Sometimes he would laugh to himself to think of her with them but at others the thought would send him into a mad rage. It would depend a great deal on his mood of the moment, though he knew of course that if he ever had actual proof of her infidelity he would be furious.

Meanwhile, he sought ladies to amuse him. Sometimes they were willing – in fact they almost always were – out of fear of his temper or obsession with the honour of being noticed by the King. But it was the reluctant ones who were beginning to attract him more and more.

When he came to Dunmow Castle to be entertained by one of his leading barons, Robert FitzWalter, the baronial lord of Dunmow and Baynard’s Castle, he met Robert’s daughter Matilda. That the girl was a virgin was obvious from one glimpse of her, for she was very young and her mother had guarded her well. Moreover, she was the prettiest creature he had seen for a long time and just the sort to soothe those nagging doubts about Isabella’s fidelity which beset him from time to time.

Robert FitzWalter was one of the most important of the barons and his possession of Baynard’s Castle carried with it the hereditary office of standard bearer to the City of London which meant of course that he was regarded highly by the citizens. He was a great merchant and owned several ships; he was also engaged in the wine trade and because of his importance as a baron the King had granted him several privileges which were useful to him in his business.

And now having seen he had this fair daughter, John was prepared to honour Robert FitzWalter even more.

As they rode together in the hunt in the forest of Dunmow John brought his horse close to that of Robert FitzWalter and said: ‘By God’s eyes, Walter, you have a fair daughter.’

Those words accompanied by the leer on John’s face were enough to make any father anxious.

‘My lord, Matilda is but a child.’

‘A fair one, forsooth.’

‘Yes, her mother has brought her up very carefully.’

John licked his lips. He had a great fancy at this time for virgins. ‘So I see, and it does her credit. Your lady wife will be pleased to hear that the King admires her.’

Robert FitzWalter did not answer, knowing full well that that was the last thing his lady wife wished to hear. Lady FitzWalter was a woman of strong character and stern morals who had brought up her daughter firmly in the light of her own beliefs.

‘I will tell her,’ said Robert quietly.

‘Pray do. I may extend my visit to Dunmow, Robert. I like the place. It pleases me … as does your daughter.’

When the King talked in such a manner there was only one thing to do. Robert FitzWalter immediately sought out his wife and told her what the King had said.

She turned pale.

‘This is terrible. What can we do?’

‘I know not.’

‘I shall never give my daughter to that lecher.’

‘It is impossible.’

‘I would prefer to die defending her.’

‘Remember what happened to Matilda Braose. Starved to death in a dungeon.’

‘This man is a vile tyrant, Robert.’

‘I know it well. The barons have known it for years. They will not endure his villainies much longer.’

‘But not in time to save Matilda. Our little girl, Robert! I feel ill contemplating it.’

‘I know. I know.’

‘I’ll take her away. We’ll leave at once. You must tell him I have taken her on a visit … you can say it is without your permission. In fact it is better that you do, for he might turn his wrath on you if you do not. Tell him I have taken her away and you knew nothing of it. That I often do it perhaps, that I am a disobedient arrogant wife. Tell him that and that you do not know where we have gone.’

‘It’s the only way,’ said Robert. ‘Who knows, if she is out of his sight some other poor girl might take his fancy.’

Lady FitzWalter lost no time. She sent for her daughter and told her to prepare for a journey at once and to be sure not to mention to anyone that she was going.

Thus Lady FitzWalter took her daughter from the Castle of Dunmow.

At supper that night John asked where Robert’s wife and daughter were.

‘They have gone on a visit.’

‘While I am here?’ cried John.

‘My lord, my wife is a most contentious woman.’

‘By God’s ears, Robert, it is an insult to me.’

‘I trust you will not take it as such, my lord.’

‘To leave when the King is here! Why so, man, why so?’

‘It seems my wife had arranged this visit and would let nothing – not even your presence – prevent her departure.’

‘You have married a scold, Robert FitzWalter.’

‘I fear so, my lord.’

‘Yet I would not have thought you a meek man.’

‘We don different faces, my lord, by our own fireside.’

‘’Tis true. I have seen the boldest men cowards before their wives.’

‘Then here you see yet another.’

John laughed aloud. He was in good spirits it seemed. Robert was delighted. His wife’s ruse had worked and John was already looking round at other women.

He did not know that John’s men had made him aware of the departure of Lady FitzWalter and her daughter and he had laid plans that they should be intercepted on their way. Lady FitzWalter should be allowed to return to the lord who declared he was in awe of her, but the delectable daughter should be carried to a place of John’s choosing where she could await his coming.


The following day John left Dunmow and shortly after his departure Lady FitzWalter returned. She was so distraught that she could hardly tell her husband what had happened. Their daughter had been abducted and she was in great fear as to what was happening to her. They had not ridden far from the castle when they met a party of men riding towards them. The men stopped and asked if they were near Dunmow Castle.

‘I told them that they were very close,’ said Lady FitzWalter, ‘and I asked what their business was. The leader of the men bowed and said he knew he had the pleasure of addressing Lady FitzWalter and her fair daughter. That was the sign. It was terrible, Robert … a nightmare. Two of them seized Matilda’s horse and started to drag it away. She cried out but by that time I was surrounded by them, and her horse was galloping away with her with two of these scoundrels. Some of our men gave chase but they were followed by others of the party whose horses were fleeter than theirs. There was a fight and several of them were injured. Oh, Robert, they have taken Matilda.’

‘Oh God,’ cried Robert, ‘it cannot mean …’

They looked at each other in horror.

‘How was he … when he knew we had gone?’ asked Lady FitzWalter fearfully.

‘Calm, jocular. He did not seem put out.’

‘Could it possibly be … ?’

They dared not answer that question.


It was one of his smaller castles, not very far from that of Dunmow. It amused him that it should be so near the home of her parents and they not know it. He expected she would be terrified. What would she be like when she knew who had ordered that she be brought here? They could say what they liked, all women were at heart ready to please the King. It meant something to them to take a royal lover. She might be reluctant at first but not for long.

Her mother would be outraged. Foolish woman! Did she not know that he was conferring an honour on her daughter?

As he rode to the castle to confront the young girl he was thinking of her mother. What impudence to have removed the girl in that way because she knew that he had designs on her. Had she forgotten what had happened to Matilda of Braose? Did she think that because she was the wife of a powerful and somewhat forceful man she could act against him with impunity? Matilda de Braose had been the wife of a most influential man – though he had fallen low – and Lady FitzWalter should consider her.

By God’s ears he would humiliate that woman where it hurt her most. He would show her that her meek little daughter came to him willingly. He would make the girl eager for him. He would flaunt their lust before that prim woman. It was the best way of dealing with her. So as he rode along he made up his mind that he would not force this young Matilda. He would make her come to him of her own free will. Then he would tell her mother this and indeed the prospect of the mother’s anguish would give him as much pleasure – if not more – than the deflowering of the daughter.

With this firm resolution he arrived at the castle and went at once to the chamber where they had put the girl. It was in one of the turrets – approached by a stone spiral staircase – a safe refuge for her. She would not be able to escape from this place very easily. That was the last thing she must do. If she did they would secrete her abroad somewhere, find refuge in France most likely. That would not be difficult, for Philip was master across the Channel now and what pleasure he would take in fresh scandal about his old enemy! He would make the most of it, honour the girl, take her to his Court, no doubt find a noble husband for her and hold her up as an example of John’s wickedness; he would revive the murder of Arthur. Revive it! He had never let it die!

But he would not think of Arthur now. The years were passing and it was long since the day the boy had died. Who would have thought the scandal could have survived so long? But now he was interested in that tasty morsel, the virgin Matilda.

She stood up as he entered. By God’s teeth, he thought, she is a beautiful creature. Her eyes were wide, dilated with terror. She would have heard stories no doubt of the monster he was reputed to be. She clasped her hands together in front of her, as though to guard her body from him, or perhaps to try to hide the fact that they were trembling. Silly, frightened creature! She was so graceful. Like a deer startled by the approach of the huntsmen, poised for flight. But where to, my pretty? Out of the window? Down, down to the ground below, that exquisite body bruised and torn by the rough stone walls as she fell? No, I have other plans for it.