The Lion of Justice, стр. 52

The Normans had been astonished by the appearance of the English and had mistakenly thought that they would be easily beaten in battle. It was a Saxon custom to wear the hair long but the fashions set by the men of Rufus’s court had been greatly exaggerated.

In the church of Seez where the Bishop was preaching, Henry and a party of his followers took their places in order to join in the service and show the inhabitants that they were a godly band. They were unprepared for the sermon, the theme of which was vanity.

‘Men who look like women.’ thundered the Bishop, ‘are the prey of the Evil One.’ He went on to talk of the fashion which could only be offensive in the eyes of God. He believed that those who flaunted their locks as women might be forgiven for doing, would find them consumed eternally in the fires of hell. Such hairy men reminded him of goats.

Everyone was awaiting their cue from the King. Would he rise and demand the arrest of the Bishop? Have his eyes put out declaring that since he could not look with pleasure on the hair of Englishmen he should not be able to look at all?

Henry was indeed angry. How dared the man speak thus to his conqueror. His father would have fallen in one of his wild rages. But who could imagine the Conqueror with curls?

Henry’s anger was cool; it gave him time to reason. He had to win these Normans and he would do so.

He pretended to be affected. ‘Yes,’ he answered the Bishop, ‘we have been sinful. We have been over vain of our hair. We have displeased God by our vanity.’

The Bishop came to the King and said: ‘My Lord, I see that you are as wise as men say, and that you will repent in time and set a good example to your subjects.’

‘It is what I shall always strive to do,’ said the King.

The Bishop then took a pair of scissors from his robes.

‘Then, my lord,’ he said, ‘you will give those assembled here the opportunity of seeing that you are a man who means what he says. If your lordship will be seated I will remove that which is offensive to God, and the people of Normandy will rejoice in their Duke.’

Henry was aware of his men watching him. It was an awkward moment. He could snatch the scissors from the fellow’s hands and order his arrest. But only for a moment did he hesitate. Then he sat down. Whereupon the Bishop triumphantly cut off his curls and not content with that cut off his beard and side pieces also.

Nonplussed but determined not to show it, Henry ordered the Bishop to shear his friends also.

That day he sent out an order. No man was to wear his hair long. The fashion for curls was over.

* * * * *

Crossing back to England Henry was elated. He had ceased to regret his hair. He had his prisoners; he had his dukedom; he was victorious.

When he landed he was greeted not only by Matilda but by his cheering subjects.

On the very day of the month forty years after the Normans had conquered England the English had conquered Normandy. Henry was English born, English bred. He was their King. He was their Lion of Justice, and although they had suffered cruel taxation to finance the war it had been worthwhile.

Matilda was at first shocked and then amused by the shearing of his locks. He himself was able to laugh at the incident now and ask himself how a great King and conqueror could ever have thought it admirable to look like a woman.

All had been well in his absence and he was longing to see his children. He was prepared to enjoy for a brief respite the cosy domesticity of his home.

He told Matilda of his triumphs and that his brother was his prisoner and should remain so that he might not make trouble again.

‘He will be well treated.’ said Matilda apprehensively.

‘I knew you would wish that.’ replied Henry. ‘Yes, he will be treated well, but you understand that I must keep him in close confinement.’

Matilda nodded.

‘There is something else I must tell you. Your uncle Edgar is my prisoner also.’

He saw the alarm in her eyes and for a moment let her imagine the horrible death which could overtake her uncle if her powerful husband gave the word.

‘Do not fear.’ he said tenderly ‘No harm shall befall him. For your sake I have pardoned him. He will never rise against me again, but will live in peace. He has learned his lesson.’

He was rewarded by her gratitude. At least, he thought, if I am not a faithful husband I am a considerate one.

He wanted to hear more of what had been happening and she told him that her sister was sending her daughter to Bermondsey and they might have her at Court from time to time; he replied that as his nephew Stephen of Blois would be joining them in due course they would have a merry family of children.

She assured him that very soon they would be able to hold court at Windsor for Gundulph had excelled himself and she was sure the King would be pleased with his new castle.

But first home to Westminster where they would feast and revel because of his safe return. There the finest deer would be roasted and she would see that some of his favourite lampreys were prepared for him.

It was a wonderful homecoming and he was determined to enjoy it, for he knew in his heart that Normandy, though it had fallen into his hands, was going to be as slippery as an eel to hold.

Weddings in the Family

In Cotton Garden, at the Palace of Westminster, the royal children were at play. This was Matilda’s own garden which she often tended herself, growing herbs which she used for medicines and the flowers she liked best.

They had been warned not to pick the flowers unless given special permission but the young Matilda for this very reason must show the others that such rules did not apply to her.

‘You may not pick them, but I may.’

‘We were told all of us were not to,’ William reminded her.

She looked at her brother. ‘That does not mean me.’

‘But it does,’ insisted William.

Their companions, children of the Court nobles, looked on with interest. There were often differences of opinion between the royal pair from which Matilda invariably emerged the victor.

Matilda said: ‘You are younger than I so be quiet.’

‘I am the heir though,’ William reminded her. ‘Not you.’

‘You are not,’ she said hotly.

‘But,’ put in one of the other children boldly, ‘the boy is always the next King.’

Matilda’s eyes flashed. ‘If you talk of the next King that’s treason because it means my father has to die first. You will be taken to the White Tower and your eyes will be put out.’

The frightened child put his fingers to his ears but William said soothingly: ‘You won’t. I shan’t allow it.’

‘You!’ said Matilda scornfully. ‘You will do what you’re told.’

‘And so will you.’ replied William. ‘Now let us play a game. I shall hide and you will find me.’

Before Matilda could reply he had run off shouting: ‘Count ten first and hide your eyes.

As Matilda could never resist the game she counted with the rest and was certain that she would be the one to find William for she knew his favourite hiding-place was in the courtyard behind the great buttress close to the stables.

Matilda always wanted to lead; in all games she must excel; so must she in lessons. She had once heard her father say that it was a pity she had not been born a boy. She thought it a pity, too for is she had she would have been heir to the throne.

She had asked her mother how she had felt when she was born. Was she sorry that she was not a boy?

‘As soon as I saw you I was glad you were just as you were.’

‘Was I very beautiful then?’

‘No, but you were mine.’

‘Whose did you expect me to be?’ asked Matilda, and her mother repeated what she had said to her father to show what a clever little girl they had.