"Nevertheless," answered Beauclerc, who observed that the populace had gathered, "no man shall have possession of the crown of England but whom the people appoint."
As he spoke these words, Beauclerc, seeing it was no time to be squeamish, drew his sword, and a scuffle ensued. But it was not serious. Indeed, Breteuil and other lords, seeing the mob on Henry's side, deemed it prudent to retire; while he secured the public money and the regal ornaments. Hastening then to London, and gaining the support of the bishop, he was elected as king, and solemnly crowned before the high altar in the abbey of Westminster.
Nevertheless, many of the Anglo-Norman barons continued faithful to the cause of Curthose, and prepared to support his claims to the crown. But Beauclerc was not a man to surrender, without a struggle, the prize he had so boldly grasped. Feeling his insecurity, he determined on adopting measures of safety. He set himself to win the hearts and to secure the aid of the Saxons; he reminded them of his being a native of the country, and promised, as their king, to guide himself by their counsel, to maintain their ancient liberties, and to grant them a charter confirming the laws in force during the reign of Edward the Confessor. The Saxons, on hearing Beauclerc's promises, consented to befriend him; and he, to consolidate the alliance, engaged to marry a woman of Saxon race.
At that time there was in the convent of Rumsey, in Hampshire, where she had been educated under the care of her aunt Christina, a daughter of Malcolm Canmore and of Margaret Atheling. The hand of the princess, whose name was Edith, had been sought by Norman lords of high rank; and Beauclerc and she had loved in other days. But a somewhat serious objection was made to their union. It was said that she had taken the veil of a nun. An inquiry, however, was instituted, and it appeared that she had never been consecrated to God.
"I must confess," she said, "that I have sometimes appeared veiled, but only for this reason: in my youth, when I was under the care of my aunt Christina, she, to protect me, as she said, from the Normans—who then assailed the honour of every woman they met—used to place a piece of black stuff on my head; and when I refused to wear it, she treated me harshly. In her presence I wore this cloth, but as soon as she left me I threw it on the ground, and trampled on it in childish anger."
In order, however, that the position of Edith might be formally investigated, an assembly of clergy and lay lords was convoked at Rochester, and this assembly decided that "the girl was free to marry." Accordingly she was united to Beauclerc, and exchanged her name of Edith for that of Maude. Even envy itself could not discover a flaw in her conduct as wife; but it is said that the Anglo-Norman barons favourable to Curthose affected to regard Henry's marriage with a princess in whose veins ran the blood of the vanquished race as a mésalliance, and, in derision, nicknamed the regal pair Godrick and Godiva. Beauclerc, perhaps, did not relish the joke, but, like a man of sense, he laughed at the allusion.
In fact, Henry had more serious business to think of, for the partisans of his brother were watching their opportunity, and only awaiting the presence of Curthose to do their utmost to overturn Beauclerc's throne. And where, in reality, had that eccentric son of chivalry been at the time of the crisis of his fate? Had he been carried away to Fairyland, between death and life, like King Arthur, or borne to another region on the backs of fiends, like his grandsire, Robert the Devil? In order to ascertain his "whereabouts," we must follow his steps on an expedition which at that time excited universal interest, and which was destined to exercise no slight influence on the destinies of Europe and of Asia.
