Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,103

him dry and then desert him. He needed to learn how to be shrewd and build affinity, and how to divide and conquer as necessary. She curled her lip, thinking of Stephen.

He had no notion of how to rule a kingdom. All the wealth her father had accumulated was pouring out of the coffers like blood from a slashed artery as he strove to hold together the factions at court. Being a king was not about pleasing people.

It was about controlling them.

A messenger was ushered into her presence and, kneeling, presented her with a bundle of parchments. Her eyes lit on the seal of Ulger, bishop of Angers, as she dismissed the messenger.

This was the news she had been waiting for, and her breathing quickened. The bishop had been in Rome at the Lateran Council, petitioning to have Stephen overthrown. Matilda had sent rich gifts to the delegation along with her pleas: reliquaries, a gold pyx, boxes of frankincense, and a robe woven with cloth of gold and embroidered with rubies from the treasure store she had brought with her from Germany. Stephen had sent his own delegation there to argue his case under the auspices of the dean of sees and she knew he would have sent similar gifts and left nothing to chance. She read rapidly, repeating the words to 255

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herself. It was written in Latin, in which she was fluent. As she read, her cheeks began to flame and she felt so sick with rage that she heaved.

“Sister?” Robert, who had entered the room in the messenger’s wake, hastened over to her. “What is it?”

“Have you seen Stephen’s argument?” she choked. “Have you seen why he says I have no right to be queen of England?” She thrust the parchment at him. “He argues that my parents were never legally married—that my mother was a nun, a bride of Christ, who had taken the veil! I expected him to make much of the lie that my father absolved men of their vows to me on his deathbed, but this…this reeks of the gutter!

Yes, she dwelt in a nunnery before she wed him, but she did not take vows.”

Robert read the letter and his expression grew grim. “That is a desperate argument,” he said with contempt. “The marriage was performed by Archbishop Anselm, and he would never have sanctioned it if he believed for one moment your mother had taken the veil.” Robert read further and then said bleakly,

“The pope has upheld Stephen’s claim to the crown.” She controlled her anger. “I did not expect any different from Innocent.” She gestured to the letter. “Many of his cardinals disagreed with his decision. It is they we must foster, and we shall look to the next pope for a better outcome.

Innocent is an old man and not robust. This only makes me the more determined. All the time my father was heaping largesse and privilege on Stephen, he was fostering a viper in his bosom.”

“Stephen would not have done it without advice from his inner council,” Robert said. “He allows men of stronger will to govern him, and in turn they fight among themselves over who is going to be the power behind the throne. The Beaumonts are trying to undermine the bishop of Winchester’s influence 256

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with Stephen. You know how much our cousin wanted to be an archbishop, but they’ve stopped him in his tracks.” Matilda exhaled with bleak amusement. Cousin Henry had supported Stephen all the way to the throne of England, expecting to become his chief adviser and archbishop of Canterbury in due course, but his plans had been thwarted by the Beaumont brothers Waleran and Robert. It was their candidate, Theobald of Bec, who had been elected to the arch-bishopric. Adeliza had written that Bishop Henry was fuming at what he saw as an insulting slight.

“So you think he can be further weaned away from Stephen?” Matilda asked, thoughtful now. Her rage had become a dark sediment in her blood. “I would not trust Henry of Blois further than I could throw him in all those glittering robes of his, but he could be useful to us.”

“I will write to him in general terms,” Robert replied. “A little diplomacy to grease the wheels and some flattery to soothe ruffled feathers will not come amiss, and may even be of great benefit.”

Matilda gave a curt nod. “Do what you can.” She tried to put the news

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