milch cow, milked dry for the Queen’s Exchequer, and that will be the least of our troubles. Geoffrey de Mandeville is looking for any excuse to avenge the slaying of his wife’s father, and when we complain to our new queen, I can assure you that it will be Mandeville she heeds, not us. Let me speak bluntly. London will suffer untold hardships if the empress ever sits upon Stephen’s throne, for she-”
“Have you God’s Ear, Gervase? You know something the rest of us do not? Why do you use words like if and ever when you speak of her queenship? I’d say that is no longer in doubt. The Bishop of Winchester has already proclaimed her as ‘Lady of the English.’ Her coronation is but a formality, and an inevitable one at that.”
“Inevitable? I think not, Osborn. That is why I have summoned you here tonight, to remind you that she has not been crowned yet. It is not too late to save our city…if we have the courage to act and act now.”
There were murmurings at that, and Osborn Huitdeniers said forcefully, “I did not come to hear talk of treason!”
“How can it be treason to support our lawful king? Stephen is God’s anointed, not Maude. I say we keep it that way. She cannot be crowned if the city rises up against her. So there is still time-”
“You think we want that alien woman as our queen? I do not, for certes. But still less do I want to see bloodshed.”
“Sometimes, John, there is no other choice. Maude reminded me that her father was called the Lion of Justice. Well, let me tell you about the justice he meted out to Luke de Barre. Most of you may not know of this, for it happened in Normandy. Some of the old king’s barons had rebelled against him, and it took months ere he was able to put the rising down. Waleran Beaumont was amongst the rebel prisoners. He was young, though, not yet twenty, and the king was persuaded to take pity upon him; he was eventually set free and even restored to favor. But Luke de Barre was not so lucky, for the king commanded that his eyes be put out with red-hot awls. Men thought this was unjust, as Luke de Barre was not one of the king’s vassals and thus was not forsworn, not guilty of treason. But he was a poet, and he had offended Henry by his mocking, scornful verses. Even the Count of Flanders pleaded on his behalf, to no avail. The king would not yield; Barre had made men laugh at him, he said, and there could be no forgiveness for that. As it happened, the sentence was never carried out…because the poor wretch preferred death to blindness and beat his head against the wall of his dungeon until he died. But the king did not relent. And this I can tell you for true, that Maude is his daughter. We’ll get no more mercy from her than Luke de Barre did from Henry.”
His story seemed to have the desired effect. Men shifted uneasily in their seats; a few blessed themselves as inconspicuously as possible. Osborn felt a chill; the sheep, did they not see that Gervase was leading them right to the cliff’s edge?
“What does the fate of a Norman lord have to do with us?” he demanded. “I do not deny that the empress is a vexing and overweening woman. But she is not going to destroy our city. That is for us to do-if we heed reckless men like Gervase de Cornhill! What will happen to us if we do rise up, as he urges? She will retreat, only to come back with an army and lay siege to London. How long could we hold out? Who is going to come to our aid? I do not suppose that Stephen commands too many men from his prison chamber at Bristol!”
“I admit there is a risk, but if we take a stand, others will join us. No one wants that woman as queen, and men would be heartened by our defiance. They would rise up, too, would-”
“And if they did not? What would befall us then? If the empress is even half as vengeful as Gervase claims, she would exact a dreadful price for our rebellion. Let Gervase talk about long-dead Norman poets. I say we talk about history closer to home-Lincoln! Is there a man here who does not know what that city suffered after it was taken by the empress’s army? Do you truly want to see London reduced to the same pitiful straits?”
The spectre of the ravaged ruins of Lincoln was a powerful deterrent. Although Gervase continued to argue, he soon saw that he was swimming against the tide. He’d wager that most of the men agreed with him, but they needed more than hope ere they’d commit to such a perilous course. He subsided, slumping down in his chair as the discussion ebbed and flowed around him. If the fools would not listen, what more could he do?
Thomas Becket had taken no part in the debate, listening intently but voicing no opinion of his own. When it was clear that Osborn’s arguments were going to carry the day, he asked his clerk to fetch him more wine. Thomas rose obligingly, and it was then that he saw the monk being ushered across the hall toward Gervase. He paused to watch, sensing something out of the ordinary was occurring.
“Silence!” Gervase shouted suddenly. “I’ve just gotten an urgent message from Bermondsey Priory, and it changes everything. It seems there is a new player in this game. Brother Anselm here has come at the behest of Prior Clarembald to bear witness. He says that Queen Matilda and William de Ypres have led an army out of Kent, and they are ravaging and burning south of the river!”
That announcement unleashed brief pandemonium. “Quiet!” Gervase cried, over and over until he got his way. “Let Brother Anselm tell us what he knows.”
“It is true,” the monk said calmly; he alone seemed untouched by the chaos permeating the hall. “They spared our priory, but others were not so fortunate. If it were not full dark, you could see the smoke along the horizon. And by the morrow, they’ll be in Southwark.”
“As I said,” Gervase repeated triumphantly, “this changes everything. The queen is sending us an unmistakable message-that we have as much to fear from her wrath as we do from Maude’s.”
“It is so unfair! How can people hope to survive, trapped between two armies! What can we do?”
“Is it not obvious? We ally ourselves with the queen, we keep faith with Stephen, and we show Maude the mettle of true Londoners!”
This stirring declaration set off a burst of cheering. Osborn shuddered, seeing his rental houses and his luxurious Thames Street home going up in flames, a lifetime’s work lost, and for what? “Let’s not be hasty! We must think this through, must-”
“What was it you’d asked, Osborn-who would come to our aid? Well, now we know-Queen Matilda! I say we send word to her straightaway!” And this time Gervase prevailed. Agreement was swift and almost unanimous. On this Midsummer’s Eve, London cast its fate with Stephen’s queen.
June 24th, the Nativity of John the Baptist, was also known as Midsummer’s Day. It was a popular festival, celebrated with bonfires and flowering garlands and torch-lit processions. Westminster’s great hall was hung with St John’s wort, rue, roses, and vervain. The palace cooks had been laboring all morning to produce a truly spectacular meal, a trial run for Maude’s coronation banquet, and the air was redolent with the aromas of simmering venison stew and roast swan and freshly baked bread. As noon approached, the guests were escorted into the hall, then to their designated seats at the linen-draped trestle tables, while youths hurried to offer lavers of scented washing water and hand towels.
It was not until the first course was served-a savory rabbit soup-that Maude had the opportunity to question Robert about the Bishop of Winchester’s conspicuous absence. “When you saw him this morn, Robert, did he tell you he’d not be attending? What excuse did he offer?”
“I did not see him, Maude. He has left Westminster.”
“Without a word to me? Where did he go?”
“I do not know. I have to admit, Maude, that I’m troubled in this disappearance of his. I know you do not like hearing it, but we have to make our peace with the man…and it will not be easy if we cannot even find him.”
Maude set her spoon down. “Most likely he’s gone off to one of his manors to brood, waiting to be coaxed back. I understand that was his usual routine whenever he did not get his own way with Stephen. I never expected to be in sympathy with Stephen, but I can well imagine what he must have gone through after denying Henry that archbishop’s mitre he so craved. It amazes me that he had the backbone to hold fast…”
She waited until a server had removed her soup bowl before turning back toward her brother. “Now…what of the rumors about Ypres? Is it true that he plundered and burned manors and villages south of the river? Have you been able to verify that yet?”
“My scouts have not returned, but Geoffrey de Mandeville says it is true enough, and he ought to know.” Robert lowered his voice, for the Earl of Essex had been given a seat of honor at the high table. “I’ve heard it claimed that half the whores in Southwark spy for him, and I’d not be surprised, for little gets past him.”
Maude found it difficult to admit she’d so misjudged Stephen’s queen. She was baffled, too, for she would never have expected Matilda to put Stephen’s life at risk. But this was neither the time nor the place to discuss Matilda’s astonishing metamorphosis, and she contented herself with saying only, “I thought Matilda had more common sense.”
The conversation at their table was now focusing upon the continuing saga of the Earl of Chester’s lordly
