the citizens of Dover had taken up arms against Eustace and his men, the latter came back and behaved in exactly the same way. The King believed the story Eustace told him and this time ordered Earl Godwin to take his soldiers into the town and punish the people.’
‘And again he refused.’
‘Rightly so,’ said Judith hotly. ‘Should he raise his arms against his own people in favour of Normans?’
‘It was his King’s wish that he should.’
‘You are being perverse, Matilda. Because you have affianced yourself to a Norman you are like King Edward. You wish to hear no ill of them.’
‘It is not so. But should not subjects obey their kings?’
‘Earl Godwin is no ordinary subject.’
‘Nay, so I learn. But tell me more.’
‘Instead of attacking Dover, Earl Godwin raised an army and marched on Gloucester where the King was; his intention being to warn the King that he would not allow the Normans to ravage our citizens’ homes. Edward called in two of our greatest earls, Leofric and Siward, and they sided with him against Earl Godwin.’
‘Why should they do this?’ asked Matilda.
‘Because they are jealous of Godwin. They would like to be in his place.’
‘They would not wish it now,’ said Matilda with a touch of malice.
‘It is a tragedy,’ declared Judith. ‘We have been betrayed. The country was on the point of civil war and do you doubt who would have been the victor if it had come to this?’
‘Your Godwin, I doubt not.’
‘But it was decided to take the matter before the Witan. Edward meanwhile was amassing an army and he had put Normans in charge of it. It was clear that his attack was going to be aimed at us and our family. Our property was confiscated and our only hope was to escape. Naturally I came home.’
‘And brought your new family with you. My poor Judith, I am sorry for you.’
‘And I for you, Matilda. I hear they will never allow your marriage to take place. Perhaps it is as well. A Norman, Matilda! Think what the Normans have done to us. You should be thankful that the Pope has intervened.’
Matilda was about to tell her sister that no one was going to stop her marriage to William of Normandy and that neither he nor she were the sort of people to allow others to dictate their actions. When they made up their minds they wanted something, they were going to have it.
But looking at her sister and thinking of all she had told her and of her involvement with the Godwins, who, Matilda knew, had their eyes on the throne of England, she decided that discretion was more becoming and remained silently plying her needle.
William rode to Lille. The manner in which he visited his betrothed was unorthodox, but Baldwin had grown accustomed to that.
Matilda was so happy after one of his visits that she would be contented for days after; and as, poor child, she was being denied what he knew she earnestly wanted, her father felt a certain amount of licence must be allowed.
William sent a message to Matilda that he would soon be with her and in view of the fact that there were visitors at the palace he wished to see her alone.
This appealed to Matilda and she was waiting for him.
‘Come
,’ she said. ‘None know you are here. Has something happened?’
‘Something of the utmost importance. Edward has invited me to visit England.’
She caught her breath. ‘It is because Godwin and his family are here.’
She delighted him. There was so little he had to explain to her. She followed his train of thought; and she was for him as no one except his mother had ever been before.
‘Why does he wish to see you? Do you think it is for the same reason as I think?’
‘He is getting old,’ said William.
‘And he has no successor. He loves the Normans. They say he is more Norman than English.’
‘It is what I think.’
‘If he made you his successor would the English accept you?’
‘They would be obliged to, if I took the crown.’
‘You must go without delay, William.’
‘Would I could take you with me.’
‘You will one day. You will take me as your Queen.’
‘I swear it. And when I return from England, Matilda, we will be married. No matter what obstacles are put in our way.’
‘I swear it with you, William of Normandy,’ she said; and she added: ‘King of England.’
How different was this old man from the beautiful fair-haired blue-eyed young one whom William had known. Edward had aged beyond his years. His hair was truly white now; his beautiful blue eyes misty; his garments were plain and the thin ascetic mien of a monk had become accentuated.
He embraced William warmly and told him how he would never forget the hospitality he had enjoyed from his father.
‘Those were happy days when Alfred and I lived in Jumièges among the monks.’
‘It was there that your taste for the monastic life was formed,’ said William.
He was surprised at the spartan manner in which Edward lived, although he had heard much of his habits. He ate sparingly – certainly not a Norman custom – and he spent a great deal of time at prayer.
William told him that while he was in England he wanted to see something of the country.
‘We shall arrange for you to make a tour,’ said Edward.