The Passionate Enemies (39 page)

The weeks passed. Even the Empress was growing listless. There was little food left and much sickness in the town. The fire-balls were still raining down on them by night and there was the stench of death and destruction all around.

She called Robert to her with her good friend Brian Fitzcount, who was as a brother to her.

‘I cannot go on in this way,' she said. ‘Something must be done.'

‘If we surrendered you would be the Queen's prisoner,' Robert reminded her.

‘Not that!' she cried. ‘Anything but that!'

‘It would mean the restoration of Stephen.'

‘And I his prisoner! That shall never be.'

‘Then perforce we must endure the siege.'

She went to the window and bade him come to stand beside her.

As they looked out on the devastated buildings she pointed out a man who was propped against a wall.

‘He is dying of disease or starvation,' she said. ‘It is a plight it seems to which we all must come.' There was silence and she went on: ‘If we could break out . . .'

Brian Fitzcount said: ‘We could attempt it. It is either that
or waiting here until we are too weak to withstand further.'

‘For two months I have been confined in this castle,' said Matilda. ‘By God's faith I cannot endure it longer.'

Neither man reminded her that she had none but herself to blame and that there was no reason why she should not have been received in London and crowned Queen of England – none but that her own arrogance was intolerable. Her followers were deserting her. The only men she could rely on were Robert and Brian – Robert held to her by the ties of blood and by his certainty that it had been his father's wish that she should rule; and Brian because he had known her as a child and her father had given him everything he had.

It was strange, they both admitted to themselves, that they should feel some affection for her, but they did. She was intolerable, reckless in her arrogance, her own worst enemy, but there was a magnificence about her. She was handsome too, and although there was little that was soft and appealing about her, she aroused in them a desire to serve her.

Both men knew that to whatever pass she brought them they would remain faithful to her until the end.

A funeral procession came along the street – a small party of mourners and two men carrying a roughly made bier.

‘Another death,' she said. ‘I wonder how many there are in this city and how many more there will be before there is an end to this siege. Why look, they are taking it through the city gates.'

‘The Queen's instructions are that safe passage shall be given to those who wish to bury their dead outside the city walls.'

‘She is as soft as her husband,' said Matilda contemptuously.

‘Nay, she is a strong woman. It is hard to believe, remembering her as we knew her, but since Stephen's adversity she has shown a fire and determination which few women could equal.'

‘He is fortunate to inspire such devotion in a wife.'

‘The Queen is a good woman, we must grant her that.'

Matilda was bitterly resentful. She hated the woman now; before she had despised her; and the hatred was harder to endure.

She thought: I must get out of here. If I do not in a short time, she will be victorious; and I shall be her captive.

She could not endure that. She must be free. She would take any risks to be free. Her smouldering eyes rested on the funeral party, the wasted body wrapped in winding sheets, the bowed heads of the mourners.

‘I have it,' she said. ‘I shall become as a corpse. I shall be wrapped in my shroud and bound to the bier . . .'

‘Nay, nay,' soothed Robert, thinking her to be hysterical.

‘Ay! ay!' she cried. ‘I see what shall be done. I shall be carried out of this city on a bier and I shall have one or two stalwart mourners to follow me. I shall be as that poor man who is being carried out now . . . only I shall not be dead.'

The two men stared at her.

‘Is it possible?' asked Brian.

‘Of course it is possible. It is going to be possible. For I will not stay here to starve to death nor will I give way and become the prisoner of Stephen's wife.'

Robert was thoughtful but Matilda knew by the glitter in his eyes and the pulse which throbbed in his temple that he was considering the escape in all its aspects.

‘I could not be one of the mourners,' he went on. ‘I should be recognized. They know me too well. You, Brian . . .?'

‘I must be there. One of us must be with you, Matilda. I will disguise myself so that none of you will know me but I will be there.'

‘And when you have carried the bier through the gates?' asked Robert.

‘There should be horses waiting for us.'

‘How?'

‘Ah, how! That is the question. We shall be in the enemy's camp.'

‘It may be necessary to carry the bier into Gloucester.'

‘Then if that must be done, then so it shall.'

‘Could Matilda survive the journey?'

‘I tell you I will endure anything . . . anything but that I should fall a prisoner into that woman's hands.'

‘It is worth an attempt,' said Robert, ‘for there is no other way out of this. It is either death or surrender if we do not attempt to escape.'

‘And you, Robert, when I'm gone?' asked Matilda.

‘I shall not stay here. I shall attempt to break out in some way.'

‘You will use a bier?'

‘Nay, they would not allow that to happen more than once. I shall rely on my sword.'

‘I thank God,' said Matilda, ‘that we have at least made plans. To stay here is driving me mad. When shall we do this?'

‘There is no point in delay. Tomorrow. At dusk. It will be growing dark by the time we pass through the camp. The night will be our friend.'

‘Then tomorrow,' said Matilda.

Wrapped in a shroud the Empress climbed into the roughly made coffin. Those watching her shuddered. Superstitious as they were they were looking for all kinds of omens. She herself felt better than she had for weeks. Inactivity had always irked her. She was sure that her plan was an excellent one. Soldiers who were constantly facing death had a great respect for death. They would never attempt to disturb the shroud and see who was hidden there. Why should they? But once they learned that the Empress Matilda had escaped in this manner they would examine every coffin which was carried out of the city, or perhaps they would give an order than none other must be brought out.

Alas, so many passed out to the burial grounds in these last months. Doubtless the besiegers rejoiced and believed that the city was almost on its knees. Matilda could imagine the joy of the Queen. Was she writing notes of comfort to her husband, telling him that the Empress who had put him in a dungeon would soon be occupying one herself?

She disliked the smell of the shroud and the wood of the coffin. She hoped she would not have to stay long inside it. As the ropes were bound about the rough box she almost felt that she was indeed dead and was being taken to her grave. That day would come – oh, but it was a long way off, she had many years to live yet . . . to live and reign, she told herself fiercely.

They were ready; the coffin was hoisted on to the shoulders of four stalwart bearers and the journey began.

Cowering under her shroud she listened to the voices about her. She knew that people were making way for the procession, that they crossed themselves and murmured: ‘Yet another one. How long before I am carried out of this city in such a box?'

Free! thought Matilda. I shall soon be free.

Out through the city. She could see very little for her face was half covered; Brian had said that none must recognize her if they should decide to look at the corpse. She with her heavy-lidded eyes and her striking features would be quickly identified.

‘Halt!' It was one of the guards speaking – the Queen's guards.

‘Another poor soul going to her grave,' said someone.

There was a brief pause. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it must shake the coffin and betray her. How long that pause seemed to go on! What if someone had betrayed her? What if they should say: ‘We wish to see what you are carrying' – and finding her, take her to the Queen.

She almost rocked the coffin in her fury to think of that woman. How she hated her! Stephen's wife who loved him and served him and was determined to save him from his dungeon.

The cortège was moving forward. All was well.

They were beyond the camp now, out in the burial grounds. The coffin was lowered to the ground.

‘And now,' said Brian.

‘And now we must go on our way. We must be well away by daybreak.'

‘If there were horses.'

‘Horses! Where are the horses here? We must continue with the funeral procession, and carry the Empress on to Gloucester.'

To Gloucester, her bearers on foot, herself wrapped in a shroud and carried in a coffin!

It was the only thing to be done. She had come through the enemy's camp; she was free; but she had to travel to Gloucester in a coffin carried on the shoulders of two strong men.

She would never forget that long journey; she was sore and bruised from the buffeting she received in the coffin. She was
cold and hungry. She felt too weak even to complain and felt sick and faint when at a lonely spot she emerged from the coffin to stretch her limbs for a few brief moments. But always there was the biting fear that the Queen's soldiers would appear and take her prisoner and do to her what she had done to Stephen.

I will never be that woman's prisoner, she thought. I will never give her that satisfaction. She has Stephen. She shall have nothing more, certainly not the satisfaction of giving him
me
as her prisoner.

So she lay in the coffin and was jolted on and on through that wearisome journey; and her joints stiff, her limbs bruised and herself sick and weary, she arrived within the comforting walls of Gloucester – her half-brother's territory where she could for a while be safe.

She had only just arrived at Gloucester Castle when she received the news which was one of the greatest blows possible to her cause. Robert of Gloucester battling his way out of Winchester had been captured. He was now Queen Matilda's prisoner.

WHEN ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER
was brought before the Queen, she could not disguise her great delight, for she knew that without her brother the Empress would be lost. What a fine man he was. No wonder the King had doted on him. There was a rare nobility about him; such a man must be treated with the utmost respect.

‘You are my prisoner,' said the Queen, ‘as the King is that of the Empress. Tell me, have you news of my husband?'

‘I have not seen him but I know that he is in close confinement.'

‘I fear for his health.'

The Queen looked at him searchingly and she saw that he
believed she would do to him as the Empress had to Stephen. He was a man of action and the prospect of spending long weeks or perhaps months, even years in a dungeon appalled him. He did not show his apprehension, but it was there and she was aware of it.

‘I did not see the King,' he said, ‘but had he been ill I should have heard of this.'

She lowered her eyes, for she was thinking of the terrible time when Stephen had been attacked by that curious lethargy which she had feared bordered on madness.

‘The Empress has treated him cruelly,' she went on. ‘I know full well that it was not your wish that this should be. Do not think that I would treat you in like manner. I shall place you in the care of William of Ypres and you shall have as much freedom as it is possible to give you in the circumstances. You understand that you are my prisoner and so must remain.'

‘I understand this,' he answered, ‘and I thank you.'

She signed to the guards to take him away and when he had gone summoned William of Ypres.

‘He is a noble gentleman,' she said. ‘We must treat him with the respect due to his rank and character.'

William of Ypres had no objection to that. ‘As long as he is in our keeping and can be of no further use to the Empress that will be well. She will be lost without him. He has been her strength. Had it been left to him she would never have been turned out of London. Without him she will be defeated and forced out of the country.'

‘One cannot be sure,' replied the Queen. ‘There were those who said that
our
cause was lost when Stephen was captured.'

‘They did not know what a clever and devoted wife he had.'

‘How do we know who will spring up to take the place of Robert of Gloucester with the Empress?'

‘There is Brian Fitzcount of course. He is still with her.'

‘So thought I. This conflict is not over because of the capture of one man however important he is.'

‘But the loss of this man is the greatest blow they could have suffered.'

‘It is true and our greatest gain, for I am going to offer him in exchange for Stephen.'

William of Ypres was silent. The Queen had proved herself an able general. She was strong and had a good man in William of Ypres to help her. They had come out of disaster under Stephen to the beginning of triumph under the Queen. The Queen knew what he was thinking. They could continue the war; they were in a strong position; but if Robert of Gloucester was returned to the enemy, they would gain in strength; and it may be that the Empress had learned a lesson and would not be so rash in future. What would they gain from the exchange: the presence of the King, a figurehead.

The Queen said firmly: ‘I shall immediately begin bargaining for the return of Stephen.'

‘And give up Robert?'

‘Do you not understand that Stephen is in that miserable dungeon! Who can say what is happening to him? He may be ill. He may be dying.'

‘We shall give them back their greatest general.'