Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction
On the next day, the vigil of St. Thomas, as soon as it was light, a
white flag was raised in the camp in token of peace or truce, and our
lord abbat, with a goodly train of ecclesiastics, bearing church banners
and elevated crucifixes, came down to the very edge of the castle moat,
and demanded speech of the countess; and Matilda ascended to the
battlements, but rather to rebuke them than to hear them. I, Felix,
being relieved from my night watch, did see that stern woman of many
adventures and indomitable pride stand on the castle top in that cold,
grey, leaden air. Thin was she, and gaunt and pale, like one that had
suffered long fasting and sickness; but she had the same flashing eye
and resolute look as at the time when she dictated her will to our house
at Reading; and if her voice was more hollow, it was not less imperious
and awe-commanding now than it was then. The lord abbat entreated her to
give up the castle, promising, in the name of King Stephen, that no harm
should be done to her or to any that were with her; that she should be
honorably escorted to the coast, and there embarked for Anjou; that
lands and money should be given to her and her adherents with a liberal
hand; and that the king would take all her partisans into his peace, if
they would but be true to treaty, and give up a war which had already
lasted so many years to the reproach of Christendom, and to the utter
undoing of the people of England. The abbat told her that her famishing
state was known, and that hope of escape there was none.
"And who told thee, oh meddling monk, that I ever thought of escape?
Dost not know that the Earl of Gloucester is at hand, to do the thing
which he did aforetime at Lincoln? We have meat and meal yet, and will
abide the earl's coming. I will not throw open these gates, or quit
these walls, until I see the false recreant Stephen in chains at my
feet, praying again for that life which I ought to have rid him of long
since."
As the proud woman said these words, I could see that many of our
bystanders looked at one another with perplexity and alarm, and that
divers even of the churchmen put on very thoughtful countenances, and
did nothing and said nothing to aid our lord abbat, or to rebuke the
countess, who in a great passion of wrath threatened to have him hanged
for a felon under the archway of his own abbey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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