The Pilgram of Hate Read Online Free Page B

land. And he reminded us how the old king, left
without a son, commanded his barons to swear an oath of allegiance to his only
remaining child, his daughter Maud the empress, now widowed, and wed again to
the count of Anjou.”
    And
so those barons had done, almost all, not least this same Henry of Winchester.
Hugh Beringar, who had never come to such a test until he was ready to choose
for himself, curled a half-disdainful and half-commiserating lip, and nodded
understanding. “His lordship had somewhat to explain away.”
    The
abbot refrained from indicating, by word or look, agreement with the implied
criticism of his brother cleric. “He said that the long delay which might then
have arisen from the empress’s being in Normandy had given rise to natural
concern for the well-being of the state. An interim of uncertainty was
dangerous. And thus, he said, his brother Count Stephen was accepted when he
offered himself, and became king by consent. His own part in this acceptance he
admitted. For he it was who pledged his word to God and men that King Stephen
would honour and revere the Holy Church, and maintain the good and just laws of
the land. In which undertaking, said Henry, the king has shamefully failed. To
his great chagrin and grief he declared it, having been his brother’s guarantor
to God.”
    So
that was the way round the humiliating change of course, thought Hugh. All was
to be laid upon Stephen, who had so deceived his reverend brother and defaulted
upon all his promises, that a man of God might well be driven to the end of his
patience, and be brought to welcome a change of monarch with relief tempering
his sorrow.
    “In
particular,” said Radulfus, “he recalled how the king had hounded certain of
his bishops to their ruin and death.”
    There
was more than a grain of truth in that, though the only death in question, of
Robert of Salisbury, had resulted naturally from old age, bitterness and
despair, because his power was gone.
    “Therefore,
he said,” continued the abbot with chill deliberation, “the judgement of God
had been manifested against the king, in delivering him up prisoner to his
enemies. And he, devout in the service of the Holy Church, must choose between
his devotion to his mortal brother and to his immortal father, and could not
but bow to the edict of heaven. Therefore he had called us together, to ensure
that a kingdom lopped of its head should not founder in utter ruin. And this
very matter, he told the assembly, had been discussed most gravely on the day
previous among the greater part of the clergy of England, who—he said!—had a
prerogative surmounting others in the election and consecration of a king.”
    There
was something in the dry, measured voice that made Hugh prick up his ears. For
this was a large and unprecedented claim, and by all the signs Abbot Radulfus
found it more than suspect. The legate had his own face to save, and a
well-oiled tongue with which to wind the protective mesh of words before it.
    “Was
there such a meeting? Were you present at such, Father?”
    “There
was a meeting,” said Radulfus, “not prolonged, and by no means very clear in
its course. The greater part of the talking was done by the legate. The empress
had her partisans there.” He said it sedately and tolerantly, but clearly he
had not been one. “I do not recall that he then claimed this prerogative for
us. Nor that there was ever a count taken.”
    “Nor,
as I guess, declared. It would not come to a numbering of heads or hands.” Too
easy, then, to start a counter-count of one’s own, and confound the reckoning.
    “He
continued,” said Radulfus coolly and drily, “by saying that we had chosen as
Lady of England the late king’s daughter, the inheritor of his nobility and his
will to peace. As the sire was unequalled in merit in our times, so might his
daughter flourish and bring peace, as he did, to this troubled