Robert de Bellème Part One by Jennie Hart

Bridgnorth Castle Ruins Today

Part 1

There was a crowd of people, so many, there was barely room to move, and many were crushed against one another. Edmund pushed forward.

‘What’s going on?’

Robert de Bellême was expected home that night and Edmund had brought one of his master’s Spanish horses over from his stod farm near the Welsh border. Edmund practised the art of menescalia or marshalcy and was referred to as the horse doctor. Tonight, he was to stay at the Bridgnorth barracks.

‘Look!’ Shouted a young woman in the crowd. ‘What mighty wings!’

‘A powerful bird,’ said a young boy, ’See how it stretches!’

Edmund saw the spectacle. Perched on the flat roof of the keep, its wings expanded magnificently, was a peregrine falcon

‘Is it a mother? Has she come to lay eggs?’

‘It is an omen! God has sent the peregrine to save Lord Bellême from his sins,’ whispered an old man. ‘Something must be done; we might be his next victims.’

The peregrine folded its wings and tucked its head into its lush, speckled breast and the crowd dispersed. The roof would be warm from the fire in the chamber below.

‘Was this a sign’, thought Edmund, ‘that God was taking notice?’

He had heard of the celestial powers of the peregrine, a bird of mystery, said to live among the sun, moon and stars. It was surely a messenger from God.

‘These good parishioners must be saved from the scourge of Robert de Bellême. Did he not recently gouge out the eyes of his godson with his bare hands because he was displeased with the boy’s father?’ Edmund recalled.

No citizen felt safe when de Bellême was home; he was liable to pull an unsuspecting citizen from the street and skewer him on a spike. Edmund shivered at the thought.

Meanwhile, in the Castle de Bellêm there was no peace. Agnes, Comtesse de Ponthieu had the great misfortune to be in a marriage with Robert and was frequently imprisoned in her chamber for many days. She had also gained an evil mother-in-law, Mabel, Dame de Alencon, and when she visited, Agnes had to endure her too. Mabel had a savage nature, revolting temper, and vulgar speech and Robert had inherited those traits. Tonight, she disapproved of the dinner, so ordered the cook to be whipped. The whole household was petrified whenever she came to stay, but today had further anxiety as Robert was soon due home.

Mabel usually accompanied her husband Roger de Montgomerie on his visits to Bridgnorth Castle. He was the Earl of Shrewsbury and a prudent and moderate man who deserved a good wife. Mabel was not called Mabel le Diable for no reason. She could shrink Roger down to the size of mouse if she wanted. In truth, she made him nervous. A venomous glare from her was enough to make him say ‘Yes dear; of course dear,’ until her cutting remarks subsided. She had been known to threaten to cut off his hands if he didn’t stop being so clumsy.

Her particular tirade this day was on account of Robert; she was fearful for his reputation and wanted Roger to agree that something must be done. It was a case of ‘pot calling the kettle black’!

‘Robert must be admonished,’ she shouted. ‘It is not good enough that he goes around chopping off heads and putting out the eyes of a child, especially his godson Rufus!’

Mabel had wanted Rufus, a lively youngster in his fifteenth year, to become her escort to every state affair when her husband was absent. But now, Rufus was blind and unfit to appear in company. Who could stand in his stead? She showed no compassion for his cruel treatment.

Mabel was terrifying tonight, complaining in an alarming way about the audacity of a peregrine falcon to settle on the castle roof. She smacked a young kitchen maid’s face, forcing her to deny the town gossip that the bird had been sent as an omen on account of Robert’s outrageous behaviour.

‘Bring to me the persons spreading such untruths, I will have them whipped,’ she bellowed.

Members of the household cowered, shaking their heads to assure her they were not guilty. Between themselves, they called her Mabel the Monster.

Edmund was standing by the castle entrance when a member of the household came out, grabbed him by the collar and marched him into the presence of the ghastly Mabel, to be presented as the cavalry man spreading untruths.

Mabel knew of a rumour regarding her son Robert. The Bridgnorth folk believed him to be an incarnation of the character Robertus Diabolus from the ancient legend. She could not deny her son’s life closely paralleled that of Diabolus. Had not Robert bitten his nurse as Diabolus did, and likewise torn out her hair? Had he not cut throats like Diabolus and starved prisoners to death? Did not her own life closely resemble that of Diabolus’s mother, the duchess, in the legend? When as a young woman, Mabel could not conceive, like the duchess, she had caroused with the devil. Nine months later, she had given birth to Robert.

She let it be known that if she heard anyone likening her son to Robertus Diabolus, she would have them hung, drawn and quartered. Mabel was in a foul temper and in punishment mode:

‘Are you the young man responsible for spreading these falsehoods?’

‘No m’lady I only came upon the sight of the peregrine on my way to the barracks. I spread no rumour.’

Mabel stared ferociously at Edmund; should she order a whipping for insolence; or a branding for lying?’ She scrutinised his striking features, dark and Gallic; his slim physique, his upright manner and asked him his name and employment. He was fortunate she approved of his appearance.

Edmund described his responsibility of marshalcy of Robert’s horses, but was halted by Mabel saying:

‘No longer! I will speak to my son. You will be my equerry and escort. Rufus, Robert’s godson was to be my escort, but is indisposed. You will come immediately to reside in the castle and to travel with me.

Edmund moved in. Gossip on the back stairs was rife. He heard that the child looked after in the nursery was Robert’s son Guillaume, a sweet-natured child who constantly

called for his maman. His mother, Agnes, Edmund knew, was held prisoner in her chamber.

Edmund was outraged; he had accompanied the guard bringing Agnes to England from Ponthieu and had glimpsed the beautiful, shy and bewildered young girl. He had seen she was very much afraid.

‘How can a man do this to his wife? The Comtesse cannot deserve it.’

Edmund was fortunate to sleep in a pleasant chamber, above the basic rooms of the domestic staff and so was nearer to the apartments of the family. He had no idea where Agnes was confined, but that first night, he was woken by faint sobbing. He took a candle and followed the anguished sound down a dimly lit corridor to a short staircase. One door at the top, was a linen store, but behind the other door he heard crying. He turned the knob, but the oak door would not open. He called gently and a small voice asked who was there. Edmund explained and asked if she were the Comtesse.

‘I am Agnes of Ponthieu. If my father knew of my plight, he would rescue me, but he is at a great distance, and we are separated by the sea.’

The sobbing continued.

‘Please help me! I am not allowed to see my son Guillaume, my most precious child.’ She took a breath. ‘And my husband came home tonight. When he found me crying, he beat me with a rod; my back is very sore.’

Edmund was aghast and could not bear this distress. He had horse embrocation, an ointment equally good for humans. He would bring it to soothe her. He pleaded for her to be patient and calm and he would go and find the key. He had seen a number of keys on iron hooks outside de Bellême’s boot room.

‘I will soon be back,’ he said.

Of the keys Edmund tried, none fitted Agnes’s lock. He must find where her key was concealed. De Bellême was an impatient man so it would need to be easily accessible. It would be too heavy to hang from his belt. Robert tried the boot- room and the robust oak door was locked but he found a key to open it. Unusually, the long window had heavy drapes as it had once been a bed chamber and by the dawn light, Edmund found a hook behind one curtain. On it was a large iron key.

Kitchen staff had risen and Edmund heard clattering saucepans. Taking the key, he crept noiselessly back to Agnes and turning the key in the lock, the door opened.

Her chamber was a small space, inadequate for a young woman of her standing. Agnes was fearful as Edmund entered but he showed her the ointment and she thanked him. Her nurse Josephine would aid her when she brought le petit dejeuner. Her main distress, she confided was being separated from her son, whom she loved dearly.

‘I want only to be with Guillaume and my maman in Ponthieu. I cannot live with this cruel husband; he has no love for me or our son. If I am unhappy when he returns, he beats me then has his way with me. I would be glad to die if it were not for Guillaume.’

Edmund had visited Pontieu, near Abbeville, when he had been part of the entourage collecting Agnes. It was close to Calais and a short sea journey to Dover. He had a friend who would be discreet and take Agnes and Guillaume there. The journey would be slow and treacherous but God willing, she would be kept safe.

Edmund said he would return on the morrow after dark. He would accompany Agnes by steed to Shrewsbury and be back for his duties by dawn, She and Guillaume would go by carriage. Agnes spoke of Guillaume:

‘Josephine cares for Guillaume, brings news of him every day when she brings me dishes from the kitchen. She will accompany Guillaume and I back to France. She came with me from Ponthieu and is ma bonne amie.’

‘Speak to Josephine tomorrow and ask her to have the child ready for the journey. I will arrange the carriage to Shrewsbury. Further coaches will take you to Dover. I know a good man who will stay with you and take you safely to Ponthieu.’

Agnes was waiting anxiously, aware of the danger, her warm cloak wrapped tightly round her. Edmund led her, together with the maid and child, to the carriage. Agnes was overwhelmed with emotion as she held and clung to her son; he snuggled by her side and Josephine sat facing. They each had bags with clothing and Agnes held her prayer book. She wore a purse on her belt for her money and jewels.

Edmund returned to the castle by dawn and soon after, there was uproar, but by this time the family and maid were on their way to Dover. He would learn some time later of their safe arrival in Ponthieu. Reliable sources said that Agnes and Guillaume eventually

sought refuge with a good friend, Adela Comtesse de Blois. They lived with her safely and never returned to Bridgnorth.

Agnes’s fleeing caused great fury to Robert de Bellême. He wanted his son brought home.

Henry the First brought many charges against Robert which he refused to answer, so Henry besieged his English castles and Robert lost his land and titles. He was brought back from Normandy to die in a secure cell in the dungeon of Wareham Castle.

Mabel too suffered a death she deserved. Subjects angry at her ruthlessness, entered her chateau in Bures-sur-Dires where, as she enjoyed a relaxing bath, they cut off her head!

Edmund realised he had adored Agnes since his first sight of her but knew his love would be forever unrequited.

Note

meniscalia (Catalan) or marshalcy: the art of horse-doctoring.

According to Gerald of Wales, Cambro-Norman priest and historian (1146-1223),

stod: is a herd of horses or a place where horses were kept for breeding