‘Sir, my financial affairs are already in the hands of my Chamberlain. He is here with me; you know him well. If you’re suggesting that finance is a matter better dealt with by a man, then you do not know me.’
‘Forgive me, ma’am, I was not suggesting anything of the sort, merely offering you a solution to the dilemma you face. Would it not be wiser for you to concentrate on showing yourself to your subjects across the realm? They love you dearly, and thus you may bring unity to us all as Lady of the English.’
He was playing her like a fish, and he had her hooked. I managed to catch her eye, but it was to no avail.
‘So you suggest I parade around the realm like a court jester? And while I’m making an exhibition of myself, you run London and get richer than you are already, while the kingdom is on its knees!’
Osbert backed away and bowed. He appeared to be chastened, but I am sure he knew he had won an important victory. Maud then made matters much worse.
‘Gentlemen, I am revoking London’s status as a commune. You will pay the same taxes as everybody else.’
Maud pushed back her chair and stood bolt upright. It was the signal for the end of the meeting; the richest commoners in England trudged away muttering to themselves.
Later that night, I tried to reason with her.
‘You are not their Queen yet. Treat them like your subjects when they are your subjects, but not until then.’
‘So now you are telling me what to do!’
‘I am giving you advice.’
‘That’s what that spineless little merchant was trying to do! The burgesses are trying to extract the maximum benefit for themselves before I’m crowned. But if I concede, I’ll never rule this land as a woman. I am my father’s daughter and the granddaughter of William the Bastard. He wouldn’t have stood for it, and neither will I!’
In many ways I agreed with her. But I could sense dangerous times ahead; we were in unknown territory, and danger was part of our chosen path.
For the next few weeks, earls supplicated themselves, seeking more land, barons sought earldoms, knights begged for baronies, and countless others came to make demands or bring offers of ‘advice’. Maud grew tired of it all, saying often, ‘If I’m kind to someone, it proves that a woman doesn’t have the fortitude to rule. If I’m firm with somebody, I’m a harridan, arrogant and not worthy of my sex!’
I felt so sorry for her; she was trapped by her womanhood. Fate had made her Empress and Queen – but her peers wanted her to be a consort, not a monarch.
One evening, when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed, she speculated with me on possible solutions.
‘Would they accept Geoffrey as Regent?’
‘I doubt it; he would need at least a little Norman or English blood.’
‘What about you?’
I smiled at her.
‘You mean, rule together? Wouldn’t that be wonderful! But it must remain a dream. I am a commoner, my title is a contrivance, and there are too many skeletons hidden away. I am content that young Henry will rule this kingdom after us. In the meantime, you must stay strong; I will do all I can to help you.’
In late May 1141, Bishop Henry appeared at Westminster with Stephen’s wife, Countess Mathilde of Boulogne. They had two petitions. Firstly, that Stephen be released into Henry’s custody at Winchester. And secondly, that Stephen and Mathilde’s eldest son, Eustace, a boy of twelve – almost four years older than our son Henry – be recognized as Maud’s legitimate heir.
Maud behaved impeccably towards Mathilde and was as polite as she could be in hearing both petitions. But instead of buying time until the coronation by saying she would think about them, she refused the first on the grounds that Stephen had proved he could not be trusted, and the second on the basis that Henry was her heir and that she intended to remove Eustace from the line of succession altogether. Needless to say, neither Henry nor Mathilde was overjoyed at the outcome.
Both suggestions were of course preposterous, but they were clearly part of a plan that seemed to be well orchestrated and deliberate. Although I did not reveal my worst fears to Maud, I despatched Otto and Berenger to Bristol with a note for Earl Robert. The message was simple, saying that he would soon receive an invitation to the coronation. However, I directed him to come as soon as possible and bring a body of men with him to protect the Queen against any dissenters.
Earl Robert appeared in the middle of June with a large corps of knights, which took Matilda by surprise.
‘Why so many men?’
Robert was very diplomatic.
‘I couldn’t keep them away; they all want to see you crowned.’
When I explained my fears to Robert, he concurred.
‘I heard in Oxford that Stephen’s wife, Mathilde, is raising a substantial body of men to attack London from her base in Kent. There is a conspiracy afoot. I’m sure Bishop Henry Is involved, as well as William of Ypres – who deserted the field at Lincoln.’
‘If he’s involved, that means Flemish mercenaries. But where are they getting the money from?’
Robert smiled at me, as if to say, ‘Aren’t you being a bit naive?’
Then I realized.
‘The rich men of London!’
‘Well done. Their loyalty to the Queen cannot be guaranteed – I fear they would easily betray her, if it would turn a profit for them.’
‘I’ll post my own guards to keep an eye on the royal guards.’
‘Good idea! I’m very pleased that Maud has you by her side. Keep her safe these coming days.’
I embraced Robert and thanked him. Although we were not in fact brothers, we had become close allies in Maud’s cause and both knew we would give our lives to defend her.
On 24 June, late in the afternoon, we were preparing for a grand banquet at Westminster. It was to be a feast to celebrate two vital breakthroughs. Firstly, the Archbishop of Canterbury had agreed a date for the coronation, on Saturday 26 July, and preparations were well under way. Secondly, a grand regal procession was to take place through the streets of London on the following day, 25 June, when the date of the coronation would be announced.
News of the Archbishop’s agreement had come as an unexpected surprise to Robert and me – and even more so, the procession organized by London’s burgesses. But they were pleasant surprises, and all Maud’s supporters had gathered to enjoy an evening of rejoicing. Miles of Gloucester had arrived, as had Brien FitzCount and Ranulf of Chester.
All of Maud’s royal household and officials – who seemed to have warmed to her diligence and thoughtfulness – were invited, and all appeared to have fully accepted her succession. The fact that she did not suffer fools was not, in their eyes, a weakness – in fact, quite the reverse. Also, her honesty and fairness in judgement were a refreshing change from the partiality and nepotism that had been typical of the recent past.
The Great Hall at the Palace of Westminster was beginning to fill with guests when alarm bells were heard to ring. They were the distant bells of London, drifting across Lambeth Moor and the nearby Thames. I hoped the bells signalled a domestic issue, such as a fire. But almost immediately messengers came running in to announce that a large force, led by William of Ypres and Stephen’s wife, the Countess Mathilde, had laid waste to a vast swathe of Kent and had entered London across Stephen’s new bridge from Southwark.
Within minutes, we had more news. The church bells were ringing the alarm as far west as St Clement Danes in the Strand, and an armed mob was pouring out of London at Ludgate, burning and looting as it went.
Robert and I agreed that he would rush his men to Charing at the end of the Strand and hold the mob there, while I got Maud away to Oxford, where we would rendezvous in two days’ time.
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