Matilda was placed in the care of Bruno, archbishop of Trier, to continue her education, away from Heinrich. We do not know the details of her upbringing, but Heinrich asked ‘that she should be nobly brought up and honourably served, and should learn the language and customs and laws of the country, and all that an empress ought to know, now, in the time of her youth’.19
It was not until she was nearly twelve, however, in January 1114, that Matilda married Heinrich, now emperor, at Worms Cathedral.20 The occasion was the most splendid in living memory. An eyewitness, writing in the usual formulaic, adulatory manner reserved for princesses of whom they knew nothing personal, noted Matilda’s beauty and lineage. He wrote that:
the nuptials were attended by such a great concourse of archbishops and bishops, dukes and counts, abbots and provosts and learned clergy, that not even the oldest man present could remember ever having seen or even heard of such a huge assembly of such great persons. For the marriage was attended by five archbishops, thirty bishops and five dukes … so numerous were the wedding gifts which various kings and primates sent to the emperor, and the gifts which the emperor from his own store gave to the innumerable throngs of jesters and jongleurs and people of all kinds, that not one of his chamberlains who received or distributed them could count them.21
Henry I was doubtless immensely gratified to hear of the expense lavished on his daughter’s wedding.
Matilda had ability and Heinrich developed her talents. He encouraged her to participate in government, following the German tradition which allowed queens to work alongside their husbands. She was enthusiastic and able, acting as his regent in Italy and Lotharingia. She developed keen diplomatic skills, particularly in her dealings with the papal court. Matilda fulfilled the traditional queenly role of intercessor, and she was popular with her German subjects. Her beauty, vivacity and hard work earned their affections, and they called her ‘Matilda the Good’.
Heinrich used Matilda as one of his many instruments of government, just as he used his counsellors. His chief advisor was Adalbert, whom he would create both his chancellor, and then archbishop of the most prestigious diocese in the kingdom – Mainz. This archbishopric held a similar status in Germany to that of Canterbury in England. Ultimately, the combination of the post of chancellor and archbishop in a single individual was a disaster for the crown. It was a lesson that Matilda would never forget, when nearly half a century later she advised her eldest son against the most grievous decision of his life.
The chronicler Orderic Vitalis wrote of how unpopular Heinrich was, particularly for the imperial crowning he forced from Pope Pascal II. When Heinrich entered Rome in 1111 expecting to be crowned Holy Roman Emperor, the pope refused unless he relinquished the privilege of investiture. Heinrich responded by kidnapping and imprisoning the pope until he agreed to crown him, which he did. Orderic wrote that, ‘the emperor loved so noble a wife very much but for his sins he lacked an heir worthy of the empire’.22
For despite his supposed affection for Matilda, they had no children together. Hermann of Tournai, a near contemporary, hinted at a stillbirth or a child who died soon after birth; whatever the cause, the marriage was childless.23
Heinrich had one illegitimate daughter, Bertha, whom he married to Count Ptolemy of Tusculum in 1117, but no legitimate heir.24 In 1122, he fell ill with cancer, and now he put his mind to deciding the succession. Bertha, illegitimate and a young woman with no military experience, was not a feasible candidate.
It is intriguing to speculate that had Heinrich not contracted a fatal illness, European history might have been very different. After William Atheling drowned in 1120, Heinrich saw a real possibility of inheriting Henry I’s domains through right of his wife. She was still young, and it was not impossible to think that they would have an heir who would inherit not only Germany, but the Anglo-Norman realm too. Besides Matilda, Henry I’s nearest legitimate heir was his nephew William Clito, son of the imprisoned Robert. Henry did everything in his power to ensure Clito would not succeed him, for William was allied to Louis the Fat, with whom Henry had spent years sparring for Normandy.
William Clito had not seen his father since he was three years old and would spend his entire life fighting his uncle for his birthright, allying himself with Henry’s foes; uncle and nephew were enemies, and Henry I would not allow him to succeed, despite his valid blood claim.
In the spring of 1122, probably with a view to discussing the succession of Matilda and Heinrich, Henry and Matilda attempted to meet. Henry was nervous at the number of his nobility who professed to support William Clito as duke of Normandy after his death.25 The meeting, however, did not take place as Charles, count of Flanders, for fear of offending his French overlord, refused Matilda safe conduct through his lands. Nevertheless, Heinrich and Matilda’s father continued as allies against the threat of William Clito and France.
Heinrich may feasibly have expected to add king of England and duke of Normandy to his titles. England and Normandy would have been, in the first part of the twelfth century, subsumed into a greater German empire, ruled from Aachen by the Holy Roman Emperor.
But Heinrich died at Utrecht on 23 May 1125, the last of the Salian kings. He was buried at the Romanesque cathedral of Speyer, on the Rhine, beside the body of the father he had fought for the throne. Matilda, with no child heir to act as regent for, was superfluous. Aged twenty-three, she had lived in Germany all her adult life, yet she had few rights. Now she faced a choice. She could either remain in Germany under the protection of Heinrich’s family, married eventually to a candidate of their choice; she could enter a convent, the preference of many widowed noblewomen; or she could answer her father’s command and return to England.26
With no stake in the German throne, she went back to the land of her birth, carrying with her an enormous amount of treasure, including gold crowns, bolts of silk, and a relic: the hand of St James. She would never give up her title, though, calling herself ‘empress’ for the rest of her life.
What was to become of Matilda, the redundant empress with an empty title? Despite recalling her from Germany, it is likely that the king had not yet decided what to do with his daughter. King Henry, ever pragmatic, took his time to consider his options.
II
Kingship and inheritance in Europe in the first half of the twelfth century were flexible. Although by the end of the century, primogeniture – succession of the eldest son – was far more established in feudal law, at the beginning the rules were still fluid. In western Europe, the nation state was only just beginning to emerge as a political entity, which meant that inheritance was often precarious.
It was still possible for an illegitimate child to inherit his father’s throne or lordship, although it was not always easy; William the Bastard had had to fight for his claim to rule in Normandy. But illegitimacy or being the younger son did not yet automatically bar a strong candidate from the throne: successful kings were often the men who could secure the treasury first, or win in battles against their rivals, frequently close relations. Matilda’s own husband Heinrich V had fought his father Heinrich IV for control of Germany. William the Bastard, at war with his eldest son Robert at the time of his death, denied him his full inheritance in favour of his second son William Rufus.27 And King Henry I took full advantage of William Rufus’s death, leaving his brother’s dead body in the New Forest as he raced to Winchester to acquire the wealth of England before his elder brother Robert.
What of ‘queenship’, or a woman’s right to rule independently of a father or son? Women were encouraged to pursue the traditional queenly roles of intercessors, helpmates, and even occasionally regents. But there were hardly any examples in the twelfth century of