The Lion's Legacy (Conqueror Trilogy Book 3)

by Juliet Dymoke

  To William of Roumare, she said, ‘You have Lincoln, my lord. If it is enough to buy your loyalty why is your brother not here?’

  Startled, the Earl said. ‘He is on his way, Lady. Tomorrow – ’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ She tapped her foot irritably and at that moment the doors at the far end of the hall burst open and a messenger ran in, calling out breathlessly that he must speak with the Lady. A sudden hush fell on the crowded hall, the servants bearing dishes pausing as he ran the length of the building and threw himself on his knees before her.

  ‘Lady, the Londoners are up and arming. The bells are ringing the tocsin and they are turning every one of your followers from the city.’

  Maud rose and stood still upon the dais, aware that every man’s eye was on her. In the momentary silence they could all hear now the distant bells borne on the westerly wind. ‘Arming? To attack us?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Would they dare? Speak, fellow.’

  ‘Aye, my lady. They will be out of the gates before long.’

  ‘Where is my army then? They are camped about the walls, what are the captains about to allow – ’

  The man was getting his breath now and indignantly he cried out, ‘There is hardly a man left. They are afraid – ’

  Scarlet colour flamed in her face. ‘They have run before a mob, a rabble of cowardly peasants?’ She looked at her barons, at her brother standing next to her, at King David whose mouth was drawn down in a grim line. ‘Surely we have enough men here to send them packing back to their mean streets?’

  ‘You do not know them, Lady,’ the messenger said hastily. He was very pale and clearly itching to be gone too. ‘There is worse news. The Queen has brought up an army, that is why your men are fled.’

  ‘The Queen? Are you certain? Tell us, fool, or by God, I’ll have your tongue.’

  Trembling he said, ‘It is a great army. The Fleming leads the men of Kent and the Earl of Surrey is there with the men of Sussex and many others. Lady, I beg you to go. Your life is in danger. The mob will be hard behind me. ’

  Robert of Gloucester, who had been listening intently, now stepped forward. His face was grave, his lips set. ‘Come,’ he said to his sister. ‘We must leave at once.’

  ‘No,’ she cried out, ‘No! I will not run from a few cowardly rebels.’

  He held her firmly. ‘We will return to fight, but this is not the moment. We have not the men – the levies are not in. Hurry – ’

  She stood irresolute, tense and stiff. ‘Where shall we go?’

  The men about her, momentarily staggered by the news, glanced uncertainly at one another. ‘Jesu!’ Brien said. He stood rigid, unbelieving. Not this for Maud – not on the eve of her triumph, her coronation! And John the Marshall muttered, ‘How in God’s name has it come to this?’

  Robert D’Oyley cried out that there were loyal men and supplies in plenty at Oxford and the castle gates were open for her. After a brief pause Earl Robert nodded. ‘To Oxford then,’ he said and stepping forward to the edge of the dais held up his hand for silence so that those at the far corners of the hall might hear. ‘We must leave, all of us, if we do not want the mob to burn us out. If you wish to live, be out of this place as quickly as you can. Rally to us at Oxford.’

  Immediately pandemonium broke out, every man running for the doors. The food was left abandoned on the table, men fell over each other in their haste, cursing and pushing, knocking each other under foot. Out in the courtyard there was an ignominious scramble for horses, men seizing mounts that did not belong to them, all making for the palace gates in headlong flight.

  Even as Robert finished speaking, Brien leapt forward from the far end of the dais. ‘I will fetch the Lady’s horse,’ he called and to Maud he gave a brief smile. ‘We’ll get you safe away.’

  She did not answer, her face dark with fury at the panic, the shambles of her coronation banquet, and he ran for the royal stables, pushing past others, not caring who was in his way, seized by a cold fear that he had never felt for himself. He knew the London mob too well, and followed by Ingelric and his own men seized saddles and bridles and ran the horses out.

  Within ten minutes a knot of leading barons were riding away surrounding their Empress and her ladies, Brien and Earl Robert on either side of her, the rest of the court strung out behind them.

  Geoffrey of Mandeville was furious that he could not get back to his stronghold of the Tower. ‘My men will hold there,’ he said between his teeth to William de Mohun as they rode together, ‘and I’ll be damned if I’ll yield command of it to anyone.’

  ‘Our tenure of that city was short enough,’ de Mohun agreed morosely. He was thinking of the box of gold coin that he had left in his chamber, having had no time to retrieve it. Some thieving Londoner would take it now, but he supposed it was a small enough price to pay for his skin. ‘We’ll not set the crown on the Lady’s head yet.’

  Robert de Marmion urged his horse up beside them and laughed harshly. ‘By Christ’s Cross, I’ve had my fill of womanly tantrums. She drove them to it. My lords, listen to me – ’

  Some hundred riders eventually streamed away from the palace of Westminster and when the London mob arrived they found enough rich food and clothing, silver and gold and plunder left behind to satisfy them, but no living person save one wretched scullion who had delayed to seize some of the valuables abandoned by his betters. Him they hanged by his heels over the gateway where it took him a considerable time to die.

  They ate the Empress’s dinner and drank her wine and then marched riotously back to the city laden with her possessions and those of her followers, very pleased with themselves. They had once again proved their independence and were prepared to see if Stephen’s Queen would now in turn treat them as they expected to be treated. Drunken, singing and triumphant, they lit bonfires that were seen both by the Queen encamped beyond Southwark and by fleeing members of the Angevin party as they breasted Highgate hill.

  BOOK III

  THE ARROWS OF SAGITTARIUS

  JUNE 1141-DECEMBER 1142

  Too great desire hath overwhelmed me,

  My heart’s not great enough

  For this huge joy that overmastered me,

  What time my love

  Made in her arms another man of me…

  Arundel MSS.

  CHAPTER 1

  When the news of the disaster reached the lady of Wallingford it was by messenger sent from her friend Edith D’Oyley.

  ‘He is safe?’ she reiterated anxiously. ‘You are sure my husband is safe?’

  ‘Beyond a doubt, lady. The court is gathering at the castle,’ the man told her bracingly. He was one of Robert D’Oyley’s own men and knew her well. ‘Never fear, the Empress’s followers are coming in to Oxford and we’ll soon have an army again.’

  ‘I thought all was lost,’ Mata said anxiously but her anxiety had been for one man.

  ‘No, indeed. The King is still in bonds and all the Lady has to do is teach the Londoners who is master – which I don’t doubt she will. They’ll not catch her unawares next time.’

  ‘I pray you are right. And did my husband send you to me? Does he wish me to ride to Oxford?’

  ‘I did not speak with him for he was with the Lady and the Earls all yesterday, but my lady Edith knew you would be anxious if you heard – ’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she interrupted and pulled at her lower lip. This habit annoyed Brien and involuntarily she dropped her hand and clenched it within the other. She began to walk up and down the bower, her ladies watching her while Beatrice questioned the messenger who assured her he had seen the knight of Huntercombe ride in beside Wallingford’s lord.

  Mata smiled at the girl. ‘You will see him again soon, now that the court is at Oxford. He will ride here, or we will receive a summons to attend our husbands there.’

  She dismissed the messenger and busied herself with her gowns, deciding which she would take to impress the Lady while she waited for the call to court. She was tired of
waiting. All summer she had waited. Other wives had attended the Lady, gone with their husbands to Bristol or Gloucester, Malmesbury or Winchester, following the royal progress to London, but no word had come from her lord.

  And still now as the days went by there was no summons. Beatrice rode to Hungerford to take the news to Ingelric’s parents and while she was there Ingelric sent his squire to fetch her to Oxford. Yet there was no word from the castellan of Wallingford for his wife. Humiliated, utterly wretched, aghast that Beatrice should have gone while she, Matilda of Wallingford, waited neglected at home, she saw at last a clear choice before her – a choice between meekly obeying, accepting the slight, or taking matters into her own hands. He did not want her with him, it seemed, or was it just that he had not had time to think about it? Or even, and this she dared not contemplate, was it that he cared for the Empress in a manner that shut out all else? Her resolution hardened. She could not let him forget her altogether – she must go to Oxford, behave as if it was what he expected her to do. Pride rose in her. She would show the court that she was the lady of Wallingford, of more ancient lineage in this land than most of them, that it was she who had brought her husband his castle and prosperity.

  ‘We ride to court,’ she said firmly to her household and it occurred to her that it was the first time, even tacitly, that she had acted without her husband’s permission. It needed every ounce of moral strength to do so.

  She found the town teeming with men as they rallied to the Lady’s cause, some ashamed of their precipitate flight, others jauntily returning as if from a hunting expedition, most sure that she would still triumph, even the more sober hoping she would bring a better rule in time than her cousin Stephen. The dissidents, and there were some, kept their own counsel for the time being.

  In the castle the Lady held court as though no disaster had driven her from the capital and her crowning. She made Aubrey de Vere Earl of Oxford and gave Miles the earldom of Hereford as she had promised and was talking with these two and Brien FitzCount when an usher announced the arrival of the lady of Wallingford.

  Mata walked calmly up the hall, but she felt her stomach turning to water and her knees threatening to buckle, aware that all the men and women in this high arched stone building were looking at her. She saw Brien turn in surprise and the first brief revealing expression on his face was not so much one of annoyance as a blank look as if at an intrusion.

  Her heart sank as she curtseyed. Then she rose and looked at the woman in whose hands her husband had placed his life and all the lands and monies she herself had brought him on their marriage day. The Lady looked magnificent, she thought – a fascinating, beautiful, stately creature with eyes to turn a man’s head, yet somehow hard and cold and how could he care for such? But as she rose the Empress held out one hand and turned on her brilliant smile.

  ‘My lady of Wallingford, how good of you to come. We welcome you to our court.’

  And at once Mata understood, felt the impact of that personality, wondered how she had ever thought she could compete with it. That the Empress had deliberately chosen not to make an enemy of her for a particular reason, she had no notion. Stumblingly she said something about wishing to welcome the Lady to Wallingford castle, and listened to the Empress’s pleasant agreement to come when she could, and all the while was aware of Brien standing by the Lady’s chair. He greeted her formally, said she was welcome, but when the Empress turned to speak to more new arrivals, he left her to mingle with the other ladies and remained at Maud’s side.

  Mata turned away and spoke to Edith D’Oyley, asking after the welfare of the nuns at Godstow, talked to Baldwin’s sister, Hawise of Lincoln, but all the time she was aware that she had made a silly futile gesture that had achieved nothing. The odd thing was that in this court where gossip occupied most of the chatter no one so much as hinted at any scandal and she began to think herself mistaken and to blame herself for her lack of trust even more than her husband for his neglect.

  It was only that night when she went with Brien to his bed that she had the chance to speak with him. Even then it was difficult for the castle was crowded and in the room were two other beds occupied by the Earl of Lincoln and Hawise and by Earl Reginald and his lady. The only privacy lay in the curtains that slid on rings about the bed.

  ‘You are angry?’ she said in a low voice. ‘I can see it.’

  ‘I am not angry.’ He lay in his usual position before sleep, on his back with his hands behind his head, and she could not see his face. She had not meant to reproach him but she could not keep back the resentment that had haunted her for the last few weeks. ‘Ingelric sent for Beatrice. Were you trying to humiliate me that you left me at Wallingford while she came to be with her husband?’

  There was a genuine surprise in his voice. ‘Humiliate you? Such a thought never entered my head. But what lesser men can have time for, the Empress’s closest advisers cannot and I have been constantly at her counsels.’

  ‘With no thought of me?’ Mata knew she sounded like a petulant child but she could not help it. ‘You shamed me, my lord.’

  He shifted in the bed, but after a moment he answered, ‘Not by intention. Robert’s wife is not here.’

  ‘Bristol is many miles, away – Wallingford not a day’s ride.’

  ‘That may be so, but had the Empress wished you to attend her she would have told me so.’ He was aware that his voice was cold, but facing the situation honestly he knew he did not want her here, did not want her to distract him from the abandon with which he had flung himself into his love for the Lady, a love sublimated now to a heroic depth of selfless devotion but which admitted no competition, no distraction. He could not pretend that he liked himself for his attitude to Mata.

  ‘The Empress,’ his wife said, ‘told me that she was glad I had come for she wished to thank me for holding Wallingford while you were with her.’

  A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. When the Lady wanted to, he thought, she could twist anyone to her side and for some reason she wished to flatter the lady of Wallingford. Or keep her too content to question? The last thought drove the smile from his face.

  Mata said, ‘My lord, will you, will the Empress go back to London? I thought she would have been crowned by now. We heard she rode from Gloucester to London with all the people cheering her.’

  ‘A few shouting peasants do not crown a Queen.’ he said with sudden bitterness. ‘You do not know the whole story.’

  She was silent, resisting the temptation to ask how she should know what he would not tell her. In the darkness they heard William of Roumare snoring heavily from one bed, the sounds of soft love-making from the other where Reginald lay with his young wife. Brien thought of those weeks of riding east, always towards London and the Abbey and a coronation; of the days on the road, the excited crowds, the castles and manors where they had slept at night, where the Lady was welcomed royally.

  And now, in the very hour of triumph they had been turned from the capital, driven out. He twisted restlessly in the bed, sick at heart at the memory of those few brilliant June days in London, of their arrival on the feast of John the Baptist, of the sun and the heat, of the demands, the angry words, the flaring tempers. There was hardly a man she had not offended and he wanted to ask her why, why she must antagonise rather than charm?

  ‘We will go back,’ he said and, aware that he had been churlish, forced himself to add, ‘you will be welcome to ride with me when we go.’ But the lie did not come easily for he was not accustomed to lying, and she lay so still that he wondered if she knew it for what it was.

  For Mata the following days had none of the satisfaction she had hoped for. Brien was constantly with the Empress and she began to wish she had not come, had not laid herself open to sly comment, to humiliation. And then on the third morning the temporarily hopeful atmosphere of the court was shattered. While the Empress was out hunting with Brien and her brothers, William of Roumare whom she had recently made Earl of Linco
ln ordered his wife Hawise and his household to pack up and leave immediately. An hour later he rode out of the courtyard without a backward look. Robert de Marmion rode with him and not twenty minutes later Geoffrey of Mandeville, his fleshy face set in hard lines, left by the southern gate of the city, his large following of men-at-arms with him.

  Mata watched them from the window of the tower chamber which now seemed bare and empty, and when the hunting party returned she heard angry voices from the royal chamber. Dinner was a grim affair. The Empress did not speak and thrust her platter from her as if none of the food was to her liking. There was an air of tension about the place, eased only when Roger of Warwick rode in bringing a good number of seasoned men for the Empress’s service. Sitting by her lord, Mata longed to ask him what had occurred but dare not at the very public dinner table and after the meal he disappeared up the spiral stair with the Lady.

  In the solar the Empress paced angrily in her usual manner, ‘Was anyone so ill served as I am? I am surrounded by traitors, cowards who value their skin more than their loyalty. God’s Wounds, did I not give de Mandeville everything he wanted – an earldom, command of the Tower in London, the castle at Bishop’s Stortford?’