The Lion of Justice (31 page)

The frightened child put his fingers to his ears but William said soothingly, ‘You won't.
I
shan't allow it.'

‘You!' said Matilda scornfully. ‘You will do what you're told.'

‘And so will you,' replied William. ‘Now let us play a game. I shall hide and you will find me.'

Before Matilda could reply he had run off shouting, ‘Count ten first and hide your eyes.'

As Matilda could never resist the game she counted with the rest and was certain that she would be the one to find William, for she knew his favourite hiding-place was in the courtyard behind the great buttress close to the stables.

Matilda always wanted to lead: in all games she must excel; so must she in lessons. She had once heard her father say that it was a pity she had not been born a boy. She thought it a pity, too, for if she had she would have been heir to the throne.

She had asked her mother how she had felt when she was born. Was she sorry that she was not a boy?

‘As soon as I saw you I was glad you were just as you were.'

‘Was I very beautiful then?'

‘No, but you were mine.'

‘Whose did you expect me to be?' asked Matilda, and her mother repeated what she had said to her father, to show what a clever little girl they had.

It seemed that her mother was always trying to make up to her for being the elder and not a boy. Her father, of course, while affectionate towards her, could not hide his greater interest in William. It was for this reason that Matilda must always assert herself, and with her nature that was not difficult.

‘You will be your grandfather over again,' said her father.

Her grandfather had been the great William the Conqueror. She liked to hear of his adventures. He was a man to
be proud of, but listening to an account of his exploits only made her wish all the more that she had been born a boy.

She was, however, not going to allow that fact to affect her. She was going to show everyone that even though she might be a girl she was as good as any man.

William had not hidden in his usual place and there were sounds of arrival from a little way off. Who was visiting them?

She forgot the game and went to see.

There was a retinue of very rich-looking men. Their clothes were colourful but strange and they spoke in unusual tones.

Her father and her mother were there to greet them, so they must be very important people.

She heard a shout of triumph. Someone had found William. That was the signal to go back to the Cotton Garden. She ignored it. She always liked to know what was going on. She kept her ears and eyes open. Then she could talk to the others as though she had very special knowledge.

She did not go back to the Cotton Garden but watched the visitors instead. Her father was talking with one of them and leading him into the palace, her mother with another.

They were ambassadors from abroad. How she would love to know who they were and what they had come for.

It must be wonderfully exciting to be a King and have such people come to talk to you.

She felt a fresh resentment because that silly little William would be the next King of England while she, Matilda . . . what would she be?

Matilda was not long in discovering the object of the strangers' visit.

Later that day her mother sent for her.

The two Matildas were so unlike each other that they would never have been taken for mother and daughter. The Queen often thought: The one thing we share is our name and that is not really mine. But it was so long ago that she had been Edith that even she had come to think of herself as Matilda.

The Queen held out her hand and Matilda came to her and kissed it.

Matilda thought her mother quite handsome, in a meek kind of way which would never be her daughter's. She looked as though she had become resigned to life. Young Matilda had heard that she had been brought up in an abbey and how her Aunt Christina had tried to make a nun of her. I should like to see anyone try to make a nun of me! thought Matilda with eyes flashing. But her mother was so meek she wondered often why the ogre Christina had not succeeded. The Queen wore her favourite colour blue, and her mantle was scarlet. The blue kirtle had gold buttons and her fair plaits hanging over her shoulders ended in ringlets.

The dress was formal and her daughter guessed that it had been donned because she knew that the important visitors were coming.

‘Now, my daughter,' said the Queen, ‘I have something very important to say to you.'

‘Has it anything to do with the visitors?'

‘You saw the visitors?'

‘Yes, we were playing hide and seek and I came into the courtyard near the stables to look for William.'

Why was it that Matilda was always in some strategic position at important moments, wondered her mother.

‘Then you may have guessed that they have come on an important mission.'

‘Yes, my lady.'

‘It concerns you.'

Matilda's eyes sparkled. ‘How?' she cried. ‘What does it mean? Oh, my mother, what
does
it mean?'

The Queen smiled and laid her hand on her daughter's head. ‘This may come as a great surprise to you.'

‘That they came about me? No, my lady . . .'

‘You believe yourself to be of great importance, I know.'

‘I am the daughter of the King,' replied Matilda proudly.

‘You are shrewd beyond your years. A very great honour is about to befall you. You are asked for in marriage.'

‘In marriage! Oh, my mother! Who wants to marry me? I shall not take him unless he is the greatest King in the world; but that is my father, and I cannot marry him. It will have to be the second greatest king. Who is that?'

‘Matilda, Matilda, you are too hasty and too proud. But you
have reason to be proud, for the Emperor Henry V of Germany is asking for your hand in marriage.'

‘Oh, my mother, I shall be an Empress!'

‘That is so, my child.'

‘And is an Empress as great as a Queen?'

‘Some would say greater.'

Matilda clasped her hands together and raised her eyes in ecstasy. ‘When shall I be married?'

The Queen smiled. ‘My dear child, you are seven years old.'

‘But the Emperor wants to marry me.'

‘People do not marry at seven.'

‘Then why does he ask for me?'

‘It is the result of friendship between our countries. Your father is now the Duke of Normandy as well as King of England, and that means that he will have influence in Europe and his friendship is important there. So the Emperor wants this alliance.'

‘Will he wait?'

‘He is prepared to do that.'

‘For how long?'

‘Until you are of an age to marry.'

‘But when will that be?'

‘My dear daughter, are you so anxious to leave us?'

‘Oh, no, my lady, but to be an Empress . . .'

‘I see you love the prospect of honours more than your family.'

Matilda considered this. ‘I love you and my father,' she answered. ‘But it is not fair that I am a girl and not my father's heir. I would be a better ruler than William.'

‘You must not say such things. William is little more than a baby. Your father would be most displeased. You must try not to be so ambitious, Matilda: it is not becoming.'

‘How can one try to be what one is not, my lady?'

‘Every one of us must curb the weaknesses in our nature.'

Afraid that in a short while her mother would be suggesting they kneel and pray if she did not change the conversation, Matilda said hastily, ‘I will try, my lady. What is the Emperor like?'

The Queen hesitated.

‘He is older than you are.'

‘How old?'

‘He is forty years older.'

‘Forty years! Then he is an old man, for I am seven. That makes him forty-seven.'

‘He will be kind and gentle because he is old.'

Matilda lifted her shoulders philosophically. ‘Still,' she said, ‘he is an Emperor and much can be forgiven him for that.'

The Queen shook her head over her daughter. She was a true Norman – ambitious and already showing signs of that love of possessions together with the quick temper which were an inheritance from her paternal grandfather.

Most children would have collapsed into tears of horror at the thought of marriage with a man forty years older, and the Queen had been prepared to soothe the child and tell her that it would be many years before she must leave them.

But Matilda was no ordinary child. As soon as she had heard that she would be an Empress she was completely contented with her lot.

From then on she gave herself new airs. She was no longer merely the King's daughter; she was the Empress Matilda.

Anselm was very ill, and it appeared that he had not long to live.

The Queen sent kind messages in which she assured the Archbishop the King joined. Henry, however, did not view the imminent death of his Primate with any real dismay.

He needed money badly. The war in Normandy had proved expensive; it seemed very likely that he would soon have to make an expedition to that troubled land. It was hardly possible that the barons would not take an opportunity of rising against him; they would use the young Clito as an excuse. So that was something for which he must be prepared.

He was flattered and honoured that the Emperor of Germany should have asked for the hand of his daughter; but naturally he would seek some advantage from the match. For instance, Henry would have to provide a dowry and it would have to be a handsome one.

Anselm would have reminded him of his promises to the
people. Had he not on his accession sworn that he would abolish the cruel taxes which his brother Rufus had demanded?

Yes, yes, thought Henry. I had to. What would have happened if I had said I would need money for my various enterprises? Would Anselm have had him not make those promises? Would he have wished England to have been passed over to the feckless Robert? And now he had Normandy and there was need to hold it. There was need to strengthen alliances with those countries close to Normandy. And therefore he must provide a dowry for his daughter.

He talked of these matters with the Queen, as always.

‘We must find the dowry before the proxy betrothal takes place,' he explained. ‘There will have to be new taxes.'

‘But you have promised the people . . .'

‘Not you also,' groaned Henry. ‘Tell me where .I am to find the money for my daughter's dowry without taxation?'

‘Perhaps it would be as well not to accept the proposal.'

‘Not accept the proposal of such a powerful man! The Emperor of Germany asks for your daughter's hand and you say perhaps we should not accept it! Are you mad?'

‘Nay, only suggesting how you might keep your promises.'

‘Promises . . . promises . . . what are promises compared with the safety and prosperity of the country? I need strong allies in Europe and the best alliances are made through marriage.'

‘Perhaps it would be better if you had not taken Normandy. You will have to defend it and this will take you away from England.'

‘My dear Matilda, I have brought England to a state of peace and prosperity. Everyone knows that. The people may be taxed but it is so that they may continue to enjoy peace and prosperity. I shall have to go to Normandy, of a truth, but I can leave the government of this country in good hands – the chief of these my Queen and good Roger of Salisbury.'

‘He who keeps a mistress?' she asked.

He burst into laughter. ‘A fine and comely woman.'

She shrank from him. ‘It is wrong . . .
wrong,
Henry.'

He kissed her full on the lips and held her against him.

‘Did I not tell you you had much to learn of the world?'

‘To learn that a poor priest is outcast for doing what a rich one may do with impunity?'

‘These poor priests are of no use to the country. Roger is of the greatest use. He is a man who cannot do without women. As you know there are some like that in the world.'

‘Then they should not be priests.'

‘They become so and then discover their needs. Come, Matilda, there must be leniency for those who serve us well. Let him enjoy his warm bed. The people can sleep safer in theirs because he is in charge of affairs while I am away.'

‘If you had not taken Normandy . . .'

‘Have done, Matilda. I was meant to conquer Normandy. My father prophesied that I should. But the people will have to understand that I need money and they, who reap the benefits, must provide it.'

Matilda knew that she could not remonstrate with him, either to take a stern view of Roger's way of life or to keep his promise to the people.

There was murmuring throughout the country now, for the new tax was three shillings on every hide of land, and burly men were sent all over England to collect it.

Matilda heard stories of great hardship, for many families who possessed little land had no money to pay the tax. In these cases the house owner was thrown into prison or his goods were taken and the door of his house removed so that any passer-by could enter it.

Many of the victims of this new hardship escaped into the forests, and there became bandits who emerged from their hiding-places to rob their more fortunate fellow countrymen. The fact that these people hid in the forests was an indication of their desperation, for the forestry laws of Henry I were as harsh as those of the first William and Rufus, and any man found trespassing was most viciously and horribly punished.

People began to murmur against the King. They said that life was as cruel in these days as it had been in the preceding reigns.

In the midst of this Anselm died.

Matilda wept for the man whom she regarded as an old friend; Henry assumed grief but he felt little. Anselm had always been a trial to him and now that he was dead Henry
could seize the See of Canterbury and all its wealth.