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“Mold” being a popular contraction for Matilda, it did not take long for the public to apply it to their now beloved Queen. Good Queen Mold she became to them, and by that name she was affectionately remembered after her death.

The people of England had no doubt that it was their Queen who had influenced the King in the matter of the Charter. They took it for granted that a wifely voice in his ear brought about every piece of favorable lawmaking thereafter. The severe justice of Henry’s rule was thoroughly approved by all law-abiding citizens, and again it was assumed that Good Queen Mold was pulling the strings.

Naturally she was given much more credit than she deserved, but at the same time there can be no doubt that all her influence was exerted on the side of fairness and justice. She was gentle and yet she was always ready to fight for any cause which had won her support. The proof of this is in the stream of writs which issued from the royal castles on her authority. In them she made grants out of her own funds to churches and schools, she provided for the improvement of the roads of the country and for bridges where needed. In some she righted individual wrongs or extended mercy to offenders. She released Bricstab of Chatteris, for instance, after he had lain for five months in prison on a charge of concealing treasure-trove. She acquitted the abbot and monks of Eynsham from driving the deer on occasions when the King hunted in that part. She addressed a writ to Robert Gernun to permit the tenant of lands at Colnbrook, which she herself had given to the monks of Abingdon, the right to enjoy his possessions in peace. In the last instance it is easy enough to assume that the gift had been made without considering what might happen to the poor tenant and that she came to his rescue quickly when the monks sought to make him vacate.

The presence of Matilda at the King’s side made a great difference to the Anglo-Saxon people. They were sure that at last they could count on fair treatment. A new sense of content took possession of the men of the land and the humble residents of the towns, and at this stage, for the first time, the word “merrie” is used in connection with England. It was a strange word applied to a country still under a foreign yoke, where the villeins, the men of the soil, were little better than slaves, and the poor men of the towns lived meanly and precariously. But England was a rich land. The abundance it produced amazed the Normans when they first came over in the wake of Edward the Confessor. William Rufus once bought an English horse and paid fifteen silver marks for it, an enormous price for those days; which speaks well for the agricultural standards. The yeomen always had well-filled stomachs and, after their day’s work was done, they could take a turn at the archery butts and down a flagon of something musty and cool at the nearest tavern. They had no prospects and so were not disposed to worry about the future. They sang a great deal, and a high clear note of laughter began to seem like the voice of England.

But Good Queen Mold was not always able to look after the interests of the race from which she sprang, and a distressing story must be told in that connection. Anselm had returned to England with the determination to rid the Church of certain laxities. He was particularly concerned about celibacy. Many English priests had married and raised families, and the high officials had paid no attention to it. And now the venerable Anselm, an old man with a new broom and a short time only in which to use it, began to make the dust fly. Celibacy, he declared, must be the rule, and all wedded priests must put their wives aside or leave the Church.

One day the King and Queen rode together into London. It was a clear autumn day and the young Queen was in high spirits. She had every reason to be, for she had already presented her royal spouse with a son, a healthy youngster who had been named William and to whom the King was passionately attached. Although motherhood had lent a slight touch of maturity to her figure, she was conscious that the blue of her riding gown was becoming and that her hair shimmered in the sunlight and, most important of all, that Henry was entirely aware of her charms. She was very happy.

And then they turned down to the river, to the section of town where the vintners lightered their stores ashore and the ships’ chandlers had their places of business, and a lamentable train stopped them. One hundred priests or more, all married men as they made clear, knelt along both sides of the street, raising their hands in the air and weeping copiously. They did not want to abandon their wives and children, they declared passionately, and yet they were consecrated to God and must continue with their work. Only the noble King and the good Queen could help them.

Henry was in agreement with Anselm about the need for house-cleaning. He was convinced the Church in England must be purged. As he had already signified his concurrence, he became angered at the priests for their persistence. He touched a spur to the flank of his horse and rode on, forcing the suppliants to get back out of the way.

Matilda did not follow him immediately. The brightness had gone out of the day and the feeling of content from her heart. She looked down at the unhappy men and her eyes filled with tears. She knew there was nothing to be done for them. When they turned to her with their supplications she began to weep in earnest and slowly started to follow her impatient husband.

“God have mercy on you!” she cried. “I can’t help you, I can’t help you!”

Henry was much away in his French possessions, but no absence was long enough to create a rift in the mutual regard of the royal couple. He continued to have mistresses, of course, but on the many occasions when they sat together and received their subjects it was only too apparent to the Normans, who still called her “that Saxon woman,” that the bond between them remained strong. They had four children: William, the heir, Alice (usually called Ethelric), a second son Richard, and a second daughter Euphemia. The last must have died early, for nothing is heard of her in later years. The first daughter was very much like her father, a dark-eyed child with a royal temper and a habit of stamping her small foot when she could not have her own way. At the age of seven little Princess Ethelric was sought in marriage by Henry V of Germany, who was forty-five and a widower. The child was married by proxy to the middle-aged Emperor and her name was changed, as her mother’s had been, to Matilda. Five years later she was sent to Germany, where the wedding was properly solemnized between the girl not quite in her teens and the now somewhat decrepit ruler of the Germans. She was then crowned in the cathedral at Mainz.

There is not much more to tell about the Good Queen. The years rolled on and the King seemed to be continuously in France. At home there was peace and the land became prosperous. The Queen remained as much loved to the end, and when she died on May 1, 1118, in her forty-first year, the nation sorrowed deeply. Henry was away when her death occurred, and she was surrounded entirely by the Anglo-Saxon ladies of her household. Three of them, Christina, Gunhilda, and Emma, were so heartbroken that they took their vows at the priory of Kilburn. The Queen was buried at Westminster, beside the body of Edward the Confessor.

One portrait exists of Queen Matilda, a miniature in the Golden Book of St. Albans. She is depicted as of fair complexion and with a figure rather tall and slender in her royal robes of scarlet trimmed with ermine. In her hand is a rolled charter. A statue of her is in Rochester Cathedral, and in this again she holds a scroll. It is not unreasonable to think that this tendency to show her with documents in her hands is an indication that in her own time she was given a full share of credit in the matter of the Charter.

England was to have many fine queens, but Matilda, the first and perhaps the best of them, has been largely forgotten. This is to be deplored, for it is certain that she concerned herself as none had done before and few after with the welfare of the people over whom her husband reigned. Good Queen Mold was deserving of longer and better remembrance!