men-at-arms around her, but not enough to be of avail against the
clustering citizens in those narrow and crooked streets. Flight, and
that a speedy one, was all that remained. White with terror, the queen
took to horse, and, surrounded by her knights and soldiers, fled from
London with a haste that illy accorded with the stately and deliberate
pride with which she had recently entered that turbulent capital.

She was none too soon. The frightened cortége had not left the palace
far behind it before the maddened citizens burst open its doors,
searched every nook and cranny of the building for the queen and her
body-guard, and, finding they had fled, wreaked their wrath on all that
was left, plundering the apartments of all they contained.

Meanwhile, the queen, wild with fright, was galloping at full speed from
the hostile beehive she had disturbed. Her barons and knights, in a
panic of fear and deeming themselves hotly pursued, dropped off from the
party one by one, hoping for safety by leaving the highway for the
by-ways, and caring little for the queen so that they saved their
frightened selves. The queen rode on in mad terror until Oxford was
reached, only her brother, the Earl of Gloucester, and a few others
keeping her company to that town.

They fled from a shadow. The citizens had not pursued them. These
turbulent tradesmen were content with ridding London of this power-mad
woman, and they went back satisfied to their homes, leaving the city
open to occupation by the partisans of Stephen, who entered it under
pretense of an alliance with the citizens. The Bishop of Winchester, who
seems to have been something of a weathercock in his political faith,
turned again to his brothers side, set Stephen's banner afloat on
Windsor Castle and converted his bishop's residence into a fortress.