The Passionate Enemies (34 page)

‘We learn what we have to. I shall be as your first minister, Stephen, for whom else can you trust and our position is desperate. I have thought long of this. We have a son, a fine boy who will one day be King of England. If the King of France would consider a betrothal between his young daughter and our son that would be the best alliance we could hope for. Such an alliance would strike fear into your enemies.'

‘You are right. But how can I leave England now to parley with the King of France?'

‘You can send an ambassador.'

‘Who?'

‘The only one who, you can be sure, has your cause at heart. Your wife.'

‘You,
Matilda?'

‘None other. I will go to France taking Eustace with me. I will persuade the King of the good this alliance will bring us both.'

He stared at her.

‘Why, my beloved Queen has indeed become a statesman,' he said.

Those were bitter months which followed. Stephen had never wanted to fight. He was no coward; he was ready enough to face death if the need should arise, but he had always liked to be on good terms with all men; and it grieved him that there should be some who hated him and wanted to take the crown from him.

If it were not for his cousin Matilda, they would have been content with his rule. He was not like his uncle and grandfather. They had been harsh men. They did not care whether their subjects loved them; they only cared that they obeyed them.

There were so many happier ways of passing one's time than fighting.

And Matilda his Queen was in France where she was proving herself to be a worthy ambassador. She had been received with honours at the Court of France and indeed it was to be expected that she would be, for she had taken with her a large dowry which she would pay to the King of France for his daughter. This was custom in reverse since it was the bride who usually brought the dowry to her husband; but the situation was desperate. Matilda knew that the fact that Stephen and the King of France had become allies would be worth many a soldier and his arms to her husband's cause.' Robert of Gloucester and the Empress Matilda would receive the news with dismay; and the Queen was determined that they should receive such news.

The King of France believed that Stephen would defeat his cousin because he could not conceive that any country would accept a woman as its ruler. The bargain was made. Eustace, son and heir of King Stephen, had become the son-in-law of the King of France through his marriage with Constance, the French King's daughter.

Stephen was heartened by the news. The Empress and her followers were dismayed by it.

In his palace Stephen thanked God for his clever and faithful wife.

It seemed impossible that it was but six years ago that the stern Lion of Justice had reigned over England. Then it had been possible for travellers to walk the roads after dark
unharmed. Their purses were safe enough, for any who dared rob them and be discovered in the deed had suffered the terrible penalty of mutilation. The law of the Conqueror had prevailed and with it came justice. A purse of gold was not worth the loss of a man's ears, his nose or his eyes; he did not want to have his feet cut off for the sake of the contents of some traveller's pocket.

The Conqueror had declared he would restore law and order to the land by severe penalties for those who defied those laws, and so terrible were these penalties that few incurred them.

Henry had followed the rule of his father. But now Stephen was on the throne.

He had shown by the treatment he meted out to his enemies that he was no Conqueror. There was no need to fear Stephen it was said. A man who allowed those who had taken up arms against him to escape and come back to plot against him once more could not very well inflict a harsh punishment on a mere thief.

The customs had changed. Castles were springing up all over the land. Every man who had the means to do so built himself a castle and this he defended against all comers. Those who had enough money to build themselves strongholds did so and from these fortresses they ravaged the land about them. They would take any man they found on the roads and bring him to the castle that he might be forced to work there. Those who had goods and lands were captured and tortured until they gave them up.

New methods of torture were invented; and not only to extort but to give a fearful sadistic pleasure. The roads had become unsafe. Unwary travellers were captured and taken to the castle to be made sport with; and if a man had a quarrel with another he might well be taken from his home one night and within the cruel walls of some fortress meet his lingering painful end.

No one was safe; the most terrifying instruments of torture were devised such as the
sachentege
which consisted of an iron collar attached to a beam of wood. This collar was fitted with hideous spikes. It fitted round a man's neck so that he could not move without bearing its weight. There was the
crucet house,
a short narrow shallow chest in which a man would be forced; sharp stones would be crammed in on top of him and great weights put upon the chest so that the man's limbs were crushed.

Men were hung up by their feet and fires were lighted beneath them; knotted rope was twisted about their heads and pulled until it entered their brains. They were thrown into dungeons full of toads, rats and snakes. Nothing was too fearful for these sadists to do to their victims.

The orderly land of which William and Henry had been so proud was now the home of anarchy.

The Queen had sent mercenaries from Boulogne to fight for the King and what had at first seemed a blessing proved the reverse for these men roamed the country pillaging the land.

Civil war, the greatest evil which could befall a country, had broken out.

The good old days of the late King Henry were over.

More and more of the knights and barons were turning from Stephen. He had proved himself to be a weak king, and because of his weakness law and order had been lost and its place taken by anarchy. But Stephen was determined to fight for his crown or die in the attempt. Often he thought of his Queen Matilda who had stood by him so staunchly and even at this time had arranged the match for their son which had done so much good. He roamed the country and laid siege to those castles the owners of which had gone over to the enemy. At least he proved himself to be a valiant general.

He did achieve certain successes and it seemed that the war was going in his favour; and it was not until Stephen and his army came to Lincoln on Candlemas Day of the year 1141 that the decisive battle was fought.

Rannulf, Earl of Chester, hearing that Stephen was marching on to Lincoln and realizing that his intention was to lay siege to the town and castle, decided that he must immediately get help, so he left the castle in the charge of his young wife and brother.

Rannulf knew that Robert of Gloucester would come immediately to his aid because his wife, whom he had newly married, was Robert's youngest and much loved daughter.

The situation was desperate, for Stephen, although his popularity had waned considerably during the last months, was still the King and possessed of a well trained army; and although his opponents had stood out against him with some success, their efforts so far had been confined to minor forays. By the time Rannulf was able to reach Gloucester where Earl Robert was with the Empress Matilda, Stephen was already encamped on the outskirts of Lincoln.

Both Robert and Rannulf were anxious as to the fate of the young woman who was daughter of one and wife of the other. They gloomily discussed what an effect the siege could have on the inmates of the castle, and they were thinking of her. They pictured her growing emaciated, her beautiful golden hair growing lustreless – worse still, she might contract some fearful disease which many did in such circumstances, or even die.

Matilda listened to Rannulf's account of Stephen's army and cried: ‘We must defeat him here. This is our chance. I want him brought to me in chains. Then he will see what it means to take the crown from me.'

Robert replied: ‘You will not be so lenient with him, my lady, as he was with you.'

‘I am not a fool, brother,' she answered shortly.

‘We must somehow raise an army,' said Robert. ‘If we can trap him in Lincoln we have a fair chance. What have we now – a handful of desperate men.'

‘They will fight well,' said Rannulf. ‘They have everything to gain and nothing left to lose.'

‘Except their lives,' replied Robert grimly. ‘Before we march on Lincoln we must raise an army.'

Rannulf looked alarmed, and Robert knew what he was thinking. How long would that be? Would the castle hold out? And what of his bride who was a prisoner there in the castle?

Robert understood his son-in-law's fears and indeed shared them. This would not only prove to be a vital battle in the campaign for the Empress, it must be won – and speedily – for the sake of his beloved daughter.

The Empress watched the two men leave at the head of their followers. Her eyes glittered. She was glad that girl was
a prisoner in the castle of Lincoln. Those two men would fight for her more fiercely and determinedly than they would for a cause.

She smiled briefly. Something told her that victory was near. What a triumph that would be when Stephen was her prisoner!

She felt a sharp pang of fear. They must not kill him. That she could not bear. A world without Stephen would be robbed of its savour. Even a crown could not compensate for that. She wanted to hold him her prisoner, to inflict indignity upon him; she wanted to show him what a fool he had been to think he could triumph over her. Never, never – even during their passionate interludes – had she submitted to him. Always he must be the suppliant. He had made her so happy when he had allowed her to escape. Not because she was free to go to Bristol but because he had shown her and the world what a fool he was. Never had he been so completely hers as that moment when she rode out of Arundel and rarely had she been so happy.

And now this fight after which he should fall into her hands. It must be so. So she was thankful that those two men who had left grim-lipped to raise an army had that added incentive of a loved one in danger.

She waited impatiently for news. Each day she would be at the turret watching for that messenger who would bring it to her. Stephen, her prisoner.

Robert of Gloucester with his son-in-law at his side had greater good fortune than he dared hope for. The state of the country had sickened so many people. It had been brought home to them that Stephen was not as his uncle had been. They had complained about the harsh laws of Stephen's predecessor; now they saw how their very harshness had preserved the peace. England needed a strong king and it was clear that she had a weak one in Stephen.

The alternative was a woman but she was guided by Robert of Gloucester who was a man of courage and integrity. He would be beside the Empress when she became Queen; and even the King's brother, Henry of Winchester, had shown that he was ready to desert Stephen for Matilda and Robert.

Men fell in readily behind Robert and by the time he approached Lincoln he had amassed a considerable army.

It was the end of January and the rainfall had been heavier even than usual. This was the marshy district and when they reached the River Witham it had become so swollen that they could not cross.

Stephen meanwhile had forced his way into the town and was encamped about the Cathedral and the siege of the castle had begun.

On the second of February, Candlemas Day, Stephen, knowing that the battle must soon begin, went to the Cathedral to hear mass. Here there occurred one of those incidents which men such as the Conqueror could turn to their advantage. Not so Stephen. During Mass the candle which he was holding broke suddenly in his hand. There was a deep silence as Stephen stood looking at the stump he held in his hand while the lighted portion rolled on the floor.

All those watching said: ‘This is God's sign. The King's light will go out as surely as that of the broken candle.'

Stephen took another candle and attempted to shrug the matter aside, but those watching were sure it was a sign.

Meanwhile Robert's army was determined to attack and, wading their way over the marshy land, they forded the swollen river.

Chilled to the skin, the soldiers stood in formation while Robert of Gloucester addressed them. He was a man of great eloquence and was able to communicate his fervour and determination to them all. He hinted at what they could gain and made it clear to them that their lives would assuredly be worth very little if they lost.

So those men who had joined the banner of Matilda, the Empress, in spite of their long march and their exposure to the damps of the marsh and river stood determined to fight.

Stephen heard that Robert was addressing his men and had by so doing brought out great heart in them. He sent for one of his followers, Baldwin Fitz-Gilbert, a man with a voice of thunder, and commanded to him to cheer the army and abuse the enemy.

This Baldwin Fitz-Gilbert did, and reminded the soldiers that Robert of Gloucester was a bastard and that Kings'
bastards were dangerous men. ‘Will you fight under Robert the Base-born General?' he yelled at the opposing armies. The answer came back echoing over the marshes: ‘We will.'

Stephen was in a position of advantage for he was on a slight incline whereas his enemies were on the flat ground. There was only one aspect of his position which might be dangerous and that was that if the enemy drove him back he could become penned up within the city walls.

He considered the position. He was now coming face to face with his greatest enemy, for Robert of Gloucester was undoubtedly that. If Robert had not given his support to his sister she could not have established herself as firmly as she had. She owed a great deal to him.

Yet Stephen could not forget that this man was his own cousin, Matilda's half-brother and the beloved son of the late Henry I.