Queen of the Conqueror: The Life of Matilda, Wife of William I (28 page)

Religious festivals such as Easter and Christmas provided an important focus for court ceremonials. William and Matilda were quick to realize the potential of such dates as a means of showing off their power and majesty. Malmesbury describes the splendor of these occasions, and was clearly not fooled by the intention that lay behind them:

The dinners in which he [William] took part on the major festivals were costly and splendid—Christmas at Gloucester, Easter at Winchester, Whitsun at Westminster in each of the years in which he was free to stay in England; all great men of whatever walk of life were summoned to them by royal edict, so that envoys from other nations might admire the large and brilliant company and the splendid luxury of the feast. Nor was he at any other season so courteous or so ready to oblige, so that foreign visitors might carry a lively report to every country of the generosity that matched his wealth.
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A medieval queen played a crucial role in such gatherings. She acted as housekeeper, the traditional duty of women at every stratum of society—only on a much greater scale. One of her primary concerns was the provision of hospitality. The ninth-century commentator Hincmar claimed that the queen was responsible “for good order … for the presentation of the king in dignified splendour, for annual gifts to the men of the household.”
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Thus the feasting, pageantry, and other social aspects of life at the royal court would have been superintended by Matilda, just as they were in Normandy. She would preside over feasts and entertainments, ensuring that every detail was in place for the comfort and enjoyment of her guests. This was regarded as a natural feminine duty, and any queen who did not fulfill it would be much criticized. In the poem
Beowulf
, the fictional queen Radegund courted disapproval by leaving the care of the royal hall to others, arriving late to meals and failing to preside at the nobles’ feasts.
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A whole host of attendants would be on hand to serve the royal couple at these banquets. Duties included “giving the king water for his hands … bearing a towel before the queen … serving the king with his cup … being the king’s butler … being the king’s pantler … making wafers when the king wears the crown … being turnspit.”
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The king’s table was covered with a cloth, and the servants would carry clean napkins for the use of the most important guests. They would serve the king and queen on bended knee with a selection of dishes and wine.

Even the royal couple’s daily meals retained an element of grandeur and ceremony. Although William and Matilda ate breakfast in private, they were joined by the rest of the court for dinner (which was usually
taken at around eleven o’clock in the morning) and supper (at five or six o’clock in the afternoon), supplemented by substantial snacks in between. No matter what the occasion, they and their courtiers were presented with a staggering array of dishes to choose from at each meal.

Fish was an important part of the eleventh-century diet. Much of it was fresh, as it was common for fishponds to be created at royal palaces and castles. Otherwise, it was salted. The royal diet was also rich in meat, except during Lent and on certain other religious days, and it tended to be roasted on spits. Beef, mutton, pork, and venison were all popular fare, along with a vast array of poultry, ranging from swans, ducks, and herons to blackbirds, pigeons, and greenfinches. The scarcity of fresh meat during the winter months meant that most of it was salted, and its pungent flavor would often be disguised by spices imported from the East. Bread was also a staple of the Norman diet. The highest ranks of society ate wheat bread, which was served in the shape of flat cakes embellished with a cross or other decoration, whereas the lower ranks had to make do with rye bread.

Other dishes would include dillegrout, a soup made from capons, almond milk, and spices, which had become popular since being served at Matilda’s coronation. This would have been eaten with a spoon, but Norman diners—including the king and queen—used their fingers to eat most of the food that was put before them. “Forks were not among the royal luxuries at the board of the mighty William and his fair Matilda, who both, in feeding themselves, verified the proverb which says ‘that fingers were made before forks.’ ”
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It was therefore customary for diners to wash their hands before and after a meal. Anything they did not wish to eat was thrown on the floor for the dogs or beggars who frequented the feasts. All of the fare served at court was washed down with vast quantities of wine, as well as a beverage called Neustrian cider, which was famous throughout Normandy.
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The luxury enjoyed by the court was essential to uphold the royal dignity. But this dignity came at a price. Keeping the court supplied with food was an enormous undertaking, particularly for landowners in the south of England. Domesday Book recorded that each year the estate of Edward of Salisburys, sheriff of Wiltshire, yielded “130 porkers, 32 bacon hogs … 480 hens, 1,600 eggs, 100 cheeses, 52 lambs, 420 fleeces and 162
acres of unreaped corn”—and this was just in case the royal household’s usual suppliers ran out of produce.
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Even on an average day, the queen’s table was furnished with viands costing forty shillings, and each of her female attendants received a daily allowance of twelve pence for her sustenance.
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Such luxury was also evident in the queen’s apparel. Matilda, keenly aware of her status, “dressed in queenly purple, in a prosperous condition, with sceptre and crown,” according to one eyewitness.
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The contemporary accounts suggest that her attire was much more lavish as queen of England than it had been as duchess of Normandy. She commissioned dresses from English embroideresses, who were renowned as being the best in the world. Among the possessions mentioned in her will is a “tunic, worked at Winchester by Alderet’s wife, and the mantle embroidered in gold … two golden girdles.”
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She also employed a woman from Wiltshire named Leofgeat, “who made and makes the King’s and Queen’s gold fringe.”
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Both Matilda and William kept their jewels and robes in a small chamber adjoining their bedroom, which became known as the wardrobe. During the winter months, they and their attendants wore fur-lined garments to guard against the cold and drafty interiors of their palaces and castles. Surprisingly, though, the custom was to go to bed naked, swathed in rich fur-lined coverlets. Contemporary artists did not shy away from sketching images of kings and queens in bed wearing only a crown to delineate their rank.

Superintending the spectacle of court life was just part of Matilda’s role as queen of England. Appreciating the need to be as visible as possible during her latest stay there, she subsequently traveled to Wells for the Whitsun Council in late May or early June 1069 and witnessed a charter to the city’s cathedral. It may be a measure of the queen’s success in generating support for the Norman regime that there were no reported troubles in the southern counties during this time.

Despite the relative calm that prevailed in the south, it is an indication of just how threatening the situation had become elsewhere that William sent “his beloved wife Matilda” back to Normandy soon afterward, charging her “to pray for the speedy termination of the English troubles, to encourage the arts of peace in Normandy, and to take care of the interests
of their youthful heir.”
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According to Orderic, this visit was simply “so that she might give up her time to religious devotions in peace, away from the English tumults, and together with the boy Robert could keep the duchy secure.”
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It is unlikely that either William or Matilda envisaged her having much peace. Indeed, the evidence suggests that the duke was concerned to maintain his authority in Normandy and prevent his overmighty subjects from taking advantage of the troubles in England and the young regent in his homeland. Unable to make the visit himself at this critical juncture, he would have known that his wife was more than capable of flying the ducal banner on his behalf.

T
he exact date of Matilda’s return to Normandy is difficult to determine, but it would have been sometime between the Whitsun Council
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and the beginning of the northern uprising in the autumn of 1069. She assumed the regency, with Roger de Beaumont and Archbishop John of Rouen (an influential ecclesiastic who mirrored Lanfranc’s role in England) as her advisers. It would prove her longest and most challenging tenure to date.

As usual, one of the most pressing demands upon Matilda’s time as regent was the administration of justice. The cases over which she presided would have varied enormously in nature and complexity. For example, among the many disputes upon which she had previously passed judgment was one that involved the abbey of St.-Martin in Marmoutier, which had been granted an income from customs by William. The new
vicomte
, Robert Betran, denied all knowledge of the grant and kept the money for himself. One of the monks, Goscelin, was dispatched to England to seek justice from the king in person. Upon hearing the case, William angrily sent the monk back to Normandy so that the queen could deal with it. It was clear that if any Norman sought redress from him rather than Matilda, they would receive short shrift. And indeed Matilda wasted no time in reprimanding Betran and demanded that he restore the funds to the abbey.
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The legal affairs of Normandy were no less demanding during Matilda’s
latest regency, and her authority in such matters was stronger than ever before. However, a series of crises meant that she had a good deal less time to devote to them. Although the situation within the duchy itself was stable when she returned there in 1069, trouble was brewing beyond its borders. She had only been back in Normandy a short while when the province of Maine, which William had conquered in 1063, broke out in rebellion. It was led by the powerful nobleman Geoffrey de Mayenne, who gained a huge groundswell of support from inhabitants of the province (known as the Manceaux) who wanted to regain their independence from Normandy. Before long, the capital city, Le Mans, had been lost to the rebels, and Normandy’s hold on the province began to crumble.

Matilda was now faced with a hostile and dangerous neighbor on her duchy’s southwestern border. Worse was to come. Later in 1069, two of William’s bitterest rivals, the king of France and the duke of Brittany, joined forces and launched an attack on Normandy. The duchess sent an urgent request to her husband for military assistance: evidently the troops that she had at her disposal in Normandy had been depleted by the constant need for reinforcements in England. Alarmed, William immediately dispatched the son of his trusted official William fitzOsbern to defend her—presumably with a retinue of men.

Matilda had barely had time to recover from this when word reached her of yet another crisis. This time it was not in Normandy, but her native land of Flanders. On July 16, 1070, Matilda’s brother, Count Baldwin VI, died unexpectedly, leaving his son Arnulf as heir. Because Arnulf was then only about fifteen years old, his mother, Richildis, the countess of Mons and Hainault, was appointed regent. As was so often the case, the accession of a minor sparked unrest. This time it was the nominated heir’s own uncle who rebelled.

Robert the Frisian, as he was known, was Matilda’s brother, and the younger of the two recorded sons born to Baldwin V and Adela. Like his sister’s, his marriage had been arranged for political gain.
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His bride was Gertrude, the countess of Frisia, whose homeland bordered Flanders on the northern side. Residing with her in Frisia, Robert had evidently maintained a close interest in his native land, for he immediately seized the initiative upon his brother’s early death and began rallying support for
his own claim to the throne. He found a willing ally in the form of Henry III, the German emperor, who had long been an adversary of the Norman dynasty and was therefore happy to help cause trouble in Matilda’s homeland.
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It is interesting to note that one of the chief chroniclers of the age blamed the unrest not upon Robert the Frisian’s overweening ambition but upon the failings of the Flanders regent, Arnulf’s mother, Richildis. According to Malmesbury, “she, with a woman’s ambition, was forming plans beyond her sex,” and had levied an onerous new tax upon her people that incited them to revolt. Robert was merely answering their calls for assistance rather than attempting to seize power for himself.
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This account owes more to the misogyny of the author than the truth of what occurred, and it reflects the widespread prejudice against female rule that Matilda was forced to overcome. The fact that there were no disparaging remarks about her own regency suggests that she demonstrated exceptional strength and ability.