The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean (книги без регистрации полные версии .txt) 📗

She was anxious; and when the summons came and her niece left the Abbey she was even more apprehensive.

* * * * *

The Archbishop announced that there was a report that the Princess Matilda had embraced a religious life. If this were the case and she had already made her vows to Almighty God, no power on earth would induce him to give her a dispensation. If it were indeed true that she had taken the veil then she must return to the Abbey of Wilton and could never be the King’s wife.

Matilda was exultant. How glad she was that she had resisted her aunt’s harsh persuasion! It had all been worthwhile, for now she could stand before the Archbishop and the council and, before God, with a clear conscience.

The Archbishop from his chair on the dais asked her to come forward and stand before him.

This she did.

‘I ask you,’ said Anselm, ‘before God, is there truth in the statement that you are a confirmed nun?’

‘There is no truth in this.’

‘Are you prepared to make this denial on oath?’

‘I am prepared.’ answered Matilda firmly.

She took the oath and Anselm continued to question her.

‘Was it the choice of either of your parents that you should take religious vows?’

‘I believe my mother hoped I would. My father was against it.’

‘Did you ever in your father’s court wear the black veil of a votaress?’

‘Yes.’

The members of the council looked at her intently and she went on steadily: ‘My Aunt Christina was at my father’s court and she put the veil on my head and face. When my father saw it he was angry. He snatched it off and announced that the convent life was not for me, for he intended that I should marry.’

‘But you wore the veil in Rumsey and Wilton Abbeys?’ persisted Anselm.

‘I did.’

‘But it is the dress of a votaress.’

‘My aunt insisted that I wear it. I hated it. When my aunt found me without it she beat me severely. Often when I was alone I took it off and trampled on it.’

‘Yet you wore it constantly in Rumsey and Wilton?’

‘I did so only because my aunt forced me and because often the soldiers came that way and it was some protection against their rough usage. I tell you before God that I never wished to wear these robes, that whenever possible I discarded them.’

The Archbishop consulted with his council and a box of sacred relics was brought out and placed on the board supported by trestles.

‘This coffer contains the bones and relics of saintly men. You are required to swear on them. You know that if you take a false oath you will be eternally damned and great misfortune will overtake you in this life.’

‘I understand.’

‘Now you are required to swear on this that you never took the veil, that you have made no vows to Almighty God, that you are free to marry the King.’

‘I gladly swear,’ she cried fervently.

She was taken from the council chamber.

Very shortly after that Anselm and the Council declared that they unanimously accepted the word of the Princess Matilda.

The King and she were free to marry.

* * * * *

The summer was past and November had come. It was three months since the death of William Rufus, St. Martin’s day, and a Sunday, the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year 1100.

Matilda’s coronation was to take place immediately after her wedding, and crowds had gathered in the streets and about Westminster Abbey. There was a certain amount of murmuring, for many people still believed that Matilda was a nun who had denied her vows for the sake of marriage with the King.

Henry was uneasy. His position was not as strong as he wished it to be. What, he wondered, if this marriage was to rob him of the popularity he had gained? Was it a wrong step after all?

Anselm was strong. He had said that before the ceremony took place he would make an announcement from the pulpit that the Princess had never taken religious vows and was entitled to dispose of herself in marriage as she thought fit.

It had been a wise move to bring back Anselm. There was something about the man. He had an air of authority as well as sanctity. The people would believe that if he gave his support all must be well.

All the nobility were gathered together and Henry and Matilda stood before the Archbishop at the altar.

Anselm said in a loud voice, ‘Is there any man here who objects to the decision of the council regarding this marriage?’

Henry waited in trepidation, but immediately there came the reassuring shout which echoed through the Abbey. ‘That matter has been rightly settled.’

The ceremony proceeded. The Princess Matilda was married to Henry and afterwards crowned Queen of England.

* * * * *

Henry was the perfect lover. He had had practice enough. She was less afraid of him than he had feared she might be.

He could not stop himself thinking of Nesta and Gerald of Windsor. He supposed he would think of Nesta often. But his bride was pleasant, young, undoubtedly a virgin, and he could be fond of her if only because she so adored him.

She whispered to him of the revelation which her aunt had made to her when there had been a question of her marriage to Alan of Bretagne.

‘It is so different.’ she cried. ‘That is because I am with you.’

He responded as tenderly as she could wish.

There was no point in spoiling her wedding night. She would learn soon enough that the lover she adored was not quite all she thought him to be. Well, she who was so innocent of the world would have to learn, and when she did, as she inevitably must, she would after the first shock settle down to be a loving wife and when she produced the heirs of the kingdom she would be a good mother.

That should satisfy her so that when he strayed—as he surely would—she would come to accept this state of affairs as a natural course of events.

For the time though he feigned to share her ecstatic happiness.

Escape from the White Tower

Robert, Duke of Normandy, had had enough of his Crusade. His friends often reminded him of the need to go back and redeem Normandy. Robert, feckless, extravagant but of undeniable charm, was restless by nature. His enthusiasms waned quickly and his greatest excitement was in making grandiose plans which he deluded himself into believing would come to glorious fruition. That they never had in the past he refused to see. His was an optimistic nature and he always believed in the future.

He was a brave fighter and had distinguished himself in the Holy Land, but that little adventure was over. It was time he embarked on a new one. And that new one must be the recovery of Normandy. Crusading hero that he might be, he was, first of all, Duke of Normandy and he must win back his inheritance.

During the long journey back he made elaborate plans. He needed money. He knew Rufus; Rufus always wanted money, but he was of course hoping that Robert would not be able to raise that 10,000 marks. Nor could Robert at the time see any means of doing so.

He had ridden into southern Italy and had come to the castle of Count Geoffrey of Conversana. The Count greeted the hero of the Holy War with great warmth and begged him to give him the honour of entertaining him before he passed on.

‘My good friend,’ said Robert, ‘your kindness is appreciated, but my dukedom needs me.’

The Count said then he would hope for merely a few days of the Duke’s company.

Robert, conferring with his friends, decided that it would be churlish to refuse such a gracious honour so they would stay for a few days, during which they would plan for the recapture of Normandy.

The Count’s castle was a pleasant place; the weather was delightful—it was warmer than in Normandy and less exhaustingly hot than the Holy Land. It was a golden country, said Robert, a country which invited one to dally.