Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [251]
He knew that when she was pregnant they would marry, and he was content.
On St John’s Day, June 24, 1139, the crisis that had so long been threatening Stephen’s reign at last broke, and the period of English history known as the Anarchy was begun.
The trouble was not unexpected. The chances that the weak rule of Stephen would be challenged from within, or more likely, by his sterner-minded cousin the Empress Matilda, had been growing stronger every year. “There’s more of the spirit of the Conqueror and his sons in the Empress than in Stephen,” Godefroi himself had had to admit. And the rumours of her expected arrival were constantly growing.
But the beginning of the drama did not involve the Empress, but the Bishop of Sarisberie.
The first act took place at Oxford, where Stephen had summoned his magnates for a council meeting; and the spark that lit the fire was nothing more than a brawl at an inn between some of Bishop Roger’s men and a group of retainers in the service of the other magnates, that had arisen over an argument about their lodgings. Some said that it had been planned by the king. It was possible. Several men were wounded and one knight killed.
Whether he planned it or not, it was the excuse that Stephen had been looking for: Bishop Roger’s men had broken the king’s peace: he was responsible. Immediately he summoned not only Roger but his son the chancellor and his two nephews, the Bishops of Ely and Lincoln into his presence. They must make reparation for the brawl, he told them; and for the time being, they must surrender the keys of their castles to him as guarantees that they could be trusted.
It was one of his shrewder moves. The bishops were undefended, away from their strongholds: they were taken by surprise; but if they were loyal, they would deliver the keys at once.
They hesitated.
The king knew what he must do. He let them return to their lodgings. Then he sent his men to arrest them.
But as usual, Stephen failed to close the trap properly: Bishop Roger, his son, and the Bishop of Lincoln were captured; but Nigel, Bishop of Ely escaped.
“And he has gone to Devizes,” the excited messenger told Godefroi. “He’s holding the castle and the king’s on his way there now.”
This was it. The picture was only too clear. The towns that lay in a great ring around the high ground of Sarum: Marlborough, twenty-five miles to the north, then Devizes, Trowbridge, Malmesbury to the north west, Sherborne to the south west, and finally Sarisberie at the centre – market towns each with their own stout castles – would become the scene of operations. Thank the Lord he had sent his family to London. Anything could happen; but as for his own position, he was going to get as close to the centre as possible, to see which way the wind was blowing. He would have to act quickly.
Within an hour he was speaking to Nicholas.
“Fortify the manor, Masoun,” he told him. “I am going to Devizes.”
The king’s camp outside Devizes was, like so many of Stephen’s operations, a hastily constructed and rather disorganised affair. It did not take Godefroi long to find the two tents occupied by William of Sarisberie and his brother Patrick, and before he went in, one of the young squires brought him up to date with news.
“Bishop Roger’s in detention,” he waved towards a tent where two men were standing guard. “He hasn’t eaten since we left Oxford. And his son the Chancellor’s in chains.”
Godefroi whistled softly. This was an extraordinary reversal for the powerful upstart family.
“And in there?” He indicated the stout castle keep inside the town walls.
“The Bishop of Ely’s in there. And he’s got Matilda of Ramsbury there too.”
This was the striking dark mistress of Bishop Roger and mother of the Chancellor.