1154 A.D. Rouen, Normandy.
She was brought the news as she sat at her desk, high in the tower of the ducal fortress that overlooked the
slow moving Seine. This was the place she could usually be found most hours of the day, transacting business
on behalf of her son, the duke. The slightly disheveled messenger entered the room briskly, and dropped to his
knees as be blurted out, “My lady, King Stephen has . . . “ Looking more than slightly annoyed, and casting an
imperious glaze with her cold, menacing eyes, Matilda sarcastically interrupted the messenger, “who?” The
knight quickly realized his error, and rephrased his message, “that is, Stephen, the pretended king of England,
has been called to our lord to reckon for his heinous offenses against your ladyship- your eldest son Henry, by
the grace of God, is now both king of England and duke of Normandy like his grandfather, your father, the king
that was. God be praised, madam, is this not the greatest moment of your life?” Matilda smiled blandly at the
news, as her steely eyes stared blankly through the window, and out into the distance of the wintry Norman
landscape.
After nearly twenty years, the struggle was over, the battle had been won. But now, the victory belonged not
to her, but to her son, Henry Plantagenet, a man who resembled her in so many ways; restless, intelligent,
fearless, entirely inscrutable, and possessed of a boundless energy as well as a frightening temper. With the
passage of time, and the wisdom derived from hard experience, she well knew that such qualities complemented
a man much more than a woman. Indeed, the path that her son now forged, the one that had once been hers,
had been so much easier for him to negotiate than it had been for her. While Matilda had been married twice to
men not of her own choosing, her eldest son had already and impetuously married the most eligible heiress in
all of Europe, the lovely Eleanor, duchess of Aquitaine, who would now be his queen, before he had reached his
twenty-first birthday. Nevertheless, this was a moment to savor, and Matilda was truly happy for her son, whose
life was now her entire world. But she could not banish the thought that, had Stephen died ten years earlier, it
would have been her, the Empress Matilda, daughter of King Henry, Lady of the English, and not her son, to
claim their rightful inheritance, the crown of England, that had been stolen by Stephen and his beautiful and
treacherous wife, also named Matilda, a woman as formidable as the Empress herself, whose husband would
now join her in her grave in Faversham Abbey.
Chapter One
Even as a little girl, Matilda had dreamed of ruling a kingdom. The daughter of a ferociously efficient king,
who remained for her the model of kingly success all her days on earth, by the age of eight she already knew
she was much more capable of wearing a crown than her pampered and spoiled younger brother William
Aetheling. Yet to the Normans, those rough and ready descendants of the terrifying Vikings who had
conquered England some forty years earlier, ruling kingdoms required not only courage and ability, but a single-
minded ruthlessness that was necessary not only to seize a crown, but to hold onto it as well. Mature well
beyond her years, Matilda already knew she possessed these qualities, but as she and her brother stood by
their parents, King Henry I and his lovely and saintly queen, Edith of Scotland, all eyes were on her six year old
brother, not her, as the King addressed his bishops and tenants in chief in the great hall at Winchester on the
13th of June, in 1109 anno domini, “My lords, allow me to present these precious gifts from God, for ourselves
and our kingdom, who will continue our royal bloodline. William, my undoubted son and heir, will, with your
concurrence, succeed me as duke of Normandy and king of England. What is your answer, my lords?” The
crowd roared wildly with approval as the King then motioned his daughter forward, “and here, my daughter
Matilda, who will shortly depart for Germany, where she will wed the emperor Henry V and be crowned a Holy
Roman Empress!” This additional, unexpected news sent a tremor that reverberated throughout the great hall.
This was a momentous occasion. God had indeed favored King Henry, who possessed an intelligent,
capable, and obedient wife by his side, who had produced two children to survive the hazards of infancy and
early childhood. These two children now stood before the excited crowd in front of their parents, to be formally
introduced to the feudal society that looked to this family for leadership and protection in a hostile,
unpredictable, and violent world.
It had been a long and hard road that had brought King Henry to this sublime moment of dynastic triumph.
The youngest of the three sons of William the Conqueror, Henry had watched and waited, following his father’s
death in the year 1087, as the sibling rivalry between his elder brothers, Robert Curthose and William Rufus,
demonstrated how successful kingship depended on single-minded decisiveness and ruthlessness. The
Conqueror had bequeathed to his eldest surviving son, the lazy and ineffectual Curthose, the dukedom of
Normandy, who soon enough mortgaged it to Rufus, the king of England, so that he could go on Crusade. As
Curthose drifted drunkenly through his pointless and wasted life, Rufus obtained everything he ever wanted as
king as he flouted all the conventions of Christian feudal society, pillaging the Church of its wealth while refusing
to marry as he consorted brazenly in his court with his effeminate minions.
As powerful as he was, Rufus had enemies. Henry had been present at that hunting party in the new forest
on that hot sunny day in August 1100, when his brother the king was fatally felled by an arrow. Despite the
guarded whispers that had filtered down through the years, Henry had nothing to do with his Rufus’s death, but
he nevertheless had acted quickly and decisively to fill the leadership gap before Curthose could rouse himself
from his stupor. Even before the last breath was out of Rufus, Henry had ridden furiously to Winchester, to
obtain the royal treasure, and then bolt to London to secure his accession as king of the English with the
alluring promise of a charter of liberties, which he had no intention of honoring. To bolster his dubious claim to
the throne, Henry came up with the ingenious idea of marrying Edith, the daughter of King Malcolm III of
Scotland and his saintly queen Margaret, a direct descendant of the Anglo-Saxon royal house of Wessex. The
marriage had been happy enough, as royal marriages go, although the King acknowledged most of the veritable
herd of bastards he had sired with women from all ranks of feudal society. But the King needed legitimate heirs
to succeed him as king and duke, and he and his queen had united the blood royal of the Normans with that of
the Anglo-Saxons, to the great delight of the English people, who had endured the Norman yoke for nearly half
a century.
While their first child had been the disappointment of a daughter, a son joyously followed. Nevertheless,
King Henry had not been satisfied with just the English kingdom, like his elder brother Curthose, he also felt
entitled to the entire patrimony of their father. But Curthose was no more a match for the wily Henry than he
had been for Rufus, and sat as Henry’s prisoner, as he would for the rest of his days, in Cardiff Castle, with
burned out sockets where his eyes had once been, as it was widely rumored, a punishment that Henry had
ordered with unmitigated fury for Curthose’s temerity to try and escape his close confinement. Yes, the road to
supreme power in England and Normandy had required acts of treachery and unspeakable violence, but as he
stood before the admiring throng of his Norman tenants-in-chief, King Henry well knew that he had indeed
fulfilled the prophecy of his formidable father: You in your own time will have all the dominions I have acquired
and be greater than both your brothers in wealth and power.
But as a father, looking upon his beautiful children with undisguised fatherly pride and love, King Henry had
little stomach for even the thought of his own son having to pursue so treacherous a road to the throne as he
himself had travelled. No, unlike his father, Henry would pave the road to a peaceful transfer of power, he would
bequeath to England an orderly system for kingly succession, so that when the time came for God to call him
away from this transitory vale of tears, he could die with the assurance that his son would succeed him as king
of the English and duke of Normandy.
But Henry’s love for his son had not blinded him to the fact that of his two legitimate offspring, it was his
daughter, not his son, who displayed all the signs of possessing the right talents, instincts, and courage
necessary for successful kingship. It was indeed a great irony, but a woman as king? It was hard enough for a
man to become a king in that day and age, much less hold on to a crown. Yet Henry did bask in the comforting
thought that his daughter would enjoy a lofty status that few women would ever enjoy, and wield a form of power
that would render her the most exalted woman on the continent of Europe.
. This was the crowning moment of Henry’s continental diplomacy. After nearly ten years on the throne, his
kingship was undeniably a success on every level, as he envisioned his own bloodline continuing not only as
kings of England and dukes of Normandy, but as Holy Roman Emperors in Germany and Italy, an achievement
that would far surpass those of his legendary father. As the king basked in the glow of this moment of triumph,
he could not possibly envision the troubles and tragedies that would plague him and his seemingly perfect little
family for the rest of their lives.
Chapter Two
As Matilda prepared for her departure for Germany, her mother, Queen Edith, cast a forlorn pall in the
bedchamber that was nearly packed up for the long journey ahead. Edith well remembered her own journey
from her native Scotland, after taking her tearful leave from her own saintly mother Queen Margaret, to wed a
man who took delight in just about every woman he ever met. Yet King Henry had still treated her with utmost
courtesy, as befitted a Queen, and placed much respect in her counsel, which she now wished to pass on to her
own daughter.
Yet even before Queen Edith could begin to speak, Matilda had already begun to query her. “My lady, why
is that that my brother gets to stay here in England and be king, even though he is younger and much less
capable than me, while I must leave my family and journey to Germany to be a wife and empress?” The queen
was hardly surprised by this question from her intelligent and fearless daughter, replying, “Matilda- you judge
your brother so harshly! Sweet daughter, only men can be kings, my precious, women can be queens, and
sometimes, on very rare occasions, empresses. Did you know that every lady in Europe, even queens, must
bow before an empress- a glorious future awaits you, my daughter!” Realizing that this would not be completely
persuasive, she continued, “but your talents will not go to waste- behind every great man is an even greater
woman- your husband will need you to help him with his many responsibilities as your father has always needed
me. The best thing you can do with your life is to be a good wife, Matilda, do not be proud, keep your faith in
God, do your duty, to your husband and your children, and this world, and the next, will surely be yours for the
taking.”
The next day King Henry and Queen Edith conducted Matilda to Dover accompanied by a great train of
barons, prelates, and the imperial envoys who would escort her to Germany. As the royal party approached the
ship laced with garlands and the banners of England, Scotland, and Normandy, the King addressed his
daughter for all to hear. “Go my daughter, in the name of God, defend the interests of these our realms, be
fruitful, be obedient to your husband, and never forget whose daughter you are!” Now it was the Queen’s turn.
Though naturally private in her inclinations, and pious beyond words, she had learned to play her public role
well, turning to her daughter and speaking in a loud and audible voice, “God bless you my daughter, and
protect you on your voyage- do not forget us, you will always be in our hearts and prayers!” It was then the turn
of Ralph d’Escures, bishop of Rochester, and the future Archbishop of Canterbury, who led the crowd in a
solemn prayer before turning to Matilda, enjoining her to respect the undoubted rights and privileges of holy
mother church. “Blessed lamb of Christ, remember well that the high station that awaits you remains a transitory
vale of tears, whereas Christ is everlasting love- remember this well!”
As she was surrounded by and fussed over by her English and Norman ladies, Matilda remained a solitary
figure on the ship that carried her from England to the continent of Europe. Any other girl her age would have
been terrified to leave her family and journey to a distant land to marry a man much older than herself. The
tears that had streamed down her mother’s face, and the ashen pall on that of her father betrayed their joint
sorrow in saying goodbye to such a remarkable daughter, but as she waved to her parents and brother as the
ship disembarked from the harbor, already Matilda was looking forward to the adventure that awaited her,
marriage to the Holy Roman emperor, which would confer upon her the highest status possible for a woman to
obtain, empress.
The thought of being a female imperator, like the legendary Livia, consort of Augustus Caesar, whose life
she had so admired in Seutonius’ Lives of the Caesars, had long inhabited Matilda’s imagination. Livia had
been much more than just a mere wife or consort. She had been a powerful and influential woman, living her life
at the epicenter of imperial power, and playing a starring role in the drama that had established her second
husband Octavian as Augustus Caesar, the first emperor of Rome and her son Tiberius as his successor. Livia
had not shied away from acts of treachery or violence when she saw that they were necessary for the stability of
the state, or Tiberius’s advancement, the one overwhelming passion of her life. Matilda would also do what was
necessary as Empress, for her husband and sons, when she wielded the power of the glittering, jewel encrusted
imperial diadem that awaited her. Was this not more than ample compensation for not being allowed to succeed
her father as king of England and duke of Normandy?
Already she had begun to consider the strategies she would pursue to consolidate her power as an
Empress. She knew, as her wise and devoted mother had taught her, that royal women won reverence for their
chastity and their fervent devotion to holy mother church. Since she could not win renown on the battlefield as
could a man, a saintly reputation would be the next best thing- she would become a devoted benefactress of
monasteries and churches, famous for her piety and charity. But mixed with the undoubted sincerity was a clear
political strategy. Like her mother, Matilda never contemplated taking the veil, and devoting herself exclusively
to the service of God. Queen Edith’s piety was legendary, but despite having lived much of her early life in the
abbey of Romsey, under the protection of her aunt, Abbess Cristina, she had protested vehemently that she
had never taken the veil when King Henry had sought her for his queen. Matilda also would live her life with her
feet firmly planted in this world, and not the next. Nevertheless, she fervently believed in God, indeed she
feared him, and always sought his approval for all the major decisions of her life, even as a girl. Because of
this, she always believed, even to the end of her life, that God would always favor her cause.
Nevertheless, when her party arrived in the vibrant town of Liege, Matilda was overwhelmed by the splendor
and magnificence of the imperial court that had gathered to greet her. The Emperor Henry V was handsome
and dashing, a knight in shining armor with a regal countenance, while his bishops, his vassals, and the ladies
of the imperial court offered her a studied reverence that she had never experienced before. But Matilda
betrayed no sign of the awe that filled her soul at this reception. While only eight years old, she well knew that
her childhood was already over, as she was immediately called upon to play the part of empress soon after her
arrival. Indeed, Matilda’s arrival at the imperial court was timed to coincide with a political act that only she could
perform.
She had barely been conducted to her chambers when she was visited by Otbert, bishop of Liege, who
patiently rehearsed her to perform a ritualized act of intercession on behalf of Godfrey, the disgraced duke of
Lotharingia, so that he could be formally reconciled to the emperor. Intercessions were the most public acts that
royal consorts were called upon to play, and a potent form of female royal power. Matilda had watched her
mother many times intercede for mercy on behalf of her English subjects to mitigate King Henry’s harsh
judgment, allowing him to grant mercy without damaging his fearful reputation for rough and swift justice.
The very next day, after a mere twenty-four hours in Liege, Matilda played her role in this political theatre to
absolute perfection, entering the hall, and making her way through a crowd anxious to see what this Anglo-
Norman girl was made of. Indeed, her performance would be taken as an augury for the exalted role it was her
destiny to fulfill, for better or worse. As she strode regally up to the imperial throne, Matilda caught the eye of
Godfrey’s lovely daughter Adeliza, a girl nearly her own age, and destined to be a queen of England herself one
day, before she threw herself in front of the emperor, and recited the speech that implored the emperor to
forgive and be reconciled to Godfrey with faultless execution. The crowd was dazzled, while Adeliza would never
forget the role the youthful empress had played in reconciling the father she adored to the august Emperor
Henry V.
Indeed, the Emperor also had been extremely pleased with Matilda’s performance, which he took to be a
most positive omen for the future of his dynasty. Even though he was two years shy of thirty years of age, and
had made quite a show of lightness and gaiety for Matilda’s benefit, he had long been hardened by the struggle
for power that had begun even before he obtained the imperial diadem. The fourth emperor of the Salian
dynasty, Henry had much in common with his Norman father-in-law to be, in his conflicts with papal power, and
the cold-blooded ability to never let family ties come between him and his political goals. In the Emperor’s case
this meant opposition to his own father, Henry IV, whose conflicts with Popes Gregory VII and Paschal II had
resulted in repeated acts of excommunication. Henry IV had in fact died excommunicate in 1106, with his son
and heir in the camp of his papal and Saxon enemies.
But once his father was laid to rest in unconsecrated ground, he soon came to appreciate the difficulties
inherent in confronting the temporal power of the Vicar of Christ. As Emperor, Henry V, along with Kings Henry I
of England and Louis VI of France, had been negotiating with Pope Paschal II over the long festering
controversy over the investiture of bishops by ring and crozier, the great battle between the spiritual sword of
universal Christendom and the temporal sword of Europe’s secular feudal princes. King Henry of England was
well aware of the Emperor’s papal problems, and astutely saw in him a potential ally in his own efforts to trump
the power of his feudal overlord and bete noir, the king of France.
Henry V also saw the advantages to an Anglo-Norman alliance, and Matilda proved to be the most valuable
form of merchandise in this transaction. While her brother William would marry the daughter of Count Fulk of
Anjou, who would bring the county of Maine as her dowry into the Anglo-Norman Empire, Matilda’s 10,000 mark
dowry would go a long way for the emperor to purchase the military muscle necessary to stabilize his authority
and reoccupy the imperial lands that had been lost during the long years of his father’s opposition to both the
papacy and his imperial vassals, and convince the pope to give him the imperial coronation that his father had
never obtained. Even though he was sixteen years her senior, the positive benefits that Matilda had already
brought to him allowed the Emperor to be patient for the onset of her puberty, when he could formally marry her
and consummate the marriage. Indeed, towering above all the other advantages that she brought to her
marriage, Matilda’s most important role as empress would be to bear a brood of healthy and loyal sons to
continue the Salian dynasty on the imperial throne.
Until the time arrived for her to consummate her marriage, Matilda would be trained rigorously for her future
role. From Liege the imperial party moved on to Utrecht, where she was formally betrothed to the Emperor, and
then on to Mainz, where she was crowned Queen of Germany, on the 25th of July, in the year of our Lord 1110.
As a young girl, this event was an emotionally moving and transcendent experience. As bishop Otbert explained
it to her, the awe and majesty of the ritual anointing with holy oil bestowed upon her a sacred nature that gave
her a special relationship with God, setting her apart from all other Christians, and reinforcing Matilda’s fervent
belief that her destiny would be specially guided by the will of the almighty. For the rest of her life, Matilda put
much faith into the special relationship with God that her anointing had created for her. Indeed, the ceremony
had been conducted within reach of one of the holiest of relics in Christendom, the hand of St. James, on the
feast day of that same blessed saint, which to Matilda was proof positive of her special connection to Christ the
savior.
But once the awe and mystery of the coronation ceremony were over, she was packed off to Trier, to be
educated and trained for her role as empress. Situated on the Moselle, where the lands of France blended
imperceptibly together with those of Germany, Trier represented the political and religious unity that had once
bound those two kingdoms together, which imperial Rome had created and maintained in the classical world.
But in Matilda’s day there were two empires, the spiritual empire of Christendom, led by the Vicar of Christ, the
Pope, which bestowed spiritual legitimacy on that other empire, the temporal one her husband ruled, two
empires, each of which could not exist without the help and support of the other. Matilda needed a thorough
grounding in the symbiotic relationship between Church and State; Trier was the place the emperor chose for
her education because this was the residence of Archbishop Bruno, the most trusted and loyal of his imperial
servants, to whom he entrusted Matilda’s tutelage.
In many ways, Bruno’s charge was an easy one. Matilda had a gift for languages, and a ready ability to
absorb the rigorous academic regimen that in England and Normandy was normally reserved for boys rather
than girls. But Holy Roman empresses needed to be fluent in German, Italian, and Latin, and literate as well; as
the emperor moved constantly around his empire, from Germany to Italy, and back, he would need a wife who
could be more than a consort or an ornament to his throne, but a loyal partner who could represent and wield
his authority in his absence with his total trust. These were the elements that that the patient but exacting
Archbishop instilled into the fertile mind of the young girl mature beyond her years. One of the first things that
Bruno had instructed her to do was sit down and write a letter to her father in her own hand, and render to him
an account of all the events had transpired since her arrival in Germany. But as the years passed, as memories
of England and Normandy grew dim, Matilda entered into her exciting but demanding career as empress.