Twice Royal Lady

by Hilary Green

  ‘One day longer. No more than that.’

  She called her knights together and they made their preparations. They muffled the horses’ bits and the metal of the stirrups and wrapped heavy cloaks over their armour so no chance gleam of reflected moonlight would betray them. As darkness fell, as quietly as possible, they mounted up and left the camp. Henry rode in front of her, held securely between her arms. He demanded at the start to ride his own pony, until silenced by a sharp slap. They rode all night, keeping to the byways, and by dawn they were in sight of the walls of Caen. The countryside here, too, was desolate; the farms were deserted and there were no cattle in the fields. Like Geoffrey, Waleran had laid waste the whole area in an attempt to force Robert to yield. And like Geoffrey, he had been forced to give up.

  She sent a small party of knights forward under her banner to announce her arrival and when she followed the castle gates were opened and Robert stood in the courtyard to welcome her. They embraced and then he knelt and kissed her hand.

  ‘My dear sister and my queen, welcome! I have dreamed for so long of your coming.’ He looked past her at her retinue. ‘You have come with such a small escort! Your husband follows with the rest of your forces?’

  She shook her head. ‘I fear not. He refuses to leave Normandy and nothing I can say will persuade him. I bring you what help I can – myself, my knights – and my son, King Henry’s heir.’

  She saw him come to terms with it and then he bowed gallantly. ‘Then you bring me what is most needful. Our English friends will rise for you. What need have we of Anjou?’ He knelt by Henry, who was clinging to her skirts, half asleep and fretful. ‘My prince, welcome! I have wanted for a long time to meet my nephew.’

  He brought forward the three men waiting behind him and introduced them. ‘You know our brother Reginald of Dunstanville, of course.’

  Reginald was another of King Henry’s bastards and she had met him at her father’s court. He knelt and greeted her in the same terms as Robert. The other two were Baldwin de Redvers and Stephen de Mandeville, who both hailed her as queen.

  When she had rested they held a council of war. All agreed it was too late in the year to mount a campaign. She must endure another winter of waiting.

  With the new year came surprising news from Adeliza. Theobald, the abbot of Bec, had been elected as Archbishop of Canterbury.

  ‘Incredible!’ Robert exclaimed. ‘Henry of Winchester must be beside himself with rage. He must have assumed that the post would be his.’

  ‘According to Adeliza’s letter the election was held while Henry was absent, overseeing the ordination of deacons,’ Matilda said. ‘But this must be good news for us. I have met Theobald. He is a good man. I believe he will be on our side.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Robert said, ‘but I wouldn’t be too sure. Waleran of Meulan is the patron of the abbey of Bec. I don’t mind betting that he persuaded Stephen to elect Theobald, so as to have his own man in a position of power.’

  In their endless discussions of the best way forward it was suggested that she should make an appeal to the Pope to recognize her as the legitimate heir to Henry. So as soon as the passes over the Alps were clear she sent to Bishop Ulger of Angers and asked him to go to Rome and speak on her behalf. After a long wait his answer came in a letter carried by one of his canons.

  To the Dowager Empress Matilda, Countess of Anjou and daughter of King Henry, greetings.

  I fear I have but little comfort to offer you. I pleaded your cause to the utmost of my ability before His Holiness, but King Stephen had also sent an emissary in the form of Arnulf of Sees, the son of Bishop John of Lisieux. He is a man of subtle intellect and a persuasive tongue. He argued that the main question to be decided was whether you are, in fact, King Henry’s heir and that the matter of any oaths sworn to you are subsidiary to this. His main argument turned on a slander that I fear will pain you deeply; that your father’s marriage to your mother was unlawful because she had once worn the veil of a nun and therefore you are illegitimate. I am sorry to tell you that Pope Innocent neither accepted nor rebutted this charge, but refused to give judgement either way, or to adjourn the matter to a later date, so the question remains unresolved. He did, however, accept the gifts sent to him by Stephen and has written letters confirming him in the possession of the throne.

  She crushed the parchment between her hands and threw it to the ground.

  ‘How dare they slander me like this? And slander my sainted mother and my noble father? I have heard these rumours before and I know them to be untrue. My mother was sent to the abbey of Wilton to be educated by her Aunt Christina, who was the abbess at that time. I remember her telling me that Christina was a cruel disciplinarian, who sometimes forced to her wear the veil in order, she said, to protect her from the lascivious Normans. But when she was alone she threw it off and stamped on it. It was never intended that she should be a nun. It is a question that was raised at the time of her marriage to my father, but it was resolved to the satisfaction of Archbishop Anselm. If that saintly man had had any doubts he would never have officiated at their wedding. And now it is dragged up again to keep me from my rightful place.’ She threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her hands. ‘In the name of God, I swear that all I have ever tried to do is to be a dutiful daughter and all I ask for is my right and my bounden duty to my father’s people. Is this the end of all my hopes?’

  Robert squatted beside her and took her hand. ‘Take courage. All is not yet lost.’

  She looked at him bleakly. ‘Is it not? Our friends are defeated and every day the usurper makes himself more secure – and now this …’

  ‘Not all our friends are defeated. We still have powerful voices that will be raised in our favour.’

  ‘Whose? Who is left except we four?’

  ‘You remember Bishop Roger of Salisbury?’

  ‘Of course. He was my father’s chancellor and his closest colleague. They called him the first man in England after the King. But he has declared for Stephen, has he not? Are you telling me that he might come over to our side?’

  ‘I have every reason to believe it. He was devoted to your father and I have heard him express the deepest affection for his children.’

  ‘It is true. I remember him as a very kind man. When I was little he was almost more of a father to me than the King. But affection is not enough.’

  ‘True. But before I left England I had spoken with him several times and he gave me the impression that if it came to a choice between you and Stephen he would always take your side. Since then Brian fitz Count has kept up the contact and he writes to me that Bishop Roger is less and less contented with Stephen’s rule – and he is not alone.’

  ‘Not alone?’

  ‘You spent so little time in England once you were grown up. Perhaps you were never fully aware of how much power and influence Bishop Roger and his family had. His two nephews, Alexander and Nigel, were both important officers of the royal household until they, too, were elevated to bishoprics, Alexander at Lincoln and Nigel at Ely. Not only are they princes of the Church, through your father’s favour they have become great landowners and the keepers of several important castles. They hold Sherbourne and Devizes, Malmesbury, Salisbury, Sleaford and Newark. In short, they are among the wealthiest and most powerful men in England. Between them, under your father’s rule, the whole administration of the affairs of the country was in their hands.’

  ‘And you think they may be ready to turn against Stephen?’

  ‘He does not trust them as your father did. Why should he? They are not beholden to him as they were to Henry for their good fortune. My guess is that he would prefer to be rid of them and put his own men in their places. They understand this and would rather see you on the throne.’

  ‘So what are we waiting for? What do we do next?’

  ‘We must have further assurances that if we move they will come out on our side. And there are others, less important but nevertheless useful
adherents, whom we must woo to our cause. My agents in England work constantly to win them over. Meanwhile, I shall look for others here in Normandy who can be persuaded. Be patient a little longer. Our time will come.’

  There was one good thing to come out of these months of waiting. Robert and the young Henry had taken to each other strongly. Henry hero worshipped his warrior uncle, whose prowess with sword and lance was greater than all challengers, and Robert found him brave and steadfast in his determination to master those same talents, and quick-witted in his understanding of tactics. He brightened Matilda’s day by telling her what a noble king her son would one day make. With the addition of her followers, the castle was full of knights and men-at-arms, who would grow quarrelsome if not kept occupied. Robert made sure that they had little time on their hands. They practised swordplay and rode with lances at the quintain in the tilt yard. Waleran had given up the siege and returned to England, so they were at liberty to ride out in the surrounding countryside without fear of being ambushed. They went hunting whenever the weather allowed it. She envied the men their constant activity. Sometimes she rode out with them, or practised with the crossbow, but she tired more readily than before. She had given birth to three sons in as many years and it had taken its toll. There were few other women in the castle, other than serving girls, and none that she felt any affinity with. She passed much of her time reading but her temper grew shorter and she had less and less patience with idle chatter.

  Just after midsummer her hopes received another devastating blow. A messenger came from England with letters for Robert. He read the first and threw it aside with a shout of fury.

  ‘Not this too! Are they all fools?’

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘The bishops have been arrested.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Salisbury, Lincoln, Ely – the ones I told you of. It seems there was some kind of brawl at Stephen’s Whitsun court at Oxford – a quarrel between Roger of Salisbury’s men and those of another lord that ended with swords being drawn. Stephen used it as a pretext to have Roger and Alexander arrested and demanded that they hand over their castles. They refused and Nigel fled and took refuge in Devizes.’

  ‘Stephen would have been within his rights, if they came armed to his court and caused an affray,’ she pointed out. ‘Or do you think there was more to it than that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ He turned to a second letter and exclaimed, ‘Ah, this makes it clearer. Brian fitz Count writes that Waleran of Meulan and some others accused the bishops of being prepared to hand their castles over to you if you were to land. No wonder Stephen took the first chance he got to clip their wings.’

  ‘Have they handed over the castles, as he demanded?’

  He glanced down the letter. ‘Yes, damn them! It seems he threatened to starve Roger and hang his son if Devizes was not handed over. The castle was held by Roger’s mistress, the boy’s mother, and she handed over the keys rather than see her son hanged. After that, he threatened and bullied all three of them until they gave in.’

  ‘So our last hope disappears,’ she murmured. ‘It seems the four of us are trapped here. We do not have the forces to break out and recapture all your Norman holdings, let alone what you have lost in England through espousing my cause. For my own part, I cannot return to Anjou, having parted finally with my husband. Truly, I begin to believe that God has turned his face away from me.’

  Reginald had listened in silence, but now he said, ‘This may not be as bad for us as it seems at first. Stephen will have done himself no good by attacking the church. It may well turn other powerful churchmen and even the Pope in our favour. What we have lost on the one hand we may gain on the other.’

  Evidence of this came in a new batch of letters. Brian fitz Count wrote that Stephen’s brother, the Bishop of Winchester, now recently appointed papal legate and therefore the leading prelate in the kingdom, had summoned him to appear before a church council to answer for his attack, arguing that the bishops should have been tried before a church court. Through some clever casuistry by the Bishop of Rouen, who came to the King’s defence, the confiscation of the castles was allowed to stand, but Stephen was forced to do public penance for this attack on the Church. ‘Henry of Winchester may be as worldly a bishop as any of the others,’ Brian wrote, ‘but he is also determined to stand up for the rights of the Church against the throne. And his attitude will be shared by many others.’

  He was very quickly proved correct. A letter arrived from none other than Bishop Henry himself, inviting her to come to England and assuring her that the throne could be hers in a matter of months. It was followed by a letter from Adeliza:

  Dear friend and daughter in God,

  The moment has come. All through the kingdom the unrest against Stephen’s rule grows stronger. My husband supports the usurper, but I retain control of my castle of Arundel. If you can make landfall on these shores I can offer you a safe refuge until you are able to claim the crown.

  Matilda showed the letter to Robert and the others and Reginald said at once, ‘That is all we were waiting for. If we do not move now we may as well give up all hope.’

  Robert looked from one to the other and they all nodded agreement. ‘Very well. But it will not be easy. Stephen’s ships control most of the south coast and the approaches to Bristol. We must find a safe place to land our troops.’

  He dispatched riders to carry messages to friends in England, asking them to survey the coast and report back on possible harbours. The answers were not encouraging. Dover, Rye, Winchelsea and Southampton were all firmly held by Stephen’s supporters and his ships patrolled constantly. To land any further west would mean a long ride through hostile territory to reach Arundel. For hours they pored over the map, until Matilda said, ‘Arundel is on the River Arun and not far from the sea. Is the Arun navigable?’

  ‘Only for small craft,’ Robert replied. ‘It would be impossible to land a large force there.’

  ‘Then let us take a small ship and as many men as it can hold and go direct to Arundel. If you are right and our friends will rise in support when they know I am in England, the rest of our forces can follow when they have secured a harbour for us.’

  ‘I have a suggestion,’ Baldwin put in. ‘Let me stage a diversion. Stephen took Corfe Castle from me, but I learn that it is only lightly defended. I will take my men and land at Wareham and I do not doubt but I shall be able to retake Corfe. That way, you will have a port of entry in the west when you need it.’

  The plan was agreed and all necessary preparations put in train. After some discussion it was decided that Henry should be sent back to his father, under the care of Reginald. She resisted the idea at first but Robert persuaded her that it would be foolish to risk the capture, or even the death, of the heir to the throne. She tried to seem light-hearted as she said goodbye to him, promising him that he would join her in England very soon, and he went off quite happily, largely because this time he was allowed to ride his own pony – for the first few miles at least.

  Baldwin and his men left in August and by the end of the month they heard that he had reoccupied Corfe and that Stephen was already moving west to besiege him. The moment they had waited for was at hand.

  13

  ENGLAND, 1139

  As the setting sun cast long shadows across the water, a sleek galley nosed cautiously into the mouth of the River Arun. Seated in the stern beside her half-brother, Matilda looked up at the huge castle mound silhouetted against the paling sky, with the sharp outline of the stone-built keep at its summit. In front of her, crammed on the thwarts, were the carefully selected knights they had brought with them, some from her own household, some from Robert’s. Behind them, two other craft were packed in the same way. In all, they had brought with them 120 men – a small force with which to mount an invasion. In total silence, with muffled oars, they crept up the river. They were all aware that they could be sailing straight into an ambush. Then f
rom just ahead of them a lantern was waved, then covered, then waved again and Robert let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘There’s the signal. Pull together, lads.’

  The rowers bent to their oars and the ship glided forward until with a gentle bump it came alongside the landing stage, where three men were waiting. Ropes were thrown and tied off and a gangplank was laid across the gap; then Robert handed her up onto it. A hand reached out to steady her as she crossed and she set her feet on English soil for the first time in seven years. The three men fell to their knees and the leader introduced himself as Adeliza’s seneschal.

  ‘My mistress bids me welcome you as our most noble lady and our queen. She is waiting to greet you in the hall.’

  He led the way through a gate in the surrounding palisade, across the bailey and up the steep slope of the motte. They passed through another gate and the doors of the keep were thrown open. Adeliza stood at the entrance, outlined against lamplight from within. She curtsied, and then embraced Matilda with tears in her eyes.

  ‘I have so longed for this moment! At last England will have her rightful queen.’

  The hall was full of people, the men and women of her household, and as Matilda entered they all knelt. Adeliza said, ‘My friends, let us hail our queen!’

  A shout went up and some of the more important members of the household pressed forward to kiss her hand. Then Adeliza led her up to the dais at the end of the hall and seated her in the place of honour, while servants quickly set up the trestles and boards in the body of the hall ready for a feast. Warm wine was served and a succession of delicacies but, while her knights tucked in, she ate little. The sea crossing had been boisterous and she had never been a good sailor. At last she was conducted up to a room at the top of the keep, where Adeliza’s women were ready to help her undress. As she drifted on the edge of sleep she wondered if she should be feeling triumphant or just very afraid. All she could be sure of at the moment was a great relief that at last the long wait was over. The die was cast, and her fate turned on what might happen in the coming weeks.