Enchantress Mine (47 page)

Whitsunday, May 11th, 1068, dawned clear and warm. The blue sky was cloudless, and the sun shone beneficently upon all of England. It was most obvious that God approved Matilda’s coronation as England’s queen. Since there was no precedent for the crowning of a Queen of England, the Anglo-Saxon rules that had governed William’s coronation seventeen months prior were altered slightly to suit a woman. In addition the Normans brought something of their own to the ceremony. The
Laudes Regiae
which had first been chanted at the coronation of the great French King Charlemagne were now added to the royal ritual of the Anglo-Saxon ceremony.

Although William trusted the populace of London that had so many months ago pledged him their fealty, there was still enough rebellion going on throughout England that he would not expose his wife to unnecessary dangers. The queen’s coronation procession was a limited affair which suggested that William considered England totally his and loyal beyond a doubt, but not so long that assassins would have an opportunity to strike. It wound its way from the king’s house along the river road into the city for a mile or so, and then back to Westminster Abbey where Matilda would be crowned.

A dozen trumpeters and a dozen drummers in king’s colors led the regal parade. The horns sounded sharply in the clear air, the monotonous thrum-thrum of the drums provided marked contrast. Behind the strutting musicians rode a group of mounted knights in full regalia, pendants in the queen’s colors floating from the tops of their lances. Their horses were caparisoned in red and gold. They were followed by a choir of a hundred young boys in red gowns with white surplices chanting plainsong. Their young voices drifted upward with sweet clarity filling the air with their praises of the gracious God who had been so kind as to send England Matilda for its queen. Now came those noblemen especially chosen to carry the queen’s royal regalia. A black-robed priest waving a censer of fragrant frankincense preceded each man.

The king’s youngest brother, Robert, Count of Mortain, carried the queen’s newly made crown upon a pillow of royal-purple velvet. William FitzOsbern carried upon his pillow the specially made gold coronation ring with its beautiful corundum ruby. Behind him strutted the six-year-old Prince William Rufus, displaying the queen’s dainty golden scepter for all to see upon another velvet pillow. So that none could say the Anglo-Saxons had been overlooked, Earl Edwin of Mercia had been chosen to carry the royal golden orb. His brother, Earl Morkar, was entrusted with the gold-and-ruby coronation bracelets. Neither of these last two looked comfortable in his role. Watching them the king smiled grimly to himself. He trusted neither man despite their vows of loyalty. They were men who lacked vision.

Londoners and visitors alike lined the streets cheering themselves hoarse as the procession passed by. A bevy of beautifully dressed men and women of the court rode by after the queen’s regalia, their multicolored garments like so many bright butterflies. Then came Matilda herself upon a snow-white palfrey. Her skirts were of cloth of gold and had been spread over her mount’s rump. Her tunic was of indigo blue sprinkled with golden stars. Her waist, somewhat increased in size with her latest pregnancy, was girdled with a belt of gold-washed silver and studded with blue stones. Her silver-blond hair had been parted in the middle and hung in two fat plaits on either side of her head which was smooth on top so the crown might fit without difficulty. A sheer gold veil held by a wreath of white flowers now dressed her head.

The diminutive duchess smiled and waved and won the hearts of all those who saw her. Her reputation for goodness and her godly character preceded her. The English felt safer for her coming. For a brief moment William gained by his wife’s good reputation even as his advisers had suggested he would. Surely a man with a wife like Matilda could not be all bad. Of William there was no sign. For the king, not wishing to steal his wife’s day, awaited her at the church. The last of the royal parade was brought up by a group of nuns brought from the queen’s own Abbey of the Holy Trinity in Caen. As they walked they prayed, their beads slipping swiftly through their fingers.

Back to Edward’s magnificent abbey of Westminster the procession went, passing through the main doors and down the main aisle. Within it was cool, and the light coming through the great stained-glass windows warmed the gray stone interior. The voices of the mighty choir, which was made up of men and boys, soared in the heights of the abbey as they chanted ancient Latin plainsong. At the high altar, Eadred, the archbishop of York, waited to do his duty. The coronation involved the hallowing, the investing, and the crowning of the queen.

Squeezed into an aisle space somewhere between the front and the back of Westminster, Mairin and Josselin eagerly answered “Aye” along with the rest of the guests when asked if they did indeed accept Matilda, Duchess of Normandy, as their lawful queen. It was only then that she was administered the oath which was, in effect, a contract between Matilda and her people. The petite duchess’s voice was clear and easily heard even in the rear of the abbey.

Now came the consecration of the queen. Matilda knelt, and a young priest removed her wreath and her veil. The archbishop poured a thin stream of sacred oil from an ampulla upon the queen’s shining head, thereby anointing her. Next, a flowing cloak of shining cloth-of-gold edged in ermine was attached to the queen’s shoulders, and with surprising simplicity Eadred said in a clear, but quiet voice,

“Matilda of Normandy, I crown thee Queen of England, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Holding aloft the diadem for a moment for all to see, he then placed it upon her head. It was a delicately made crown of pure gold studded with amethysts and diamonds that had been fashioned just for Matilda. The crown, which fit over her entire head, was not a high one, but its openwork design of wheat, grape vines, and lilies was thought to be not only beautiful, but lucky as well.

Anointed and formally crowned, the queen was led down several steps from the altar to a throne that had been set next to an even larger one. It was now that the king joined his wife, sitting first while Archbishop Eadred proclaimed,

“My lord, and my ladies, I give you Matilda, Queen of England!” The archbishop spoke in French. “Monseigneurs, et mes dames, je vous presente la reine, Matilde d’Angleterre!”

A mighty cheer arose from the spectators within the abbey, and when it had finally died Matilda sat to receive the homage of her husband’s subjects. Only the most important and major noblemen knelt before the queen, for if everyone had come forward, it would have taken all day.

The king and queen then led a procession upon foot across the green back to the king’s house where they would be hosting a huge banquet. Pavilions had been set up out-of-doors, for the weather was simply too lovely to resist. Great pits had been dug, and oxen, sheep, pigs, and roe deer were being roasted whole over the open fires. The turnspits with their reddened faces carefully watched the meat, turning it slowly with measured cadence. Long trestles had been set out for the guests, the royal highboard with its back to the abbey. Great tuns of wine and beer were rolled out, and soon the day turned from the religious solemnity of the crowning to merriment and ribaldry. The servants hurried back and forth from the kitchens holding aloft platters of sauced and dressed fowl, broiled game birds such as lark, sparrow, partridge, grouse, quail, and woodcock, rabbits stuffed with pigeons stuffed with grains and dried fruit, platters of whole sea bass, river trout, and salmon. There were wheels of cheese, bowls of peas, cabbage, tiny beets, and breads of every kind. There were oranges from Spain, and candied violets from Provence, and Norman cherries and English strawberries.

Minstrels arrived to stroll amongst the guests singing the tales of past heroes and deeds. There was one in particular who caught William’s fancy by making a new song that glorified the noble king and the love he had for the beautiful and gracious Matilda, by whose presence England was now made fairer. The king rewarded the clever minstrel with a gold ring from his little finger. There were several troupes of jongleurs and acrobats who entertained the guests by singing, playing upon the lute, harp, rebec, hurdy-gurdy, and cymbals, doing juggler’s tricks, acrobatic stunts, and imitating all kinds of animals. As the day wore on and the guests grew merrier, some even tried to join the entertainers.

At one point during the banquet, a knight, Sir Marmion of Fortenays, dressed in full battle gear, rode forward upon his horse. Three times he called out a challenge to those assembled.

“If any person denies that our most gracious Sovereign William, and his fair spouse Matilda are lawfully king and queen of England, he is a false-hearted traitor and a liar. As royal champion, I do hereby challenge him to single combat.”

The challenge, of course, was accepted by no one.

Since Josselin and Mairin were not of the court, they departed to their house early, not wishing to do so in the dark. Matilda’s coronation was something that they would tell their grandchildren about, but now they were anxious to take their leave so they might begin their journey to Aelfleah tomorrow. First it was necessary to pay their respects to the king and the queen. Making their way up to the highboard, they waited politely until they were noticed.

“Speak, Joss!” The king was well fed, and feeling kindly disposed toward all.

“We must go, my lord, but before we do we would thank you for your hospitality.”

“The lady Mairin’s hand?” the queen graciously inquired. “Is it all right?”

“There is no infection, my lady,” replied Mairin, “and in time I will be healed.”

“I will feel safer for my wife when Blanche de St. Brieuc is once more across the water,” said Josselin. “I did not realize how dangerous a woman she was.”

There was a pointed silence, and then the king said, “Blanche de St. Brieuc is dead, Joss. I thought you surely knew it.”

“Dead!”
Josselin de Combourg looked genuinely surprised.

“Dead?” said Mairin, pretending to also be surprised, and feeling a little guilty about deceiving her husband.

“Yes,” said William. “After her attack upon your lady I gave orders that she be confined in a small storage room in the attics of The King’s House. She was put there with a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. We intended that she be kept there until she could be returned to Normandy. The door was bolted from the outside, but no guard was placed upon it, for who would want to help her escape? Late yesterday afternoon a servant went to bring her another loaf and a pitcher. He unbolted the door, and entered the room to find Blanche de St. Brieuc upon the floor. She was quite dead. Her neck had been broken. We have questioned everyone in The King’s House, but no one saw anything unusual. Nor did they see any strangers, or even hear something that might tell us who did this deed.”

“It was as if,” said Matilda, “the devil had come for his own,” and she crossed herself devoutly.

“I do not remember her as being a woman who easily made friends,” said Mairin slowly. “Perhaps among your great train she had a serious enemy. She came to England intending to entrap my husband into a marriage. When that path was closed to her she may have foolishly turned onto another and more dangerous course. She was not a woman to be deterred from her chosen goal. She was my enemy, but may God have mercy upon her soul.”

“Yes,” said the queen. “May God forgive her her sins.”

“Please, madame,” Mairin said, “do not tell my poor half-sister of her mother’s violent end. I am certain that she loved the lady Blanche, and whatever my stepmother’s faults, I believe that she loved her child.”

“She will eventually have to learn of her mother’s cruelty, my lady Mairin,” said William. “Otherwise she will wonder at the loss of Landerneau. There is no way we can explain it but with the truth.”

Mairin looked genuinely distressed. “I have never met her, of course, but I
know
that Blanchette is nothing like her mother. It would be like trying to compare night and day, fire and water. She is a gentle soul. I fear you will break her heart.”

“I will tell her myself,” said the queen. “She is still with the Montgomerie family, and will remain with them for the time being. With her mother’s death she becomes a royal ward. No one can decide her future but the king, and my lord William had decided to allow her to enter the novitiate of Holy Trinity at Caen. When I return to Normandy I will have your half-sister sent to me. She will stay with me until next year when our own daughter Cecily also enters the novitiate at Holy Trinity. The two girls will go together.”

Mairin knelt and kissed the queen’s hand gratefully. “Merci, my queen! What you have offered to do is far more than I could have ever hoped.”

“Mayhap,” said Matilda, “you would like to write to your half-sister so that she may be assured that you bear her no ill will. If you can get a letter to me before you leave tomorrow, I will see it delivered to Blanchette St. Ronan.”

Mairin nodded, and arose to her feet once more to curtsy to both the king and the queen.

The royal couple smiled at them, and William said, “Go with God, and, Josselin, you will keep me informed of the progress of Aldford. Keep your piece of the border safe for me.”

“I will, my liege,” came the reply, and then with a bow Josselin de Combourg withdrew from the royal presence, taking his wife with him.

On the following morning they departed for Aelfleah, arriving to find the walls of Aldford Castle almost twice the height they had been when they had left. The good weather and the lengthening days combined to allow the workers longer hours at their task. The well, within the safety of the inner ward, had already been dug and walled about. Scaffolding was already in place with plank ramps up which heavy material could be either dragged or pulled or carried.