THREE DAYS LATER MAUD entered the great hall at Westminster with her uncle and Robert in tow. She stopped short in bewilderment: The trestle tables were only a third full, and the high table was empty.
“Why is everyone so late for the evening meal?” Maud asked Robert as she seated herself in the wooden armchair next to her uncle.
“It’s very strange,” Robert said. “Did you notice there were not many at Vespers this evening? Even Bishop Henry was absent. I like it not.”
A procession of serving men entered the hall led by the steward.
“Where is the Bishop of Winchester?” Maud asked him.
The steward looked surprised. “Why, he left early this afternoon, just after Sext it was. Packed up all his belongings and said he was going back to Winchester. Seemed in a great hurry. I assumed he had informed you, Lady.”
“Henry is deserting ye,” David of Scotland said.
Maud was stunned by the steward’s news. “But why? Surely he stands to gain more by remaining loyal to me.”
“Ye ha’ thwarted him too often, lass,” her uncle told her with his usual bluntness.
Maud picked fitfully at the food on her trencher, praying it wasn’t true. “If Henry has temporarily deserted,” she said at last, surprised at how much she minded, “we must make every effort to get him back. If I have to compromise, I’ll do so.”
“It looks as though others besides Henry have deserted ye, Niece,” the King of Scotland remarked, nodding at the half-empty hall.
“So it seems,” she said, with a forced laugh to hide a growing disquiet. “Where is everyone tonight?” she asked the steward.
“Why, most of the nobles have left, Lady, due to the fearful rumors being spread about.”
“What rumors?”
“It is said that you have levied a tax that would take a tenth of every man’s possessions and refused to maintain the liberties London has always been granted—”
Maud jumped to her feet. “These are monstrous lies! How could anyone believe them?”
“I only repeat what is being said, Lady,” the steward replied. “Obviously many nobles believe them.”
Robert put a hand on Maud’s arm and pulled her back down. “I’ve heard these rumors too, Sister, but saw no need to burden you with them. Not only do we torture the former king but our army lays waste the countryside, burning villages, raping women—committing all manner of ungodly crimes. This is one of the reasons I sent Brian and Miles into London and Kent.”
“My guess be that William of Ypres’ Flemings are responsible and our troops blamed,” King David told Maud. “I only wish our forces were here and na at Oxford. What else have ye heard?” he asked the steward.
“Folk are leaving in droves so they will not have to attend the coronation. London seethes with unrest.”
“When Brian and Miles return tonight, we’ll soon know the truth of these sorry tales. Meanwhile, the Constable’s men—” Suddenly Robert’s eyes narrowed. “The Constable of London’s troops usually fill up the lower tables—where are they?”
“The Constable himself withdrew them before Vespers, my lord,” the steward said, looking fearfully from Robert to Maud. “He said they were being returned to the Tower.”
“God’s wounds, he has withdrawn all his men?” Robert shouted, jumping to his feet.
Maud felt her stomach lurch. “Brother, what does this mean?”
“It means there are very few guards left to protect us should—”
The sudden ringing of the tocsin interrupted him. Maud’s heart leapt and she sprang to her feet.
“The palace is in grave danger, Sister.” Robert quickly turned to the two squires who served him. “Oswald, Jehan, go to the gates at once and see what is happening. Hurry.” Then, to his small troop of knights: “Arm yourselves and be ready to defend the palace against attack.”
The servitors and the steward looked at one another, then almost as one body ran out of the hall.
Panic washed over Maud, yet she could not grasp the full significance of what was happening.
“It sounds like the palace is about to be sacked.” David rose from his seat. “But Robert and I will protect ye, lass.”
“No, Sire,” Robert said. “Our men are too few to withstand an attack. Our best course is to get Maud away from the palace. My advice is that we leave separately and ride in different directions.” He paused. “You and your Highlanders make your escape through the front gates, where there’ll be much confusion. We’ll try to leave through the postern gate.”
King David nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make for Carlisle.” He gave Maud a gentle kiss on her forehead. “May God protect us all,” he said, and lumbered out of the hall.
A moment later Jehan appeared. “My lord, there do be a great crowd of men with torches, carrying billhooks and axes, beating at the gates of Westminster. Fires can be seen across the river and all the Constable’s troops have vanished. We have only our own men left to fight.”
Even as he spoke, Maud could hear a faint angry roar.
“Saddle up the horses,” Robert instructed. “We’ll meet you at the stables.” He grabbed Maud’s hand.
“No.” Maud stubbornly resisted the pull of his grip. “I’m no coward! I won’t let that rabble frighten me out of my own hall!”
“You have no choice!” Robert cried.
The tumult outside increased. The shouts were closer now and there was the sound of hammering. Through the crackle of splintering wood, Maud began to distinguish isolated words and phrases. “Sack the palace—get rid of the she-dragon—we want no foreigners—bring back King Stephen—kill the Angevin bitch—”
For an instant Maud did not know whom they meant. Then, with a sudden blinding awareness that rocked her to the very core of her being, she realized the mob’s rage and hatred were directed at her. Their vicious taunts rained down like barbed shafts piercing her to the marrow. The pain and shock were so great that all the resistance went out of her. Dazed, she let Robert lead her from the hall, down the passage beside the kitchens, through the back courtyard, and into the stables.
They had just mounted their horses when Brian appeared.
“Thank God you’re both safe,” he said. “The mob smashed the gates with a battering arm and Miles and I managed to ride through by claiming to be Matilda’s knights. Her army has entered the city and are stirring up the populace. Londoners are destroying everything in the palace, and it won’t take them long to reach the stables. We must try to escape by the postern gate and head for Oxford.”
“My uncle—what has happened to my uncle?” Maud asked through numb lips.
“King David is unharmed,” Brian told her. “He and his Highlanders raced through the gates just as the rabble poured in. In all the confusion no one recognized him. Our own knights were less fortunate, I fear. They fought on foot and the mob cut them down like sheaves of wheat.”
“Brave men,” said Robert. “May God give them rest.”
“The seal,” Maud cried. “The silversmith was to deliver the seal tonight! I can’t leave it behind to fall into the mob’s hands.” She tried to dismount.
Robert gave her mare a sharp rap on the hindquarters. “By God and all His Saints, of what use will the seal be to you now?”
The mare bolted forward and Maud’s party raced toward the postern gate and the Oxford road.
Maud’s heart kept pace with the steady beat of her mare’s hooves as her party galloped toward Oxford. Every few moments she turned her head to see if they were being pursued, but the road was deserted. All that was visible against the night sky was an eerie red glow that grew fainter and fainter as each league took her further away from London—and the throne.
Maud’s thoughts were in turmoil. One moment she had been Queen-elect of England, less than a week away from her coronation; now she was shorn of everything, fleeing for her life. The crushing blow to her pride, the pain of loss, mingled with an overwhelming bitterness when she thought of the treacherous Bishop of Winchester, as well as those nobles who had fled Westminster at the first sign of trouble.
How could she have been so blind to the storm brewing around her? Although she had not been popular before she ever set foot in London, what, apart from the vicious rumors spread by others, had she done to precipitate the attack? If her father had taken the same stern measures as herself would he have provoked an uprising? The grim answer stared her in the face.
Uncle David never tired of pointing out to her that what was acceptable in a man, ill became a female. Woman was the weaker vessel. Inferior. Subordinate. Someone who obeyed orders from her male superiors. Maud’s spirit had always rebelled against this attitude—despite the fact that everyone shared it.
If matters had progressed normally, peacefully, as her father had intended, she might have succeeded. If Stephen had not stepped in to destroy her chance of success. For a moment she was so choked with hatred and frustration that she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. But then she began to weep silently as the anguish of love betrayed, suppressed, denied, pierced her body like sword thrusts.
After a time, drained of all feeling, Maud saw the first signs of a pink dawn. As the sun rose, Maud could see the spires and towers of a city emerging from the dawn mist. Ahead lay Oxford—and an uncertain future.