Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,119

them and the sodden grass soaking into their shoe soles and cloak hems, when all this should be taking place in a hall filled with candle glow, incense, and the bright gleam of regnal gold.

She drew herself erect and raised her voice. “I have come to claim what is rightfully mine and that which my father willed to me. You all swore to me thrice, and if what a man says three times is true, then how much more when uttered by a king? I am your sovereign lady, and I thank you all for your true support.”

Waleran de Meulan made a sound in his throat. Ignoring him she went to Robert, took his hands, and gave him the kiss of peace on either ruddy cheek. Let Meulan and Winchester stare their fill and report back to Stephen as they chose. The fight for England’s crown had well and truly begun.

She turned to take the oath of the next man, who was kneeling awkwardly because he was so tall. His head was bowed and a few fine strands of silver threaded his mist-dewed hair. The sight of that silver when before it had been midnight-dark sent a pang through her. He took her hand and kissed the ring upon it, and then pressed his forehead there.

“Forgive me, domina,” he said. “You must do with me as you see fit; my life is yours. I did not have enough faith.” The pang intensified as affection mingled with exasperation.

“Certainly you are of no use to me down there,” she said and gestured him to rise.

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Lady of the English

He shook his head. “Not unless my queen tells me she forgives me. Otherwise treat me like a traitor and strike me dead.” Matilda tapped him briskly on the shoulder. “Get up, you fool.” Her voice was terse with the effort of concealing her emotions. “There is nothing to forgive. I need every sound man willing to swear to my banner and what use are you to me dead?”

Slowly, he unfolded to his full height, and now she had almost to crane her neck. There was a sheen in his dark eyes and his throat was working. “None, unless you profit from it, domina,” he said hoarsely.

Her lips twitched. “Can you still put up a tent?” He answered with a faltering smile. “With the best of them, domina.”

“Then for the moment, that is all I need to know.” She looked round. “I will ride now,” she said imperiously. “I have had enough of carts.”

A groom brought Matilda’s mare from the back of the wain.

Henry of Winchester and Waleran de Meulan turned their party back to Arundel, the bishop saluting both her and Robert with a meaningful look as he reined his horse around.

Brian assisted Matilda into the saddle and saw her feet securely settled on the riding platform. His touches were brief and impersonal, but there was an underlying restraint that gave them greater meaning. Without looking at her, he bowed his head and turned to his tall black palfrey. She was glad that he still had Sable. In a world of shifting quicksand, it was good to have anchors of mundane familiar detail.

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Thirty-four

Bristol, October 1139

M atilda considered the man kneeling before her making his obeisance and swearing to take her as his liege lady. Miles FitzWalter, constable of Gloucester Castle and lord of Hereford, was a tall, sandy-haired man with a freckled complexion and eyes the colour of green mud. He was quiet and laconic, but that did not mean he was slow-witted or easily dominated, rather the opposite. When Miles prowled through a room, men stepped aside. As with many of the disaffected here to pay her homage and swear allegiance, he had fallen foul of the scheming of the Beaumont brothers who were determined to bring down any man who might prove a threat to their power. Miles had never been on particularly good terms with Waleran and Robert and the antipathy had increased after Stephen’s coronation to the point where Miles’s position had become untenable. The same was true for John FitzGilbert, Stephen’s former marshal, whom Matilda had now taken as her own. He was another who prowled the court like a leopard among domestic cats. His brother William, made in a less predatory mould, was already her chancellor and a priest of the household. She had accepted the oaths of allegiance, but she had not smiled on the men. First they had to prove