The Villains of the Piece

by The Villains of the Piece (retail) (epub)

  William and Robert exchanged a glance. They had respected each other from the first, and Robert did not challenge the Lord of Arundel’s curt, ‘It is in hand, Empress. Flags of residence speak for themselves. We’ll fly your banner when you are installed. If you’ll come this way—’

  Matilda gazed at him, smiling. ‘How my father would have marvelled,’ she said pleasantly. ‘My stepmother outlives one despot, only to be drawn to another. Which way? Not that I shall get lost in such a— compact castle.’

  The Lord of Arundel glanced at Robert again, then bowed the invaders into the castle. He remembered what Robert had told him during one of his earlier visits – ‘Do not be deceived by her appearance, yet neither be ruffled by her manner. She is the rightful heir to the throne, and God will most certainly bless our enterprise. Of course, if we were able to forge swords one half as cutting as her tongue, we could go on and secure the world. If you want the best from my sister, friend William – I shall call you friend – then you must first engage her at her worst. If she bids you good morning, then grimaces at the sky, understand that she is searching for the rain. And will blame you when it arrives. God never made such an attractive creature, nor gave one such wounding ways. But don’t let me mislead you; she is no simple marriage of good and evil. She’s a, what, a maze, if you like, in which men tend to lose their way. Just watch your step, friend William, and you won’t be stranded.’

  The Lord of Arundel had relayed none of this to Adeliza. But now, after his first exchange with the empress, he acknowledged Robert’s warning. He would watch his step, by God, for there were obviously more twists and turns in Matilda than in his— compact castle.

  * * *

  Earl Robert did not stay long at Arundel. He was anxious to raise his own standard at Bristol, one of his foremost strongholds, and to test the wind of insurrection in the west country. He left Matilda in the care of William and Adeliza and, on 5th October, set out with half his invasion force.

  Early winter rains lashed the riders, and they took it in turns to scout the road, exposing their eyes to the whip of water. There was nothing to be heard above the hiss of the downpour, and whatever could be seen was already within reach. The riders cursed and spat, and shared the same common thoughts:

  Was England really worth saving?

  How was it that they had been sentenced to be drowned, whilst the other seventy squatted at Arundel, warming their buttocks?

  It was ideal weather for an ambush.

  This last thought preoccupied Robert, and he wiped the rain from his sword-grip. Matilda’s banner had flown from the battlements of Arundel for the better part of a week; time enough for Stephen to block the surrounding roads and order up his siege machines. On the other hand, the rain afforded some cover, and the ambushers might be taken by surprise.

  Soaked and sullen, the knights crossed the Sussex Hampshire border. If they stayed on this tree-lined road they would reach Winchester, then continue on across the bleak expanse of Salisbury Plain. Robert spurred ahead to join his scouts and tell them to watch for a side track, by which they could by-pass the town. It would not do to run foul of Stephen’s brother.

  A mile or so farther on, they did exactly that.

  The king had heard of the landing and had summoned his leaders to Arundel. He had received the news with a smile, for the castle on the estuary presented no special problems, and one hundred and forty knights scarcely constituted an invasion force. Better yet, he would catch Matilda and Robert in the same net, and defeat his rivals before the salt-water had dried on their shoes. So the call-to-arms was sounded, and Bishop Henry was among those who responded.

  Escorted by some eighty knights and two hundred foot soldiers, he took the most direct route, shivering beneath the water that fell from the sky and dripped from the trees. He was still debating whether to ride under the trees and risk the more solid accumulation of water, or brave the drizzle in the centre of the road, when Robert and his scouts loomed out of the darkness.

  The two columns collided, then reined-in, unable to part the curtain. The rain washed over them, guided by an erratic wind. The narrow road was choked with soldiers, while the leaders sat horse-to-horse, peering at each other. Their conversation was as extraordinary as the circumstances of their meeting.

  ‘I know you,’ Henry said. ‘I was told you were at Arundel.’

  ‘I was, Bishop. But now I am en route elsewhere. I heard how you were robbed of the Canterbury see. In Normandy, we all expected you to—’

  ‘So did I, Gloucester, so did I. Is your sister still with d’Aubigny?’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘Yes… Well then…’

  Though Robert could give no single reason for it, he knew Henry would let him pass. It seemed fitting, for the encounter had all the elements of a dream. It was dark enough for dreaming, God knew, and too miserable a day on which to die. But now that he thought about it, he wondered if Henry had been provoked by the mention of Canterbury, if it had offered him the chance to strike back at his brother. He decided to test it out.

  ‘Can you see me?’ he asked, ‘or are you as blind as I in the rain?’

  ‘If I could see you, I would have to arrest you, isn’t that so?’

  ‘In which case, I and my knights would be bound to resist.’

  ‘Yes.’ Henry nodded slowly. ‘So they would. Another time then. Take your men to the left.’

  ‘And you likewise. Oh, by the way, how do your peacocks fare in the wet?’

  ‘They don’t,’ Henry said. ‘They both died.’

  Robert opened his hands in a gesture of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry. You have some reputation abroad. Perhaps next year, in the warmer weather.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ the bishop echoed. Then he turned in his saddle and told his men to keep to the left. They were going on. The columns passed each other in silence, and the curtains closed behind them.

  In later years, chroniclers saw fit to record the incident. It seemed strange, even to them, though it was simply one among many in those strange times.

  Robert also thought it strange, but he did not stay to query it. He seized the advantage and took his men through the heart of Winchester and across the great plain of Salisbury and on through Wiltshire to his county of Gloucester and the impregnable castle at Bristol. Once there, he towelled himself dry and changed his clothes and hoisted the banner of rebellion. As William d’Aubigny had said, the flag of residence spoke for itself.

  * * *

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ Stephen raged. ‘We had every road barred, a man at every rabbit-warren. He couldn’t have escaped! So far as I know, he can’t fly, so he couldn’t have eluded us. Scour Sussex again. He’s crouched under a hedgerow somewhere, or playing the peasant in a field. Look for him, damn you! You can’t miss him, he has a jaw like a plough-blade!’

  The king was at Arundel, almost within arrow-shot of the castle walls. His army was with him, a piecemeal force of regular troops, vassal knights, Welsh and Flemish mercenaries.

  But there were enough for the task in hand. Arundel was, indeed, a compact castle, and it was expected to fall within the month.

  Henry of Winchester had arrived, to be reunited with his brother. But the bishop had embarked on a dangerous double game, in which the bloodless exchange with Earl Robert had been but the first move. Henry was a man who believed in friendship, true and total, and so applied the same weight to enmity. He had loved his brother once, and had shown his love by securing for him the throne of England. But of late their relationship had turned sour. Stephen had misinterpreted Henry’s visit to the Pope, and deprived him of the Canterbury see. Worse, he had then countenanced the clumsy arrest of bishops Roger and Alexander, and turned Bishop Nigel into a fugitive. Sparked by his queen, he had destroyed the very force that had furnished him with the throne. He had crushed the Church, stabbed deep at his friends, denied his brother, acted without restraint or reason. Small wonder that Bishop Henry played a double game and treated Steph
en to a Judas kiss.

  The chroniclers were soon presented with another test of credulity, for Henry made a single-handed attempt to terminate the siege of Arundel. He chose his moment carefully, when Queen Matilda was away from her husband’s side, then presented Stephen with an essay in fraternal concern.

  ‘The world is watching us,’ he said. ‘Every moment we spend here, beneath this paper castle, word goes out that in England cousin is ranged against cousin, that a beautiful woman is besieged by a brilliant king. Let her go, Stephen. Let her scurry away to Bristol. Or wherever Robert has gone.’

  ‘Who said he’s at Bristol? I say he’s still hereabouts. He couldn’t have got past us!’

  ‘He could,’ Henry murmured. ‘I did not have the heart to tell you, but I heard recently that he and, what was it, seventy men, had been spotted crossing the Salisbury Plain. Of course, the report could be an invention, but—’

  ‘Seventy? That’s half the invading force. And they did say seventy had left Arundel. Damn the bastards!’ He irritated his, then accepted, ‘It sounds as if he’s through the net. And you want me to let Matilda swim after him?’

  ‘From one net to another,’ Henry said blandly. ‘Keep them together, that’s my advice.’

  ‘But we’ll soon have her. Look at the place. It’s small. It’s badly sited. We’ll have no trouble taking it. As soon as the heavy catapults have arrived—’

  ‘Maybe, brother. But all the while we’re here, throwing rocks, Robert of Gloucester is arming in the west country. With respect, I say this. Your force here, today, does not match the great army you took north to defeat the Scots at Northallerton. I mean, the one you sent north, under Archbishop Thurstan.’

  ‘I would have been there—’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘—if I had not had other duties down here.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Stephen retreated to his final line of defence. ‘Are you mocking me, Henry?’

  ‘God forbid, brother king. I’m saying I understand. But I am also suggesting that you let this Angevin mare run to Bristol, rather than wait for Robert to descend on you with his west country minions. Be the chivalric monarch we know you are. Give her leave to pass. Follow her, that’s essential, but treat her as though she is not worth the bother. Let her trot to Bristol, so far from London, then seal them in, the two of them. With the sea at their backs, they’ll probably set sail for Ireland, and we’ll never hear from them again.’

  ‘You really think so? You think I should let them be together? Surely that’s the most dangerous thing I could do?’

  ‘Very well,’ Henry snapped. ‘Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me I deceive you.’

  Stephen fidgeted. ‘There’s no need to get angry. I trust you, you know that.’

  ‘As with the Canterbury see.’

  ‘That wasn’t altogether my doing. Anyway, let’s discuss that some other time.’

  Henry kept the anger in his face for a while, then let it drain away. Pressing his advantage, he said, ‘Isn’t it better to know where the rats hide in the house?’

  ‘You mean Matilda and— Yes, I suppose it is. But would it really smack of chivalry? Do you think the people would understand why it was done?’

  Henry put a hand on Stephen’s arm. The king was trembling, or had just then begun to tremble. ‘They’ll understand, brother. They’ll see a monarch who offers his poor, misguided cousin the opportunity to fly from justice. I tell you, Stephen, the world will never forget such an act. Never.’

  The king teetered a moment longer, then nodded, chivalric and magnanimous. Henry’s advice made sense, and if it bolstered him in the eyes of the people…

  He commanded his army to withdraw half a mile from the walls, then sent a deputation to William d’Aubigny, offering him a royal pardon if he allowed Matilda to leave. For the first time in months, he felt he was behaving like a king.

  When his cousin understood the nature of the offer, she emerged at the head of her seventy riders and trotted across the wet grass to where Stephen waited, fiddling with his moustache. Matilda could not believe her good fortune, but even as a child she had learned to snatch the apple and swallow it, then discuss the conditions. If Stephen allowed her to join Robert at Bristol, well and good. She’d do so, then look down from the impregnable walls and ask him why he had been so foolish.

  Thinking this, she looked down at him now, and murmured her greetings.

  ‘You’ve grown a moustache, cousin. Don’t tear it off, I’ve hardly seen it yet.’

  He let his hands hang at his sides. ‘You keep your looks, Matilda, by God you do. Will you dismount and talk with me? We have much—’

  ‘No. Not this time. Later, perhaps, when you have stopped wearing my crown. I only came over to thank you for your generosity and to see if monarchy has changed you. It hasn’t really. You’re just the same; thinner in the face, but that’s just robber’s guilt. Shed the crown and you’ll fill out again. So you are pardoning d’Aubigny and my stepmother, is that right?’

  ‘I am. It’s within my power to do so, and I exercise it gladly.’

  ‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Then go the whole way, will you, and settle with them for the food my knights consumed. They’re not a rich pair. You would know that if you saw the way they ration their logs. Give them something from your coffers. Forgiveness comes better in a warm room.’

  She nodded to him, then to Henry, then turned her horse and cantered away towards the bridge at the head of the estuary. Stephen’s queen had been there throughout the exchange, but the empress had affected not to see her.

  Now, watching the seventy horsemen follow the empress, the queen ran her tongue around her mouth, chewed on some invisible morsel, then leaned forward and spat on to the grass. ‘You,’ she told her husband, ‘you are better suited to a fairground. And you!’ to Henry. ‘There is nowhere outside hell that could so fully appreciate your gifts!’ She strode away, the wet grass turning her doeskin shoes black to the ankle.

  * * *

  A triumvirate emerged to lead the rival party. Of these, the most important was still Robert of Gloucester, but he was now supported by his close friends and Matilda’s admirers, Miles of Hereford and Brien Fitz Count. They produced more tangible assets than mere affection, for Miles had taken command of Gloucester Castle, while Wallingford was already proving an irritant to the royalists. It severed the main road from London to the west, overshadowed the most important ford on the Thames, and threatened the security of Oxford and Reading. It was clear that the lion would have to shake out the thorn…

  * * *

  Constable Varan swung his head in the direction of the shout. By the time he had identified the caller – a guard on the flat roof of the keep – other shouts emanated from the two southernmost wall-towers. They all said much the same thing; there were troops in the marshes on the far side of town; a column of horsemen had appeared at the eastern end of the ford; two catapults mounted on rafts were being hauled upstream; the royal banner, along with those of Surrey, Leicester and Ypres, were in evidence.

  The burly Saxon strode to the gateway in the dividing wall, squinted across the outer courtyard and satisfied himself that the main gates were shut and barred. Such obvious mistakes had been made before, and no proper defence could ever be undertaken on the basis of presumption. He saw Sergeant Morcar, waved him over, then turned back towards the keep. Morcar raced after him and the two men crossed the drawbridge and entered the gloomy shaft.

  In the top-floor chamber Brien Fitz Count had heard the shouts, interrupted his letter to Robert of Gloucester, and smiled at Alyse. ‘It sounds as though the king’s come to call. You’ll be safe here, but stay away from the window.’

  She had been helping him compose the letter – a reaffirmation of loyalty to the empress – and it took her a moment to rid her mind of Matilda’s image. When she had done so, she said, ‘May I come up on top with you? They can’t yet be within arrow-range.’

&n
bsp; For answer, he nodded towards a corner of the solar, and she hurried over to collect her armour. It had not been specially forged for her, but had been chosen from the main armoury; a helmet with nasal and neck-guard, and a small link-mail tunic that covered her from neck to knee.

  She said, ‘Go on, I’ll follow,’ then called to Edgiva to help her into the flexible hauberk. Brien took his helmet from the back of his chair, threaded his left arm through the straps of his broad, leaf-shaped shield, and ran up the interior steps. As he left the solar, Edgiva entered, followed by her husband and the constable.

  Alyse asked, ‘Is it the king?’ and the soldiers nodded together.

  ‘He’s brought his machines,’ Varan told her. ‘You’d best stay off the roof, my lady.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she grinned. ‘I can always stand you in the way.’ She raised her arms, as though in surrender, and the maidservant lowered the metal tunic over her ankle-length gown. Varan hesitated, then followed Morcar on to the roof.

  The wind caught them as they emerged on the ramparts, and they braced themselves against the crenellated wall. Brien was standing against the south battlements, nodding at something the watch-guards told him. He looked where they pointed, at the marsh, the forest, the rafts on the river, then crossed to the north side to see if the castle had been surrounded. Varan joined him, while Morcar told the guards to repeat their indications.

  Scouring the fields and fallow land to the north, Brien said, ‘He must have come straight up from Arundel. I’d like to know what really happened there.’

  ‘Ask him,’ Varan grunted. ‘He’ll want to meet with you, before he attacks. He’ll come off better, if he talks us out of a fight.’

  They returned to the south battlements and discussed the disposition of the army. ‘We must destroy those machines,’ Brien said. ‘We can hold out here for months, so long as the walls are intact. Do you have any ideas?’