by Hilary Green
The procession has reached the high altar now and the archbishop turns to the congregation.
‘I here present you Henry, son of the Duke of Normandy and the Empress Matilda, grandson of King Henry the First, and your undoubted King. Wherefore, all you who have come to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?’
The cathedral rings with the shout, ‘We are. We wish it.’
The coronation mass begins. It pleases her that it is conducted by Theobald. He has been a constant presence in her life, and, though he always refused to renege on his loyalty to the man he had anointed as king, she respects his integrity. She has reason to be grateful to him. During the period between Stephen’s death and Henry’s return from Normandy, when bad weather prevented him from crossing, Theobald acted as regent and kept the throne secure. It is just as well that Henry of Winchester has chosen to go into exile at Cluny. It would have galled her to watch him perform the ceremony. And now, the moment of anointing approaches. Theobald takes the filigreed spoon from an acolyte and marks the sign of the cross on Henry’s hands, brow and breast. She finds that she is trembling and her vision is misted with tears. The actual coronation follows and it is the crown which was once worn by her first husband the emperor, which she brought with her when she fled Germany, which is set upon her son’s head. Solid gold and set with precious gems, it is so heavy that it has to be supported on either side by pages holding silver rods.
The ceremony is almost over. She looks round at the assembled nobles. There are a few familiar faces, but not many. Reginald, her half-brother, is here, the last survivor of the band of friends who gathered round her when she arrived in England. He is steady and sensible and Henry listens to his advice. Ranulph of Chester is here, a staunch ally these days; and Robert Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, once a favourite of her father’s and later a supporter of Stephen, but now reconciled to Henry. Most of the men closest to Henry now are newcomers. Henry is following his grandfather’s example and promoting talent and ability over noble birth. Like that young clerk in the front rank there – Thomas Becket, one of Theobald’s acolytes. Henry has shown him favour. A good choice, she thinks.
She eases her position. Once she could sit upright without moving for hours if the occasion demanded it, but lately her bones begin to ache after a while. Her mind drifts to the small house in the grounds of the convent of Bec, where she has made her home since her husband’s death. It was a wonderful relief after the bustle and noise of Rouen. If she imagined that her life would be peaceful when she left England she was sadly mistaken. First as Geoffrey’s vice regent and then after his death as Henry’s, she has been responsible for the safety of Normandy and the smooth running of its administration. There was a time, when Henry was absent in England, when the whole duchy had been imperilled and she had feared that they might lose both the crown and the dukedom. King Louis, incensed by Henry’s marriage to his ex-wife, was hovering on her borders, ready to take advantage of any sign of weakness, and she had turbulent barons to deal with in every corner of both Normandy and Anjou. By the grace of God, Henry had returned with the promise of the English throne secured and quickly quelled the opposition, but she looks back on it now as one of the dark times in her life. She straightens her back. All that is behind her now. Henry is King and he has good men around him – and a wife to turn to for council. Her part in the affairs of state is over. Maybe now she will be free to enjoy the peace of the abbey and devote herself to prayer and good works.
The mass is complete and the new King and Queen have been crowned. They rise from their thrones and process down the nave. She watches Eleanor and remembers suddenly how heavy the crown felt when she herself was crowned Queen of the Germans and how hard it was to walk elegantly in the heavy robes. Eleanor seems to be managing it without difficulty, but then she is a mature woman, and she herself was only twelve. It crosses her mind that Eleanor may be a queen twice over, but she will never be able to call herself Empress – or Lady of the English, for that matter.
The procession reaches the end of the nave and the great doors are thrown open, admitting the noise of the crowd waiting outside. One voice rings out clearly above the general hubbub. ‘Long live the King!’ Immediately the cry is taken up outside and then inside the cathedral and the great building echoes to the sound. ‘Long live the King! Long live the King!’
POSTSCRIPT
Matilda lived on for another thirteen years, during which time she remained active in state affairs. She maintained contact with Frederick Barbarossa, the new German Emperor, and tried to mediate between her son and Archbishop Thomas Becket when their relationship soured. She also became known for her pious gifts to religious foundations and for her charity to the poor. Stephen of Rouen, a monk of Bec, praised her as ‘a generous benefactor to the Church, pious, merciful and intelligent’.
She died on 10 September 1167 and was buried under the high altar in the abbey of Bec. The inscription on her tomb reads as follows:
Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring,
Here lies the daughter, wife and mother of Henry.
By the same author
Operation Kingfisher
Aphrodite’s Island
© Hilary Green
First published in Great Britain 2015
ISBN 978 0 7198 1852 3 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1853 0 mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1854 7 (pdf)
ISBN 978 1 910208 33 5 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
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The right of Hilary Green to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by her
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Patents Act 1988
