Authors: Stewart Binns
‘Captain, please tell your lord that Prince Edgar of England is here to see him.’
As he opened the great door to take in our request, we could hear the distinct sounds of feasting, with much raucous laughter, before the heavy oak planks slammed shut again, leaving us to stare at a magnificent building, on a par in scale and style with any in Europe and only recently completed by Rufus as a symbol of the power of his realm.
When the door reopened and we were invited in, the din of celebration had subsided. Henry was at the far end of the hall, a walk that seemed to take an eternity, being at least
the length of a tilt field. As we approached, most of the guests scattered, including the young women recruited to bring the celebrations to an ending appropriate to a gathering of England’s most important men. Only a dozen or so men remained – the ones Sweyn had named – and all sat around Henry as if he were already King.
‘Count Henry, my Lords, please don’t let our sudden arrival drive your guests away.’
‘Prince Edgar, welcome to my court. Don’t worry about my guests, I can soon call them back. What brings you to Westminster?’
‘I have returned with the English contingent from the Crusades, but Duke Robert had asked me to travel to see you at your fortress in Avranches and bring you his greetings and best wishes, and to do the same with King Rufus while I am here in London. Sadly, circumstances have now changed my itinerary. I also have some messages for you, which are private family matters. But first, my condolences on the tragic death of the King. It was a sad day for all of us.’
‘Thank you. I just hope I can carry on his good work.’
‘My Lord Count, I had no idea, you are to succeed your brother?’
‘Indeed, I am to be crowned tomorrow. I would welcome your presence.’
He seemed far more confident than I had remembered. I hoped I appeared similarly poised.
‘It will be an honour, my Lord. I think you will remember Sir Sweyn of Bourne; he distinguished himself in the Holy Land and has become very close to your brother, Duke Robert. He rode into battle at his side many times.’
Henry nodded an acknowledgement, and Sweyn returned the gesture by bowing his head and grasping the hilt of his sword.
‘I have heard glowing accounts of the bravery of all of you. You do us a great honour.’
He was already talking like a king. Although, in truth, humility had never been one of his strong points.
‘Duke Robert is with his new bride, the Duchess Sybilla, a most charming and beautiful addition to your family, if I may say so. He sends his greetings.’
Henry smiled, a thin, perfunctory smile, almost a sneer, while his henchmen stared at us with a contempt usually shown to bonded peasants. Even though I had led the Anglo-Saxon English contingent in Palestine, I had long since been denied the courtesy usually shown to a royal prince, where counts and earls and all below them would stand when I entered a room.
‘Thank you, Prince Edgar. Where is my brother now?’
‘He is on his way home from Apulia. Hugh Percy led about a third of his army; your brother is leading the rest, a force of many thousands. He drew men to his colours throughout the campaign: Norman knights from Italy and Sicily, Franks, Provençals, Germans. When men like Raymond of Toulouse, Bohemond and Baldwin of Boulogne decided to stay in the Levant, many of their men flocked to Robert’s banner.’
The mood in the room suddenly changed. Henry’s scornful demeanour softened and his henchmen began to look discomfited.
‘The treasure he brings from Jerusalem will fill many a king’s treasury, quite apart from the huge reward he was
given by the Emperor Alexius. And there is the dowry he carries from Sybilla’s father, who, as you know, is the richest man in southern Italy.’
‘Prince Edgar, Sir Sweyn, do join us.’
Henry had taken the bait, even though I was stretching credibility to the limit. He clapped his hands and told the stewards to bring wine.
‘Would you join our coronation eve celebration? I will call the girls back.’
It looked like a night of drunken revelry and wanton debauchery beckoned – but all in a good cause.
After about half an hour, Henry summoned me to a quiet corner of the hall. He dropped the faux act of kingship and treated me like an equal.
‘Edgar, you have some private messages from Robert? But before you tell me about them, let us talk about the harsh realities of life.’
‘Of course, where I’ve been for the last three years has been all about the harsh realities of life.’
‘Was it as awful as I have heard?’
‘No words can describe it, other than Hell on earth.’
‘You have my sympathy and respect.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Your courage and leadership in the Holy Land will earn you great respect here, from both Normans and Englishmen. I would welcome your support at my coronation tomorrow and during my reign.’
‘That you will have.’
‘I am very keen to consolidate the blending of Normans and English in my realm. The vast majority of the lords who will owe me fealty after tomorrow are Normans who
were born here and speak English like a native. I intend to consolidate our position in Wales and Scotland and have a fancy to let our destriers enjoy the rich fodder of Ireland. I need to build a new army – an army of Englishmen, led by Normans. I am going to take an English wife. Will you help?’
‘I will, of course. Do you have someone in mind?’
‘Yes, she is ideal, the daughter of Malcolm Canmore and Queen Margaret – your niece, Edith.’
I tried not to let my shock be too obvious. But he was right, of course. She was ideal – the daughter of the royal house of Scotland and a direct descendant, through my sister, of the Cerdician kings of England. Their children would create an Anglo-Norman dynasty, which had to be in the long-term interests of the English, so I quickly warmed to the idea.
‘I will do all I can.’
‘It is delicate. Your sister sent her to the nuns at Romsey several years ago, where your other sister, Christina, is abbess. Some say she has taken Holy Orders and wears the veil. She says that she hasn’t taken her vows – and only wore a veil because her mother told her to, in order to protect her from lustful Normans.’
‘I’m not sure I can help much on ecclesiastical matters.’
‘You don’t have to – just deal with your niece. Rufus banished Anselm, the clever Burgundian Archbishop of Canterbury. I’m going to bring him back and tell him to proclaim that she’s not a nun. People will believe him.’
I could not help thinking about the irony of Edith wearing a veil to protect her against ‘lustful Normans’ while she was likely to end up marrying the most lustful of them all.
‘Now, about my brother. What do you understand to be his intentions with his mighty army and treasure of Solomon?’
The satirical tone of Henry’s question made me wonder how far he’d seen through my pretence, but there was no turning back now, so I ploughed on.
‘First of all, when Robert and I last spoke, he knew nothing about the tragic circumstances of Rufus’s death; indeed, he is unlikely to know for some time yet. Even so, I don’t think anything he asked me to convey to you is altered in any way by the King’s death or your succession to the throne. You should know that Robert is much changed by events in the Holy Land, as we all are. The truth of it is, although our intentions may have been noble, we Christians behaved in a way that many of us, including Robert, found appalling. We were participants in some of it and we all carry regrets that will haunt us for the rest of our lives.’
‘What sort of appalling things do you mean?’
‘Well, in short, the wholesale slaughter of soldiers and civilians alike – women and children included – rape, torture, mutilation and the breaking of all God’s commandments. Most of it was done without provocation or justification and all of it in Christ’s name.’
‘I see, but how does that affect me?’
‘Robert will pay back to the English treasury his mortgage on his share of Normandy’s wealth. Robert desires only to live out his days quietly in Normandy. He has no designs on the English crown at Westminster and will not use his powerful allies and army, or his significant wealth, to force a claim for the throne.
‘That is a concession to Rufus, not to me.’
‘But it applies to you now.’
Henry had seen the hole in the middle of our pretence, as Sweyn and I had thought he would, so I played the gambit that we had discussed.
‘As testament to his sincere belief in harmony and his regard for you, Robert is prepared to share the Duchy of Normandy with you. You would have Lower Normandy – the dioceses of Avranches, Sées and Coutances – which you would rule from Caen. Robert would have Upper Normandy – the dioceses of Lisieux and Évreux – which he would rule from Rouen. He is also prepared to use his now considerable influence in Rome to have Pope Paschal declare both parts of Normandy as separate dukedoms.’
‘That is generous indeed! I am happy to accept his offer.’
Sweyn and I had anticipated this predictable response as well. I smiled; it seemed right to treat his reply as light-hearted, even if he may well have meant it.
‘Very amusing – of course, your succession here in England, and particularly your ambitions on our Celtic borders, means that it is impossible for you to rule Lower Normandy as well.’
I swallowed hard, realizing that I was in the middle of a fake game of chess, with two realms and the fate of thousands of people resting on the outcome.
Henry stared at me, as if trying to see behind my eyes.
I tried to hold my composure and forced another smile, this one more pronounced.
He smiled back; had the moment passed? Had the deception worked? If it had, it was time to haul the catch in.
‘Robert would be happy to swear an oath recognizing your sovereignty here and guaranteeing his loyalty and his
support for your attempts to strengthen our kingdom.’
‘Edgar, you are a very shrewd emissary, you should have been an ambassador. Do your advice and Robert’s loyalty come at a price, by any chance?’
‘Only two small amounts. Robert would, of course, expect you to take an oath affirming his lordship of Normandy and your acceptance of mutual loyalty and cooperation.’
‘And?’
‘The second trifle would be of enormous benefit to your reign and go a long way to securing the loyalty of your magnates and the affection of your English subjects.’
‘This sound like more than a trifle.’
‘Not at all, it would be a simple affirmation of the laws of England and your respect for them. There would be nothing new; you would acknowledge the laws enacted by your father, King William, and those he respected from his predecessors, particularly those of King Edward and Cnut the Great. You would also reject the excesses of Rufus’s reign and promise to correct the wrongs he did. You could call it your Coronation Charter and have it read in every burgh in the land. It would be a hugely popular beginning to your reign.’
Henry stared at me again, as if I were a strange creature he had never seen before.
‘Edgar, Prince of the English, you are a clever man, and, I suspect, a cunning one. But I like the idea of a Coronation Charter being read all over England. It will begin my rule in England with an outcry of popular support – something my brother never had, and certainly not my father. Can you read Latin?’
‘I can.’
‘I will get my scribes out of bed. You can work on it with them tonight – all night, if you have to. I’ll read it in the morning and, after my coronation at Westminster, I will ride to the old city to proclaim it from my father’s chapel of St John the Evangelist in the Great Tower. I will call it Henry of England’s Charter of Liberties.’
I nearly lost control at that point. For some unfathomable reason, he had proposed a title for the Charter that I would never have dreamed of suggesting, fearing it might seem too bold. I changed the subject immediately to help hide my elation.
‘And what will I say to Robert?’
‘Again, you are very astute. I wonder how much of what you told me are my brother’s words – or are they yours? But it doesn’t matter much; tell him I agree to the oaths. We will take them together, at a place of his choosing – as long as it’s not the Holy Land, of course – when he’s finished bedding his young bride. By the way, is she tall, average height …?’
‘She’s very petite.’
‘That must be a relief for little Shortboots! I will leave you to your scripting; I have the two lovely daughters of a London goldsmith awaiting my pleasure. He has sent them to plead his case to become one of my assayers. He doesn’t have very strong credentials, I’m afraid, so they are going to have to do a lot of pleading.’
34. Treaty of Alton
Sweyn and I rode out for Romsey the day after Henry’s coronation to fulfil the undertaking I had given to the King to help with his plan to marry my niece.
Although I would never tell him so, it was not a difficult task. Edith knew her own mind and she had had enough of convent life. She had turned twenty years of age and, although she had attracted many suitors, this new one would make her Queen of England.
Archbishop Anselm was recalled from Normandy and he duly resolved the ecclesiastical issue of Edith’s status as a nun. Taking the Norman name Matilda, she was married and crowned Queen later in the year.
Significantly for me, as the Queen’s uncle, the marriage made me a part of England’s royal household and rendered my status as a prince of the realm real again. I was entitled to an allowance from the King’s purse, a small retinue of my own and a chamber at Westminster. I made Sweyn my steward, thus making him an official member of the King’s court and free to come and go as he pleased.
There were only a handful of Englishmen in his position.
When we returned to Westminster from Romsey, we were met with the news that a guest had arrived to see us – a nun, Estrith, Abbess of Fécamp.
We were lodging in the King’s palace at Westminster, a beautiful collection of buildings behind old King Edward’s towering cathedral and very close to the River Thames. Estrith was waiting in the King’s garden just upriver, next to the stairs which led down to the mooring for his royal barge. It was a bright, fresh morning and I could see, even at a distance, that Estrith looked as fetching as ever.