The Lion of Justice

She was beautifully dressed in a gown which she had embroidered herself. The work was exquisite. It was a Saxon art which they had perfected beyond anything that came from the Norman needle. The Saxons had a grace which made the Normans seem almost uncouth. They were a charming people if they did lack the warlike qualities of the old Viking stock. Her gown was of a blue which matched her eyes. The sleeves were exaggerated to such a degree that they hung at least a yard from the wrists; her skirts swept the floor as she walked and he noticed how the gown was laced at the waist to accentuate the trimness of her figure. Her main beauty was her hair which hung in two thick golden ropes reaching to her hips; there the plaits terminated in ringlets which were tied with ribbons the same colour as her gown.

Robert bowed low and declared himself speechless before such beauty.

‘Welcome,’ said Matilda. ‘It rejoices me to see you.’

‘Your welcome is warmer, good lady, than that which I believe I must expect from my brother.’

‘The King is absent from Winchester at this time.’

She was aware of a faint inward indignation. Where was he? With some mistress at his hunting lodge in the New Forest? Or would the hunt take him in the direction of the Welsh border...accidentally of course.

‘So,’ she went on, ‘you must be content with just a welcome from me.’

‘Nothing could delight me more. It is good of you to receive me so graciously.’

‘How could I be aught else but gracious towards you?’ she said softly. ‘Think not that I forget easily those who show me kindness. I remember another occasion when you did not come to Winchester on my account. Now you have come and that pleases me.’

She took his hand and led him into the castle.

He must be refreshed.

‘I remember well the delicious beverages with which I was refreshed last time I was in England.’

‘You shall be so refreshed again. You must allow me to entertain you in the King’s absence.’

Robert brought into play all his gallantries in an effort to charm Matilda. De Mellent had said he must, for Matilda could save him from the King’s wrath and perhaps procure for him a safe passage back to his Duchy.

She had wine brought for him and filled his glass herself. His followers were entertained by certain ladies and gentlemen of the court while she sat and chatted with her brother-in-law.

It was cosy and domestic at first. She said that before he left he must visit her nursery.

‘A girl and a boy.’ she told him.

‘My brother is indeed fortunate.’

‘And they tell me you have a son.’

He glowed when he talked of his little William. ‘Such a bright boy.’ he told her. ‘And William like yours. I doubt not your son is named after his grandfather as mine is. I’ll confess this to you, Matilda my dear sister, I am fonder of my father in death than I ever was in life. He was a tyrant. His word was law. He and I were in constant conflict.’

‘I have heard the story of how you saved his life in battle.’

‘Oh, did you hear that then?’

‘Yes, of how you were engaged in combat against each other. The Conqueror was unseated and at your feet. But you heard his voice and knew him for your father and so you saved his life. It was a noble thing to do. I know from my own experience how chivalrous you can be.’

Robert was delighted to bask in her approval. How wise he had been to come! De Mellent was right when he said that she might be able to plead for him with Henry. He could well understand how difficult it would be to refuse her anything.

She talked about her children. ‘My Matilda is very imperious. Is your William so?’

‘He is young yet.’

‘Matilda is already aware that she is the daughter of the King of England, and she is not going to allow anyone to forget it.’

‘I doubt not she will grow up as charming and modest as her mother.’

‘Oh, my upbringing was very different.’ Then she was telling him about Aunt Christina and the convent and the struggle between them to make a nun of her.

‘What a loss to the world I’ cried Robert in horror. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I rejoice that she did not succeed.’

Then he talked about little Clito. ‘They always call him that. I suppose there have been so many Williams in the family. He is a bright little fellow. I think it would be pleasant if he and your little Matilda made a match of it. Let us drink to that.’

He was of course drinking a great deal. He had quickly forgotten that he might be in danger. Robert’s custom was to live in the moment. He felt that he had been snatched from a possible peril to a very pleasant interlude and he was going to enjoy that.

Matilda had had apartments made ready for him and when he retired he was a little hazy from the amount of potent liqueur he had consumed. His attendants helped him to bed and he was soon in a deep slumber.

When she knew that she was to entertain her brother-in-law Matilda had pla

Robert excelled at all sports, even the quintain which was a novelty to him. This was an old Saxon game. The quintain was a strong post with a piece set in a crosswise direction moving on a spindle at the top. On this was nailed a board and a heavy bag of sand. The game was to strike a hard blow on the board and dodge back in time to escape a heavy knock from the bag of sand which, as the board was hit, swung round with great force. As many of the competitors were not quick enough to escape the blow there was a great deal of hilarity.

After the banquet tellers of stories entertained the company and there was dancing. Robert loved best of all the music and the songs of the minstrels; Matilda shared in his enthusiasm for this and it made an added bond between them.

Robert was enchanted when he and Matilda sang together; and during the evening he would partake heartily from the royal table, especially of the excellent beverages which he declared were superior to those of Normandy and all other parts of the world in which he had travelled. It seemed only courteous to show that he was sincere in his appreciation by gratefully accepting all that was pressed upon him with the result that he had invariably to be helped to his bedchamber. So enchanted with the company and the good wine was he that he completely forgot he was in an alien country, and since it was his dear sister-in-law who welcomed him to her board it would have been churlish to allow his friends to remind him of the precariousness of his position.

One evening when he was in a state of stupor he said to her in slurred tones: ‘My dear sister, I would I could show you my gratitude. If there was aught in my kingdom that you desired most happy would I be to give it to you.’

‘I wonder if you would give anything I asked?’

‘With all my heart,’ he stammered. ‘Tell me what you would have.’

‘I always need money. I give much to the poor. My mother always did and I have tried to follow in her footsteps.’

‘Ah, money,’ he said. ‘It is what we all need and what we never have enough of. Believe me, dear lady, anything I have is yours.’

‘I could not take it from you,’ she said.

‘Do you not regard me as your brother then?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘Then I should be affronted if you would not accept anything...anything from me.’

‘You have one thing,’ she told him.

‘What is that?’

‘I have heard it said that my husband pays you a pension. If instead of paying it to you he paid it to me...’