The Passionate Enemies (38 page)

This was a small comfort but the Queen was pleased to clutch at any hope.

The Queen's visit had upset the Empress more than she would admit. There was no doubt that Stephen's wife was a beautiful woman. She was far more feminine than the Empress could ever be and she was proving herself to be more than ornamental. She had proved herself something of a stateswoman in France when she had married young Eustace off to the King's daughter; and her devotion to Stephen was constantly mentioned.

It was said: Stephen could hardly be called a lucky man except in one respect. He could not have a better wife.

Such remarks angered the Empress who was far from happy, though about to be crowned Queen of England; she had had her revenge on Stephen, but she was bitterly dissatisfied. Her temper could be aroused by the slightest matter and it was often out of control.

Robert of Gloucester warned her to curb it. ‘You will lose friends unless you treat them with more respect,' he warned her.

‘Lose them!' she cried. ‘It is not for men and women to decide whether they shall take their friendship from me. They will be grateful that I choose to honour them.'

‘They may feign to be honoured, but resentment will smoulder in their hearts,' said Robert.

‘You presume too much,' she retorted. ‘Forget not that although you are my half-brother you are my father's bastard.'

To speak thus to the man to whom she owed almost everything she had gained was such ingratitude that he was speechless with dismay. He could only withdraw from her presence and ask himself whether he had been wise to support her. Stephen was a weak king but he was courteous and kindly. Matilda was becoming more and more of a virago every day.

The Bishop of Winchester who was at Westminster and whose task it was to win the citizens of London to her side was also resentful of her treatment of him. She seemed to have forgotten that these men held great power in the land and that without them she could do little. She was so obsessed with her own royalty that she could see nothing else.

Her servants disliked her and tried to keep out of her way. In the streets of London they were saying that the Lady of England was ‘a niggish old wife'. She was a shrew, a virago, and completely different from Stephen's sweet-faced Queen who had always a smile when she walked through the streets and never passed a poor beggar without giving him something to ease him.

‘Why,' demanded the Empress of Robert, ‘does my coronation not take place immediately? Why should there be this delay?'

Robert explained as patiently as he could that it was necessary to win the favour of the people of London.

‘Win it! The Queen must win the favour of London! Winchester hailed me. Other cities have accepted me.'

‘This is the capital city,' said Henry. ‘If London were against you and refused to accept you it would not be easy to hold the rest of the country.'

‘Call together an assembly of the leading citizens,' commanded Matilda, ‘and I will address them.'

‘It would be advisable to let them know how gratified you are to be received in their city.'

‘
Their
city. This is
my
city. I am the Queen.'

‘They will not call you that until after the coronation,' said Henry.

‘Then for the love of God let us have this coronation.'

‘We shall need money that it may be celebrated with the pomp that is due to your rank,' explained Robert.

‘Then we must have money. Why do you delay? I declare I must insist on your obedience. Call an assembly without delay.'

Robert and Henry exchanged glances and Henry said: ‘I will let your wishes be known.'

When she had left them the Bishop said: ‘If she continues in this way I fear the people will revolt.'

Robert bowed his head in consternation. Neither of them knew then how soon the Bishop's fears were to be realized.

Henry spoke to the assembled citizens. He presented to them the Lady Matilda, the daughter of the late King whom they all revered. He had been a king who had made good laws and had been strong enough to see them carried out. They would find in his daughter such another ruler. She was the true heiress of England.

This was somewhat reluctantly acceded. She was in truth the direct heir, but she was a woman. They remembered the reign of the Conqueror and that seemed like a golden age. Rufus had followed and those had not been good years, but Henry had followed – Henry, Lion of Justice and the Conqueror's youngest son; he had restored his father's stern, just laws and England had been a better place for that.

The citizens conferred together and their spokesman said that they would be ready to accept her but first they wished to know if the charters which had been granted by Matilda's father would stand.

Matilda's eyes flashed with anger. Were they making conditions to her? These people who had given their support to Stephen! Had she not always heard that London had been the first to accept him? London had favoured Stephen and his Queen. And now that she was here they were offering her conditions.

‘You are impudent to mention privileges to me,' she declared, ‘when you have so recently been helping my enemies.'

There was a hushed silence. The Bishop was exasperated: Robert was clearly alarmed. But Matilda was so certain of her
power that she went on to tell the assembly that she needed money and that she was about to impose taxes on the people of London to provide this. When they had given her the money she needed they should have a grand spectacle of a coronation and she wished there to be no delay.

The spokesman asked leave for the assembly to be dismissed as he and his friends wished to confer together to discover the best way of meeting her demands.

Matilda inclined her head. ‘But let there be no delay,' she cautioned. ‘I am an impatient woman.'

Robert tried to reason with her.

‘I fear they are offended,' he said.

‘Offended. Let them be. As long as they find the money what care I if they are offended or not?'

‘Sister, it is always necessary for a ruler to please the people.'

‘Are you telling me how to be royal, you . . . bastard?'

She is drunk with power, thought Robert. I must caution her.

‘You will see,' he said, ‘that it is necessary to please the people.'

‘You are as weak as Stephen. That was his way, was it not? Please everybody. Smile here, smile there, forgive your enemies. Let them get away to fight another day. You are a fool, Robert.'

‘Can you say that? Have I not provided you with an army?'

‘Oh, you are a good brother to me, but you do not know what it means to be royal.'

‘Our father kept me at his side. I was with him often when he was concerned in matters of State. He taught me much.'

She said almost gently, ‘I know, Robert, and you have served me well, but I am royal. Understand that. I am the daughter of a king. I was the wife of an emperor. I know that a ruler must be strong. Do not anger me, Robert, for I do not wish to lose my temper with you. I forget not that you are my good brother and you shall be rewarded.'

‘Reward me by taking a little care, Matilda. That is what would please me.'

‘You are like Stephen . . . all of you. And look where his
softness brought him. To a dungeon . . . in chains.'

‘It does not please the people that he should be there.'

‘Nay, brother, but it pleases me and that is all that matters. I am hungry. I trust they have some good meat on the spit. If not . . .'

‘Oh, come, Matilda, they are too frightened of you not to cook your venison to a turn.'

‘Then we will eat and I will confer with you and the Bishop, and we will plan the coronation, for my frightened subjects will give me what I ask. Doubt it not. You will see I am right when they come tomorrow with their bags of gold. Now let us to the hall.'

She felt pleased with the day's work. She would laugh at Robert and the Bishop when those burghers came cringing. She would say to them: ‘You see I know how to rule.'

She smiled when she saw the board laden with good meat and she took her place at the head of the table but as she was about to be served there was a violent clangour from without and it seemed as though every bell in the city started to peal.

Robert started up in dismay. ‘What is happening?' he asked.

One of the servants came running to the table, trembling so much that he could scarcely speak.

‘The people are gathering in the streets. Some have swords, some other weapons. They are marching on the Palace.'

‘We have no time to lose,' said Robert.

He seized Matilda by the arm before she could protest and indeed she had no mind to. She knew suddenly that the whole of London was rising against her. Those men in the hall had hated her. They had decided that they would turn her out.

As she hastily followed Robert out to the stables and obediently mounted the horse he was holding, she knew she was in great danger.

Robert leaped into the saddle and by that time others had joined them.

Matilda knew that if these people caught up with her they would tear her to pieces. She could expect no mercy from them. They hated her, these people of London. Reluctantly they had received her but they wanted Stephen and his wife Matilda.

No sooner had she and the little band left the precincts of the palace than the mob broke in.

As they could not find Matilda, they plundered the rooms and carried off all the treasure they could find. One thing was certain, London had rejected Matilda.

THE NEWS OF
the Empress's flight from London soon reached the ears of Queen Matilda and she lost no time in riding into the city with her son Eustace beside her.

How the people cheered her! They kissed her hand and they told her they were delighted that she had come. They would not have that niggish old wife back on any conditions.

‘Good people,' cried the Queen, ‘I thank you on behalf of my husband the King. He is a prisoner now. The prisoner of that woman whom you have rejected, but it shall not be for long.'

‘Not for long,' echoed the people.

‘My good friend, William of Ypres, has gathered together an army and we shall march on Winchester where the niggish old wife has taken refuge. If any of you will join us . . .'

‘Ay, we will,' was the cry.

And thus the Queen marched out of London with many an able-bodied man in her train; and when she joined with the army gathered together by William of Ypres they were a formidable force.

For two months the Queen's army encamped outside the gates of Winchester. Inside the besieged city was the Empress. It was difficult for her to believe that the tables could have been so quickly turned. Her brother told her frankly that she was to blame. Her treatment of the Londoners had turned them against her, he pointed out. If she were going to win and hold
the affection of her people she must curb her temper and not treat her subjects as though they were serfs.

Matilda stormed and raged. To what a pass had she come? She had relied too much on others. She should have acted alone. She looked round for scapegoats and those who served her dreaded to be near her.

Her consolation was that Stephen was in a less comfortable position than she was. If she was in a besieged city, he was in a dungeon. She wanted constant confirmation that he was still there.

Heartened by events the Queen asked for an audience with the Bishop of Winchester, who had clearly shown that he was beginning to regret turning from Stephen to the Empress, whom he had left in his castle while he himself retired to another of his residences on the outskirts of his town.

Being fully aware that the position had reversed and that the Queen was now head of the winning party, he agreed to see her and they met at Guildford.

He tried to justify his betrayal of his brother by explaining that his main duty was and always would be to the Church and it was only on that account that he had gone over to the Empress. He had been led to believe that the oath he and others had taken to King Henry to serve his daughter should be adhered to. He now realized that he had been mistaken and that it was indeed true that the King had named Stephen on his deathbed.

The Queen was not deceived but she needed the help of her brother-in-law too much to quibble. Henry was a powerful man and one of the greatest blows she had to suffer was when he had turned his coat and gone over to the Empress. That he now wanted to turn back again was a good sign, for Henry was a shrewd man – far shrewder than Stephen would ever be – and it was clear that he now saw that Matilda would never be accepted by the people of England.

Therefore Henry and the Queen could make a pact together. They stood firmly with Stephen and the next step was to defeat the Empress and release Stephen from captivity.

The Queen's hopes were high as she joined her army outside the gates of Winchester.

Enraged, sickened with exasperation, the Empress stormed through the castle. In the streets buildings were being destroyed, houses were burning; fire-balls were thrown over the walls of the city each night and the smell of burning constantly in the air. Food was growing short; there was sickness among the people.

The Empress cursed and raged against the fate which had brought her here just at the time when she was on the point of being crowned Queen. Robert could have told her it was her own fault but that would not have eased matters. She raged against the people of London and declared what she would do to that city when she was free. She would hang those citizens who had refused her money and had roused the mob against her; she would set her soldiers loose in the streets and let them pillage until they were satiated with the spoils. All this she would do when she had broken out of Winchester and made her triumphant march on London.

‘First,' said Robert calmly, ‘we have to break this siege.'