Stewart Binns - Anarchy

‘I’m pregnant! It must have been that first time we were together. I can’t believe it’s finally happened.’

Greta cried and Eadmer slapped me on the back. I felt tears running down my face. I could not find the right words, but just kept saying how happy I was.

Maud adopted her imperious guise again to describe the next stage of our devious plan.

‘Darling, I must return to Rouen now. Apart from wanting to give my father the news in person, it takes me away from Geoffrey, who is mightily relieved that he has delivered his side of the bargain. I am going to take to my bed and live in a shaded room. Nothing must happen to this child! I’m going to eat like a horse and grow as fat as a pig.’

Eventually, I took on the role of the authoritative new father.

‘Eadmer and I will return to St Cirq Lapopie. We cannot be near Rouen until the child is born. As soon as the time is right, and your father sanctions my return, I will be with you as fast as is humanly possible.’

This time, it was a bitter-sweet parting. We were both excited that the first part of our pact with the King had been accomplished, and in a far more satisfying way than we had dreamed of. But we were also anxious that the future was fraught with so many dangers.

Nevertheless, the deed had been done. And there was no turning back.

Another phase of my life was about to begin. Eadmer’s question summed it up, in his typically succinct way, on our long journey back to St Cirq Lapopie.

‘What does it feel like to have sired a future King of England?’

I did not answer. I just smiled, but inside I had mixed feelings. There was joy at the thought of what it meant in terms of my family’s journey, disappointment that the truth of our place in the royal lineage must never be known, and anxiety that Maud and I had woven a web of deceit which, no matter how worthy our intentions, may have serious consequences for all of us.

I touched the Talisman around my neck and wondered what all those who had worn it would think about its present guardian. Indeed, in the light of Maud’s momentous announcement, I was momentarily arrogant enough to contemplate the thought that I might be the rightful recipient of the Talisman, rather than its guardian.

Maud gave birth to a son on 5 March 1133, in Le Mans. Although Maud resisted it, Geoffrey had insisted that she return to Maine for the birth, rather than have the child delivered in Rouen. Maud had agreed, in the end – simply to keep Geoffrey happy.

A hefty and vigorous baby, with a shock of red hair, he was named Henry, after his grandfather. He was heir to a vast domain that encompassed not only England and Normandy, but also vast stretches of western France including Maine and Anjou. The King was particularly delighted about the red hair, which was so reminiscent of his own father’s famous mane, the great patriarch of the Norman dynasty, William, Conqueror of the English. He ordered that, at his expense, celebrations be held throughout his realms.

The King, true to his word, allowed me to return to Rouen in the summer of 1133, where I met young Henry, my handsome son, for the first time. I also met Geoffrey, Count of Anjou, who had adopted the name ‘Plantagenet’ to reflect his love of hunting – derived from the Latin for a sprig of broom, Planta genista , which he liked to wear in his hunting cap. And so Henry, my son, became ‘Henry Plantagenet’ – a good name, I thought.

I could see why Maud disliked her husband – he was frivolous, often drunk and loud – but men took to him. They enjoyed his merry company and relished joining him in his debauchery and womanizing. Maud introduced me to the Count during one of the King’s banquets. She was uncomfortable, and I found it hard to contain my hostility towards him. Fortunately, he barely acknowledged me, being already the worse for drink and far too preoccupied with the nubile young ladies of the court. His aloofness was a relief, as it meant I only had to exchange the minimum of courtesies with him.

He was handsome, athletic looking and full of self-confidence. He was still only twenty years old – fifteen years my junior – and I reflected on how immature I had been at the same age. As I looked at him, I couldn’t help wondering how he would react if he knew I was cuckolding him. Perhaps he would not care, such was the light-hearted way in which he approached life.

He soon returned to Le Mans, allowing me to spend as much time as I liked with Maud and baby Henry. It became a very happy time; Eadmer and Greta were also able to be together, and we enjoyed life as a cheerful quintet. Not surprisingly, it was not long before Greta announced her own pregnancy, which brought more elation for all of us.

Eadmer then made a heartfelt request: he wanted his child to be born in England.

Maud jumped at the opportunity.

‘My father wants me to go to England as soon as Henry Is weaned, so that he can show him off to his magnates. He’s already made them swear oaths, promising to be loyal to me as Queen. Now that Henry has been born, he wants them to swear again. And he wants me to be there when they do – the fact that I have a son will make it so much easier for them. We can travel with my father. I will speak to him directly.’

Maud had no difficulty in persuading her father to allow me to travel with her. She could do no wrong in his eyes; she had given him the grandson he thought he was never going to have. The King and Maud had come to an understanding with Count Geoffrey: she would travel to Le Mans twice a year and spend a month with him on each occasion. For the rest of the time, they were both free to live their own lives.

It was not a perfect future for Maud, Henry and me. But for ten months of the year, it was as good as circumstances would allow.

Henry Beauclerc, King of England, called a Christmas Court at Westminster for the end of 1133. His daughter, Matilda, now revered as the ‘Lady of the English’, took pride of place beside him. In her arms was the young Henry, a future ruler of the realm. Significantly, not only was the boy a true Norman, he was also a true Englishman – a child able to unite the whole of the realm.

All the leading magnates of England were at Westminster. They came from far and wide to kiss the forehead of the King’s grandson and kneel at the feet of Matilda to swear their unwavering loyalty to her.

There had been no occasion as grand as this for a generation. The monks sang and the echoes rang around the nave of the mighty cathedral built by King Edward, the last Cerdician King of England. Set against the bland cream stone of the nave were the rich colours of the gonfalons and pennons of the lords and knights of the realm, mixed with the rich silks of their ladies. The crowds outside the cathedral cheered with a fervour they had not shown since King Harold had assumed the throne in 1066 in his vain attempt to keep England’s shores secure.

As an earl of the realm, I stood less than ten yards away from the anointing of Maud as future Queen of England, and our son as her successor. I felt immensely proud of both of them. I thought about my family: my great grandfather, the Old Man of the Wildwood, who began our saga; my grandfather Hereward and grandmother Torfida, who fought to the death against King William; my father and mother and their friends, who found a way to keep England’s dream alive.

What would they think now, knowing that their descendant would, one day, be King of their ancient realm?

My eyes filled with tears, as did those of many in the cathedral – Norman and English alike. I looked around at the high and mighty of the realm. Inspired by the pomp and ceremony of the occasion, I dared to imagine the future.

Perhaps, I thought, when Maud becomes Matilda, Queen of England, Englishman and Norman will be as one after almost seventy years of bitterness?