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“It’s true, Empress,” Lady Alice said. “You recall how she complained of her hands being so sticky, and she said it was from eating too much honey—yet she refused to lick her fingers. She reached for the tablecloth instead.”

“I do recall. It was a strange moment. Her table manners are normally impeccable.”

Bronwyn added, “Lady Morwenna told me herself: the target was always you. Lady Eleanor simply got in the way, and Sir Edward’s death was an accident. They even killed Lady Morwenna’s maidservant when she—”

Lady Alice stepped on her foot.

“—when she found out too much,” Bronwyn finished.

Lady Susanna gasped.

“And now?” Empress Maud asked.

Sir Ranulf talked over her. “Now I’ve heard enough of these tall tales.

We are here. Are we going to have a coronation or not?

” He stood at the empress’s right shoulder and said, “Your Grace, there’ve been enough interruptions already.

The crowd will not stand for this forever. They want to see a queen today. You.”

“Yes. But first, Sir Ranulf, mind you pick up the crown and show it to me,” Empress Maud said.

“Fine. But this is all a load of nonsense,” Sir Ranulf said. “I’ve never heard such fantastical stories in all my life. Mark my words, Empress, we’ll be laughing about this later.”

“I doubt that. Show me the crown.”

“But remove your gloves first,” Bronwyn said.

Sir Ranulf glared daggers at Bronwyn and slowly removed his gloves, tossing them to the floor. He gently picked up the crown and put it back on the pillow that was on the ground. He held out the pillow. “Empress.”

“Turn the crown over,” she said.

He gingerly picked it up and turned it over.

But as she leaned in, there was a sound of breaking glass. Heads turned. Rocks, bricks, and sticks flew through the stained-glass windows of the abbey, along with shouts and cries.

“ Mon dieu . What is happening?” Empress Maud asked.

A crossbow bolt sailed through the air, slamming into the wooden chair, where the empress’s head had been just seconds before. It pinned her ermine robe to the chair and she slipped it off, revealing a slice on the shoulder of her white dress, staining it with blood.

“The empress! Help her.” Sir Robert’s voice cried.

In seconds, chaos reigned. The doors to the abbey flew open, and crowds of angry Londoners, noble and peasant alike, entered the building, armed with pitchforks, cudgels, sticks, pikes, maces and stones.

Women cried and men charged, shoving and pushing. The crowd surged and soon they were surrounded on all sides.

Shouts and yells filled the air, and the crowd was like a moving, living being, coming at them almost like a wave.

The air they breathed grew hot and stifling, and Bronwyn trembled, for she did not see a way out.

There was no escape, and every real chance they might die.

Would she die from a spear point, a rock, or trampling from hundreds of feet? Or worse, lack of air?

A tear rolled down Bronwyn’s cheek as the people drew closer, and Lady Alice took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Do not worry, Bronwyn. We are not going to die today.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” Lady Alice gripped Bronwyn’s hand. “Don’t let go.”

The knights and guards formed a circle around the empress and them by extension. Bronwyn’s pulse was in her throat, as the guards aimed their spears and brandished swords at any rebels who came too close.

The men hustled them all in a tight circle, and Bronwyn and Lady Alice held each other tightly as the poisoned crown lay forgotten.

They were moved along as Empress Maud, the bishop, the knights, and the squires moved through the back of the abbey, farther and farther away from the crowds and out a side entrance, a small door.

Sir Robert tore off the fine, red ermine cloak from the empress’s back.

At her yell, he threw his cloak over the empress to hide her face and gown and hustled her out.

Outside, the noise was worse as hundreds of people clamored about, throwing knives, stones, bricks, dirt—anything they could—at the abbey, and flooded the entrance, trying to get in.

Bronwyn staggered and was helped up by Lady Alice.

The small group of defenders loyal to the empress leaned on one another and huddled close as the men got the empress on a horse, holding on to Sir Robert.

They formed a small, makeshift band of warriors and led the empress away as fast as they could.

Bronwyn saw her look back once, before Sir Robert kicked the animal’s sides.

Empress Maud’s face was terrified, angry, and a little bit heartbroken and forlorn.

Her chin quivered, and she let out a strangled cry.

In that moment, Bronwyn could see that the woman who called herself “empress” had desperately wanted this all to go well, to claim her birthright and rule England.

Instead, she was fleeing, the wind whipping her hair against her face as she rode bareback on a horse, being jostled down the muddy roads.

On what should have been a day of celebration, Empress Maud hid under a cloak as the people of London revolted.

She heard later that Queen Matilda rejoiced.