Stewart Binns - Anarchy

‘She’s gone, half an hour ago. One of the kitchen girls told me. The girl shared my bed last night and was going to work when a carriage and four horsemen sped through the palace gates, heading north.’

‘How does she know it was Matilda?’

‘She saw her. Her belongings were in another carriage. The word is, she’s going home to England.’

‘With only four escorts? That’s not possible–’

‘That’s what the girl said.’

‘Good! We need to get a move on.’

‘Are you suggesting we follow her?’

‘Of course, someone needs to keep an eye on her.’

‘I knew trouble was in the air. I have a bad feeling about this–’

‘Come on! There’s no time to spare.’

We paid our debts in Angers, gathered our belongings and made haste northwards. By the middle of the following day, we were close behind them. I was tempted to make direct contact with Matilda. But I decided to keep them within sight, yet maintain a respectful distance. I guessed that she would be both upset and anxious and would be further unnerved by the sudden intrusion of a stranger.

Matilda’s party made steady progress through Anjou and Maine. But as we crossed into Normandy, south of Sees, two of her escort – one a hefty sergeant, the other a tall sinewy knight with a broken nose and several scars – rode back to confront us.

‘Name yourselves!’

‘I am Robyn of Hode and this is William of Scaerlette. We are from Aquitaine.’

‘Why are you following us?’

‘We are not following you. We are travelling to England – we have business there.’

‘Well, travel another way.’

‘We will choose our own route–’

‘I said, go another way.’

‘And I said, we will suit ourselves.’

The hefty sergeant drew his sword. Eadmer immediately responded in kind and made his intentions very clear to the knight.

‘Put your sword away, or I’ll take your arm off!’

I told Eadmer to sheathe his sword, and spoke softly to the knight.

‘Tell the Empress Matilda that my father fought with her uncle, Edgar the Atheling, in the Great Crusade and that he and I are the last of a Brotherhood, the only other survivor of which is her uncle, Robert, Duke of Normandy.’

‘The Empress Matilda? You are mistaken… we are escorting one of the Empress’s ladies-in-waiting.’

‘I see. Well, tell her ladyship what I just told you.’

The knight looked at me questioningly.

‘What did you say your name was?’

‘I am Robyn of Hode.’

The knight paused for a moment, before yanking his reins and riding back to the carriage. He was not gone for long. Within minutes, he was cantering back towards us.

‘Come with me.’

By the time we reached the carriage, it had been pulled over into a clearing and the Empress had stepped out, helped by her escort and a lady-in-waiting.

We dismounted and bowed respectfully.

‘I hear you know my uncle, Prince Edgar?’

‘I do, ma’am.’

‘How is he?’

‘He was well when I saw him last, ma’am.’

‘Which was when?’

‘Ma’am, two years ago – at his hall in Ashgyll, in Northumbria.’

‘My uncle is dead. Sadly, he died over the winter. Are you sure you knew him?’

‘Certain, ma’am. He was well, though very old, when I saw him–’

‘What is this about a Brotherhood?’

‘Ma’am, the Prince and your uncle, Robert, Duke of Normandy, were part of a small group of brothers-in-arms, which included my father and mother. They fought in the Great Crusade together; Duke Robert and I are now the only survivors.’

‘But you are too young to have been part of the Crusade.’

‘Quite so, ma’am. I am the next generation.’

‘Not much of a brotherhood then! Just you and an old man incarcerated by my brother?’

‘I agree… but it is an elite group, and the membership rules are very strict.’

Matilda realized I was being sarcastic. She smiled, which was a great relief – I felt I had broken the ice.

‘And you are Robyn of Hode?’

‘No, ma’am, that is a subterfuge. I am Harold of Hereford. I’m afraid I upset your father; Eadmer, my loyal friend and sergeant, and I are on the run from the King’s men.’

‘My father is easily upset. What did you do?’

‘We had just joined the King’s bodyguard at Norwich when a mischievous Bishop revealed several things about my past and accused me of being an infiltrator.’

‘And were you?’

‘No, ma’am. I have my opinions, but I mean the King no harm.’

‘What was it about your past that annoyed the King so greatly?’

‘A number of things, ma’am. But mainly that I had not revealed the fact that my father fought with Prince Edgar and Duke Robert at Tinchebrai.’

‘Ah, I understand. Your father’s choice of allegiance will not easily be forgotten by the King. But, to the matter in hand: why are you following me?’

‘Well, it is a little delicate… May we talk in private?’

‘No, we must press on. I want to get to Alençon before nightfall. Stay back with your man, we can talk in the morning.’

I bowed as she got back into her carriage.

She was charming and composed, beautiful and intriguing, and I knew then that I had made the right decision in committing my future to her cause.

We followed her to the outskirts of Alençon, where her escort pulled over next to an inn. She must have spent the night in her carriage because we did not see her again until the next morning, when we were summoned to see her. Dressed in clothes no finer than those worn by a merchant’s wife, with neither jewellery nor regalia, she was sitting by the side of the road on a small stool eating a leg of cold chicken. It was an incongruous image for Europe’s only empress, but one that did not detract from her beauty or allure.

‘Good morning. What are you calling yourself this morning – Harold of Hereford or Robyn of Hode?’

‘Good morning, Your Majesty. I trust you slept well. Please call me Hal.’

‘I slept very badly – my carriage is a form of transport, not a bed. But needs must… So, to my question of last night: why are you following me?’

‘Ma’am, may we stretch our legs? And then I can explain.’

She nodded at the captain of her escort who, I assumed, was an Englishman – rather than one of her husband’s men. The captain divested me of my weapons and walked a few paces behind us as the Empress and I strolled gently along the old road south from Alençon. He was tense and suspicious and watched my every move.

‘Your Majesty, I have been in Angers for several months, waiting for news of you.’

‘Why? Are you one of those sad men who follows women around?’

I was not fooled by the Empress’s apparent levity. I knew I would have to choose my words carefully if I was to earn her trust and respect.

‘No… well, yes… but only you, ma’am.’

‘So you are a madman?’

‘I hope not, ma’am; let me explain. My grandfather was Hereward of Bourne, the leader of the English Revolt in 1069. There was an English Brotherhood at Ely, and that tradition was carried on by my father, Sweyn of Bourne. As a little boy, he was rescued by Hereward and brought up by his family and friends. My mother, Estrith of Melfi, Hereward’s daughter, was with him at the end of the Siege of Ely. She and my father formed a new brotherhood – the Brethren of the Blood of the Talisman – with Prince Edgar and Robert of Normandy.’

‘A very interesting family… and a very laudable story. But what has your secret society got to do with me?’

‘Well, the Brethren are committed to certain principles. They each swore an oath on the shrine to St Etheldreda at Ely: to fight for justice and freedom wherever they are denied, and to give their lives in pursuit of liberty.’