Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,138
stare, as if he expected her to put it on her head. How little he knew her. “I am not your brother,” she said curtly. “I know the proper ways.”
Winchester’s cheek muscle twitched. “I know you will govern with wisdom and the sound advice of your councillors.”
“I will do my best to honour the role that my father intended for me.” Her voice gained depth and authority. “But I will not be a cipher for power-hungry men. I have seen what happens when a sovereign is weak.”
“Indeed,” Henry replied, his tone neutral and his expression guarded.
In slow and dignified procession, they walked from the castle to the market cross in the High Street, the bishop and Matilda side by side under a palanquin, supported by Brian FitzCount, Miles FitzWalter, Robert of Gloucester, and Reynald FitzRoy.
A crowd of citizens had gathered to listen to what their bishop had to say and Henry’s knights opened a path through the people so that he and Matilda could mount the steps beneath the cross and be seen by all.
Henry struck his crosier on the ground three times and filled his lungs. “Here before you stands the Empress Matilda, daughter of King Henry and the only surviving child born to him of his Queen Edith, of an ancient royal house!” he cried in a powerful, charismatic voice. “Here she stands among you! Give allegiance to your rightful queen!” He stooped to the lower step to take the crown from the priest holding the cushion. “Behold,” he said. “Matilda, the Empress, King 342
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Henry’s true successor, and Lady of the English!” With slow exaggeration, he placed the diadem on Matilda’s head. The gesture was symbolic and not a true crowning, but nevertheless it had a potent impact. “Let us do proper homage to her power that she may bring peace to our lives and bounty back to our lands. Let her come to us redoubled in glory for the courage and fortitude she has expended and let us follow her that we may be blessed. And let her take wise counsel and rule in justice and wisdom and grace!”
The sound and sight of a thousand people kneeling all at once filled Matilda with triumph, yet at the same time she was irritated at Henry of Winchester’s orchestration of the event, playing at kingmaker, even if she needed him. Winchester might be the old capital of England and the place where the treasure was stored—such as it was—but Westminster was the new hub, and not until the full ceremony had been performed at the abbey there and her brow anointed by Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, would she truly be queen, whatever was said and done today.
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Forty
Arundel, April 1141
A deliza sat by the fire in her chamber, embroidering pearls on to a cope intended for Bishop Simon of Worcester, who had once been her chaplain. Juliana was reading aloud from the copy of Aesop that Will had given her, but Adeliza was not really listening. Outside the rain was fierce.
Although spring had supposedly arrived, the season had turned back to winter for several days.
It was two months since the Battle of Lincoln: a disaster for Stephen’s forces and a triumph for the empress. Receiving the news, Adeliza had felt as if she were stranded on a shore at the water’s edge, neither on dry land nor in the sea. Will had not returned to Arundel, although she had received a disjointed letter from him to say he was safe and lying low at his keep at Buckenham. She was to remain vigilant but do nothing and they would wait and see what demands were made. As yet there had been no word from either side, but she knew that state of affairs would not last. Either the tide would roll in or it would recede. She had heard that Stephen’s wife was rallying supporters and William D’Ypres, deeply penitent at having fled from Lincoln, had vowed to restore his honour and was commanding her troops. Stephen might be a prisoner, but the war was far from won.
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Adelis whimpered in her cradle and Adeliza went to pick her up. Her complexion, eight weeks from her birth, was pink and cream like new roses. She blew bubbles at Adeliza and gurgled.
Adeliza laughed and tickled her chin, thinking what a miracle she was.
Her chamber door opened to a knock and Rothard her chamberlain put his head around