The Fatal Crown (61 page)

The bells rang for Tierce and as Maud turned toward the abbey, she was surprised to see the steward running down the passage toward her.

“Lady,” he began in a breathless voice. “The Queen is at the gates, requesting an audience with you. The guards would not permit her entrance without my approval. What shall I do?”

Maud froze. “Of whom do you speak? I am the only queen.”

The steward turned bright red, then swallowed convulsively. “Forgive me. As God is my judge, the former queen is what I meant to say,” he stammered. “The Countess of Boulogne.”

The blood drained from Maud’s face and her heart missed a beat. Matilda! Holy Mother, what could she want?

“Do not distress yourself,” Robert said, giving her an anxious look. “I’ll see her for you.”

“She will only state her business to the Lady of England,” the steward said. “What shall I tell her?”

Maud hesitated. It was foolish to feel so apprehensive. She must get a hold of herself. There was no earthly reason why she need be afraid.

“I will see the Countess in the solar,” she told the steward.

“Be careful with Matilda,” Robert said unexpectedly. “I don’t trust this visit. Perhaps I should stay with you during the meeting.”

“Do you have so little confidence in my ability to behave properly?”

Maud turned away and walked down the passageway in the direction of the staircase. Despite the warmth of the day she shivered, as if a wolf had walked over her grave. How she dreaded the coming interview with her cousin.

Maud entered the richly appointed solar that had formerly been occupied by both Queen Alix and Matilda. She dismissed her women, removed her veil, then smoothed back unruly strands of russet hair. Picking up a silver mirror from a small oak table, she spared a quick glance at herself. Would Matilda think she had aged? Her face looked no older, she thought, but there was a sense of strain that had not been there before. And she was far too pale. Matilda would be sure to notice. She pinched her cheeks to give them color.

Should she greet her sitting or standing? Maud sat on the chair, then decided it might be better to remain on her feet. As she was somewhat taller than Matilda, standing would give her an advantage. It was ridiculous how agitated she felt.

There was a sharp knock on the door and Bishop Henry of Winchester entered the room.

“I’m to receive Matilda,” Maud said, “I can’t see you now.”

“I wondered if you might wish me to be present. After all, Matilda is my sister-in-law, and I’m familiar with her ways.”

“That is kind of you, but she wishes to see me alone.”

The Bishop hesitated, then bowed his head. “Very well. You know the Durham chapter have arrived?”

“Yes.”

Before Henry could speak again a shadow fell across the portal. “The Countess of Boulogne is here.” One of Maud’s women hurriedly announced the deposed queen, then scurried away.

Matilda walked into the room, stopping in surprise when she saw Henry. “Your Grace,” she murmured uncertainly.

“Benedicte. You’re looking well, Madam,” he said, inclining his head, then withdrew from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Maud’s anxiety increased; she felt flustered and uncertain of herself. “Will you sit?” she asked Matilda, offering her the chair.

“I’ve always loved this room.” Matilda sat down carefully on the chair. In one hand she gripped a roll of parchment.

As she soon felt foolish standing, Maud abruptly seated herself on an embroidered stool across from Matilda, took a deep breath, and folded her hands tightly in front of her to keep them from trembling. Stephen’s wife was clad in Our Blessed Lady’s colors of white and blue that she had always favored. A white wimple framed her pale face.

Maud could think of nothing to say and the silence, taut as a bowstring, stretched between them. As it lengthened, Maud became impatient.

“What did you wish to say to me?” she finally asked.

Matilda swallowed several times; her fingers, showing white about the knuckles, clutched the silver rosary hanging from her neck. She seemed incapable of speech. Maud’s heart went out to her. The poor woman had come to beg a boon from her victorious cousin and it was proving harder than she had thought. As it would be for me, Maud realized.

“Come,” she said in an encouraging voice. “I’ll not bite your head off. What do you wish of me?”

“Please release my husband from captivity.” The words came out in a rush as Matilda held up the roll of parchment. “Here are the signatures of many nobles, as well as the burghers of London, joining their plea to mine.”

Maud’s lips tightened. She should have known it would be something like this. “You know that’s impossible.”

“I implore you, Cousin,” Matilda whispered. “I beg you to release him.”

“If Stephen is now held captive he has only himself to blame. It was his choice to break his oath and usurp my throne. You’ve always been regarded as an honorable woman, Matilda. Do you tell me what he did was honorable?”

Matilda quickly lowered her gaze. But not before Maud had caught a fleeting look of guilt. Stephen’s wife knew full well how treacherously her husband had behaved. Yet blind loyalty forbade her to admit it.

Maud rose from her stool. “I offered Stephen his freedom if he would renounce all claim to the throne, swear that I’m the rightful heir, and admit that what he did was unjust.”

Matilda gave a wan smile. “Of course he refused.”

“There’s no more to say upon the matter. Was that all you wished to ask?”

“No.” Matilda lifted her head. “For the sake of my children I beg they be allowed to keep Stephen’s possessions: his fief in Lancaster and the estates in Normandy. Your father bestowed these upon Stephen before … before he gained the throne.”

“Stephen is one of the wealthiest landowners on both sides of the channel. All that he owned is forfeit to the crown and I desperately need his wealth. You must know the deplorable state in which he left the treasury.”

She waited for a response. When Matilda remained silent; Maud continued:

“You’re still Countess of Boulogne with all the revenues of that busy port at your disposal. It’s not as if your children will be reduced to begging in the streets. I regret there is nothing I can do to help you.”

“You could, you could,” Matilda cried, her voice breaking. “If you had a heart like any normal woman.”

Maud felt her body go absolutely rigid; a hot reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she got herself under control before replying. “When Stephen confiscated all of Robert’s lands and castles, except for Bristol, did you plead for Robert’s sons to keep their patrimony?” she asked. “Did you consider my son’s legacy when you bargained with the King of France for Eustace to become Duke of Normandy? Tell me, what would my father do in like circumstances? Or my grandfather?”

Matilda looked at her in piteous mute appeal. Tears glistened in her faded blue eyes. She covered her face with trembling hands. “Will nothing move you to pity?”

“What moves me to pity, dear Cousin, are burnt towns, decaying hamlets, untilled pastures, and the starving populace!” Despite her efforts to remain calm her voice shook with suppressed anger. “What fills me with horror are roads so ravaged none dare venture upon them; innocent men captured and tortured for their gold by scoundrels and rogues who roam unchecked about the land. Does that answer your question?”

“The state of the realm is as much your fault as it is Stephen’s,” Matilda cried. “It wasn’t like this before you landed on England’s shores.” She clasped her hands in an attitude of prayer. “If you let my husband go free he will become a monk, a pilgrim in the Holy Land, and never return. I swear it!”

Stephen a monk? Matilda could not be serious. But one look at her cousin’s face told Maud that indeed she was.

“Stephen has never shown the slightest evidence of a spiritual nature, much less a call to serve God.”

“With you that was probably the farthest thought from his mind,” Matilda retorted. There was no mistaking the note of bitterness in her voice, and the sudden heat in her eyes. Then, as if aware that she had revealed too much, she hastily rose to her feet. “He’ll go mad if he is locked up for the rest of his life.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “How can you torture him in this way?”

Maud was completely taken aback. Sweet Marie, how long had Matilda suspected what had passed between herself and Stephen? There was no rejoinder she could make without incriminating herself.

Unable to look her cousin in the eye, Maud sat down again on the stool, fighting to keep her head and not let her sense of guilt betray her into folly. In her heart, she did not wish her cousin any ill will. Nor did she intend to keep Stephen prisoner for the rest of his life, as her father had done with his brother. It was on the tip of her tongue to reassure Matilda that she would relax her iron hold when the time was ripe, but then she thought better of it. Matilda might take this as a sign of weakness, or worse, that Maud, as queen-elect, was responding to an implied threat of scandal exposed. Then it would be evident that she had indeed something to hide. At all costs no one must ever suspect the guilty secret of her son’s birth. A bastard would never be allowed to inherit the throne.

“Cousin! I beseech you, I humble myself before you, please let my husband go free.”

To Maud’s horror, Matilda fell on her knees in the dried rushes and clasped Maud around the legs so that she could not move.

“Matilda, get up at once.” Maud struggled to free herself but her cousin clung like a leech. “Suppose someone were to see you like this?”

“I care not who sees me. I’m past shame, past pride.”

“Come, get hold of yourself.” Maud was mortified by this unseemly behavior. Struggling to her feet she gazed down at her cousin’s imploring face. Beyond the streaming blue wells of her eyes, Maud sensed the steely quality of Matilda’s will, perceived her stubborn singleness of purpose. In that moment she knew Stephen’s wife possessed as strong a determination as her own. Matilda would stop at nothing to free her husband and see him on the throne once more. Here indeed was an enemy to be reckoned with.

Her respect for Matilda increased but all trace of sympathy vanished. “Get up,” she said sternly. “I will not free Stephen under any circumstances.”

Matilda gave a last choking sob, and rose shakily to her feet. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she took a deep shuddering breath.

“Very well,” she said, pulling herself together with an obvious effort. “I’ve tried to appeal to you as a wife and mother, woman to woman, but you’re without mercy.” Her voice grew cold. “However, I have other weapons at my disposal. My army in Kent grows daily. William of Ypres commands the troops and he will fight on in the King’s name. What you refuse to recognize, Lady, is how deeply Stephen is loved, while you … you are despised. Never shall you have the goodwill of the English. Never.”

The words were hurled at Maud like stones from a catapult, intending to wound, and they did. Each word struck her heart with the force of a heavy blow. She stiffened her back, unwilling to let Matilda see how deeply she was hurt.

“Empty threats. In ten days’ time I’ll be queen,” Maud said, forcing her voice to be steady.

“Will you? I would not count on that, Cousin,” Matilda said.

Maud, her face flaming, strode to the door of the chamber and threw it open. “A good journey back to Kent, Madam.”

Head bowed, the traces of tears drying on her cheeks, Matilda walked out of the room. Maud watched her until she turned a corner of the passage, then sagged against the door, Matilda’s last words echoing ominously in her mind. Was there a scheme afoot to prevent her being crowned? She must tell her half-brother at once.

W
HEN MAUD FOUND ROBERT
, she told him about Matilda’s veiled threats. He immediately arranged for Brian to go to the outskirts of Kent, and Miles of Gloucester to the heart of London, to see what they could discover about the Countess of Boulogne’s plans.

While Robert conferred with Brian and Miles, Maud agreed to see the chapter from Durham Cathedral in the council chamber. In the interests of serving justice, she requested that both the Bishop of Winchester and the King of Scotland be present at the interview. The Durham clergymen spoke at length about the respective candidates. It soon became evident they preferred the Bishop’s man to fill their vacant See, for the Scots were unpopular in England, particularly along the border, which they frequently crossed to steal cattle and sheep from the Norman barons. Maud knew Henry considered her decision a mere formality, performed out of deference to her royal uncle. Henry’s man was the obvious choice; still she hesitated.

She glanced at her uncle, steadfast in his loyalties, who had never deserted her cause despite the expedient truces he had made with Stephen; his chancellor was as well qualified as the Bishop’s candidate. Her cousin, Henry, clever and devious, ran with the tide and always would. If he was loyal to anything, other than his own interests, it was to his brother. The issue resolved in her mind and she made her decision.

“I will appoint the King of Scotland’s chancellor as bishop to the See of Durham,” she announced.

“Thank ye, Niece, ye’ll na regret it,” said David, with a gratified expression on his face.

The deputation of ecclesiasts, shaken, turned to the Bishop of Winchester, who was so shocked that his eyes almost bulged from his head.

“Return to St. Paul’s,” he told the clergymen in a strangled voice. “I’ll meet you there later.”

When they had gone, he marched up to the oak table and unleashed the full force of his outrage. “How dare you humiliate me like that! Church appointments are my province, Madam, mine! Or have you so soon forgotten your promise not to interfere in ecclesiastical matters? You made an agreement with me and you had no right to make such a decision!”

“And I intend to keep that agreement; nothing is forgotten. This was a special case. If it hadn’t involved my uncle I would never have interfered. It won’t happen again.”

“And I’m to be fobbed off with that lame excuse?” The Bishop’s body quivered with fury. “You’ve betrayed me, Madam, and by God, you’re right. It will
not
happen again!”