The Fatal Crown (60 page)

Maud froze; it was the last thing she had expected to hear. She stole a look at the Bishop but his face was without expression. Had he connived with these people for Stephen’s release, she wondered, even put them up to it?

“What you ask is impossible,” she told the spokesman, keeping her voice civil. “Stephen usurped my throne, beggared the treasury, failed to exact retribution from those who broke the law, and has made England unfit for human habitation.” She almost choked with the effort to control her growing rage. It was past belief that these citizens would seek to free the very person who had brought such misery to their realm.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “but in all conscience I cannot grant your request. It would be far too dangerous to release the former king, who would then become a focal point for my enemies. Surely you can see that?”

“What I see, Lady, is that you refuse to honor our request,” the man said in a sullen voice.

The deputation all looked at her as if she were the enemy, not Stephen. He was a Londoner, one of them, while she was the interloper, the stranger from Germany married to a hated Angevin. It was all there in the hostile expressions on their faces. Maud became aware that the din of voices in the hall had grown quieter, everyone listening to the exchange.

“Perhaps you don’t realize the disastrous state of the realm,” Maud continued softly. Their blank faces infuriated her. Who did they think was responsible for England’s terrible condition? “There is so little left in the treasury that I can’t put meat on my table without aid, or even hold a proper coronation. The truth, good sirs, is that I desperately need your help. Funds must be raised for me in London at once.”

The citizens looked at each other in dismay. Maud could feel them withdraw even further from her. The leader tried to catch the Bishop’s eyes. One look at Henry told her he was furious with her for not having first explained what she intended to do.

“It’s your duty to support the realm,” she persisted. “My eldest son, your future king, will be with me when I come to London, and I must hold a proper coronation.”

“We’re not prepared to give you an answer now,” the spokesman stated. “First we must return to London and consult with our colleagues.”

“Nor do we expect an answer now,” Henry said with a forced smile as he stepped forward, ready to take charge. “When Domina comes to London for her coronation we’ll meet again and hear your decision.” He paused. “Meanwhile, the lady will take your request under serious consideration. Serious consideration,” he repeated loudly. “Now, I trust you will be my guests at Wolvesey during your stay in Winchester.”

Before Maud could stop him, he quickly ushered the men out of the hall, returning a few minutes later.

“God’s wounds, what possessed you to ask them for money?” he spat out. “Why didn’t you tell me what you intended? You’ve made me look a proper fool, Madam. And to reject their plea out of hand was the height of folly! Stephen is still very popular in London and Matilda is regarded as a saint! You must learn to be more politic.”

Her eyes like storm clouds, Maud regarded him steadily. “Do you suggest that I accede to their request and free your brother?”

“Don’t be absurd! But there’s no need for these men to know your true intentions. Bargain with them; tell them what they want to hear. If they will raise funds for you then you may seriously consider freeing Stephen. Reveal little, promise much, but commit yourself to nothing.”

Maud found herself repelled. “I refuse to make false promises.” She appealed to her uncle, Brian, Robert, and Miles. “Haven’t we all had sufficient of fair words and deceit?”

Henry raised his voice. “We speak of diplomacy, Madam! London lies in a part of England that remains loyal to Stephen; skirmishes are still being fought in the southeast and Matilda continues to gather an army in Kent. Far better to let me handle all such matters in future.”

Robert stepped forward. “Peace!” He looked up at Maud. “The Bishop is right, Sister, our position is far from secure in London. We must give no one cause to turn against us. Perhaps this was not the most auspicious moment to request funds.”

Miles and Brian murmured their agreement.

“Listen to the Bishop, Niece,” said David. “Henry has ye best interests at heart. Be guided by his judgment.”

“I think we’re all agreed that until you’re crowned, affairs of state would be best left in our hands,” Robert added.

The silence in the hall was like a tomb as everyone openly listened to the heated exchange. Maud could feel all eyes upon her, weighing, judging. She saw several of the barons nudge each other while others exchanged significant glances and smug smiles. They were not displeased to see her being put in her place. Maud’s cheeks burned with humiliation.

For a moment she hesitated while a parade of images passed before her eyes: All the men who had been important to her had attempted to control her, never letting her fully emerge in her own right. She remembered her father sending the frightened little girl into Germany against her will, then forcing her into a loveless marriage to serve the succession of England and Normandy. She had always seen the Emperor as a benign husband who truly appreciated her. But even he had been continually advising, dominating, steering her in the direction he wanted her to go. Most important of all there was Stephen. Her cousin had captured her heart, enslaved her body, only to betray her love and trust. Now she was left with his bitter legacy: a divided realm that clearly did not want her to rule. Even her own supporters did not trust her enough to make her own decisions.

Thus far she had done what was asked of her, dutifully deferring to the judgment of others. Her mind reeled when she remembered the orders she received on a daily basis: Do this, don’t do that, listen to Henry, listen to Robert, heed your Uncle David.

But no more. No, by the Holy Mother of God, no more! She was virtually queen, only weeks away from her coronation; no longer would she be used or treated like a not very intelligent child. From now on she would take matters into her own hands.

Maud rose slowly to her feet. “By God’s splendor, if these London citizens do not willingly give me aid then stern measures will be taken against them.” She fixed the Bishop with a steely glance. “And against all others who are not fully behind me.” She wanted him to know, though she had no proof, that she suspected his underhanded dealings with the Londoners. When all was said and done, Stephen was Henry’s brother, a fact she must never forget.

“Stephen has brought disaster to this land. A firm hand on the reins is now needed and that’s what England will have, my lords.”

Her eyes swept the hall, lingering on the barons, the clergy, and last on her close advisers. “I will be queen in fact, not just in name. I advise you all to remember that.”

I
N EARLY JUNE MAUD
and her party rode down Waiting Street toward the gates of London. She was far more apprehensive than she had been when she arrived at Winchester three months earlier. This time, against the express counsel of her advisers, who had urged caution and delay, Maud knew she was entering a city overtly hostile to her, and doing so without the protection of her greatest asset: her son Henry.

Geoffrey, continuing to gain ground in Normandy, had refused to send the boy to England claiming that London was still too dangerous and his safety could not be guaranteed. Maud had been furious, but to persuade Geoffrey to change his mind would take precious time. Maud was unable to explain to herself, much less her advisers, why she felt such a compelling urge to be crowned as soon as possible.

Far ahead she could see the walls of the city bristling with guards. Her apprehension increased. Although Robert had bribed the Constable of London—a former supporter of Stephen’s known for his dubious loyalties—to ensure their safety, the political climate of the city, a law unto itself, remained unstable. Against her better judgment, Maud had followed the Bishop of Winchester’s advice to leave her army quartered at Oxford so as not to offend the London citizens by a show of force. Like everything else the Bishop suggested it made diplomatic sense, and yet, ever since her meeting with the London deputation, she sensed Henry was undermining her authority. He found fault with every move she made, from holding the coronation without her son to revoking Stephen’s charters in favor of her own supporters which he knew perfectly well was the time-honored way of establishing the rights of the victor.

The tension between them was growing unbearable and Maud prayed that once she was crowned it would end. If she and her own advisers were not able to work together, how could any of them hope to salvage the kingdom?

The heavy iron gates loomed directly in front of her. For one wild moment Maud wondered if she was riding into a trap. Then, to her immense relief, they swung open. The moment she was inside the city, she was overcome by echoes from the past. The cobbled streets, the vendors’ call for ripe cherries, the aroma of hot chestnuts, all carried a bittersweet memory of her carefree days with Stephen.

“Send the she-king back to Anjou,” a jeering voice suddenly called out. “We don’t want the Angevin bitch.” The cry was taken up by other voices, but quickly hushed when the Constable’s men rode through the crowd, spears at the ready.

It was an unpleasant reminder that London was still Stephen’s stronghold, and the bold appraisal of its citizens let her know they withheld approval. Win us over if you can, their mocking expressions seemed to say. Why was it that these people were so antagonistic to her? I was born in London, she wanted to cry aloud. I am one of you. Accept me.

Maud did not feel easy until they were safely within the walls of Westminster.

The coronation was set for St. John’s Day at the end of June. The next week went by in a dizzying round of council meetings, conferences, fittings for the coronation robes, audiences for arriving nobles, and nightly feasts.

One morning, a week before the ceremony, Robert approached her in the gardens of the royal enclosure and handed her a roll of parchment.

“Geoffrey has sent again,” he said. “This time he demands money. He has beggared the treasury of Anjou in your cause, he claims, and needs help.”

“What cheek!” Maud exclaimed. “However, if he were willing to send over young Henry, I might be persuaded to help him.”

“What with? Or have you forgotten that you had to sell off most of the Imperial jewels to provide for your coronation?”

“As if I could forget,” she sighed. “Which reminds me—there has been no response from the London burghers concerning my request for money, and that was over two months ago. Have them come to Westminster this afternoon.”

“Is that wise?”

“Does it matter? Necessity is stronger than wisdom. Is there anything else that needs my attention?”

“The deputation from the cathedral chapter of Durham has arrived about the vacant See. Have you made a decision yet?”

Maud shook her head. The subject of the vacant See of Durham had put her in an awkward position, which was why she had postponed dealing with it. Two candidates vied for her approval. Her Uncle David recommended his chancellor, as Durham lay close to the Scottish border, while the Bishop of Winchester had put forth his own candidate for the post. Maud had promised Henry that no church appointments would be made without his approval; on the other hand, how could she offend the King of Scotland? What a coil.

“A silversmith has also arrived to see you about the royal seal,” Robert continued. “He wants you to examine the rough wax impression before he casts it into silver.”

“I’ll see him at once. I can do nothing without the official seal.”

“You wished me to see the wax impression?” Maud asked the silversmith a few moments later when they entered the great hall.

“Yes indeed, Lady,” he replied in a surly voice. “A mistake has obviously been made. The inscription you ordered reads thus:
‘Matildis Imperatrix Romanorum et Regina Anglaie.’”

“Maud, Empress of the Romans and Queen of England,” she translated aloud. “Oh!” Her face flushed. “Yes, I see. A mistake indeed. How stupid of me. It should be the other way round.”

He stared at her rudely. “To put the Empire on the seal at all is bad enough, Lady, but to place it before England is a mortal insult.”

Maud did not know what to say. Amidst the mounting demands made on her time, she had hurriedly scrawled out the inscription to be given to the silversmith, not inspecting it carefully. After all, the last time she had had a seal made for her had been as Empress of the Holy Roman Empire. It was an understandable error, if a foolish one, but she could tell from the man’s attitude that her explanation was not satisfactory.

“Forgive me,” she said. “Please change it at once; put England first, of course. I’m so grateful that you caught the error.”

Maud knew that it would be more politic to omit the Empire from the seal altogether, but vanity would not allow her to give up the most prestigious title she had. It could do no real harm to leave it, she decided.

“Before I cast this into silver I must be paid for my work,” the man asserted.

“Surely that’s an unusual request? You will be paid in time, of course, but it’s urgent that I receive the seal at once.”

“Unusual or not, Lady,” he insisted, “if you want the seal you must pay me first.”

She glanced at the stubborn set of his jaw, and knew it was useless to argue. “Return this evening and I’ll see you’re paid.”

She watched him leave, inwardly berating herself for having made the error. The Londoners already distrusted her, God alone knew what they would make of this latest peccadillo. Why was it she simply could not put a foot right with these people?

Robert frowned. “The man must be aware of the state of the treasury. I’ve never heard such an outrageous demand before. How will you pay him?”

“With the money I hope to get from the London burghers. Or this if need be,” Maud said, pointing to a gold-and-sapphire ring on her middle finger that had belonged to Geoffrey’s mother, the Countess of Maine. Geoffrey would be furious, of course, but that could not be helped now. If one more thing went wrong …