Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,133

I am sick of these men.

Let God decide.”

“Sire, even God needs help,” said D’Ypres to nods of agreement from the other barons. “Perhaps what happened in the cathedral is a warning. You should reconsider.”

“I said no!” Stephen banged his fist down on the trestle.

“We will fight and put an end to this insurrection once and for all. I am the anointed king of England and I will be listened to!” His gaze flashed around the room, striking each man and nailing him to his duty. “Are you weak, superstitious fools and women that you baulk? Go and ready your men. If they cross the Witham, then we will meet them.” As the barons left the chamber to begin the muster, Stephen called Will to him. “I want you to stay back with the siege machines and prevent the garrison from assaulting from the rear…”

“Sire,” Will said and, with a grim set to his lips, left for his position.

ttt

“He’s going to make a full fight of it then,” said Adelard le Flemyng, Will’s senior serjeant, as Stephen led his assembled army away from the siege camp and towards the city gates.

Will grimaced. “It appears so,”

Adelard looked dubious. “Is that wise?” Will shrugged. Stephen had never been one to sit and ponder the wise alternatives. They were the realm of his brother the Bishop of Winchester from whom the King had become estranged. When something bothered Stephen he would up and deal with it in a physical way. “Perhaps not, but Gloucester is taking a similar risk. His Welsh levies may give him advantage of numbers but they are not seasoned and they won’t stand.” 330

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“Even so, to risk so much…”

“The king will not retreat because of his father,” Will said.

“His father?” Adelard looked bemused.

“He was accused of cowardice while fighting in the Holy Land—of fleeing from a battle and not standing his ground.

Stephen would rather die than have such an accusation levied at him. Whatever happens, he will not yield.”

“But what if he loses?”

Will gazed round his camp. He had been thinking that himself. He was no deserter, but he was pragmatic and he had a responsibility to the men under his command, not all of whom were wealthy enough to be worth ransoms, should it come to that pass. It was as well to be prepared. “Tell the men to have their weapons and equipment to hand,” he said. “Make sure they have food in their packs and that their water costrels are full.” ttt

Brian was in the thick of the fight when a massive roar went up. Stephen’s centre had collapsed. The backbone that should have stood, including the forces commanded by William D’Ypres and five senior earls, had fled the field, leaving Stephen marooned on foot and horseless at the hub of an assault from all sides.

Brian brought his sword down in a slashing arc and as it bit through flesh, he felt sick; and because of that, he increased the pressure, trying to expunge the feeling and push forward.

Again and again his blade flashed and he urged his men on in an aggressive voice that disguised his fear and disgust but sounded like battle rage. It was as if he were outside his body watching a stranger in black armour trample and hack and destroy. It was like slaughter day in a butcher’s shambles. Blood ran down his sword blade and the men opposing him were as cattle. He was doing it for Matilda, he told himself, for a promise he had made that he had to keep. All this was happening for a purpose, for 331

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the greater good. And when it was over, he could wash his hands and the building of a proper reign could begin.

He swung his sword again. His stallion stumbled on a body; Brian grabbed the rein to steady him and, as the horse regained his balance, heard a massive roar erupt from the centre.

“The king is down, the usurper is taken!” He watched the royal standard toppling beneath a surge of troops. Stephen’s men were either falling or fleeing. Brian glimpsed Stephen on his knees, surrounded by the dead and wounded of his own side and by opponents he had brought down in a final, desperate flurry. Blood crawled from a wound under his helmet and his mouth was open as he gasped for breath.

Gloucester arrived to take him into custody and Stephen, dazed and mumbling, yielded to him. Having converged