The Fatal Crown (66 page)

“Yes, that is her offer. I assume your answer will be affirmative. I told the envoy you would act at once.”

Maud had no intention of discussing the matter with the Countess of Gloucester. “You had no right to tell him anything. I’ll do what’s best for our cause. Be so good as to send Brian FitzCount to see me.”

Mabel made no reply, but her eyes burned with resentment; she turned on her heel and stalked out of the chamber, the servant following on her heels.

Maud closed her eyes. She had never felt so weak, so vulnerable. Holy Mother, how could she give up Stephen? On the other hand, she could not let Robert remain a prisoner. The conflict was perfectly balanced, impossible to resolve.

Brian FitzCount soon knocked on the door and entered the chamber. “Mabel tells me the fever has passed, thank the good Lord for that. You look much improved, Lady,” he said.

“I feel much improved,” Maud said.

Brian perched on the edge of the bed. “You heard about the envoy from Matilda?”

“Yes. Please send him away. I don’t agree to Matilda’s terms.”

Brian was nonplussed. “Don’t agree? What choice do you have? I know what a great loss it will be to give up Stephen, but without Robert we can’t go on.”

“I refuse to even consider such an exchange,” Maud said.

“That’s a most foolish attitude,” Brian countered. “Haven’t you yet learned that he is the mainstay of our cause? Half our following will melt away without him.”

“I thought I was the mainstay.”

“Your ascension to the throne is why we fight, but Robert is the linchpin. You are the end, he is the means. Without him you may as well return to Anjou.”

“I know Robert’s worth,” Maud cried. “But I will never, never, never give Stephen up.” She struggled to a sitting position.

“The rigors of the journey have not only left you physically weak but, understandably, affected your wits as well. You’re hardly fit, I think, to make such an important decision at this time.”

“How dare you. Of course I’m fit.” She glared at him.

“Then you will not follow a path that can only lead to disaster. Stephen and Robert
must
be exchanged.”

Maud had never seen Brian so obstinate before, so unyielding, and his recalcitrant attitude frightened her. In truth, she realized uneasily, she was trapped inside this chamber, at the mercy of Brian, Mabel, and the others. Too weak to fight them. If they refused to obey her there was no way she could force them to her will. She fought down a surge of panic.

“Brian, as my dear friend and loyal supporter, please hear me out. Safe at Bristol, Stephen acts as a check and balance against our enemies. He is all we have now to bargain with. If we give him up, what is left to us?” She forced a smile, her eyes begging him to see her side of it. “We must find another way to buy Robert’s freedom.”

“I’ve always thought you lacked your father’s gift for persuasion, but now I wonder.” Imperceptibly, Brian’s face softened and he rose to his feet. “All right, I’m willing to examine other solutions—for the moment.”

“What will you tell Matilda’s envoy?”

“That he must return to Rochester. No exchange can be discussed at this time,” Brian said, walking to the door. “I leave
you
to deal with Mabel.” He gave her an ironic smile, bowed, and left the chamber.

Six weeks after her arrival in Gloucester, Maud still had not come up with a means of freeing Robert. Even after receiving a message from her half-brother urging her to execute the exchange, Maud could not bring herself to take the final step that would allow Stephen to resume the throne once more. What would she have to bargain with then? Her cause would be worse off than before the Battle of Lincoln. One afternoon toward the end of October she walked with Brian in the courtyard. A brisk wind sent white clouds scudding across the slate blue sky. Soon it would be winter, she thought, her third winter since she had landed on England’s shores.

“Mabel is beside herself with rage,” Brian told her. “Only yesterday she threatened to find a way to exchange Stephen for Robert whether we agreed or not.”

“An idle threat, surely,” Maud said.

“The point is that others feel as she does, including her sons. No one understands your reluctance to exchange the two, why you go against your own best interests.”

After a quick look, Maud avoided his steady blue gaze. “All is lost if I give him up. We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

Brian shook his head. “All is not lost, Lady, if only you will listen to reason. Now that Geoffrey has successfully recaptured much of Normandy, there is an excellent chance that he will come to England with men and arms.” He took her ice-cold hands in his. “When Robert is freed we can, with Geoffrey’s help, defeat Stephen’s forces. I’m sure of it.” He searched her face. “By God’s death, Madam,” he said in an exasperated voice. “Do you think to fool me? What is the real reason you won’t give Stephen up?”

Maud felt her face flush. “I’ve told you, as well as everyone else, the real reason.”

“Have you?” He took her shoulders and gave her body an impatient shake. “Start behaving like a ruler, not a lovesick maid. Where is the Empress of the Holy Roman Empire! Where is the daughter of the formidable Henry, the granddaughter of the great Conqueror?” He moved his face closer to hers. “Where, Madam, is the Queen of England?”

Twisting free, Maud felt as if Brian had struck her a blow in the belly. How dare he talk to her like that—but she could feel the impact of his words penetrating the armor of her resistance. Only Brian would have guessed the basic reason for her stubborn refusal to let Stephen go, a reason she had never fully confronted until this moment. Her love for her cousin, pervading her entire being like a burning fever, had indeed caused her to act against her own best interests. She now realized that hidden in her heart was the wild belief that as long as Stephen remained a prisoner he still belonged to her; this was the only way in which she could possess him. In her unwillingness to face up to the truth, she had lost sight of the larger issue: what Robert’s freedom combined with Geoffrey’s victory in the duchy could mean in terms of reclaiming England.

Raising her head proudly, Maud squared her shoulders:

“The Queen of England stands before you, my Lord of Wallingford. Thank you for reminding me that Geoffrey is now in a position to aid us. When Robert is freed, I will send him to Normandy for men and arms.”

Brian sighed in relief and kissed her on both cheeks. “Thank God. Shall I send a message to Matilda that we agree, in principle, to the exchange?”

Maud nodded. There was no longer any excuse to hold back Stephen’s release, but oh, how bitterly she resented the fact that he would be free—and once again king.

After several weeks of negotiations between Maud’s advisers and the Bishop of Winchester and the Earl of Leicester, who represented Matilda, a complicated procedure of hostages left on both sides was worked out; the exchange of prisoners was now ready to take place.

On a gray drizzly morning in November, Maud, who had insisted on riding to Bristol, stood in the courtyard of Robert’s castle and watched Stephen mount a chestnut stallion. Although pale and somewhat heavier from lack of exercise, he seemed animated and merry, laughing with Brian, Miles, and William of Ypres, who had ridden to Bristol to accompany his sovereign back to Winchester, where Robert was being held by Bishop Henry. It was just like Stephen, Maud thought, to behave as if they were all about to set out on a merry hunt together.

The rain ceased; a flicker of sun burned through the gray clouds, highlighting Stephen’s features and brushing his tawny hair with gold. He had grown a beard during his confinement, and it leant his face a becoming air of authority. Maud’s heart turned over as she watched him throw back his head and laugh at something said by Miles of Gloucester.

She kept reminding herself how much there was to be gained by Robert’s release. Stephen might resume the throne for a time, but with sufficient strength her forces could topple him again, crushing him absolutely. Yet her senses rebelled; her heart cried out against his imminent departure.

Stephen and his escort approached her. Maud had long anticipated this moment, going over and over what she would say to him—scornful words that would leave him in no doubt as to the contempt in which she held him.

“I bid you farewell, Cousin,” Stephen said with a formal bow of his head.

Their eyes met and held in a long look that neither could break. “A good journey to Winchester, my lord,” Maud stammered, all the accusations she had so carefully rehearsed gone clean out of her mind. Do not leave me, she cried silently, I cannot bear it.

Something flickered deep within Stephen’s green eyes, and a look of anguish passed across his face, so fleeting Maud was not even sure she had seen it. His lips opened as if he would speak, he made a sudden gesture toward her, then with an effort brought himself under control. Wheeling his horse around, he headed toward the stone tunnel that led to the outer bailey. In a state of numb despair, Maud watched his escort trot after him. She felt as if a lifetime had passed, but it was only nine months, almost to the day, since Robert had brought him in triumph to Gloucester.

I
N JANUARY OF THE
following year, 1142, three months after Stephen had been freed from captivity, he reluctantly agreed to meet with his brother, the Bishop of Winchester, and leading members of the clergy. The meeting was to take place at Windsor, where Stephen had spent the past twelve weeks slowly resuming his duties as king while he recuperated from his lengthy ordeal in the dungeons of Bristol.

Since his release, he had deliberately avoided a private meeting with Henry, trying to determine how he should best treat his brother: as friend or foe? Well aware that the Bishop had made himself look both a fool and a traitor with his various switches from one side to the other and now back again, Stephen was sure that Henry dreaded the upcoming confrontation with his peers and himself. But there was no way either of them could avoid it.

As Papal Legate, Rome’s legal representative in England, it was Henry’s duty to officially reconcile the English church to their newly restored king. His task would be made immeasurably easier if Stephen forgave him for deserting the royal cause after the Battle of Lincoln. Despite the fact that Henry had abandoned Maud, organized Matilda’s forces at Winchester, and helped negotiate his release, Stephen was not now of a mind to forget his brother’s earlier treachery quite as readily as he had been while confined at Bristol.

As he sat in his wooden armchair in the small council chamber, Stephen began to feel apprehensive; beads of sweat formed around his neck and under his armpits, and a peculiar lassitude, a condition that had come upon him since his captivity, held his body in thrall. In addition to the loss of his old vigor, Stephen found he was more cautious in his decisions, less able to fulfill the demands and pressures of kingship. Now, more than ever before, his strength was needed to serve his kingdom, yet he could not propel himself into action. According to Matilda, William of Ypres and Robin of Leicester, the realm was in a disastrous state: Geoffrey of Anjou was rapidly gaining full control of Normandy, and those supporters of Stephen’s who had estates in the duchy were rumored to be in contact with the Count, including Waleran of Muelan, who had kept his distance since Stephen’s return.

It was inconceivable, thought Stephen. Who would ever have believed that mincing Angevin peacock could be such a successful fighter? His advisers urged him to make an all-out effort against the Angevin forces, pointing out that if the Countess of Anjou were taken captive, there would be a speedy end to the conflict. Stephen knew this advice to be sound, yet he could not bring himself to act. As his physicians had warned him not to plunge into violent activity until he had regained his strength and health, he had used this as an excuse to do nothing.

Whenever he remembered the look on Maud’s face as he left Bristol, his heart ached like an open wound. That look of mingled love, agony and loss still haunted him, for those same feelings were mirrored in himself.

The door opened, letting in a draft of cold air.

Preceded by the Archbishop of Canterbury, a group of black-robed prelates and clergymen solemnly filed into the chamber. Behind them came Henry wrapped in a black mantle.

“How pleasant to see you, Sire,” the Bishop murmured, stretching his lips into a smile. “Recovering well from your confinement?”

Stephen nodded, unwilling to greet Henry in a friendly manner. Let him stew a little, he thought. His brother cleared his throat, ran his tongue over parched lips, rearranged his parchment scrolls several times, and would not meet Stephen’s eyes. He is afraid, Stephen realized with surprise. Fear was not something he had ever associated with Henry, but fear was something he understood only too well, and his heart thawed toward his brother.

The Bishop then began to speak. After a brief preamble, in which he summarized recent events and formally welcomed the King back to his domains, he came to the point.

“Fellow brethren, Sire: You are entitled to an explanation of my conduct during the last year.”

Indeed we are, thought Stephen, curious to see how Henry would wriggle out of this coil.

The Bishop continued. “I was forced to support the Countess of Anjou because the King had been defeated at the Battle of Lincoln and his barons had fled to save themselves. The land was in chaos and I found myself trapped in Winchester surrounded by hostile troops. I could hardly allow the city to be put to the torch, and under threat of force of arms—indeed, my very life was at stake—I had little choice but to capitulate and recognize the Countess’s claim to the throne.”

Henry paused. The chamber was silent as a tomb; Stephen, exactly as if he were in his brother’s head, knew the Bishop wondered if he had gone too far.

“As the Countess of Anjou has since broken every pledge she made to maintain the rights of Holy Church,” Henry went on to say, “she has forfeited our loyalty and support.”