Free When Christ and His Saints Slept by Sharon Kay Penman Page B

impractical approach to life. Theobald would have been his first choice, but Theobald had so far shown even less enthusiasm than Stephen. Oh, he’d likely take the crown if it were dropped into his lap. But the bishop had long ago learned that a man must fight for what he wanted in this life. His uncle could not be allowed to carry out this mad gamble of his. For a gamble it was, one that put both England and Normandy at risk, that might even imperil the Church itself. And he was not going to let that happen, by the Rood, he was not. He would see Stephen crowned in spite of himself if need be, and as his reward for saving England from Maude’s disastrous queenship, he would claim the Church’s most influential see, that of Canterbury. A crown for Stephen, an archbishop’s mitre for himself: a fair trade for thwarting an old man’s unforgivable folly.
    “Of course Maude ought to have gone back to Geoffrey,” he said, marveling that he must waste time in pointing out the obvious. “A wife must obey her husband. And that is but another reason why Maude must never be allowed to claim the English throne. Who amongst us would want to be ruled by Geoffrey of Anjou?”
    To Henry’s intense annoyance, Stephen laughed. “I know Maude better than that!”
    “Our lady mother agrees with me,” Henry said, and Stephen’s laughter stopped abruptly. “I have visited her at the nunnery in Marcigny, and she sees matters as I do. By claiming the crown, you would be serving God and the English people, whilst bringing glory to your family’s name. A crown, she said, will do honour to our father’s memory, rid it of a lingering blotch, the shame he suffered at Antioch—”
    “I should think,” Stephen said, “that he expiated any and all sins by dying as he did at Ramleh.”
    There was a surprising edge to Stephen’s voice, for it was a longstanding family joke that his anger was like a bear denned up for the winter, all but impossible to bestir. He’d gotten to his feet, and the bishop said hastily:
    “Those were our mother’s words, not mine. For all her virtues, she is overly prideful, and I’ll not deny it. I respect your doubts, for this is not an undertaking to be entered into lightly. Take the time you need to consider what I’ve said. But I would ask you one question, and I want you to answer me honestly, without jesting or evasions. Can you truly tell me, Stephen, that you believe Maude could rule England and Normandy as well as a man could…as you could?”
    Stephen did not want to answer, but his brother was implacable, appeared willing to wait as long as necessary. “No,” he said at last, “I do not.”
    “Nor do I,” Henry said, not firing the most formidable weapon in his arsenal until Stephen reached the door. “Do you think often of the White Ship?”
    Stephen stopped, his hand on the door latch. “Our sister drowned in that wreck. Of course I think of it.”
    “You almost drowned, too, Stephen. Few men come as close to death as you did that November night…and walk away. Have you never wondered why you were spared? Was it truly happenchance? Or did the Almighty spare you for a purpose of His own?”
    “What purpose, Henry? To save England from Maude? Would it not have been simpler then, just to let the White Ship miss that rock? If Will had not drowned, Maude would still be in Germany, our uncle would have a son to succeed him, and you and I would not be having this conversation.”
    That was not the response Bishop Henry had been hoping for, but he still felt confident that he had planted a seed in fertile soil, for what man did not ponder his own place in the mysterious workings of the Almighty? He let Stephen go, content to wait.
     
    GOING down into the great hall, Stephen found Theobald sharing a hospitable wine flagon with their cousin. He and Robert greeted each other with a marked and mutual lack of enthusiasm, but he had a much warmer welcome for Robert’s young squire. Ranulf had