Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,80

hand.” Matilda sat down and gestured Baldwin to do so too. This was the kind of news she needed—direct and from a man who was fiercely loyal to her. “Enough to split the court asunder?”

“Not as yet, domina, but there are cracks that can be worked upon. The Beaumonts and the bishop of Winchester are vying for control of the king and the bishop of Salisbury is busy with his own agenda because he fears losing his grip on the treasury.

Winchester has his eye on the see of Canterbury when William de Corbeis dies—and it won’t be long now. Corbeis is very frail—but the Beaumonts have their own candidate in mind.

The Earl of Gloucester and William of Ypres do not see eye to eye. Some who have bent the knee out of expediency are only waiting their moment to change allegiance.”

“And Brian of Wallingford?” She felt an ache deep within her, because he too had sworn and he had betrayed her.

“He has been little in the king’s company, domina. I have heard say he is busy on his estates attending to his own concerns, but I would say he too has been displaced at court.” So there were conflicts to be exploited. Matilda stowed away the information to consider later. Divide and conquer. She hoped Robert was doing that at Stephen’s court and had not deserted her. She needed to go to England herself, but first she had to be certain of her footing. To strike from this small corner of southern Normandy was impossible. “The Count of Anjou is preparing a campaign,” she said. “Stay here and refurbish your arms, then join him when he crosses the border. He will appreciate seasoned troops.”

“Domina, it is you I serve,” Baldwin said with a frown.

She gave him a tight smile. “Which I acknowledge and you have my sincere gratitude. But for now you will best serve me 199

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by liaising with my husband. When I come to England, I will make you an earl and you will have all restored to you and more, I promise.”

He looked fierce. “I do not do this for wealth and prestige. I do it because I took an oath on my honour that only my death will break.”

“Bless you,” Matilda said, and had to swallow the lump in her throat. So many had sworn, but so few had kept their word, even those she loved and trusted. Everyone was out for gain, so to have de Redvers give her everything for loyalty stirred her deeply.

ttt

Matilda placed her foot in Baldwin’s cupped hand and accepted his boost into the saddle. Around them the men of Argentan were mounted up and ready to ride. The morning sun flashed on hauberk rings and lances, turning the gathering into a silver shoal. Horses pawed and whinnied. Banners snapped in the stiff autumn breeze.

In the background the nursemaids held up Henry and little Geoffrey to watch the entourage ride out. Even the baby was there, cocooned in his nurse’s arms. Matilda looked over her shoulder at her sons, and then faced the front, her jaw set with determination. A scout had arrived from Geoffrey the previous evening, asking for her to bring reinforcements to Lisieux as swiftly as she could. King Stephen had sent an army under Waleran de Meulan to defend the town and there was a danger that Waleran might turn and threaten Argentan itself.

Matilda did not believe he would because she was strong in the regions she did control, but even so, she dared not ignore the possibility.

Geoffrey’s campaign thus far had met with mixed fortunes.

He had taken Carrouges and Asnabec with ease. Montreuil had resisted, but Les Moutiers had surrendered. Geoffrey had been 200

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on the point of seizing Lisieux, when de Meulan had arrived with a strong contingent and barred his way.

As the dawn brightened in the east, Matilda’s reinforcements rode at a trot towards Lisieux, twenty-five miles away. She quelled the urge to increase the pace. They had to conserve the horses’ energy in case they had to fight when they arrived. She was praying that the sight of the troops, well equipped and led by seasoned captains, would make Waleran withdraw.

Her captain, Alexander de Bohun, had sent scouts ahead on faster horses and as her army approached Lisieux, one of them returned at a sweated gallop. “Madam, the town is burning! My lord of Meulan has fired the suburbs and the flames have spread!” Matilda