“It’s all overturned!” said Hugh. “All to do again from the beginning!” And whatever that meant, and Cadfael did not trouble to ask, since he was certainly about to be told, there was no saying whether exasperation and frustration were not outmatched in Hugh’s voice and face by amused relief. He flung himself down on the bench against the timber wall, and dangled his hands between his knees in a gesture of helpless resignation.
“A courier got through from the south this morning,” he said, raising his eyes to his friend’s attentive face. “She’s gone! Out of the trap, and fled away to join her brother at Wallingford. The king’s lost his prize. Even when he has her between his hands he lets her slip through his fingers. I wonder, I wonder,” said Hugh, opening his eyes wide at a new thought, “whether he did not turn a blind eye and let her go, when it came to the point! It would be like him. God knows he wanted her badly enough, but he may have taken fright when it came to puzzling what he could do with her when he had her. It’s one question I’d love to ask him-but never shall!” he concluded with an oblique grin.
“Are you telling me,” asked Cadfael cautiously, eyeing him across the brazier, “that the empress is escaped out of Oxford, after all? With the king’s army all round her, and stores down to starvation level in the castle, from what we last heard? And how did even she contrive it? Tell me next she’s grown wings and flown over the king’s lines to Wallingford! She could hardly walk through his siege vallations on foot, even if she managed to get out of the castle unseen.”
“Ah, but she did, Cadfael! She did both! She got out of the castle unseen, and passed through some part at least of Stephen’s lines. To the best they can guess, she must have been let down by a rope from the rear of the tower towards the river, she and two or three of her men with her. There could not have been more. They muffled themselves all in white to be invisible against the snow. Indeed by all accounts it was snowing then, to hide them the better. They crossed the river on the ice, and walked the six miles or so to Abingdon, for it was there they got horses to take them on to Wallingford. Give her her due, Cadfael, this is a rare woman. From all accounts there’s no living with her when she’s in high feather, but by God I can see how a man could follow her when she’s down.”
“So she’s back with FitzCount, after all,” said Cadfael on a long, marveling breath. Barely a month ago it had seemed certain that the empress and her most faithful and devoted ally were irrevocably cut off from each other, and might never meet again in this world. Ever since September the lady had been under close siege in Oxford castle, the king’s armies drawn tightly round her, the town in his hands, and he content to sit back and starve out her battered garrison. And now, all in one bold bid and one snowy night, she was out of her chains, free to remuster her forces and take up the fight again on equal terms. Surely there never had been such a king as Stephen for conjuring defeat out of victory. But it was a quality they shared, perhaps native to their blood, for the empress, too, when she was gloriously installed in Westminster, and her coronation but a few days away, had borne herself so arrogantly and harshly towards the obstinate burgesses of her capital that they had risen in fury and driven her out. It seemed that as often as either of them got within touch of the crown, fortune took fright at the prospect of being in the service of either, and hurriedly snatched the prize away.
“So after all,” said Cadfael more placidly as he lifted his bubbling pot to the grid at the side of the brazier, to simmer in peace, “at least Stephen has got rid of his problem. He need worry no longer what to do with her.”
“True,” agreed Hugh wryly, “he’d never have had the iron in him to put her in chains, as she did to him when she had him prisoner after Lincoln, and she’s proved it would take more than stone walls to hold her. I fancy he’s been bunking the issue all these months, looking no further than the moment when he would force her surrender. He’s eased of all the troubles that would have been no more than beginning the day he made her prisoner. Better, perhaps, if he could winnow away her hopes so far that she’d be forced to go back to Normandy. But we’ve come to know the lady better,” he acknowledged ruefully. “She never gives up.”
“And how has King Stephen stomached his loss?” asked Cadfael curiously.
“As I’ve come to expect of him by this time,” said Hugh, with resigned affection. “As soon as the lady was well out of it, Oxford castle surrendered to him. Without her, he’d lost interest in the rest of the starved rats within. Most men would have taken out their rage on the garrison. Once, as you’ll remember all too well, he let himself be persuaded to take such a revenge, here at Shrewsbury, God knows against his nature. Never again! As like as not, it was the memory of Shrewsbury that kept Oxford safe. He let them march out untouched, on condition they dispersed to their homes. He’s left the castle well garrisoned and supplied for his own cause, and made off to Winchester with his brother the bishop, to keep Christmas. And he’s sent to call all his midland sheriffs there to keep it with him. It’s long since he was in these parts, no doubt he’s anxious to look us over afresh, and make sure that all his defenses hold fast.”
“Now?” said Cadfael, surprised. “To Winchester? You’ll never make the journey in time.”
“Yes, we shall. We have four days, and according to the courier the thaw’s well forward, farther south, and the roads clear. I’ll be away tomorrow.”
“And leave Aline and your boy to keep the feast without you! And Giles just past his third birthday, too!” Hugh’s son was a Christmas babe, and had entered the world in the most extreme of winters, in frost and snow and bitter gales. Cadfael was his godfather and most devoted admirer.
“Ah, Stephen won’t keep us long,” said Hugh confidently. “He needs us where he placed us, to keep an eye on his shire revenues. I shall be home by the year’s end, if all goes well. But Aline will be glad if you could pay her a visit or two while I’m gone. Father Abbot won’t grudge you leave now and then, and that long lad of yours-Winfrid, is it?-he’s getting handy enough with the salves and medicines to be left on his own for an hour or two.”
“Very gladly I’ll mind your flock for you at home,” said Cadfae! heartily, “while you’re strutting at court. But you’ll be missed, all the same. What a turnabout this has been! Five years of it now, and nothing gained on either part. And with the new year, no doubt it must all begin again. All that effort and waste, and nothing is changed.”
“Oh, yes, there’s something changed, for what it’s worth!” Hugh uttered a brief bark of laughter. “There’s a new contender on the scene, Cadfael. Geoffrey could spare no more than a meager handful of knights to his wife’s aid, but he’s sent her something it seems he can part with more willingly. Either that or, as may very well be true, he’s taken Stephen’s measure shrewdly enough to know past doubt what he dare wager in safety. He’s sent over their son in Robert’s care, to see if the English will rally to him rather than to his mother. Henry Plantagenet, nine years old- or did they say ten? No more than that! Robert brought him to her at Wallingford. By this time I fancy the boy’s been whisked away to Bristol or Gloucester, out of harm’s way. But if Stephen laid hold of him, what could he do with him? As like as not, put him on board ship at his own expense, and send him well guarded back to France.”
“Do you tell me so?” Cadfael’s eyes opened wide in astonishment and curiosity. “So there’s a new star on the horizon, is there? And starting young! It seems one soul at least has a blessed Christmas assured, with her liberty won, and her son in her arms again. His coming will give her heart, no question. But I doubt if he’ll do much more for her cause.”