the poor
defence of the weak in an age when trickery was but too common. Mahaut
knew that, although the king was her son-in-law, policy might have won
him to the side of her nephew, the claimant of her county. Even if
Philippe were above a miserable deception of the kind, there was no
telling to what tricks the crafty lawyers, perhaps in the pay of Robert
d'Artois, might have recourse. She could not conquer chicanery by force,
she could not meet it with chicanery, hence her nervousness and her
hesitation and suspicion.

When the countess felt herself strong in her own right and sure of
proper support from her servants, she was by no means the tearful and
vacillating woman whom we have seen in the preceding page or two. The
officers of her government in the various bailiwicks of Artois were
usually well chosen and reliable. Appointed and paid by the countess and
holding office at her pleasure, these baillis, recruited from the ranks
of the petty nobility and the bourgeoisie, had every incentive to
honesty and faithful service. They were at once administrators,
justices, and financial agents, and in the latter capacity had to make
reports, at Candlemas, at Ascension, and at All Saints, to the chief
financial officer, the receiver-general, who in turn submitted his
accounts to Mahaut. She was not infrequently in dire need of money, for
the expenses of her household were always large, and she was burdened by
the debts left by Otho, but these she did at last manage to pay.

With the aid of her officers, upon whom she kept a close watch, Mahaut
was prompt enough to repress any unruly vassal who went beyond the
limits of law. Sometimes force was necessary, as when the Sire d'Oisy
overran and ravaged the lands of certain monasteries under Mahaut's
protection and slew the peaceful inhabitants. Summoned by the bailli to
appear before her court, the sire at first refused to admit the bailli,
then did admit him and kept him a prisoner. "Not a stone of his chateau
shall be left standing," declared Mahaut, and she despatched a little
army that soon brought the Sire d'Oisy to reason. The punishments
inflicted upon recalcitrant vassals were sometimes most severe and
sometimes fantastic. The seigneur himself is sometimes put to death when
his crimes have been too much for the patience of the countess and her
people; or he is expelled and deprived of his fief; or he is heavily
fined and ordered to perform a penitential pilgrimage. It is