WHEN 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!”
Maud rose to her feet. “I have no need of excuses, nor have I betrayed you. I deeply regret any ill feeling this may have caused.”
“You’ll have cause to regret more than that before I’m through,” the Bishop hissed, with such a look of hatred that she felt a twinge of fear. He turned on his heel and left.
Maud did not see him again until they met with the group of burghers in the council chambers directly after Vespers. The air between them crackled and she knew she must pacify him as soon as the meeting was over.
Maud had given much thought to this second meeting with the London deputation. She did not need Henry to tell her how desperately she needed their support, well aware that these wealthy merchants and magistrates enjoyed an unusual state of independence and authority in London.
When the deputation arrived, Maud, seated behind the oak table, greeted them cordially, then got right to the heart of the matter. “Have you made a decision about the funds I requested?”
The leader of the deputation spoke. “We have, and deeply regret that we can’t accede to your wishes. Quite simply, we don’t have the resources to do so.”
Maud’s face paled. “You know the treasury is virtually depleted?”
The leader nodded his gray head. “By the same civil war that has crippled us as well. If we hadn’t been forced to give our last penny to support King Stephen—”
Maud felt a surge of heat. “How forced! A taste of the lash? Hot irons?”
“After all, he was the king, Madam. And now that the Queen is demanding more money to strengthen her army—” He bit his lip and stopped, as every eye turned toward him in horror.
“The former queen has no claim on you, nor any right to ask you for funds,” Maud said, her voice dangerously calm. “Your loyalty is to me, no one else.” The surge became a hot tide of rage rushing through her.
“So—you refuse aid to your rightful sovereign while behind my back you plot and connive with the wife of the man who has all but destroyed England.” She rose to her feet. “The matter is now out of your hands. The London citizens will be taxed. Effective immediately.”
“But King Stephen—”
The last vestige of caution snapped like a frayed rope. “You’re not to speak that usurper’s name in my presence ever again!” Maud shouted, heedless of the effect she created.
The burghers glared at her and she returned their look with equal enmity. Finally the leader bowed his head, and turned. Bishop Henry, with not a look or a word to Maud, followed the deputation out of the chamber.
As Henry and the outraged London burghers walked along the pathway to the abbey, a man approached them through the gathering dusk. He stopped in front of the Bishop holding something wrapped in a linen cloth.
“I beg pardon, Your Grace, but have you seen Domina? She was to meet me here this evening. I be the silversmith who casts the royal seal,” he explained.
“Is there some difficulty?” Henry asked.
The silversmith unwrapped the covering from a lump of wax and read aloud the inscription: “Matildis Imperatrix Romanorum et Regina Anglaie.”
The London citizens, who had been following the exchange, exclaimed in anger. “By the Rood, that foolish woman has put the Empire first!” said one.
“What kind of queen would forget she was a daughter of the royal Saxon line?” said another.
“Isn’t it obvious? Her loyalties are to Anjou and the Empire, not England or Normandy,” sneered a third.
“The lady admitted it was a mistake,” the silversmith offered grudgingly. “She asked me to change it and put England first. But not till ye pays me, I says. So I’ve come now for me money.”
For a long moment the Bishop stared at the pale oval of the silversmith’s face, barely visible in the lengthening shadows. A pulse worked in his jaw, and his hands were suddenly damp. “You know, I do believe Domina mentioned something about the great seal,” he said slowly. “Yes, now that I think of it, she said she had decided to let the inscription stand as is. ‘Empress’ was a more prestigious title.”
There was a gasp of disbelief from the silversmith. “God’s teeth, she’s gone back on her word!”
“Unfortunately that seems to be the case. Oh, yes, and she refused payment until after the coronation. But I’ll compensate you out of my own pocket.” Henry reached into the scrip at his belt and handed the silversmith a few coins.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the silversmith muttered, surreptitiously biting one of the coins. “Be damned to the lady if this is how she treats us. She be no queen of ours.”
“Angevin bitch,” said one of the Londoners. “First taxes, now insults to the country she intends to rule! If this is how she begins, where will she end, eh?”
There were angry murmurs of assent.
“Not only that, but the evil woman has chained my brother to a dungeon wall,” Henry said, throwing a few more coals onto the fire.
“Shocking, Your Grace, shocking,” murmured one of the burghers. “Is there naught we can do?”
“She’s not yet your queen,” Henry reminded them in a low voice, his eyes sliding up and down the pathway. “If you’re of a mind to act, then now’s the time to do so.”
“How?” the silversmith asked.
“Alone you accomplish nothing, but if you spread the news, tell others what has transpired here this night—the seal, crushing taxes, my brother’s cruel confinement—and I’m sure you will find other grievances—the city can be alerted to the lady’s intentions. That is,” he paused, “if you’ve decided on what you want to do.” There was a tense silence. “For myself, I can no longer submit to the dictates of this unprincipled daughter of Eve.”
The men nodded their heads in agreement. What he had said was only the absolute truth, as God was his witness, Henry thought, with a surge of righteousness.
“So you now favor the cause of our good queen Matilda?” the leader asked.
It was an awkward question. Henry had not planned on this turn of events, merely taken advantage of what the moment offered. He did not want to commit himself to an irrevocable course of action. There was always the possibility that something could go wrong, leaving him neither in one camp nor the other. He had not really thought the matter through, but the men were waiting and he had to say something.
“We should consider supporting Queen Matilda and do all we can to free my poor brother, who must be suffering so pitifully chained to his cell.”
Henry wondered if he had gone too far but the vehement cries of approval from his audience assured him he had not. He had almost forgotten that anything that threatened their beloved Stephen would move these Londoners to action.
“Our dear king at the mercy of the Angevins!” The leader of the deputation signed himself. “We must do what we can to aid him. At all costs the lady must be prevented from being crowned.”
There was a moment of silence while two guards walked by the pathway. A rising moon flickered on their helmets and tall spears.
“Be sure you cast the seal into silver,” Henry told the silversmith in an undertone. “Let it bear mute witness against the Countess of Anjou. Now, there’s little time and much to accomplish. I leave the matter in your hands.”
“You may rely on us. We’ll reach the Queen in Kent and join forces with her army,” said the leader of the deputation. “The Roman Empress will rue the day she set foot in London. Do you wish to be informed of—”
“Of nothing,” Henry interjected firmly. “I return soon to Winchester. We’re all in God’s hands, my friends.”
The Bishop turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.
With a twinge of uneasiness, he realized that he had set something in motion whose end even he could not foresee. But should matters go seriously awry, Henry reassured himself, he could always deny all knowledge of what had occurred this night.