Текст книги "The Plantagenet Prelude "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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Chapter V

QUEEN OF ENGLAND

Rarely had Louis’s passions been so strongly aroused as when he heard of the marriage of Eleonore and Henry. In the first place he could not endure to think of her with that young virile man. Henry of Normandy was uncouth; he might be learned, but he was rough in manners and Eleonore had always been so fastidious. What was the attraction? He knew. It was that overwhelming sensuality in her which had both fascinated and yet appalled him.

There was more to it than mere jealousy. There was the political implication.

Henry of Normandy had now become the most powerful man in France. Apart from Normandy he would now be in control of Aquitaine, Maine and Anjou; which meant that he possessed more land than anyone in France, not excluding the King.

Louis’s ministers deplored the divorce and its consequences. They implied that they had told him so and he should never have agreed to let Eleonore go. Only a few weeks after the separation and she had changed the face of France, geographically and political y! Henry had a touch of his great-grandfather in him which was recognised by many. He was undoubtedly a chip off the old conquering block. It was as though William the Conqueror was reborn.

If he got control of England, which seemed likely, and was in possession of so large a slice of France, what power would be his? And there could be no doubt that he would know how to exploit it.

Louis discussed the matter at length with his counsellors.

Men such as Henry of Normandy had many enemies. There was his brother for one. Geoffrey of Anjou was incensed because his father had left him only three castles. It was true that there had been a proviso in his father’s will that if and when Henry became King of England, Anjou was to be passed over to Geoffrey, but knowing Henry, Geoffrey rather doubted this would come to pass. Henry had always been too fond of his possessions to give anything up. If Geoffrey was ever going to gain possession of Anjou he felt he must do it now before Henry had the might of England behind him to help him hold it.

There was one other who feared Henry and that was Eustace, the son of Stephen. Because his father was the King, Eustace rather naturally believed that on his death he should take the crown. Matilda had found it impossible to

wrest that desirable object from Stephen so why should her son become King on Stephen’s death? That Matilda had the first right to the throne mattered not to Eustace. He was determined to fight for it.

As Louis’s ministers pointed out, here were two stalwart allies, both with grievances against Henry and much to gain.

Let there be an alliance between them and surely if they stood together against Henry they would have a fair chance of victory.

Louis called a meeting and plans were discussed. Both Eustace and Geoffrey were exultant at the thought of having their revenge on Henry. They hated him fiercely for Henry, with his careless ways, his rather crude manners and his innate knowledge that he was going to make a mark on the world, aroused their bitter envy.

In the family circle Geoffrey had always been obliged to take second place to his elder brother. It had been clear that Henry was his father’s favourite, and his mother, whose tongue and tempers they all tried to escape, had a devotion for Henry which seemed alien to her fierce headstrong egotistical nature. It seemed as though she had transferred all her hopes and ambitions – and they had been monumental – to her eldest son. Geoffrey had always lived in Henry’s shadow and he hated him for it.

Eustace hated Henry of Normandy with an equal fervour.

If Geoffrey was a weak man, Eustace was not. He had fierce passions; he longed for power and often he despised his father for his weakness. Eustace was such that he would have stopped at nothing to reach his goal. He was violent and his desire for power was much greater than any qualities he possessed to attain and hold it.

These were the chief allies whom Louis drew to him. As a further gesture he offered his sister Constance to Eustace as a bride.

‘It is fitting,’ said Louis, ‘that the sister of the King of France should in time be the Queen of England.’

The strongest bonds to hold together an alliance were those of marriage and Louis could not have told the world more clearly that he was supporting Eustace’s claim to the throne of England.

‘There is one other matter,’ his ministers reminded him,

‘you are now free to marry and you should do so without delay. You must marry and produce a son. It is what the people are waiting for.’

Somewhat reluctantly, but understanding the need for him to take this step, Louis was married to Constance, the daughter of Alfonso of Castile.

Both Henry and Eleonore believed their marriage to be an ideal one. They were two of a kind. Sensual in the extreme they had known themselves to be; that was what had first attracted them; but there was more than that. She delighted in his vigour and ambition. He was charmed by her ability to

follow his quick mind as he explained his schemes to her.

When he talked of going to England, much as she would hate to lose him she would put no obstacle in the way of his going. Indeed, she was eager for him to go. It was his destiny to become the King of England.

What a woman she was! She could be beautiful and more seductive than any woman he had known; yet her mind was alert; she had grown in political stature because of her need to keep pace with him. The fact that she was some twelve years older than he was meant nothing to them as yet. Her body was perfect and her mind was mature.

Theirs, as they had known it would be, was the perfect union.

Therefore when he talked to her of his plans for going to England, for making an understanding with Stephen, fighting him for the crown if need be, she was with him. The parting would be agonising for her but she knew he must go. They were destined to be King and Queen of England, and if they must suffer to gain the prize then so be it.

She was as completely confident of his final victory as he was himself.

How pleasant to lie together in their bed which had lost none of its charm now that it was no longer illicit and when they were temporarily satiated with the force of their passion to talk of the future.

‘Stephen is a strange man,’ mused Henry. ‘It is difficult for me to think of him as an enemy. My mother declared that she hated him and yet sometimes a strange look comes into her eyes when she speaks of him.’

‘It is natural that she should hate the usurper who took her throne.’

‘It seems he is a man it is difficult to hate. He has shown a kindliness to me which is strange. When I went to Scotland in order to march against him and was deceived as to the support I could count on, he gave me money and the means to return to Normandy. What do you think of such a man?’

‘That he is a fool,’ said Eleonore.

‘Yes, in a measure. But I am not sure. I cannot find it easy to think of him as my enemy.’

‘Oh come, my love, he has taken your mother’s crown.

He would set up his son Eustace in your place. Rest assured he is your enemy.’

‘Aye, so it would seem. Men and women have strange passions, Eleonore. I would like to know more of Stephen’s.’

‘Do not concern yourself with his nature but his crown.

The crown that is yours.’

‘’Tis true, and ere long I must go to England to claim it.’

And so they made plans during those idyllic weeks, but they knew that the honeymoon must soon be over and the arduous task of gaining a crown must begin.

They traveled to Falaise where Eleonore met the redoubtable Matilda – Countess of Anjou, daughter of Henry I of England who was still known as the Empress because of her first marriage to the Emperor of Germany.

The two women took each other’s measure.

Matilda was naturally delighted with Henry’s marriage to the greatest heiress in Europe. Moreover she recognised a strong woman.

She decided that she approved of the match.

Eleonore, knowing something of the history of her mother-in-law, could not help thinking that she had mismanaged her life. There she was, still handsome, a woman who had found it difficult to control her passion. She had passed on her temper to her son, Henry. Because of the amity between them Eleonore had so far seen little of that temper; she had heard rumours though that it was formidable.

It should never be aroused against her, she assured herself. And if it were? Well, was Eleonore of Aquitaine of the nature to be alarmed by a man’s tantrums?

Often she wondered why Matilda had been content to give up the fight for her crown. She had fought for it and had come near to gaining it, but her unfortunate nature had been her downfall and in due course although the people of England recognised her prior claim they preferred the mild and charming Stephen to the virago Matilda.

And so Stephen reigned in England and Henry must cross the seas and challenge his right to the crown.

Matilda talked with them. She wished that she was younger so that she could accompany her son to England.

Now and then she mentioned the past. The English were a people it was not easy to understand. They had acclaimed her in Canterbury and had been ready to do so in London, but suddenly they had turned against her and just as she and her company were going into the hall to dine, the mob had stormed the palace and she had been forced to flee.

Henry knew what had happened. He told Eleonore when they were alone. Matilda had offended the English so much that they would never accept her.

‘Make sure,’ Matilda confided in Eleonore, ‘that Henry never offends the English – at least not until the crown is safe on his head.’

Eleonore certainly would, although she believed that Henry would be wiser in that respect than his mother had been.

He was eager now to leave for England, he wanted to get that matter settled. If he could bring Stephen to such a pass that he swore his heir should be Henry Plantagenet, he would be content. He was going to try.

Both Matilda, his mother, and Eleonore, his wife, agreed that he should lose no time and he prepared to leave for England.

Before he was ready there was news for him. Forces were mustering against him. Eustace was determined to take Normandy, and Henry’s own brother wanted Anjou.

Henry cursed them loudly, and then he was glad that he had knowledge of his brother’s treachery and Eustace’s designs before he had left for England.

Naturally he could not leave for England. He must remain where he was and deal with Eustace and Geoffrey who came against him with the help and blessing of Eleonore’s one-time husband, the King of France.

Henry never showed his genius for generalship so well as when he was faced with seemingly overwhelming difficulties. He immediately abandoned his plans to go after the English crown in order to consolidate his position in Normandy. Because he was the possessor of much land he had a great deal to protect and hold, but he was full of vigour and by no means disturbed to pit his skill against that of the Queen’s previous husband.

‘Let Louis come against me,’ he declared. ‘I’ll show him and you who is the better man.’

‘I at least do not need to be shown,’ answered Eleonore.

‘You will fight and win. I was never more sure of it. As for that blustering Eustace, you will soon let him know what it means to come against the true heir to England. And your brother Geoffrey is a fool. Look how he tried to trick me and failed.’

The Empress Matilda also declared her faith in him. He need have no fear. With two determined women to look after his interests he would succeed.

They were right, and although several months were spent in fighting off these enemies, Henry defeated his foolish brother Geoffrey, and Eustace returned from the fight dispirited while Louis made overtures for peace.

Yet victorious as he was he did not wish to waste time.

The lust for conquest was on him. He knew that now was the time to strike for England.

Like the good general he was he set about reviewing his resources.

He could safely leave his wife and mother to rule in his stead. They were both experienced women. How glad he was that he had not married a silly simpering girl. How foolish were those who shook their heads over a marriage in which the wife was twelve years the senior of her husband. Eleonore had lived longer than he had, and during those years had gleaned much wisdom. It was a great comfort to know that the interests of this amazing woman were his.

His mother’s temper had not improved with the years and she would never be loved, but Eleonore managed to win people to her, proud and often overbearing as she was.

None but these two could better look after his affairs in his absence, for one thing they both had in common was their devotion to him.

He could turn his thoughts to England and Stephen, that strange man who was so gentle and yet such a great fighter. He had never understood Stephen. There had been long years of civil war in England – with Stephen on one side and Matilda, Henry’s mother, on the other, and yet when his mother spoke of Stephen a strangely soft look would come into her eyes; and even when he had gone to England to make an attempt to take the crown Stephen had been kind to him.

There was some mystery about Stephen and his mother.

So be it. Stephen held the crown and when he died – if not before – that crown must pass to Henry.

If Stephen had not had sons there might have been no war to fight, for it would be better to wait and take the crown peacefully on Stephen’s death than to fight for it now. But there was ambitious Eustace who had dared to try to take Normandy, and another son William who did not by all accounts seem to be much of a fighter.

He must therefore go to England without delay, and as soon as he had gathered together a fleet to carry him there and the men-at-arms to fight for him he would set out.

To his great joy while he was making his preparations he received a message from Robert of Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, to the effect that if he came to England he, Leicester, would be ready to support him.

This was a triumph, for Robert’s father had served William the Conqueror well and prospered under him, and his son, Henry I, had allowed Robert to be among those favoured young men who were brought up at his court, and in due course he had married a rich wife. The Earl was a cautious man; he did not wish to lose anything that he had gained but he saw clearly that there could be very little prosperity under the rule of Eustace if he ever came to the throne. He had been saddened to see the country torn by civil war while Matilda and Stephen battled for the crown and although he believed that Stephen was the better choice he was looking forward to the time when England was once more ruled by a strong king such as Henry I and his father had been. He had known Robert of Gloucester, Henry I’s illegitimate son, who had supported Matilda and through him had learned of the good qualities of young Henry of Normandy. Leicester believed that the best hope of prosperity for England on Stephen’s death would be the accession to the crown of Henry Plantagenet. He knew that this was a time when he could no longer remain neutral.

Stephen was a sick man; he had never recovered from the death of his wife, the gentle Matilda, who had stood firmly beside him through his many vicissitudes and had been a far greater prop to him than even he realised. Stephen had always been subject to mysterious illnesses; he was a lovable man but a weak one; he liked to be on good terms with everyone, and that was no way for a king to be. No, in Robert of Leicester’s opinion England’s hopes lay in Henry Plantagenet, and he wrote to the young man telling him that he was prepared to put his wealth and his experience behind his cause.

‘There is not a more powerful man in England,’ cried Henry, his eyes gleaming. ‘Victory is assured.’

But he was too clever to let that change his preparations which were going to be as thorough as though he were facing the most formidable army in the world.

It was a January day when he sailed for England with his fleet of thirty-six ships and landed at Bristol. There he found men of the West Country ready to rally to his cause.

Sadly Eleonore missed him. He had absorbed her life to such an extent that she asked for no other lover. She threw herself into the task of looking after his affairs and her friendship with her mother-in-law the Empress ripened. The two women admired each other and although their strong temperaments often clashed, for neither would give way in the slightest degree in her opinions to please the other, they never forgot that discord between them would be detrimental to Henry, and for both of them he was the centre of their lives.

Eleonore had her little court about her. Gal ant men sang her songs and composed verses of their own. Many of them were addressed to her, and because of her reputation, which would always be with her, many of them were hopeful. But Eleonore was devoted to her Duke. They all knew that, but could such a woman be expected to keep her sensuality smouldering, not allowing it to burst into fire before the return of her lord which might be who knew when?

But Eleonore was so enamoured of her husband that none of those about her pleased her. Moreover he had not been gone for more than a month when she knew for certain that she was pregnant and she began to think exclusively of the child.

Matilda was delighted. ‘You’ll have sons,’ she declared.

‘You are like me. All my children were sons and there were three of them. I might have had twenty sons if I’d had a fancy for my husband, but I never did, though many women found him attractive...’

She looked obliquely at Eleonore who nodded gravely, remembering the charm of him who had earned for himself the name of Geoffrey the Fair.

‘Yes,’ went on Matilda, ‘he had many a mistress. It never bothered me. He was my husband when he was but fifteen.

I thought him a foolish boy and I never took to him. I bore a grudge against him because they’d given him to me. First they gave me an old man and then a young boy. It wasn’t fair. You know they might have married me to Stephen.’

‘English history would have been different if they had.’

‘All those wretched civil wars would never have taken place.’ Matilda’s eyes grew dreamy. ‘Yes, if my father had known his only legitimate son was going to be drowned at sea, he would have married me to Stephen. I’m certain of it.

I would have been better for him than that meek wife of his and he would have been better for me. He was one of the handsomest men you ever saw. I think the biggest blow in my life was when I heard that he had taken the crown. I’d

always believed he would stand by me. Crowns, my daughter, what blood has been shed because of them –

and more will most certainly be!’

‘Not Henry’s,’ said Eleonore firmly.

‘Nay, not Henry’s. But what if it should be Stephen’s?’

She was silent for a while. Then she went on: ‘Stephen must know that that wild boy of his cannot inherit the crown.

The people would never accept Eustace. And then he has William. That woman’s children. It always infuriated me that she had the same name as mine. If only Stephen could be made to see reason.’

‘Would he call it reason to give up the crown to Henry?’

‘He cannot live long. What if there was a truce? What if they made an agreement? Stephen to rule as long as he lives and then Henry to be the King of England.’

‘Would a man pass over his own son for another?’ ‘If it were justice perhaps.

If it would stop war. If it would give England what she always needs, what she had in the times of my father Henry I and my grandfather William the Conqueror. Those are the strong men England needs and my son, your husband, is one of them.’

‘Stephen would never agree,’ said Eleonore. ‘I cannot believe any man would pass over his own son.’

Matilda narrowed her eyes.

‘You do not know Stephen,’ she said. ‘There is much that is not known of Stephen.’

News came of Henry’s progress. It was good news. All over England people were rallying to his banner. Eustace had made himself unpopular and people were weary of continual civil war. They recalled the good old days under King Henry, whose stern laws had brought order and prosperity to the land. He had not been called the Lion of Justice for nothing. There was something about young Henry Plantagenet that inspired their confidence. He was of the same calibre as his grandfather and great-grandfather.

There was no doubt in Eleonore’s mind that he would succeed. The question was when, and how long would it be before they were united?

She had left Matilda and traveled to Rouen as she wished the birth to take place in that city and there she prepared for her confinement.

She was exultant on that hot August day to learn that she had borne a son. How delighted Henry would be. She immediately despatched messengers to him. The news would cheer him wherever he was.

She decided that his name should be William. He was after all the son of the Duchess of Aquitaine and William was the name so many of the Dukes of that country had borne. Moreover Henry’s renowned great-grandfather, the mighty Conqueror, had been so called.

As she lay with her child in her arms her women marveled at the manner in which childbirth had softened her. They had not seen her with her daughters. Now and then she thought of them – little Marie and Alix – and wondered whether they ever missed their mother. She had loved them dearly for a while after their birth. There had been occasions when she would have liked to devote herself to them. She thought of the infants in her arms, tightly bound in their swaddling clothes that their limbs might grow straight. The poor little things had offended her fastidiousness. Bound thus how could it be otherwise for they were not allowed to emerge from their cocoons for days on end, disregarding the fact that the poor little things must perform their natural functions.

It should be different with her son. She would watch over him, assure herself that his limbs would grow straight without the swaddling clothes.

She loved him dearly – a living reminder of her passion for Henry – and she knew that the best news she could send him was the birth of a boy. Perhaps she should have called him Henry. Nay, she was implying that she had brought him Aquitaine and until he could offer her the crown of England she was bringing more to the marriage than he was. It was well to remind him that they stood equal.

‘The next son must be Henry,’ she wrote to him. ‘But our firstborn is named after my father and grandfather and the most illustrious member of your family, your great-grandfather whom it is said few men rivaled in his day or ever will after.’

While she was lying-in the most amazing news was brought to her. She wished to rise from her bed and make a great feast not only of roast meats but of song and story to celebrate the event, for nothing could have more clearly showed that God was on the side of the Duke of Normandy.

Stephen and Henry had faced each other at Wallingford and were about to do battle when Stephen decided that instead of fighting he would like to talk to Henry. It had been difficult to persuade Henry to do this for he was certain of victory and believed that the battle might well decide the issue. However, he finally agreed and as the result of their meeting, to the astonishment of all, the battle did not take place.

Eustace, who was burning with the desire to cut off the head of the man he called the upstart Henry and send it to his wife, was so angry at what he thought was the cowardice of his father that he gave way to violent rage. He had never been very stable but even his most intimate followers had never seen his control desert him to such an extent.

He would raise money, he declared, and he would fight the battles which his father was afraid to face. Did Stephen not understand that it was his heritage which Henry was trying to take from him? He, Eustace, was the heir to the throne of England and he was not going to allow his father’s weakness to bestow it on Henry.

In vain did his friends try to restrain him; he reminded them that he was the commander of his armies and

marched to Bury St Edmunds, where he rested at the Abbey, and when he had refreshed himself he demanded that the Abbot supply him with money that he might go into battle without his father’s help against Henry of Normandy.

The Abbot declared that he had nothing to give him whereupon Eustace demanded to know why the treasures of the Abbey should not be sold to provide him with what he needed.

The Abbot took the opportunity, while he pretended to consider, of locking away the treasure. Then he refused.

Calling curses on the Abbot and his Abbey, Eustace rode away, but not far. He ordered his men to take what they wanted from the countryside and every granary was plundered, every dwelling robbed, but the main object of his pillage was to be the Abbey. His soldiers returned to it and forced the monks to tell them where the treasure was hidden. When they had plundered the place, Eustace led them back to the nearest castle to make merry.

He sat at table to eat of the roasting meats which his servants had prepared, his anger still within him. He was going to make war on Henry of Normandy, he declared; he was going to drive him from the shores of England and very soon they would see him, Eustace; crowned king.

As he stood up to drink to that day, he fell to the floor in agony. He writhed for a moment and then was still, and when they bent over him they saw that he was dead.

This was the news that was brought to Eleonore while she lay awaiting the return of her strength.

She wanted to shout in triumph: This is a glorious day.

Eustace is dead. How can Stephen make his son William his heir? William has already declared he has no talent for ruling and no wish to either.

It must be Henry now. God, by striking down Eustace, has shown England who is worthy to be her king.

Henry was sure of his destiny. The news that Eleonore had borne him a son following so soon on that of Eustace’s death seemed to be an omen. He was of a nature to regard anything that was to his benefit as an omen while he disregarded any sign that could be to his detriment. In this he resembled his great-grandfather William the Conqueror.

In his heart he knew it was one of the qualities needed to succeed.

But the death of Eustace did seem like an act of God.

The people of Suffolk who had suffered from his ill -temper declared that God had struck him down in anger and if they had had any doubts before that Henry Plantagenet should be the next king they no longer had.

Victory was in sight.

He was longing for the day when he could return to Eleonore. He missed her. No other woman would do for him, he had discovered. Not that he had been faithful to her.

That was too much to expect. He was too lusty a man for that. Eleonore would understand. While he was with her he would be faithful; but during long campaigns away from her she must allow him a little licence. He fell to musing about women. The best since he had arrived in England had been a woman of some experience, since making love was her living. Her name he believed was Hikenai. She was amusing; there was very little she had not experienced. He laughed to recall her. She had followed the camp and had made herself exclusively his for that time. Strangely enough he had been contented with her as she had been with him.

He was a man who needed women, but if he had a good one he did not wish to be promiscuous. One satisfied him providing she was always there when he needed her.

He had watched Hikenai’s figure thicken and noticed the obvious signs of pregnancy. She had been pleased.

‘This one,’ she had said, ‘will be a king’s son.’

‘You go too fast,’ he told her.

‘Come, my lord Duke, you’ll be a king before this little one has known two summers.’

‘It’s a good and loyal statement,’ he told her, and expressed the hope that it would be a boy.

While he had been in England he had seen his other, two boys.

‘By God,’ he had cried, ‘I am a begetter of boys.’

He had wondered whether their mother would still appeal to him. He had been devoted to Avice some few years before when he was in England, and the two boys she had borne him were fine little fellows. He remembered her saying she would call her firstborn Geoffrey after their grandfather, and William after their illustrious ancestor, he who was known as the Conqueror. Yes, he had been deeply enamoured of Avice. How old could he have been when Geoffrey was born? He was only twenty now. Fifteen!

Oh, he had been a lusty young fellow even then.

Avice was living at Stamford. It had delighted him to see the boys again. He had spent a night with Avice but the attraction was gone. After Eleonore perhaps, only such a practised harlot as Hikenai could satisfy him.

So he had taken his quick farewell of Avice and promised her that when he was king he would not forget her boys.

And now Stephen and he had called a truce. He would never understand Stephen. He liked his kinsman but Stephen was not of the stuff kings were made. There was something kind, sentimental, too emotional about him. He reminded him of Louis of France who had never been able to get out of his mind that his soldiers had pillaged a town in the church of which men, women and children had been burned to death.

Cruelty was not a kingly, quality but perforce it must be committed now and then, and when this happened it was best done quickly and forgotten.

When he was King of England he would follow the lines laid down first by William the Conqueror and then by his grandfather Henry I for they were ruthless men, but never cruel for the sake of cruelty. Justice came first with them.

That was the way to rule.

And now what next? What was Stephen implying?

There came a message for a meeting at Winchester. He would listen eagerly to Stephen’s proposal.