The Forsaken Monarch

by Amy Mantravadi

  The dead king’s body finally arrived in England just after New Year’s Day, without most of the lords who had accompanied it on its progress through Normandy. It was laid to rest at Reading Abbey with Count Stephen and his allies in attendance. As enraged as I was to think of those traitors surrounding my father’s grave when they were so clearly in violation of his wishes, I took some small comfort in the knowledge that Earl Robert remained in Normandy and did not announce his support one way or the other. My best hope was that he would remain true and take up arms against Stephen, for unlike Count Geoffrey, he had many lands and supporters in England itself.

  By the end of January 1136, I had sent for Adela, bidding Lady Agnes remain with the boys in Anjou. As much as I longed to see my sons again, I knew they would be far safer to the south. I had to be where I was for their sake, and it was not uncommon for royal mothers to be separated from their sons, but it still brought me sorrow. Sometimes when I was alone in my room, I would begin crying for no other reason than that I missed them so much.

  At least when Adela arrived, I had another friend with me. It was she who was with me when I received a rather interesting letter from across the Channel. We were sitting on the couch in that same room where Drogo had first informed me of Stephen’s treachery, enjoying the warm afternoon rays that passed through the two windows on either side of the hearth, when one of the servants came in and delivered a letter bearing a rather large seal.

  “What is it, my lady?” Adela asked, after the servant had left.

  I squinted and read the letters, which had been somewhat smeared. “It is from my uncle, the king of Scotland. I assume it is rather old, for they must have taken it the long way round to avoid Stephen’s men.”

  “Maybe it is good news!” she offered.

  I had my doubts, but as I broke the seal, I found that I could not dash that small morsel of hope that was raised within my soul. I opened the parchment and read in silence.

  To my dearest niece, Empress Maud, true heir of King Henry of England—King David of Scotland, earl of Huntingdon sends his greeting and hopes this letter will find you in good health and among better men than have falsely claimed power in London. Allow me to set your mind at ease, for I have every intention of fulfilling the oath I made to you. Already, we have invaded the north of England and seized the castles of Norham, Alnwick, Wark, Carlisle, and Newcastle without much resistance. I have with me my son, Prince Henry, and have seen to it that all the local barons swear fealty to Your Highness. We are currently camped north of Durham, though I dare not name the town, for there are spies throughout the land who wish us ill. I heard that the lords are slow to acknowledge Stephen as king, and that he is left without an army. Therefore, do not fear, for by spring we may well feast in London. May the grace of our Lord be with you always.

  “Well, that is good news indeed!” I concluded. “King David has taken much of the north of England and will march south before long. He seems to think that the lords will not lend their soldiers to Stephen, though with the amount of gold he stole, he can no doubt purchase a large force.”

  “My lady,” Adela said, “I know nothing of battle, but can an army of mercenaries truly contend with a faithful force? Might they not flee at the first sign of trouble?”

  “Not if they hope to be paid, but they may well have trouble against an army of Scotsmen. King David controls the earldom of Huntingdon by right of his late wife, and thus much of England is his already. Count Stephen will find him an able foe. If Earl Robert was to follow our uncle’s lead, then we might have a real chance! But we must not get ahead of ourselves: there is nothing certain in battle. Let us hope Count Geoffrey can get through to him, for all my messages to Robert seem to go astray. I suspect that my enemies ensure it.”

  “Very good, my lady. See, there is hope still!” she concluded, patting me on the arm.

  Sadly, our hopes for King David were to be disappointed, for only a few days after we received his letter, Drogo informed me that Stephen was gathering men from Brittany to Flanders. They met in the South of England and marched north to Durham, paying more men to join them at each stop. It is said that ten thousand men flocked to his banner.

  King David had not foreseen this, and he was forced to meet with Count Stephen and beg a truce. This peace was dearly bought, for Stephen made the king surrender the earldom of Huntingdon to his son and heir, Prince Henry. Though my uncle refused to do homage of his own accord, he was forced to allow his son to return with Stephen to York and there join his court. My poor cousin had thus become a hostage.

  The usurper did allow King David to keep the castles of Doncaster and Carlisle, but it was clearly a defeat. No one, myself included, thought that Stephen could summon so great an army so quickly. In those first months of his accursed reign, the traitor had shown a greater natural talent than he ever had in his four decades of life. I had no doubt that he was driven to it by his wife, the Countess Mathilda. She always made mischief as a child, and both she and her mother had coveted the throne. It made me ill to think that the crown that ought to have been placed on the heads of myself and my descendants would soon adorn her raven tresses.

  Perhaps she has nothing but gray hairs now, I hoped.

  So the month of February began badly, and it ended even worse. Between the two of them, Count Geoffrey of Anjou and Count William of Ponthieu had apparently made enemies of anyone and everyone. They were accused of behaving like brutes by the people of Normandy, who saw them as naught but foreign invaders. They achieved little by moving north, and then were forced to retreat anyway when a rebellion sprung up in Anjou, no doubt in response to the count’s absence.

  Thus, by the beginning of Lent, Stephen was in control of England, Earl Robert was silent, my husband was unable to control either the Normans or his own people, and I was still trapped in Argentan. With Stephen’s victory in the North, it seemed only a matter of time until the lords made their way to bow at his feet. I was angry for myself, yes, but for my sons my heart ached. The only good news was that my pregnancy was going well, a small bit of relief. In the night, I would lay awake feeling the movements of the child inside me and whisper into the darkness, “Robert, my brother: do not forget us!”

  The first day of spring warmth draws many a man outside, even if the remnants of winter are still clearly present. Shortly after Easter, one such day arrived in Argentan, and Adela begged me to experience it.

  “You have been staring at these same dark walls for far too long!” she declared one morning, as she pulled a gown over my growing belly. “I suspect that is the reason for your melancholy.”

  “Might it be because the lords have lately deserted me and traveled to the traitor’s Easter court, there to kiss the sinful ground on which he walks?” I asked.

  “Perhaps, but my mother always used to say, a change of weather will do you good, and so it shall!”

  She spoke these words so earnestly and with such a nice smile that I was willing to agree, but only within a certain limit.

  “I have no intention of stepping beyond the castle gate,” I declared.

  “No matter. There is always the yard.”

  The yard that she referred to was the inner ward of the castle, where there was neither a blade of grass nor a single shrub, but simply a mess of gravel with carts and booths sitting here and there, along with the remnants of fires. A few last bits of ice still clung to the pavement, not to mention the refuse of horses and men alike, for the stables sat next to the southern wall. Even so, Adela was determined to take me there, and after I had been sufficiently wrapped in two different robes, we made our way outside. She set down two wood chairs and her bag of things in one of the cleaner spots and we sat side by side.

  “What a pleasant day it is!” Adela said, raising her face to bask in the sun. “The bird song is sweet to the ear.”

  “This wind is less sweet to my skin,” I complained, sinking beneath my fur. “I thought you said it was warm.”

  �
��The sun is out.”

  “Yes, but that hardly means it is warm, now does it?”

  “Would you like me to take you back inside?” she said, with a tilt of the head and rise of the brows.

  “No, we are here now, and in my state I move nowhere quickly. We must simply suffer through it.”

  Adela laughed and closed her eyes, laying her head back. I too closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in the air, which was perhaps not as cold as I had made it out to be. I tried not to notice the sounds of all around me—the blacksmith, the barking dog, the chattering crows—but rather to consider my predicament. The babe inside me would remain there well into the summer, or so the midwife had told me. Count Geoffrey was forced to stay in Anjou for the time being. Earl Robert remained mute, no doubt for some reason of his own. The usurper grew in strength by the day, and it was said that the Holy Father had granted his support to that traitor. I had not seen my sons in months.

  “Try to relax,” Adela entreated. “Feel the sun upon your face. Think of something peaceful. Now, if you hold still, I will fix your hair.”

  “Why? What is wrong with it?” I asked, opening my eyes.

  “Nothing! It just needs to be combed,” she explained, walking toward me and drawing a comb from the bag.

  “Out here? With everyone watching?!” I said, turning my head left and right as if to catch someone making a drawing.

  “Oh, no one is watching.”

  “I do not like this.”

  “Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” she instructed with a smile.

  I did as she said, though I was not happy about it. Adela began to take down my braids and place the comb through them. It did not hurt as much as I had feared, and I actually found myself relaxing for just a moment when I heard footsteps fast approaching. I opened my eyes again to see Drogo standing before me. He was clearly surprised to find me in such a position, and though I waited, he said nothing.

  “Yes?” I finally prompted him.

  “Should I come back later?” he asked. “Only, I did not know you would be—”

  “Just tell me, Drogo.”

  “As you wish. I regret to confirm that Earl Robert has traveled to England and met with King Stephen—”

  “Do not call him that!” I snapped.

  “Forgive me—Count Stephen of Boulogne!” he said, his head dropping not unlike a dog who has just been scolded. “They met in Oxford, and Earl Robert offered him fealty. I thought I should tell you.”

  Adela stopped her work. “What? Are they not sworn enemies?”

  “Close to it,” Drogo replied, “but he may well have felt there was no choice. His lands would be forfeit had he continued to demur, and in any case, all the barons have gone over to Stephen now.”

  “All of them?!” she cried, stepping in front of me with the comb still in her hand. “Not a single one stayed true? These are dark days indeed!”

  “What about Lord Brian of Wallingford?” I asked, pushing her to the side gently. “Brian fitz Count—has he declared himself?”

  “Forgive me, my lady, but he was also at Stephen’s court and did homage to him. Is he of particular import?”

  My heart sank. “No, I just hoped that one of my old friends would see fit to keep their vows, but it seems I am surrounded by traitors. This is a tragedy and no mistake. Earl Robert was our last hope. Without him, our cause is doomed. Not in Normandy—here we have a chance—but I fear England is lost to me. Even so, thank you for telling me, Sir Drogo. Adela, I think it is time we returned to the warmth.”

  “I am very sorry, my lady,” Drogo said softly. “So very, very—”

  “Please,” I interrupted, raising my hand, “there is no point. We need not speak when no words will suffice. There are some things in life that defy our efforts of expression. God knows I can think of no lyric worthy of this betrayal.”

  Drogo nodded sadly and walked away, leaving the two of us there in the cold. Adela returned to her work, once again pinning the braids against my head. Very soon, she was finished.

  “What is this, my lady?” she asked, as I rose to leave.

  I turned my head. “What is what?”

  “Here in the bag. I was putting the comb back and I found this.”

  She pulled out the amber stone that I had quite forgotten, so long had it languished at the bottom of that pouch. Seeing it in that moment when I had just learned of Brian’s support for the usurper seemed to awaken the old pain all over again.

  “It is an ornament given to me in my youth,” I answered quietly, very much hoping the conversation would end there.

  “It looks like a moth,” she said, holding it up to examine it in the sunlight. “Why do you carry this around?”

  “I don’t really—not any more. I forgot it was in there.”

  “Does it bring good fortune?” she asked, a new light in her eyes.

  I laughed. “When I consider my life so far, I would have to say no.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  There was the question I had hoped to avoid. I feared an honest answer might bring me too close to confessing the true significance of the object. I had never spoken to anyone of my former love for Brian, and it hardly seemed the right time to start.

  “My mother gave it to me before I left for Germany,” I lied.

  “How sweet!” she said. “You must keep it as a sign of your love for her.”

  “Something like that,” I muttered.

  As we walked back to the front door of the palace, hand in hand, I almost wished that the stone had been from my mother, for she at least had remained faithful to me. I knew in that moment it would take many weeks or months for me to recover from my brother’s betrayal, if indeed I ever recovered from it. Some wounds are too deep to ever heal. And as for Lord Brian—I doubted once again if he had ever loved me at all.

  As it turned out, Drogo’s claim that all the nobles had gone over to Stephen was not quite true. There was one lord who had refrained from offering fealty: Baldwin de Redvers, baron of Devon and lord of the Isle of Wight. As his family had received all they had from the former King Henry, Baldwin did not have the personal strength of the great earls of long standing, but he was more faithful to the late king’s wishes. He had failed to attend the Easter court, and it was only after Earl Robert of Gloucester announced his support for the false king that Baldwin sent a message to the usurper saying he would do homage in exchange for being confirmed in all his possessions. But Baldwin had waited too long, and Stephen suspected him of treachery. He refused the offer and ordered that Baldwin’s lands be seized.

  Lord Baldwin knew it was only a matter of time before his enemies would come for him, so he set about his preparations at once. He rode east and took control of the castle of Exeter, which was a stronger fortress than his seat in Plympton. He had perhaps a week to fortify the town before Count Stephen arrived along with most of the nobles of England: a massive force. Some men were sent west to take Plympton, thus cutting off Baldwin’s escape, and the rest set to work on the main castle of Exeter.

  The usurper was determined to make an example of Baldwin. The poor residents of Devon felt the brunt of his wrath, as the soldiers moved about the region, slaughtering their cattle and burning their crops. The siege continued for weeks until Lady de Redvers finally came out the front gate barefoot, her hair hanging limp and her face covered in dirt. She fell upon her knees before Count Stephen, begging him to show mercy. It was said that his brother, Bishop Henry of Winchester, noticed the signs upon her face, and declared that those inside the castle must have been without water for some time. The poor woman was sent back into that hell house to die of thirst. In the end, they chose to surrender rather than suffer that unhappy end.

  Of course, I did not hear all of this at the time. I simply knew that Baldwin had rebelled and Stephen had placed Exeter under siege, finally taking the castle. I then heard that Baldwin had fled to his fortress of Carisbrooke on the Isle of Wight, and that Stephen mean
t to pursue him there. The full tale was only revealed to me when, on the first day of June, Baldwin de Redvers arrived at the gates of Argentan with only a single servant for company. I had him brought in and agreed to meet with him, for I had not yet begun my lying in. However, as I did not know the man, I required that we meet in the hall on the lower level rather than my private chamber, and that Drogo should join us.

  The hall in the castle of Argentan was not as great as those in Rouen, Caen, or Le Mans. It could only hold about fifty persons comfortably. This was of little matter, for as I have mentioned before, the family of Wigan normally took their meals in the private dining chamber and did not hold many lavish feasts. Indeed, the hall had been in a state of disuse for so long that all the furniture had been moved elsewhere and three chairs had to be brought in for our meeting. As the summer air was hot, there was no need to light a fire: the windows near the ceiling let in enough light. We sat in a circle to view one another better. I folded my hands on top of my belly and rubbed it gently, while Drogo leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. For his part, Lord Baldwin looked the worse for wear. His outer tunic had holes in it that were likely the result of scrapes with tree branches. The sole on one of his shoes was breaking off from the rest, and he bore what looked like a rather fresh cut on his left cheek.

  “Empress Mathilda, I must thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “I have passed through many dangers to come here.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked, with some suspicion. “Last I heard, you were shut up in Carisbrooke and not likely to come out, but how did you get there in the first place?”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding his head. “I was at Exeter in the early days of that siege, and bloody days they were. We were surrounded on all sides, and through my window I could see Stephen standing there, with Earl Robert beside him. I suppose he wanted to keep him close by, for fear that he might cause mischief. Some of my own men came with them—without revealing their true intent, of course. They made like they would assault the front gate, but we opened it to them, recognizing their faces.” Here he let out a hearty laugh. “What a fool they made of Stephen! I can only imagine what he must have been thinking. Not all those within his camp are true: I promise you that! In any case, it soon became clear that we could not win, so I slipped out the postern.”