Twice Royal Lady

by Hilary Green

  ‘Good tidings, my lady! The bishop has withdrawn his forces and retreated to Wolvesey. My lord Robert invites you to enter the city and take possession of the castle.’

  Her reception into the city was very different from the one she received a few short months earlier. There were no cheering crowds to greet her. The streets were almost empty, the citizens hiding in their houses for fear of what was to follow. She rode into the castle courtyard and the castellan hastened to welcome her and conduct her to the royal apartments. Robert joined her a few minutes later.

  ‘What of the bishop?’ she asked. ‘Is he holed up in Wolvesey?’

  Robert shook his head grimly. ‘The fox has eluded us. He rode out by the east gate as we entered by the west. He has left men in Wolvesey to defend it, but my guess is he is heading for London to join the Queen.’

  She ground her teeth. ‘The traitorous dog! God rot him! How can a man who breaks his faith so easily call himself a man of God? Well, we shall make him regret it. Lay siege to Wolvesey.’

  ‘It is already done,’ her brother replied. ‘But it is a strong castle and well defended. It will not be reduced quickly.’

  ‘I can wait!’

  ‘Perhaps. But I have information that Matilda of Boulogne is advancing from London with William of Ypres and his mercenaries. We may find ourselves assailed from two sides. I suggest that we fortify Wherwell Abbey. It may be useful to have a stronghold outside the city in case of need.’ He did not spell out the implications of the suggestion.

  She frowned, recalling the peaceful atmosphere of the abbey and her courteous reception. ‘It seems wrong to fortify a place dedicated to prayer and contemplation.’

  ‘Desperate times require desperate measures. We cannot afford to be too particular at the moment.’

  ‘Very well. Who will you put in charge of it?’

  ‘John fitz Gilbert, your father’s marshal. He’s tough and experienced in building fortifications.’

  His guess was proved correct. Within days the royalist army was at the gates. Robert and the earls sallied out with their knights in an attempt to drive them back, but they were overwhelmed by superior numbers and forced to retreat within the walls. The besiegers found themselves besieged. Looking out from the battlements, she was taken aback by the numbers encamped around them.

  ‘How long can we hold out?’

  ‘It is hard to say. Weeks, months perhaps. The city is well supplied. We can thank Bishop Henry for that.’

  ‘Can we summon help from our allies? If we could attack them from the rear …’

  ‘We gathered almost all the fighting men who owe loyalty to us at Oxford. Most of the barons left only a skeleton force to hold their castles. They will not be willing to commit them to a fight they cannot win.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘Hold on. Hope we can reduce Wolvesey and take any supplies they have. Hope that some of Queen Matilda’s allies get tired of the siege and take themselves off.’

  ‘What can we offer them to make them change their allegiance?’

  He shook his head sombrely. ‘Very little, as things stand at the moment.’

  Worse news followed. D’Ypres had attacked her castle at Andover and burnt it and the town to the ground. The siege dragged on. With nothing to occupy her mind, Matilda sank into lethargy. She had never shaken off the weariness that beset her in the days leading up to the coronation, and the shock and disappointment of the abrupt reversal of fortune had left her empty and depressed. She wandered the battlements, gazing out in despair at the besieging forces; or sat slumped in her solar, snapping irritably at her ladies when they tried to distract her. As always, it was Brian who was her comforter. Robert and Miles were busy directing the siege and guarding against a sudden attack from outside, but Brian found time to sit with her, to talk and read. One afternoon they were sitting in a room at the top of one of the towers. The weather was heavy and overcast, with a threat of thunder in the air, which did nothing to lift her mood. He produced a beautifully bound book and offered it to her.

  ‘I have been meaning to show you this. I acquired it while we were in London. It is a chansonnier, the songs and poems of William of Aquitaine whom they call the troubadour duke.’

  She opened the book and turned the pages. They were exquisitely illuminated. ‘William of Aquitaine? It is his granddaughter who is wed to Louis of France, is it not?’ She handed the book back to him. ‘Read something to me.’

  He turned the pages and hesitated. ‘This one is sad, but it is very beautiful.’

  ‘Read it, then. It suits my mood.’

  He had an expressive voice, as sweet when he read as when he sang. She closed her eyes and let the words calm her spirit.

  The poem ended:

  ’I have given up all I loved so much,

  Chivalry and pride;

  And since it pleases God, I accept it all

  That He may keep me by Him.

  I enjoin my friends, upon my death,

  All to come and do me great honour,

  Since I have given joy and delight,

  Far and near, and in my home.

  Now I give up joy and delight,

  Fine clothes and sable furs.

  He closed the book and she sighed. ‘How close that comes to what I feel!’

  ‘I should not have chosen it,’ he said. ‘I should have found—’

  He was interrupted by a sudden clamour from outside. She went to the window and leant out. The sounds were clearer now and among the noise she heard the shout of ‘Fire!’

  ‘Fire! Where? What is on fire?’

  ‘Come up to the top of the tower,’ he said. ‘We shall see better from there.’

  They ran up the narrow, twisting stair and came out on the roof. She leant on the parapet and strained her eyes over the city. ‘Dear God! That is Hyde Abbey burning – and St Mary’s nunnery. Who can have started it?’

  ‘What is more to the point,’ Brian said, ‘who is going to put it out before the whole city goes up in flames?’

  Below in the streets they could see men running hither and thither with buckets, but their efforts were puny compared to the fierceness of the flames. At that moment the storm which had been threatening all day broke with a flash of lightning and a tremendous crack of thunder. The heavens opened and rain poured down in torrents.

  ‘You have your answer!’ she said. ‘God is with us, and he will punish whoever started the blaze that is destroying his holy places.’

  Later Robert came to her, drenched to the skin and with his face smeared with ash.

  ‘Is the fire out?’

  ‘Yes, by the grace of God. But there has been great destruction.’

  ‘I saw the abbey burning.’

  ‘Yes, it has been gutted, and the great jewelled cross given by King Cnut has been destroyed.’

  ‘That is nothing short of sacrilege!’ Brian said. ‘Do we know who started the fire?’

  ‘Oh yes. It was started by firebrands thrown from the ramparts of Wolvesey Castle.’

  ‘God will punish them,’ she said. ‘But why have they done it?’

  ‘To deprive us of nourishment. I have not told you the worst of it. The city granary has been burnt to the ground. It will not be many days now before there is no bread to be had.’

  ‘They hope to starve us out. Can we get more supplies brought in? There is food enough in Bristol and Gloucester.’

  ‘For sure, but I cannot see how we can get it past the blockade. I can send messengers ordering it. One or two of them might get through. But getting food wagons past the Queen’s army will be nigh on impossible.’

  ‘Her own men must be short of supplies by now, surely,’ Brian suggested. ‘They have been living off the countryside for weeks.’

  Robert shook his head. ‘They control the roads eastward. They have only to send to London for what they need.’

  They fell silent. It was clear to all of them that their situation was dire and there seemed to be
no remedy.

  Next morning Robert brought worse news still. ‘De Mandeville has deserted. He sneaked out through the postern with his men during the night.’

  ‘Has he gone home, or joined the Queen?’ Matilda asked.

  ‘His banner is flying in the middle of her army.’

  She sank into a chair. ‘I gave him everything he asked for. Is there no faith in any man?’

  Brian took her hand. ‘You have your faithful friends, whom nothing can shake.’

  She smiled at him wanly. ‘I know it, and I thank God for you and Robert and Miles – and all those who have cleaved to me through good times and bad.’

  As summer faded into autumn food began to run out. Rations were cut and cut again. Matilda was hungry all the time and the lack of nourishment exacerbated her weakness. Brian tried to feed her from his own plate but she refused. She saw how gaunt he had become, as had Robert and Miles and all her other companions. There were rumours of rebellion among the citizens, who were said to be plotting to open the gates to the royalist army.

  A day came when she sensed a change in the atmosphere. She could hear low-voiced discussions and there was a new sense of urgency. Then Robert came into her room.

  ‘We have come to a decision. We cannot hold Winchester. We need to get out as soon as we can and head for Gloucester and Bristol.’

  She lifted her head. ‘Yield Winchester? But that is to admit defeat.’

  ‘No. It is the only sensible way forward. We have a choice. We can stay here until starvation forces us to surrender, or we can retreat to Bristol and regroup our forces. There are still many who have come over to our side who once fought for Stephen – and most importantly we still have him as a prisoner. Sooner or later his wife will have to come to some agreement to secure his release.’

  ‘You are right, as always. But it is easier said than done. How can we break through the enemy lines?’

  ‘We need to create a diversion, something to draw some of d’Ypres’s forces away. I have men who can slip through the enemy lines. I will send a message to John the Marshall at Wherwell, telling him to attack him from the rear. I shall call a council of all the earls tomorrow and explain our plan.’

  The council met in sombre mood to hear Robert outline his strategy. Matilda listened with the rest, too disheartened to argue.

  ‘It is plain that we cannot hold out much longer. The vital thing is to get the empress away to safety. Fitz Gilbert is going to mount an attack from Wherwell to create a diversion. We must seize the opportunity. Brian, I am placing the empress in your charge. Reginald will come with you. Choose a small band of your most trusted knights and mount them on the fastest horses. I will make the first sortie with my men to clear a path for you. As soon as the way is clear you must make your break and ride like the wind. Head for John the Marshall’s castle at Ludgershall and thence to Devizes. The main body of the army will follow under the command of Miles. I shall hold the line here as long as I can, until you are all out of the city, and then my men and I will bring up the rear. We shall reassemble at Bristol. The rest of you –’ his gaze took in the assembled earls ‘– and you, my lord King –’ this to David of Scotland ‘– will wish to head for your own strongholds, but be sure of one thing. This is not the end of our struggle. Once you have had a chance to regroup and recruit more men I will call another council to plan our next move. We move at dawn. Does anyone have any questions?’

  There were a few discussions about the exact order in which the various forces were to leave but she sensed that there was a feeling of relief that the time of inactivity was over. Once the earls had dispersed, Robert came to her side.

  ‘You will have to ride fast. Are you well enough?’

  ‘I must be. Yes, have no worries on my behalf. You have chosen the most dangerous part for yourself.’

  He shrugged the remark aside. ‘You will need to ride astride, in man’s attire. This is no time for modesty.’

  ‘I understand that. Find me a young squire whose braies and chausses may fit me.’

  When she retired to bed the requisite garments were laid out for her, together with a tunic that would reach to her knees. She slept little and was up as soon as the darkness outside her window turned to grey. Hawise came to help her dress, her eyes red with more than lack of sleep.

  ‘Am I not to come with you, my lady?’

  ‘No, child. You have never ridden a horse, I think? You could not keep up with the speed we must go. You must find Bertrand, my cook, and tell him that it is my order that he find you a place in his wagon. The wagons will be protected by the main army and bring you safe to Gloucester. We shall meet again there.’

  She spoke with more confidence than she felt and Hawise was not reassured. The girl sniffed as she fumbled with the laces that fastened the unfamiliar chausses to the braies. When she was dressed she instructed Hawise to twist her hair into two plaits and fasten them on top of her head. Then she embraced her maid, who was now sobbing openly, and went down to the great hall, where Robert and Brian were waiting for her.

  Robert nodded approval. ‘Good. Now put this on.’ He held out a tunic of chainmail and she bent her head and allowed him to slide it over her shoulders. She had helped Geoffrey to arm many a time, and the links were as fine as any smith could make them, but she was still astonished at the weight.

  ‘Now this,’ Robert said, holding out a mailed coif, such as a knight might wear under his helmet. It covered her head and neck and she thought suddenly that this must be how a snail feels inside its unyielding shell.

  Brian held out his hand and led her to the door. The weight of the mail triggered a memory. When had she felt like this before? It came to her. It was when they dressed her for her betrothal to the emperor Henry, all those years ago. She felt then that she could scarcely walk under the weight of clothes and jewels they had loaded onto her. She dwelt on the recollection for a moment. It was easier to think of that, than to contemplate what lay ahead. There was a terrible, leaden despair at her heart which weighed her down more harshly than her armour.

  The courtyard was crammed with men and horses. Girths were being tightened, bridles checked. Some men were already mounted and their horses snorted and sidled, eager to be off. Reginald brought her mount to the foot of the steps. It was not her usual white palfrey, but a big dun-coloured destrier who laid back his ears as she approached.

  Robert took her hand. ‘When Brian gives the order, you must ride like the wind and not look back. Do you understand me? Whatever happens you must keep going until you reach Ludgershall.’

  She nodded, her throat tight. ‘I understand. But dear brother, have a care for your own safety. If you are lost, so is our cause – and so am I.’

  ‘Have no fear for me. I shall catch you up before you reach Gloucester.’

  She reached up and kissed him on both cheeks. Then Brian helped her into the saddle and vaulted into his own. Orders were shouted, a horn sounded, and Robert, mounted on his coal-black destrier, led the way out of the castle. His men clattered after him and then her own knights, with Alexander de Bohun at their head, formed up around her, with Brian on her right and Reginald on her left. They rode through empty streets, though men stood in doorways and women peered from windows. There was no cheering; no one wished them Godspeed.

  ‘They are glad to see the back of us,’ she murmured and Brian nodded.

  ‘Who can blame them?’

  At the west gate there was such a press of men and horses that it was hard to make their way through. A sentry rushed down from one of the gate towers and panted out a message to Robert. He urged his horse alongside Brian’s.

  ‘All goes according to plan. Remember, as soon as you see a gap in the lines, go for it at the gallop.’ He turned away. ‘Ready, men? Open the gates!’

  The massive gates opened with a groaning of hinges. She could see little at first, over the heads of the men and horses in front of her, then Robert spurred his horse forward and his knights followed
and she saw the bridge over the moat and the road beyond. D’Ypres’s army had not been caught by surprise. The road was barred by a solid line of armoured knights, their lances levelled, but Robert’s men were well trained. As soon as they were clear of the bridge they formed themselves into a wedge with Robert at the tip. It was a technique learned from the knights returning from the crusades and well tried against the Saracen hordes. Riding at the gallop, they punched through the line of opposing men like a crossbow bolt through leather, and as soon as the line broke they wheeled left and right, driving the enemy away from the road.

  For a brief moment the way was clear and Brian shouted, ‘Go!’ Alexander was already spurring his horse into a gallop and his men followed. The big dun stallion started forward with such a leap that it almost unseated her and she had to grab the pommel of the saddle to stay on. They thundered over the bridge and for a moment she was surrounded by the sounds of battle, the clash of swords and the grinding of blades on armour, the shouts of men and the neighing of horses. She felt a whiplash of air on her cheek as an arrow narrowly missed her and behind her one of her escort cried out and swore, but there was no hesitation in their breakneck speed. Then they were clear and the road was open ahead of them, and they were galloping faster than she had ever ridden in her life. There was a time, when she was the young bride of the Emperor Henry, when she had revelled in the excitement of the chase. Even later she had enjoyed hunting with Geoffrey, but since the birth of her children she had not ridden like this. Now she found it hard to adjust to the long stride of the stallion. He was impetuous, eager to overtake the horses in front, and she had to grip the reins hard to hold him back. She had forgotten to put on gloves and very soon her fingers were blistered. She was half afraid that the horse would bolt with her, but Brian and Reginald were so close on either side that their knees brushed hers. The stallion laid back his ears, but he settled into a steady rhythm and she began to find her balance.

  At the top of the first rise they paused for a moment to let the horses breathe and she twisted in the saddle to look back. The road was no longer clear, but had disappeared under a mélèe of men and horses. For a moment she could not understand what was going on. Then she realized that the main army under Miles and the other earls had ridden out of the city and was now engaged in a desperate battle with the opposing forces. She scanned the confusion, trying to see a familiar banner, but it was impossible to tell friend from foe at this distance.