The Fatal Crown (44 page)

“Maud—” he croaked, lifting his head. “Stephen—” His eyes closed and his head fell back.

“There’s no mystery here, my lords. The King has been eating stewed lampreys again,” said one of the doctors with a severe look at Robert. “He was forbidden the dish, and has not abided by this salutary counsel. I fear there is little we can do now.”

“How did he manage to get hold of stewed lampreys?” asked Robert, looking at the shocked group. “Who would be so wicked as to give him any?” His eyes slowly scanned the five nobles present, all of whom vehemently denied knowledge of the act.

Stephen held his breath, waiting for the condemning voice, the accusing finger. But no one paid him the slightest attention. The physicians bled King Henry with leeches, and attempted to pour various potions down his throat, to no avail. Several times he attempted speech but was only able to make rattling sounds in his throat.

At midday one of the doctors turned to Robert. “I fear it is close to the end, my lord, for his heartbeat is so faint I can barely hear it. Send for the Archbishop of Rouen. The King won’t last through the night. Nothing can save him. He must confess his sins as best he can and be given the last sacraments.”

“I will go myself to fetch the Archbishop,” Stephen quickly offered.

He did not wait for agreement but ran from the lodge to where the horses had been tethered. In truth he could no longer bear the sight of the King’s contorted face and swollen belly, or the stench of impending death that pervaded the lodge.

The Archbishop was in Rouen Cathedral preparing for Compline when Stephen arrived. He quickly gathered what he would need to give the King his last rites, then, accompanied by several clergymen, hurriedly left for the hunting lodge.

“I will notify the ducal palace,” Stephen told him, “then join you later at the lodge.”

When Stephen entered the palace, the first person he met was the King’s seneschal, Hugh Bigod, on his way to Compline.

“The King lies only hours away from death from a surfeit of stewed lampreys,” Stephen said. “The Archbishop has just left to administer the last rites. I pray he is not too late.”

Hugh, a small man with sloping shoulders and the narrow face of a weasel, signed himself. “So greed has undone him. May God rest his soul and grant him infinite mercy.” He paused. “Did the King make any significant changes in the disposition of his realm?”

“Not while I was there. In truth, he is beyond coherent speech.”

“Pity.”

Stephen gave Hugh a searching look. “What changes did you hope for?”

Bigod led Stephen down the passage, out of earshot of men entering or leaving the great hall.

“Since the estrangement from his daughter, some among us hoped the King would repent of the oath forced upon his barons, and deny her as his heir.”

Stephen’s heart began to hammer in his chest. “In favor of?”

Hugh gave him a sly look. “His nephew, Stephen of Blois, naturally.”

Their eyes met and held. “He whispered nothing in your ear as you bent to solace him?” Hugh asked with a meaningful smile.

Stephen hesitated. An image of Maud flickered briefly in his mind; her last words of rejection echoed in his ears. Hardening his heart, he made a quick decision.

“If the King had whispered in my ear, I would be the last person to be believed in such a matter, for there is too much I stand to gain.”

Hugh stared at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“That, as the King’s seneschal, you could easily bear witness to having heard the King’s last words. If you left for the lodge at once, you could say in perfect truth that you had been there at the time of his death. He will not last through the night, believe me.”

Hugh cast an uneasy glance down the passageway to where a guard yawned. “You must be mad.”

“Am I? Who put the idea into my head? Who regretted that the King had not repudiated his daughter in my favor?”

There was a tense silence while Hugh regarded him through half-closed lids. “What persons are present at the lodge now?”

“Two physicians. His son of Gloucester, the Lords of Wallingford, Warrenne, and Perche, and the de Beaumont twins, with the Archbishop on his way.”

Hugh licked dry lips and scratched himself under the arm. “What you ask entails great risk. I cannot speak for the others, but Robert and Brian will certainly deny anything I say against the Countess of Anjou. It will be my word against theirs.”

“The twins will do whatever I ask, and William of Warrenne has always been favorably disposed toward me. But in truth your word will be the most important.”

“Why?”

“Let me explain,” Stephen said, trying to banish all thought of Maud and what this would do to her. “I propose to leave for Boulogne tonight, and thence to England.”

“Is that wise? Surely your absence will be noted?”

“Not immediately. There will be too much confusion and grief attendant upon the King’s death. By the time someone does notice, it will be too late.” He could hardly believe the words were coming from his own mouth.

“Too late for what?” Hugh frowned.

“Too late to prevent me from being crowned,” Stephen said. Part of him was listening to his words in horror, while another part was oddly elated, justifying his actions by believing that it was all Maud’s fault. She could have prevented this.

He heard Hugh’s sudden indrawn breath. “By Christ, this is no sudden impulse, but a well thought out plot to take over the realm! That crafty brother of yours is behind this, I’ll warrant.” His eyes darted up and down the deserted passageway. “Very well, what is it you would have me do?”

“Come at once to Winchester as soon as the King is officially pronounced dead. My brother and I will have all in readiness. All you need do is swear that the King changed his mind at the last and named me heir. The whole realm knows of his estrangement from Maud and Geoffrey. Your word will be sufficient to get me crowned. By then it won’t matter who supports your tale.” He searched the seneschal’s face. “You understand that haste is paramount? The moment the King is dead you must leave for England.”

“Indeed, my lord.” Hugh gave him a cunning look. “I understand only too well. If at all possible you wish to be crowned before anyone notices anything awry.”

Stephen acknowledged Hugh’s comments with a curt nod but did not speak. He was already regretting having confided in this man, doubting he could be trusted.

Hugh scratched himself again, his face tense. “You ask me to take an enormous risk. What is my exchange for this act of perjury?”

“Surely it is worth something to be delivered from the Angevins?”

“True enough, but not sufficient to make up for a reputation that will lie in tatters before this business is over. There’s my broken oath to consider, losing the goodwill of old colleagues. Not everyone will flock to your side, you know.”

Stephen gave him a winning smile. “I know only too well. But there are others who will champion your words and say you acted in a worthy cause, whatever means were used. My brother has promised absolution from the church, so your immortal soul is not in peril.” He clasped Hugh’s hands in his own. “When I am king I will make it worth your while, I promise you. You only need ask for what you want.”

“The earldom of Norfolk. Title and lands.”

“Consider it done.”

After a long pause, Hugh slowly nodded his head. “Very well, I will do it. And I’ll hold you to your promise, my lord. We meet again in England.”

The fear of discovery would soon be over, Stephen thought, as he rode through the night to the port of Boulogne to take ship for England. He felt no surge of triumph, only relief that events had at last been set in motion and the prize was almost within his grasp. The meeting with Hugh had been fortuitous, like a godsend. How astounded his brother would be!

Stephen was surprised not to feel any remorse over his uncle. The King had had a prosperous, if uneven reign for thirty-five years. His only regret was Maud. He loved his cousin; he knew he would always love her, and because of the passion they had shared together she would probably never forgive him for taking the throne. Yet was that entirely fair?

He argued with an invisible Maud, reminding her that she had never faced up to the fact that no one wanted to be ruled by a woman, particularly one with an Angevin husband. After all, he thought, stiffening his resolve, she had made her choice; he had made his. So be it.

No sooner had Stephen taken ship from the port of Wissant in Boulogne than a great storm arose. Lightning forked across a black sky, followed by claps of thunder. A torrential rain rocked the ship and the fearful crew wondered what such a sign portended: Was the end of the world come at last?

Undaunted by the storm, Stephen wondered if King Henry had just drawn his last breath, and this was God’s way of acknowledging the passing of a mighty monarch. He smiled to himself, knowing the thought would have pleased the king. In fact, the entire venture on which he had embarked was something his uncle would have understood only too well. The great William, his grandfather, had taken England by conquest; his son, King Henry, had taken it by treachery. Was he so very different, then, from his usurping forebears? He must have inherited more Norman blood than he imagined, Stephen thought with a grim smile.

A day later he landed safely at Dover with a force of men he had picked up in Boulogne. First Stephen sent a herald to his brother at Winchester, informing the Bishop of the events that had taken place in Rouen: the King’s death—which surely would have occurred by now—and what he next proposed to do. Then he rode to Dover Castle, held by Robert of Gloucester’s men.

“I seek entrance to the castle,” Stephen called to the guard in the gatehouse. “King Henry has been mortally stricken in Rouen and is surely in heaven by now.”

He waited while the guard fetched the castellan of the castle.

“If the King is dead and the Countess of Anjou is queen, why have we not been informed by Earl Robert?” the castellan called down from the ramparts. “Why do you wish entrance?”

Taken aback, Stephen hesitated, realizing he had not thought this matter through. He had expected the gates to be thrown open immediately and inwardly cursed himself for not having been better prepared for all eventualities. But the hesitation was sufficient to make the already cautious castellan suspicious.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but without orders from the Earl I cannot permit you entrance.”

Within moments the battlements bristled with guards.

The castellan was sure to report the incident, which would reveal his intentions to Robert sooner than anticipated, but Stephen did not have sufficient men to lay siege to the castle and time was against him. He decided to make for Canterbury, but as he had not slept in forty-eight hours or eaten since the day before, he stopped at an inn for a quick nap and rushed meal.

When he reached Canterbury he saw what his brief delay had cost him. The castle there, also held by Robert’s men, had obviously been warned by the castellan at Dover. The gates of the town were closed against him. Had it all been for naught, Stephen wondered, dismayed at the hostile reception. What did this portend for his future?

When he reached London, however, it was a different story. The leading citizens, with whom Stephen had always been popular, listened to the news of the King’s probable demise in respectful silence, shed a few tears, then gave him an enthusiastic welcome. Without any formal right to do so, the most influential of the burghers called for a general assembly at which they declared they would only have Stephen for king. In that instant, all Stephen’s doubts vanished.

“I will make a pact with you, good people,” he called out to the assembled throng on a frosty morning in December. His tall figure towered above everyone else. A radiant smile illuminated his face; the winter sun fell upon his bare head like a halo of pale gold. A hush fell upon the crowd. The affection and goodwill flowing between himself and those gathered to hear him were palpable.

Stephen threw out his arms as if to clasp them in his embrace. “I will devote myself with all my might to pacify the kingdom for the benefit of everyone, as did my uncle. Here is my solemn promise, before God and all His Saints.”

One of the foremost citizens shouted back: “As long as you shall live, we will uphold you as king with all our resources, and guard your life with all our strength.”

There was a thunderous response from the folk of London, who cheered for Stephen, threw their caps in the air, and carried him about on their shoulders. Heady with triumph, Stephen felt he had attained the summit of his ambitions.

T
HE NEXT DAY STEPHEN
sent a fast courier to tell the bishop of Winchester of his acclaim in London. Stressing haste, he urged his brother to gather together all the influential churchmen and nobles who were immediately available, particularly the Archbishop of Canterbury. After spending several days consolidating his position in the capital, Stephen left for Winchester.

As he galloped out of London, Stephen hoped his brother had gained access to the treasury, which, he surmised, must be of huge proportions after his uncle’s careful hoarding. Although possession of the treasury, as well as the support of the London citizens and Norman barons, was essential for any claimant to the crown, the recognition of leading churchmen was equally important. Only the Archbishop of Canterbury could crown a king. Stephen knew he must rely heavily on his brother, upon whom the ultimate success of their whole enterprise depended.

He reached Winchester the following day at first light. Bishop Henry, surrounded by a crowd of leading citizens, nobles, and prelates, greeted Stephen with a smile and threw welcoming arms around him. Yet Stephen sensed a tension in his brother’s body.

“Oh, well done, Brother,” Henry whispered. “You have acted with dispatch and I highly commend you.”

Stephen looked quickly over the crowd, noting the presence of the Bishop of Salisbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and other leading churchmen, as well as the treasurer. “Will they accept me?” he asked under his breath. “Do you have possession of the treasury?”