Escapes! by Laura Scandiffio Page A

sailed to England to challenge Stephen. But she knew they would switch sides again when it suited them. They would be watching for any sign that she or Stephen was gaining the upper hand. No one wanted to be caught on the losing side — and their new leader would be certain to reward their loyalty generously.
    Matilda’s eyes shone with defiance as she watched the royal troops outside. Whatever happened, she told herself, she must never show weakness.

    Beyond the castle’s curtain wall, across the wide moat, the king’s army was a hive of activity. For weeks, the noise of hammering had filled the air as carpenters built a siege tower to soar into the sky. From it Stephen’s men would be able to spy on the garrison inside the castle.
    Further back other men were repairing a shed on wheels. Under its cover, miners would crawl close to the walls and dig under the stone, hoping to weaken the wall and bring it crashing down. Here and there assaults were being planned, as teams with crossbows or slingshots prepared to storm the castle walls.
    And in the midst of it all sat Stephen, on horseback, watching. His gaze now and then returned to one of the castle walls rising out of a huge mound of stone and earth, and the massive ten-sided stone tower that stretched high before him.
    A weary sigh escaped his lips. The castles of England, once built to help the king impose his rule across the land, were now being used against him. The kings before him had laid down two rules — no baron could build a castle without the king’s permission, and the castle’s keys must be surrendered when asked for in the king’s name.
    Now Stephen’s barons sneered at these rules. Ever since Matilda’s ship had brought her back to England’s shores, she had given the rebel barons a cause around which to rally. She egged on their treachery, urging them to fortify castles to stand against the royal army.
    Stephen bitterly remembered the day when at last, like a man shaken from sleep, he had been roused to anger. But was he too late? By then nearly all of southwestern England had fallen into Matilda’s hands, her knights controlling a strong belt of castles that stretched from the port of Bristol to her headquarters at Oxford.
    After raising an army of loyal subjects in the north, Stephen had begun a grim march — laying siege to Matilda’s castles along the way. Some garrisons he had terrified into surrender. Others he had found empty, the soldiers having fled when they heard he was coming. These Stephen burned. Castle by castle, the royal army closed in on Matilda’s stronghold at Oxford, cutting her off from her helpers.
    Near the end of September, as the feast of Michaelmas approached, Stephen’s army had paused before the Thames River. At the head of his troops, Stephen gazed across the water at the city of Oxford. It was well protected by the deep river. To one side a timber palisade guarded the city; on the other rose its castle and soaring tower.
    Stephen hadn’t waited for long before the enemy showed itself. They came running out of the city gates, toward the Thames. Some shouted insults across the river, others shot arrows over the water. With the river lying between them and the invaders, Matilda’s troops felt invincible.
    Stephen had seethed with rage. He turned to his advisers. Was there no way across?
    One showed him the shallowest point of the river, but warned that even it was very deep.
    Stephen wasted no time. He boldly plunged in, leading his men into the deep water. The army waded across, then swam when the water rose over their heads. Their heavy chain mail dragged them down as they struggled to hold their flags above the water.
    Streaming up the opposite bank, they charged. Matilda’s men were quickly overwhelmed, and ran back through the city gates.
    Stephen’s troops followed in hot pursuit, pouring through the gates in a fierce column. Once inside,