Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction
When our good lord abbat Edward had been dead well nigh a year, to wit,
in the summer season of eleven hundred and forty-two, King Stephen, from
great fatigue of body and uneasiness of mind, fell sore sick, and lay
for a long while like one that was dying. While this lasted the barons
of his party did many evil deeds, there being no authority strong enough
to check their lawlessness; and, at the same troublous season, the
partisans of Matilda and the foreign mercenaries in her pay did ravage
all the western parts; and more robbers came over from Anjou, Normandie,
and Picardie, asking no pay, but only free quarters, and the right of
plundering the poor English. It was a Benedictine from Rome that had
studied medicine in the school of Salerno, that brought a healing potion
to the king, and snatched him back to life from the jaws of the grave.
So soon as Stephen could mount his war-horse he marched with a great
force unto Oxenford, where the countess had fixed her court; and he
invested that unhappy city with a firm resolution never to move thence
until he had gotten his troublesome rival into his hands. After some
fighting, in which many lives were lost by both parties, Stephen burst
into the town, and having set fire to a large part thereof, he laid
siege unto the castle into which Matilda and her people had retired. Now
the castle of Oxenford, standing in the midst of waters, was very
strong. From St. Michael's mass well nigh unto Christ's mass, _à festo
Michæelis usque ad natali Domini_, did King Stephen persevere in the
siege, telling all men that complained of the hard service that he must
have the castle, and in it the countess, and that then there would be
peace in England.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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