‘My priority is here. What would they think of me in Normandy if I hurried away to England when the south is in uproar?’
She made a strong case, but I knew how important it was to get to Westminster to claim the throne and the loyalty of London, and to secure the Treasury at Winchester.
‘Maud, England is the biggest prize – your birthright.’
‘Both England and Normandy are my birthright!’
She looked at me sternly. For the first time, she was speaking not as Maud, my lover, but as Matilda, my Queen.
I did not feel cowed by her comment, but I respected it. I looked at the Talisman around her neck. It caught the light streaming in through the window of Rouen’s ducal palace, and I knew that a new chapter in my life had begun.
‘To the south it is! I will tell the Constable to prepare the garrison.’
‘Good, and tell him that you will command the garrison.’
‘Very well, Your Grace.’
I used her title without mockery. Our lives had changed.
Fulham Palace, 15 July 1187
My dear Thibaud,
Thank you for the latest information from Rome. I also appreciate your prayers for my health.
I believe Our Lord is listening to you; I am feeling much better. You obviously have His ear. I fear He ignores me – I hope it doesn’t mean I have too much time in Purgatory to come.
Anyway, back to Harold and his compelling tale. So, the old King is dead. I remember his reign; we were all terrified of him, but I suppose he brought peace and prosperity. It is strange to think that we now live in the reign of his namesake and grandson all these years later. But although this Henry is just as firm in his rule, he is a much better man.
We now approach the events that shook England to its foundations. Even though it was half a lifetime ago, the memories were still vivid for me even before I heard Harold’s story.
It was difficult to hear it all again: so much ambition; so much greed; so much suffering. I confess, Harold’s words made me weep at the loss of so many of England’s finest young men.
Yours in God,
Gilbert
25. Betrayal
Events moved at a frightening pace over the next few weeks, but not in the direction we had planned.
The first omen of problems ahead came immediately. When I went to Henry de Pomeroy, the Constable at Rouen, to mobilize the garrison, he was polite but unhelpful.
‘I can give you three hundred men, but no more.’
‘But the Duchess orders it –’
‘I’m sorry, Earl Harold, but she is not the anointed Duchess yet.’
‘But it was the King’s wish – and oaths have been sworn.’
A tall dignified man, an old warrior and a man of honour, he looked uncomfortable.
‘Take the squadrons I’ve offered you. I shouldn’t even offer those, because whoever becomes Duke will not be happy.’
‘Explain yourself, man!’
‘I leave for Lisieux in the morning. All the lords of Normandy are meeting there to discuss the succession.’
‘Then we will go with you.’
‘That may not be wise.’
‘Then we will make it “wise”.’
‘The Empress Matilda is not invited. She will not find any support.’
‘And what of the oaths to the King?’
‘The King is dead.’
‘Will the twelve squadrons you’re offering be loyal to her?’
‘I don’t know. Things are moving too quickly for me. There is fighting all over the Dukedom – it’s just like when old King William died. An iron glove has no power if there’s no fist in it. I’m an old campaigner, and this is a young man’s game. I’m sorry.’
I rushed back to Maud.
‘You have been betrayed. There is to be a council in Lisieux to choose a new duke.’
‘But not a new duchess?’
‘No, the magnates are renouncing their oaths.’
‘Then we must put a stop to it, impose my authority!’
‘We have no men. Hugh de Pomeroy will give us three hundred, but he’s reluctant even to do that. There’s mayhem everywhere. Let’s go to the coast and escort your father’s body home to England. That will confirm the succession.’
She looked furious for a moment, and I realized I had not calculated the effect of my words. But she soon rallied and accepted the changed circumstances.
‘Agreed. It seems I am now required to admit that you were right after all!’
We travelled with only a small retinue: one groom, two stewards and two maids. Maud had made Greta a lady-in-waiting, so had her own maid in addition. Besides Eadmer and myself, our only armed men were Otto and Berenger. It was not the sort of entourage we had expected to accompany us on our first journey through Normandy after King Henry’s death.
The King’s funeral cortège, accompanied by several of Normandy’s leaders, had reached Caen, but there were no favourable winds in the Channel for the crossing. The body, which by then was the source of odours and discharges foul enough to turn a man’s stomach, was kept in the choir of the Cathedral of St Étienne. By the time the winds turned, several weeks had passed, Christmas had come and gone, and none of Normandy’s worthies was prepared to make the crossing with the rotting corpse.
But Matilda did not hesitate.
‘I will take my father’s body home.’
She turned to the monks of St Étienne.
‘Will you help me?’
‘We will, Your Grace.’
They were the first and only men to refer to Maud as their Duchess.
‘Thank you, we leave on tomorrow’s tide.’
It was not a journey any of us was looking forward to. The Channel north of Caen was at its widest; it would be a long crossing. However, later that evening, catastrophic news arrived, which not only dealt a hammer blow to Maud’s already damaged chances of becoming the Duchess of Normandy, but also to the likelihood of her becoming Queen of England.
It arrived in the form of a breathless monk in the service of William of Corbeil, Archbishop of Canterbury. He had a personal message for Hugh of Amiens – Archbishop of Rouen and the man in charge of the King’s funeral bier. Hugh summoned us to St Étienne to hear the monk’s message.
Stephen of Blois, Maud’s cousin – the son of Maud’s elder sister, Adela – had happened to be in Boulogne when the King died and, within days, had crossed the Channel with a small retinue of knights. He was in London only two days later and immediately agreed to grant it commune status to match many of the large trading capitals of Europe. He also offered guarantees of trade with Boulogne and other cities in Flanders, and thus won the support of all London’s burghers and merchants. He toured the strongholds of the Norman lords and made them profuse promises. He reminded them of his grandfather, King William, who he resembled, and a wave of support for him spread far and wide. As in Normandy, lawlessness had broken out as soon as news reached England of the King’s death, and Stephen promised to restore order.
Maud turned to me.
‘This is not possible! Am I not the King’s daughter, his chosen heir?’
‘He has done what William Rufus did to Duke Robert, and what your father did when Rufus died – he has made haste to England to grab the crown.’
But the young monk’s news got even worse. Having won over London, Stephen had gone to Winchester to the Royal Treasury. There, the King’s key-holders – Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, and William Pont de l’Arche – had bowed to Stephen and handed him the keys.
Maud was shaking with anger.
‘It is an outrage! This has been planned in advance, long before my father’s death.’
Maud erupted in fury.
‘It is a conspiracy! It’s all lies; Hugh Bigod wasn’t even in Normandy!’
The Archbishop tried to calm Maud.
‘Ma’am, please, your father rests close by. Please be seated.’
Maud sat down reluctantly to hear the monk finish his message. He delivered it like an announcement from the pulpit.
‘The oath taken by Hugh Bigod convinced the nobles of the land that King Henry had chosen Stephen of Blois as his successor. On Sunday the 22nd of December 1135, the Archbishop of Canterbury crowned Stephen of Blois King of England and Duke of Normandy at Westminster Abbey.’
I thought about the good people of England. Although Stephen may well have won over the Norman lords and bishops, and indeed the prosperous English merchants, the ordinary downtrodden peasants, yeomen and artisans of England must have been heartbroken. Their ‘Lady of the English’, the great-granddaughter of Edmund Ironside, had been supplanted by a man whose odious Norman blood was diluted not by pure English blood, but by the blood of a clan from a land even more alien than Normandy. I thought about the people of Bourne, the young masons of Norwich, and all those who had hoped for a new dawn for England.
It was a wretched day for all of us.
The monk bowed to us all and made his exit, leaving us feeling that we had been struck by a thunderbolt. Maud was livid, her face white with fury.
‘Let’s talk.’
Eadmer, Greta and I followed her into the cloister of St Étienne.
‘They poisoned him! Lampreys, the easiest thing in the world to poison. Why did Stephen just happen to be in Boulogne, two domains away from his home in Blois? And Hugh Bigod’s part in this conspiracy is beyond belief.’
Maud was adamant, and I had to admit that her construction of events was credible. Her father’s death had been very sudden, and he had been making more and more enemies.
‘Maud, I know this is a body blow, but we must think carefully and develop a plan.’
‘I already have a plan; we sail for England with my father’s body in the morning. My conniving cousin will want to come to the interment, and there I will confront him.’
‘With what, my darling?’
I took her into my arms. She was rigid with anger.
‘I must have some supporters!’
‘You do, but we have to prepare – and prepare carefully – because the only way we can win the throne now is by force of arms. That means civil war. We can’t go to England now. At best, Stephen will force us to come straight back. At worst, he could send you to some godforsaken castle under lock and key – just as your father did to your uncle, Robert Curthose. You are with child, we can’t go to war with you in this condition. But that gives us time – and time is what we need.’
‘Stephen didn’t wait –’
‘But that was when the throne was vacant; for him, it was vital that he acted quickly. Now he has the throne, so we have to act slowly and carefully to build our resources, then act decisively when the time is right.’
‘So, what do you suggest we do?’
‘We have to go to Le Mans, and plan from there.’
‘Back to my husband?’
‘It’s the only place where you’ll be safe.’
Maud was quiet and thoughtful on the way back. When we reached Argentan, a massive donjon on the border of Normandy and Anjou, she decided that she would like to retreat behind its huge walls, rather than continue to Le Mans.
‘I know the Lord here, Fulk of Falaise; he’s a good man. His loyalty is to the local people – he has no strong allegiance to either Normandy or Anjou.’
I could sense that Maud wanted to withdraw from the problems she faced, at least for a while, and concentrate on her unborn child – a child that Geoffrey would know was not his. It was probably a wise decision, as it soon became apparent that Count Geoffrey was creating mayhem further south. He had begun his own war on the southern border of Normandy, laying siege to cities that he thought should be part of his realm. Maud immediately sent a messenger to request a rendezvous at Argentan.
Fulk of Falaise was a good host, and we spent the winter and spring of 1136 biding our time with him. But we were not idle: messengers constantly went to and fro in all directions, as we tried to garner support for Maud’s cause in both England and Normandy.
Count Geoffrey did not appear until the end of July 1136, about a week after Maud had given birth to our third child. It was another boy, who we named William – not a fair child this time, but a dark-skinned brunette like me. We had had three boys, each of whom seemed to represent our tribal pedigrees: a red-headed Viking-Norman, a fair-haired Saxon and a tawny Celt.
We now had a good idea who might support Maud’s cause – and it was a growing number. Every time Stephen asserted his authority and imposed his rule in either England or Normandy, he made new enemies. His was an unenviable task, but we were the beneficiaries.
In England, there were willing supporters among the barons of the south-west, East Anglia and parts of the north. The Welsh Princes could be persuaded with money and concessions, as could King David of Scotland – who was Maud’s uncle and coveted the north of England, as did all his kin.
Most importantly, we had received a coded but supportive message from the most powerful man beyond Stephen’s inner circle: Robert Earl of Gloucester, Maud’s half-brother and King Henry’s eldest son. He had been sired with Nest, the beautiful daughter of Rhys ap Tewdwr, the King of Deheubarth. Such were Robert’s stature and regard that, were it not for his illegitimacy, he would be unopposed as England’s king.
His message was succinct.
Dearest Sister,
Hold fast, timing is everything.
Your loyal brother,
Robert
In Normandy, the chaos after King Henry’s death was even greater than the disorder in England, and was made much worse by Count Geoffrey’s non-stop campaigning. Stephen had ignored the province since his dash to grab the English crown, an act that had won him no friends in the Duchy. Although Count Geoffrey’s harassments were winning us as many enemies as friends, the instability was constantly undermining Stephen’s authority.
When Maud had recovered from the birth – a delivery far less traumatic than the arrival of her second son – she called a council of war with Geoffrey. It was not the most prodigious gathering of warriors ever assembled.
Geoffrey had arrived with a small but formidable group of supporters: William Talvas, Count of Ponthieu; William, Duke of Aquitaine; Geoffrey of Vendôme; and William, son of the Count of Nevers. Nevertheless, despite the lack of warriors, Maud possessed the most important element of all in the conflict to come: her bloodline. In young Henry, now three years old and prolific in every way, she had the future King her father had always wanted and thus her rightful claim to be Queen Regent.
Significantly, all the nobles present – including the powerful Duke of Aquitaine – treated Maud with the deference appropriate to a ruling monarch.
Maud began the meeting in her most authoritative style.
‘My Lords, I am grateful to you for joining me today. Let me also thank my good friend Fulk, Lord of Falaise, for his generosity here at Argentan, where we have been very happy these past months. As you know, Stephen of Blois
has usurped my rightful inheritance, as decreed by my father, but he will not enjoy the fruits of his treason for long. Now that I am delivered of my child, my campaign will begin in earnest. I have not been idle. I will now hand over to the Earl of Huntingdon – an experienced soldier and veteran of campaigns for the Doge of Venice and in the Holy Land – who, as you know, was entrusted with my safety by my father, King Henry, may he rest in peace.’
I could sense some surprise in the room, and I felt not a little trepidation myself. But this moment had to arrive sooner or later, and I was prepared.
‘My Lords, I’m pleased to announce that His Royal Highness, King David of Scotland is preparing a force at this moment for an invasion of the north of England. That will be the opening of our campaign in England. In Normandy, my Lady Matilda requests that Count Geoffrey launches a similar campaign into the heart of Normandy. My Lady wishes to participate in the campaign in Normandy in order to show her commitment to the cause. In a second stage, my Lady would then travel to England to become the figurehead of a rising against Count Stephen. Our information is that many lords will rush to her colours as soon as she sets foot on English soil.’
After I finished, there was a brief but ominous silence. There was obvious consternation in the room: who was I to be speaking to such men?
But then Count Geoffrey got to his feet. He looked around at the assembly and then smiled broadly at his supporters, clearly relishing the prospect of what lay ahead.
‘Very well, it sounds like a sound strategy to me. When do we begin?’
I rose to respond, feeling a welcome surge of relief.
‘King David is unlikely to be ready for some time – perhaps even a year – but there is no reason why our Norman campaign can’t begin as soon as your forces are ready.’
‘I agree. We will go to our lands, get the harvests in and gather our forces for a campaign towards the end of September. Are you with us, Gentlemen?’
There was unanimous consensus around the room.
Maud was ecstatic after the meeting.
Anarchy Page 31