She rose to her feet so that she might look down upon him where he stood below the step. ‘You would see your family in high places whatever they have done, whoever sits on the throne, would you not? Well, I’ll not have that impertinent boy thrust on me – nor any man I do not want. Command the envoys to tell Stephen’s wife that neither she nor her son can expect anything from me.’
There was silence in the hall. The Bishop was clearly furious at being humiliated and the Empress’s immediate advisers exchanged anxious glances.
Standing a little aside from the group Brien watched her in growing perplexity. In this brilliant hall, with the sun streaming through the windows, the bright tapestries and gonfanons decorating the stone walls, he sensed a tension that did not match what should have been a time of triumph. Something had happened to the Lady of England. She had always been restless and energetic, but now it was as if some demon drove her. She would listen to no advice and he could see her now, turning from her uncle David to whom she could well have listened for he was wise in years and in kingship. She brushed him aside as she brushed aside all advice. Even yesterday at supper when Brien had mentioned the importance of these first days in London she had said tersely, ‘Do not join the rabble, Brien FitzCount. That is not your role – ’ a remark which he did not understand and he wondered just what she wished his role to be.
She seemed to want him near her and yet when he came she would look at him with a strange hard look and more often than not turn from him to immerse herself in business of one sort or another. As far as he personally was concerned she could do what she liked with him, for his love was not hurt, merely puzzled, but he was distressed by her behaviour to others. It seemed as if she would antagonise every man she needed to win.
Brien withdrew a little into a window embrasure and there Miles the Sheriff joined him. For a while they did not speak but stood together, watching and listening. Then Miles said, ‘I wish she would attend to Robert.’
Brien folded his arms across his chest, the sun hot on the back of his head. ‘She is a woman – perhaps the last days have been too great a strain.’
Miles smiled. ‘She can do no wrong, eh? Well, perhaps you are right. But Robert is a wise man and if affairs were left in his hands – ’
‘She is the Lady,’ Brien answered, ‘and must be the ruler. She will be herself again in a day or two.’
Miles shrugged. ‘You are more sanguine than I, my friend. Well, for good or ill we are her men.’ He glanced at his companion, ‘She is to make me Earl of Hereford.’
‘I am glad. You have earned it.’
‘And you? You have earned some reward.’
‘She knows I am content with Wallingford. I want only to keep what I have, nothing more.’
Miles stared down the hall. ‘Then you are a rare man among such a court of predators. Well, God give us all a good outcome.’
At the far end of the hall, some way from the arguments but aware of them from the very attitude of the protagonists a group of young men stood together.
Philip of Gloucester said, ‘If I were my father I would shackle the leaders of that rabble from the city and bring them all to heel.’
Guy de Sablé laughed. ‘Thank God you are not, for you would have us all burned in our beds.’
‘They would not dare!’ Roger Foliot stared at him and Guy shrugged his shoulders.
‘You do not know them. I was here once when there was a riot and they burned the Bishop’s palace because he closed a lane where they were used to take toll. The old man barely escaped with his life.’
Ingelric spread his large frame over a bench. ‘I don’t like cities and the sooner we are out of this one the better. ’
Mahel FitzMiles gave him a sly smile. ‘And back to your bride, eh?’
‘Of course,’ Ingelric agreed amiably. ‘I had no more than two nights in my marriage bed before I left – hardly long enough to be sure I’ve got me a son.’
Philip sprawled beside him. ‘I am to marry Roger of Berkley’s niece – an insipid wench but she has a good inheritance and by God, I’m tired of being a landless younger son while William takes all the pickings.’
‘William is a good fellow,’ Guy said, glancing down the hall to where the Earl’s eldest son stood in attendance on his father, ‘and he has a sight better temper than you, Philip. Try to keep from beating your bride.’
Philip took this in good part, de Sablé being the only one among the group whom he considered near his equal. ‘If the girl obeys me I’ll not make her sides smart.’ He yawned. ‘These councils are tedious. I wish to God my aunt would send us into Kent against the Flemings, then we could be fighting again.’
‘Plundering defenceless nuns, you mean,’ Roger said incautiously and the next minute was knocked backwards off the bench by a vicious blow. He got up slowly, rushes clinging to his tunic, his face scarlet. ‘Damn you, there was no need – ’
‘Keep your tongue from me,’ Philip said tersely, ‘and your place, upstart.’
Ingelric slid along the bench so that he was between them. ‘Oh peace, for God’s sake. It is too hot for argument.’
Mahel slid his arm through Philip’s. ‘See, the council is breaking up. Let us go out and cool our heads in a bucket of ale.’
Philip rose, ‘And find better company.’ To Ingelric he added arrogantly, ‘See that pup of yours stays to heel and minds his manners, or I’ll speak with your lord.’
And only Ingelric’s hand on his arm kept Roger still. ‘Anyone would think he had not until recently been one of Brien’s knights. I’d like to see our lord’s face if Philip complained of us.’
‘Let him go,’ Ingelric said, as Philip and Mahel walked off. ‘He is as sour as I hope he finds London ale. I pity that poor girl who is to wed him.’
Roger shook himself angrily and brushed the rushes from his tunic. ‘I wish him in hell. ’
That evening, the vigil of the feast of John the Baptist, the court returned to Westminster and this time there was little cheering in the streets. Word had travelled rapidly of the demands made and those refused and the citizens watched the richly dressed cavalcade without the enthusiasm which had greeted them a few days ago.
Acutely aware of this the Empress rode stiffly, her back straight as if she were so on the defensive that she would not unbend even to the gentle movements of her horse. Brien, whom she had beckoned to ride beside her, was glad of even this brief chance to speak to her without others hearing, the clatter of hooves drowning the sound of his voice as he said, ‘Domina, you have shown men your strength. A gesture of generosity would win the citizens to you now.’
‘And have them think me weak?’ She turned to look directly at him and he saw such an expression of misery in her eyes that his heart ached for her. Almost immediately it was veiled by the familiar hard arrogance, but he had seen it, however briefly.
‘No man could think you weak,’ he said, ‘but by tact you could hold even the wildest of your vassals.’
‘Tact!’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘That is a compromise and I doubt if I am capable of it.’
‘Wisdom then,’ he said. ‘You have Robert’s good sense at your elbow.’
‘It is I that will be Queen,’ she retorted in a low voice, ‘not a shadow governed by my brother. ’
He glanced ahead of them where the tall figure of the Earl of Gloucester led the procession followed by the Empress’s standard bearer. He thought she underestimated Robert, thought Robert’s judgement far in advance of any of the rest of her advisers, yet he knew she was devoted to her brother. ‘He is your most loyal man,’ he said carefully.
‘I know – I know – but there can only be one master. Didn’t the ancient Romans find that their city could not be governed by two consuls?’
He smiled, gentling his horse. It was a new grey percheron, a magnificent animal given to him by the Empress herself and which in her honour he had named Puissance. He suspected the cost of it might have come originally from Miles of
Gloucester’s treasury for the latter had amassed a considerable fortune by plunder – and made no secret of the fact that he gave large sums of money to the Lady – but as far as Brien was concerned it was her gift.
In answer to her query he said, ‘Even the Conqueror listened to Lanfranc.’
She made no reply to this but then in sudden irritation burst out, ‘In Germany I would have been treated not as a woman who must be guided by men but as Empress.’
A little stiffly he said, ‘So you are, Domina, and we honour you for your strength that is above that of any woman I know, but we are your people not the Germans.’
She frowned. ‘Did you know that my name in German means “mighty battle maiden”? That is what I must be.’
He smiled at that. ‘It is very apt.’
‘Is it?’ She gave him an odd look. ‘Yet what I had I could not keep and what I want I may not have.’
They were out of the gates now and she whipped up her horse, urging her animal forward towards Westminster. Even as he subconsciously enjoyed the speed, the freedom from the narrow streets, the feel of his new mount, he tried to imagine what she had meant by her last words, but all he felt certain of was that this triumph over her enemies had brought her little joy. It seemed almost as if she wanted to offend, to crush rather than to win and he could not understand her – only he wished he could take her away to Wallingford where she might rest awhile. Did no one, he wondered, long as he did for peace and good relations and a time when seed time and harvest might come and go in safety?
Despite the truculence of the Londoners preparations went ahead for the coronation of the Lady of the English in Westminster Abbey. The Archbishop of Canterbury, clearly uncertain and unhappy, nevertheless made ready to perform his office but excusing himself on the grounds of ill-health did not come to the great hall of William Rufus for the banquet on the night before the ceremony was to take place. He stayed in the abbey itself and supped with Abbot Gervase, Stephen’s bastard son, in the latter’s lodging.
‘Pray, my lord,’ the Abbot said, ‘take a little food. You ate nothing at dinner.’
Theobald shook his head. ‘My stomach is queasy. I doubt if I shall be well enough for tomorrow’s ceremony.’ He looked across at his host, his pale blue eyes watering. ‘Ah my son, you must know – you have responsibilities here – how much more are mine with the weight of the kingdom’s spiritual welfare on my shoulders.’
‘It is a great burden indeed.’ The Abbot was young and vigorous, ambitious too, but he was not insensitive and he poured a cup of wine for the man who was his ecclesiastical lord. ‘My father in God, I insist that you drink this or you will indeed be ill.’ He watched while the old man set the cup to his lips. ‘Why do you fear?’
‘Why?’ Theobald set the cup down and looked at him as if it was a superfluous question. ‘I was your father’s choice for Archbishop. I swore allegiance to him.’
‘And he dispensed you from it.’
‘From behind barred doors.’
The Abbot smote one fist against the other. ‘God will punish that snake of Anjou for her inhumanity. To treat a King thus, and her own cousin at that!’ His face darkened. ‘By St. Peter, there are times when I wish I were of the mettle of the Conqueror’s brother, Bishop Odo. He would not have tolerated such a situation. ’
‘We can do nothing, ‘Theobald said. ‘We are the servants of God first.’
The Abbot had returned to his supper, and scooping up the last of the soup with a thick piece of bread pushed the bowl aside. The June evening was light, the sun still slanting low across the floor of the room. He studied the pattern of it for a moment before he spoke.
‘My uncle Henry – ’
Theobald gave a short unhappy laugh. ‘The Bishop of Winchester and I do not see eye to eye.’
‘I know,’ Gervase answered carefully, ‘but since the affair of the bishopric of Durham and the Lady’s insistence on her right of lay investiture, he must view her attitude with more repugnance than my father’s worst follies.’
The Archbishop stiffened. ‘Blessed Anselm of sacred memory fought our beloved King Henry to retain that right for the Church and the King, Jesu rest his soul, saw the truth of it and yielded to Anselm. How can she question her father’s work now? ’
The Abbot shrugged expressively and Theobald wrung his hands together. ‘Archbishop Lanfranc would have known what to do.’
Suddenly impatient, for a man dead these fifty years could hardly be looked to now, Gervase said, ‘My lord, what can you do but run with the tide? When it turns you may turn with it – as we all shall. I am certain my father will come back to his throne.’
Despite the warmth in the room, the older man shivered and thrust his hands into his wide sleeves. He felt the cold always and had a dull ache in his joints. The Abbot refilled his cup and set a platter with fresh bread before him. Deep in his thoughts, Theobald automatically untucked his hands and began to nibble at his bread. The appalling picture, to him at least, of performing constant mental somersaults to accommodate himself to the whims of royalty was almost intolerable.
Carefully choosing his words, yet not without sympathy the Abbot said, ‘My uncle is not at the banquet tonight. He has gone to Guildford.’
Surprise made Theobald lift his head, startled out of his concern with his own wretched position. ‘But the coronation! Why has he gone?’
The Abbot set his fingertips together and stared at his well-shaped hands. ‘He says he has business there, a priory in financial trouble.’
‘But to go now – ’ Theobald broke off. There was no need for further comment. ‘Does the Lady know?
‘Not yet, I imagine.’
‘Then he will not be present tomorrow.’ The old man’s face lost the last vestiges of colour. ‘Holy Jesu, that means – ’ he stopped as if he dared not think what it did mean.
‘It means that my uncle Henry is within reach of the Queen’s army,’ Gervase said smoothly, ‘but at the moment who can say more?’ A bell began to ring and he rose. Smoothly he said, ‘It is time for Compline, my lord.’
Suddenly Theobald, who was not a stupid man for all that at the moment he was a frightened conscience-ridden one, rose too and asked sharply, ‘What is happening? You know more than you are saying.’
‘I?’ Gervase looked bland. ‘I am merely Abbot here, but there are rumours and my uncle sends me word to stay within doors. Our gates are barred but we are not the targets of Sagittarius’ arrows. ’
Theobald stared at him in growing horror, a suspicion forming in his mind. ‘Tell me. I command you as your Archbishop to tell me – ’
The bland look remained undisturbed. ‘I know nothing, father in God, beyond what I have said. Will you come to Compline? My brothers will be waiting.’ He opened the door and, summoning a dignity which would not allow him to beg for more information even if as he strongly suspected Gervase had it, Theobald led the way down the narrow stair and into the darkening church. Candles burned on the altar, giving a dim light as the last of the sunset faded and the monks sang their office of peace at the ending of the day. But Theobald, kneeling with face hidden in his hood, felt neither peace nor freedom from fear and the hands that covered his eyes shook as he besought God to ease his burden.
In Westminster Hall, in vivid contrast to the quiet abbey church, there were candles everywhere to light the banquet given under the great roof built by William Rufus to enhance his prestige. Here he had held court, impressed his barons with his munificence, swaggered before his mercenaries, and his niece the Empress now sat in his chair, remembering the stories she had heard of his high-handed behaviour, as she too received the highest born in the land. The trestles were laid for the meal, laden with rich dishes, with gold and silver plate, with goblets for the wine and white napery, banners hanging from the roof, among them old King Henry’s standard with that of his brother and his father. But it was, unfortunately, as if some of her uncle Rufus’s manner had entered into her this night. Her o
ther uncle, David, a King himself, came to her and knelt, offering his good wishes, but she did not rise to greet him. She wanted him to know that England was greater than Scotland and that he had after all paid her simple homage such as Rufus had forced from his father Malcolm some fifty years ago. Neither did she rise to greet her brother Robert to whom, above all, she owed her present victory.
Instead she demanded to know why the Archbishop of Canterbury was not present and where the Bishop of Winchester might be. When told one was sick and the other gone to Guildford on ecclesiastical business, she said angrily that neither could be trusted. She saw the men about her stare at her, some in perplexity, others in annoyance, several plainly angry and distrustful of her, and she showed her teeth in a smile that left them in no doubt that if they threw down the glove she would accept the challenge.
The Lion's Legacy (Conqueror Trilogy Book 3) Page 16
