We must now return to the doings of Nigel, Bishop of Ely. That prelate had for a year (1142-43) been peacefully occupied in his see. But at the council of 1143 his past conduct had been gravely impugned. Alarmed at the turn affairs were taking, he decided to consult the Empress.[639] He must, I think, have gone by sea, for we find him, on his way at Wareham, the port for reaching her in Wiltshire. Here he was surprised and plundered by a party of the king's men.[640] He succeeded, however, in reaching the Empress, and then returned to Ely. He had now resolved to appeal to the pope in person, a resolve quickened, it may be, by the fact that the legate, who was one of his chief opponents, had gone thither in November (1143). With great difficulty, and after long debate, he prevailed on the monks to let him carry off, from among the remaining treasures of the church, a large amount of those precious objects without the assistance of which, especially in a doubtful cause, it would have been but lost labour to appeal to the heir of the Apostles. As it was Pope Lucius before whom he successfully cleared his character, and as Lucius was not elected till the March of the following year (1144), I have placed his departure for Rome subsequent to that of the legate. He may, of course, have arrived there sooner and applied to Cœlestine without success, but as that pontiff favoured the Empress, this is not probable. Indeed, the wording of the narrative is distinctly opposed to the idea.[641] In any case, my object is to show that the period of his absence abroad harmonizes well with the London Chronicle, which places Geoffrey's revolt about the end of the year. For the bishop had been gone some time when the earl obtained possession of Ely.[642]
Hugh Bigod, the Earl of Norfolk, whose allegiance had ever sat lightly upon him, appears to have eventually become his ally,[643] but for the time we hear only of his brother-in-law, William de Say, as actively embracing his cause.[644] He must, however, have relied on at least the friendly neutrality of his relatives, the Clares and the De Veres, in Cambridgeshire, Suffolk, and Essex, as well as on the loyalty of his own vassals. It is possible, from scattered sources, to trace his plan of action, and to reconstruct the outline of what we may term the fenland campaign.
Fordham, in Cambridgeshire, on the Suffolk border, appears to have been his base of operations. Here supplies could reach him from Suffolk and North Essex. He was thence enabled to advance to Ely, the bishop being at this time absent at Rome, and his forces being hard pressed by those which Stephen had despatched against them. The earl gladly accepted their appeal to himself for assistance, and was placed by them in possession of the isle, including its key, Aldreth Castle.[645] He soon made a further advance, and, pushing on in the same direction, burst upon Ramsey Abbey on a December[646] morning at daybreak, seized the monks in their beds, drove them forth clad as they were, and turned the abbey into a fortified post.[647]
He was probably led to this step by the confusion then reigning among the brethren. A certain scheming monk, Daniel by name, had induced the abbot to resign in his favour. The resignation was indignantly repudiated by the monks and the tenants of the abbey, but Stephen, bribed by Daniel, had visited Ramsey in person, and installed him by force as abbot only eighteen days before the earl's attack.[648] It is, therefore, quite possible that, as stated in the Walden Chronicle, Daniel may have been privy to this gross outrage. In any case the earl's conduct excited universal indignation.[649] He stabled his horses in the cloisters; he plundered the church of its most sacred treasures; he distributed its manors among his lawless followers, and he then sent them forth to ravage far and wide. In short, in the words of the pious chronicler, he made of the church of God a very den of thieves.[650]
But for the time these same enormities enabled the daring earl at once to increase the number of his followers and to acquire a strategical position unrivalled for his purpose. The soldiers of fortune and mercenary troopers who now swarmed throughout the land flocked in crowds to his standard, and he was soon at the head of a sufficient force to undertake offensive operations.[651] From his advanced post at Ramsey Abbey, he was within striking distance of several important points, while himself comparatively safe from attack. His front and right flank were covered by the meres and fens; his left was to some extent protected by the Ouse and its tributaries, and was further strengthened by a fortified work, erected by his son Ernulf at one of the abbey's manors, Wood Walton.[652] In his rear lay the isle of Ely, with its castles in the hands of his men, and its communications with the Eastern Counties secured by his garrison at Fordham.[653] His positions at Ely and Ramsey were themselves connected by a garrison, on the borders of the two counties, at Benwick.[654]
Thus situated, the earl was enabled to indulge his thirst for vengeance, if not on Stephen himself, at least on his unfortunate subjects. From his fastness in the fenland he raided forth; his course was marked by wild havoc, and he returned laden with plunder.[655]
Cambridge, as being the king's town, underwent at his hands the same fate that Nottingham had suffered in 1140, or Worcester in 1139, at the hands of the Earl of Gloucester.[656] Bursting suddenly on the town, he surprised, seized, and sacked it. As at Worcester, the townsmen had stored in the churches such property as they could; but the earl was hardened to sacrilege: the doors were soon crashing beneath the axes of his eager troopers, and when they had pillaged to their hearts' content, the town was committed to the flames.[657] The whole country round was the scene of similar deeds.[658] The humblest village church was not safe from his attack,[659] but the religious houses, from their own wealth, and from the accumulated treasures which, for safety, were then stored within their walls, offered the most alluring prize. It is only from the snatch of a popular rhyme that we learn incidentally the fact that St. Ives was treated even as the abbey of which it was a daughter-house. In a MS. of the Historia Anglorum there is preserved by Mathew Paris the tradition that the earl and his lawless followers mockingly sang of their wild doings—
"I ne mai a live
For Benoit ne for Ive."[660]
It may not have been observed that this jingle refers to St. Benedict of Ramsey and its daughter-house of St. Ives.[661]