It was Stephen who spoke first.
‘Cousin Matilda, I can’t say I’m delighted to see you. But were circumstances different, I would of course be thrilled –’
Robert, still infuriated with his behaviour, rounded on him.
‘Behave yourself, man! You are defeated, and you’re in the presence of your future Queen. Show some dignity!’
‘Don’t talk to me about dignity, Robert of Gloucester! What do traitors know of dignity?’
Maud commanded them both to be quiet.
‘Enough! I will not have men bickering like boys in a nursery! Stephen, you treated me well when you came to Arundel. I will make you the same offer now: safe passage to your brother, Theobald, in Blois, if you relinquish the throne to me. Otherwise, you will languish here – not to “feel my wrath”, as you so elegantly put it to me at Arundel, but at my pleasure. You will be confined, as Robert Curthose was by my father, for the rest of your life.’
Stephen started to laugh.
‘That is an empty threat. My supporters still hold the Treasury at Winchester, and all the earldoms east of Oxford. London will not turn against me. Make the threat again when you’re Queen.’
He continued to jeer and taunt as Maud ordered him to be taken away. As soon as he had gone, she turned to Earl Robert.
‘Please, take him to Bristol, I don’t want him here. But hear me clearly: I want him to be well treated. I want him fed and clothed appropriately and confined in a secure chamber befitting his status, with a garderobe, not in a filthy dungeon. He is to be given a fire, candles, books and vellum – and servants, as necessary.’
Maud sounded like a monarch, as was her birthright. But Robert began to argue.
‘Matilda –’
‘That is my name when we are together as friends, in private. This is a matter of the realm; my title is “ma’am”.’
Robert bristled, but he knew Maud was right.
‘Very well, ma’am. But if I may, perhaps I can make a plea regarding the defence of the realm?’
‘Of course.’
‘Order his execution, ma’am –’
‘I won’t hear of it!’
‘While he lives, he’s a threat. As he said, there are Winchester and London to win. And then you have to be crowned by Theodore of Bec, Archbishop of Canterbury, if your coronation is to be recognized by the English magnates – and he’s Stephen’s man.’
‘Stephen’s man! He’ll turn to me when he knows he has to. I will not have my cousin executed, and be accused of cold-blooded murder.’
‘He has committed treason! He usurped your throne and, as you have said, probably had your father poisoned. He deserves to die.’
‘Would you say that of my father? He also grabbed the throne when Rufus died. I’m content that I now have the crown within my grasp. Let Stephen fester in Bristol for a while.’
Then Maud made a statement that took me by surprise, though it was probably a wise thing to say to her closest supporters.
‘I hear my relationship with Hal is the subject of much speculation, and that Stephen made lewd accusations about our friendship at Lincoln. Let me say this to all of you in private; it is a state of affairs that I am happy is known to those close to me. But after I have made the position clear, it need no longer be the subject of rumour and innuendo. Count Geoffrey and I have lived apart for many years. Hal has become my closest friend and taken my children under his wing, as well as taking charge of my own happiness and welfare. I would like it to be known that I am very happy with that arrangement.’
The others nodded their understanding.
I smiled at her carefully chosen words. My clandestine life was no longer a secret – at least, not from those close to Maud – which meant I could have a more honest relationship with our children. The dilemma of their paternity remained – an issue that would have to be dealt with at some point in the future – but for now, I was content with Maud’s declaration and impatient to complete her capture of the throne.
Fulham Palace, 29 September 1187
Dear Thibaud,
It is the feast of St Michael and All Angels today and I managed to make it to St Paul’s to say mass. I have been feeling better these past few days; the mild weather has helped. Today is Saturday, but I don’t think I will return to St Paul’s tomorrow; that will be too much for my present state of health. We will have a quiet mass here, and invite the local clergy to celebrate it with us. One must tend one’s flock!
We are drawing near to the end of Harold’s story. You will find it fascinating to hear how easily fortunes change; there is much intrigue and plotting, and it saddens me to see so many actions that are motivated by greed and avarice. I fear this is a salutary lesson for us all.
I’m afraid that as I approach the end of this tale, my output is slowing down. Apart from rare excursions like today, I am now almost bedridden and not much use to my flock. The autumn is already beginning to bite hard. I think this may be the last time I will see those glorious autumn colours.
My only incentive now is to complete what I have started. Please pray to God that I am able to do so.
Yours in God,
Gilbert
30. Treachery
Leaving Stephen under Earl Robert’s watchful eye in Bristol, I escorted Maud to Winchester to negotiate with Henry, Bishop of Winchester. As Stephen’s younger brother, the holder of the keys to the Royal Treasury, the Pope’s legate in England and the most powerful cleric in the land, he was vital to our cause.
We met him on 2 March 1141, the Feast of St Chad of Mercia, as he duly reminded us when we met. It was a tense encounter, held in a meadow outside the village of Wherwell, ten miles north of the burgh. Ever the pragmatist, Henry wanted to be Maud’s primary link to the ecclesiastical establishment of England, a position that would grant him immense power – even more than he had already. He also insisted that he be installed at Canterbury when the time was right.
Maud bristled openly; she was very reluctant to concede, arguing that he was dictating terms to her. But I persuaded her to acquiesce, for the time being.
It was a hard bargain but, in return, Bishop Henry gave her a ceremonial welcome into Winchester the next day, swore his allegiance to her in public, opened up the Royal Treasury and handed her the keys. She was also given the royal crown known as ‘Edward’s Crown’, worn by her forebears reaching back to her ancestor, King Edward. It incorporated jewels set in the ancient crown of Alfred the Great, eight generations earlier in England’s royal lineage.
Maud was now halfway to the throne: she had Stephen under guard, and the Treasury was hers. She still needed the support of London, and a coronation at Westminster. But it seemed that her destiny, and mine, would be fulfilled.
In addition, I received an unexpected windfall at Winchester. When King Henry had made me an earl in Rouen – in an agreement that seemed to have been sealed a lifetime ago – he granted me lands in the north, in Barnsdale and Loxley Chase, and a large hunting forest called Sherwood, south of Worksop. To my amazement, the dutiful clerks in the King’s Exchequer had been diligently collecting the income from my holdings. The Pipe Rolls for the last ten years recorded that I was owed almost 200 pounds of silver – not quite enough to pay the ransom on a king’s head, but enough to live for many years with all the trappings of wealth.
Maud agreed that the silver should go to Fulk of Falaise in Argentan – to be kept as a discreet nest egg for the future – and Otto and Berenger were immediately despatched to ensure its safe delivery.
We moved to Oxford, while Bishop Henry called a Great Council of the Church at Winchester to debate the succession. At the Great Council, Henry delivered on his prom
ise. In front of the entire ecclesiastical hierarchy of the kingdom, he issued a declaration.
While I should love my mortal brother, he has won nothing but hatred, and therefore, I should esteem far more highly the cause of my immortal father. Our kingdom cannot stumble along without a ruler and therefore we choose as Lady of England and Normandy the daughter of a King who brought us peace, and we promise her faith and support.
They were powerful words. As soon as we heard the news, we set out for London. At Wilton we were welcomed by Theobald of Bec, Archbishop of Canterbury, and a huge gathering of cheering crowds. There were also rapturous welcomes at Reading and St Albans, and every day messages arrived from magnates all over the land declaring their loyalty to ‘Matilda, Lady of the English’. It was a blissful time, during which we were carried along on a wave of euphoria.
Maud was dressed in the clothes she had worn on her march through Normandy and looked like a fairy-tale queen. Her red velvet cape gleamed in the bright sunlight and her winning smile could easily be seen through the fine white silk veil draped from her wimple. A pristine cream kirtle hugged her womanly figure, bringing gasps of admiration from the crowd. She rode side-saddle and waved regally to the hundreds who had come out to see her pass. I had returned the Talisman to her and it sat neatly between her breasts; every now and then it caught a beam of sunlight and flashed like a beacon, signalling a new beginning for our beloved homeland. I thought back to the story my mother had told me many times about the moment when a beam of light had illuminated the Talisman in the Chapel of St Etheldreda after the end of the Siege of Ely – a moment that had saved my grandfather’s life. He would have been a very proud man if he could have witnessed the scenes that greeted us – as would everyone else in my family, and all those who had died for England’s cause.
At St Albans we had met with several of the burgesses of London, who outlined their plans for a ceremonial procession into the burgh through the ancient gate at Aldgate. The route would take us past King William’s mighty tower and on to Westminster via Ludgate.
Maud’s entry into London was a memorable occasion. England had never had a reigning Queen before, and I knew of none in any other land. But the people of London – Norman and Englishman alike – cheered and cried out their approval. Perhaps the ruling Normans, always realists, accepted her through shrewd calculation. But for the downtrodden English, she was seen as their saviour – the embodiment of the brave King Harold and all their Cerdician kings stretching back to Alfred the Great.
When she later entered the Great Hall of Westminster, all the clerks and officials of government were lined up to greet her. To one side stood the monarch’s private household, all hoping to be renewed in the roles they had held for Stephen. There were also more than two dozen nobles from all corners of the realm. Everyone present was warm in their welcome and fulsome in their praise.
But almost all also had a pressing need, an axe to grind, or a bargain they would like to strike.
Maud’s work as Queen began early the next morning. It was not a new experience for her – she had acted as regent for her first husband – but the volume of business to be dealt with was colossal. Stephen had been an absentee King for years and the anarchy across the realm had suspended efficient government in all but a few centres of royal power. All supplicants were impatient, and the years of turmoil had created a widespread mood of antagonism and bickering.
By dusk, Maud was exhausted. But the business of the day was still not over; a deputation of burgesses from London were due to dine with the Queen that evening. Maud invited me to join them for supper.
The gathering of the rich and powerful of London did not go well. The burgesses were overtly humble to the point of being obsequious, and Maud charmed them as only she could, but they soon raised the serious business they wished to discuss. Crucially, they wanted Maud to acknowledge Stephen’s decision to grant London commune status and to reaffirm the tax concessions that went with it.
Maud trod carefully, but she was firm with them.
‘Gentlemen, I appreciate that no one likes to pay tax, but the Treasury at Winchester is bare. Stephen tried to win popularity by giving concessions while, at the same time, he spent all his reserves laying siege to his opponents and paying an army of mercenaries to fight his battles. My priority is to bring peace and to refill the coffers of the kingdom.’
The burgesses’ main spokesman was a merchant called Osbert Eightpence. His name and his appearance suggested he was an Englishman, but in fact he was the son of a Norman from Rouen, who had changed his name from ‘Huitdeniers’. Nevertheless, his cleverness and his silky tongue were not in doubt.
‘Ma’am, we understand the task you face. Perhaps if you were to put your financial affairs in the hands of your Chamberlain, it would relieve you of a great burden? We could then discuss the matter with him.’
It was not clear whether he meant the insult calculatingly, or perhaps he had not realized how condescending he was being, but the effect was the same. I tried to catch Maud’s eye, but I was too late. She nodded in the direction of her Chamberlain, who was sitting close to her at the huge oak table of Westminster’s Great Hall.
‘Sir, my financial affairs are already in the hands of my Chamberlain. He is here with me; you know him well. If you’re suggesting that finance is a matter better dealt with by a man, then you do not know me.’
‘Forgive me, ma’am, I was not suggesting anything of the sort, merely offering you a solution to the dilemma you face. Would it not be wiser for you to concentrate on showing yourself to your subjects across the realm? They love you dearly, and thus you may bring unity to us all as Lady of the English.’
He was playing her like a fish, and he had her hooked. I managed to catch her eye, but it was to no avail.
‘So you suggest I parade around the realm like a court jester? And while I’m making an exhibition of myself, you run London and get richer than you are already, while the kingdom is on its knees!’
Osbert backed away and bowed. He appeared to be chastened, but I am sure he knew he had won an important victory. Maud then made matters much worse.
‘Gentlemen, I am revoking London’s status as a commune. You will pay the same taxes as everybody else.’
Maud pushed back her chair and stood bolt upright. It was the signal for the end of the meeting; the richest commoners in England trudged away muttering to themselves.
Later that night, I tried to reason with her.
‘You are not their Queen yet. Treat them like your subjects when they are your subjects, but not until then.’
‘So now you are telling me what to do!’
‘I am giving you advice.’
‘That’s what that spineless little merchant was trying to do! The burgesses are trying to extract the maximum benefit for themselves before I’m crowned. But if I concede, I’ll never rule this land as a woman. I am my father’s daughter and the granddaughter of William the Bastard. He wouldn’t have stood for it, and neither will I!’
In many ways I agreed with her. But I could sense dangerous times ahead; we were in unknown territory, and danger was part of our chosen path.
For the next few weeks, earls supplicated themselves, seeking more land, barons sought earldoms, knights begged for baronies, and countless others came to make demands or bring offers of ‘advice’. Maud grew tired of it all, saying often, ‘If I’m kind to someone, it proves that a woman doesn’t have the fortitude to rule. If I’m firm with somebody, I’m a harridan, arrogant and not worthy of my sex!’
I felt so sorry for her; she was trapped by her womanhood. Fate had made her Empress and Queen – but her peers wanted her to be a consort, not a monarch.
One
evening, when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed, she speculated with me on possible solutions.
‘Would they accept Geoffrey as Regent?’
‘I doubt it; he would need at least a little Norman or English blood.’
‘What about you?’
I smiled at her.
‘You mean, rule together? Wouldn’t that be wonderful! But it must remain a dream. I am a commoner, my title is a contrivance, and there are too many skeletons hidden away. I am content that young Henry will rule this kingdom after us. In the meantime, you must stay strong; I will do all I can to help you.’
In late May 1141, Bishop Henry appeared at Westminster with Stephen’s wife, Countess Mathilde of Boulogne. They had two petitions. Firstly, that Stephen be released into Henry’s custody at Winchester. And secondly, that Stephen and Mathilde’s eldest son, Eustace, a boy of twelve – almost four years older than our son Henry – be recognized as Maud’s legitimate heir.
Maud behaved impeccably towards Mathilde and was as polite as she could be in hearing both petitions. But instead of buying time until the coronation by saying she would think about them, she refused the first on the grounds that Stephen had proved he could not be trusted, and the second on the basis that Henry was her heir and that she intended to remove Eustace from the line of succession altogether. Needless to say, neither Henry nor Mathilde was overjoyed at the outcome.
Both suggestions were of course preposterous, but they were clearly part of a plan that seemed to be well orchestrated and deliberate. Although I did not reveal my worst fears to Maud, I despatched Otto and Berenger to Bristol with a note for Earl Robert. The message was simple, saying that he would soon receive an invitation to the coronation. However, I directed him to come as soon as possible and bring a body of men with him to protect the Queen against any dissenters.
Earl Robert appeared in the middle of June with a large corps of knights, which took Matilda by surprise.
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