Текст книги "The Plantagenet Prelude "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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There was no doubt that Thomas was a very extraordinary man. The Archbishop thought so and watching him closely marked him for promotion, although this would mean setting him above others who were more conventionally suitable.
Among those who were studying with Thomas under the tuition of the Archbishop was a very clever young man named Roger de Pont l’Evêque. He had been the brightest of all Theobald’s pupils until Thomas had come. He was destined for the highest posts; he was an expert on canon law and before Thomas had eclipsed him had been a great favourite with the Archbishop.
Roger was both arrogant and sensual, and he hated Thomas not only for his brilliance as a scholar but for the fact that he could not be lured into any adventure which could have discredited him in the eyes of Theobald.
Roger himself had had a very narrow escape. His career as a churchman of high rank might have been irrevocably ruined. The story was that Roger had become enamoured of a very handsome boy whom he had forced to submit to his lust. The boy, Walter, had complained of this and Roger was brought to trial. Roger was a man of power with many influential friends and by means of bribery and threats had won his case against the boy who in his turn was accused of lying and attempting to bring into disrepute a highly respected member of the Church. The bribed judge found that the boy was guilty; his eyes were put out and he was hanged.
Roger had escaped the consequences of his ill -doing and had managed to deceive many – including the Archbishop – into believing in his innocence, but among others he was suspect. He even admitted to a few – in secret – that he had brought disgrace and contempt on the Church.
Roger was the chief of Thomas’s enemies, and he determined to get him removed from the Archbishop’s palace. But Thomas was fortunate in the fact that Theobald’s brother Walter, who was Archdeacon of Canterbury, had a faith in his ability which nothing could shake, and which was even greater than that which Theobald had for him.
Roger, by reason of his undeniable brilliance, was at this time the leading scholar at Harrow and at the head of the line for promotion, which meant that he was closer to the Archbishop than any of the others. By cleverly pointing out the unusual traits in Thomas’s character he contrived to convince Theobald that, clever as Thomas might be, he was not of the kind to succeed in the Church.
Theobald considered this and for a time banished Thomas from his palace. The Archbishop’s brother Walter, however, took Thomas into his home and kept him there for a while until he could persuade Theobald to take Thomas back. This was an indication of what a powerful enemy Thomas had in Roger, as he was banished on two occasions and was obliged to stay with Walter until the time when Theobald could be persuaded to ask him to return.
When Walter became Bishop of Rochester, Roger received the appointment for which he was waiting and he became Archdeacon of Canterbury.
With Roger in such a post this could have meant the end of Thomas’s ambitions, but by this time he was so firmly established in Theobald’s regard that nothing could dislodge him. He was then constantly in the company of the Archbishop. When Theobald was at odds with the Crown and was temporarily exiled, Thomas accompanied him to France.
There came the time when King Stephen died and Henry Plantagenet ascended the throne. In the year 1154 Roger became Archbishop of York which meant that the post of Archdeacon of Canterbury was vacant. It seemed to Theobald then that no one could fit this post better than Thomas Becket.
That Henry had the makings of a great king was obvious to all, but at the same time he was a man of such violent passion that Theobald felt disturbed. To hold in check such a man was going to be rather like taming a wild horse and it was clear that the King was of a temper to brook no restraint.
It had in the past been almost a habit with kings to quarrel with the Church. Theobald who had now and then been in disagreement with Stephen realised that it would be a very different matter to resist the wishes of Henry.
Theobald discussed the matter with Henry, Bishop of Winchester, brother of King Stephen, and one of the most powerful churchmen in the country.
‘The King,’ said Henry of Winchester, ‘needs to be held in check and in such a manner that he will not realise that the reins which control him are there. Only the right sort of Chancellor could manage this. We must find the right man. If we do not I see great trouble between the Church and State and we shall find that Henry Plantagenet is not the mild man my brother Stephen was.’
‘That’s true,’ said Theobald. ‘What we need is a man who can be a friend to the King, who can persuade him subtly so that he will not know he is persuaded.’
‘Do you know such a man?’ asked Henry of Winchester.
Theobald was thoughtful; then a slow smile spread across his face. ‘Yes, I think I do. There is my Archdeacon, Thomas Becket.’
‘Becket,’ mused the Bishop. ‘A man of humble origins.’
‘A man who has risen above his origins. You would not find a man in all England who could please the King better.’
‘I fancy the King is not over-fond of those of our profession.’
‘Becket is unlike the rest of us. I have often felt I should reprove him for his worldliness and yet I know he is the least worldly of men. He keeps a good table, yes, but that is for others; he himself eats most frugally. His clothes are elegance itself and he keeps hawks, dogs and horses; but he gives lavishly to the poor. He is the man. He could meet the King on his own level. He could make sport with him and hunt with him; and the King has moments when he likes good conversation; he would have his fill of that with Becket. Becket is the man. A man of the Church who is yet a man of the world.’
The Bishop was inclined to be dubious but after he had spent a little time with Thomas he came to the view that the best thing for England and the Church would be to make Thomas Becket its Chancellor.
Thus at the age of thirty-five Thomas was raised to this high office. He was delighted with his new status, not because of the honours it brought him but because there was so much in the country that he could put right.
For some years now the civil war had been over but during it many men who had lost their castles or humbler homes had been driven to the forest where they became outlaws and robbers. The Chancellor was determined that these men should be hunted down and that the roads might be safe as they had been in the days of William the Conqueror and his son Henry I; he was anxious that the fields should be tiled as they had been before the beginning of the war. He wanted to bring back justice to the courts; he encouraged those who considered themselves ill done by to bring their grievances to him.
Any good man determined to bring justice to England could have done this, but there was something more Thomas could do. He could charm the King. Theobald had told him that it was because it was believed he had the power to do this that he had been chosen for this task. He could be amusing, witty and entertaining; and it was his duty to amuse the King. By becoming an intimate friend of the King he would understand his moods; he could guide him without the King’s knowing he was being guided. He was enough of a courtier to be perfectly at home in royal society; he had learned riding, hawking and chess at Pevensey Castle, so he was at ease in the King’s circle.
None would know that he had not had the same upbringing as any of the King’s courtiers and the King himself for that matter. It was for this reason that he had been chosen. It was remarkably easy.
‘Bring this churchman to me,’ Henry had said, ‘that I may tell him I’ll not have any churchman preach to me.’
But when he saw the man he was amazed. That strange quality which commanded the respect of all men was immediately apparent to the King. This tall elegant man who could be witty and amusing, who could ride beside him talking of frivolous court matters, who could with the same ease plunge into a serious conversation such as enthralled Henry, aroused his interest to such an extent that often when he was at a gathering he would look about him and say: ‘Where’s Becket? Where’s my Chancellor?’ And when Thomas was brought to him he would laugh at him and say,
‘Ha, Becket, I missed you. Let us escape and go off together where we can talk.’
Theobald and Henry of Winchester watched the growing friendship of the two and congratulated themselves on the wisdom of that plan of theirs to set up Thomas Becket as Chancellor so that he might influence the King.
Henry was delighted. One of Thomas’s first acts was to refurbish the King’s palace in the Tower of London.
Henry liked the work that was done there. ‘Why, Becket,’ he said, ‘I should have thought as a churchman you would have thought of succouring the poor rather than pampering their King.’
‘A pampered king is more likely to pamper his poor subjects than one who is so ill housed that his temper is frayed,’ answered Thomas.
‘His temper frays, Becket, well housed or not.’
‘Since he admits this doubtless time and the help of God will improve it.’
‘That fellow makes me laugh,’ said Henry of his Chancellor and he saw more and more of Thomas. He showed clearly that he liked his company.
Thomas had not been Chancellor a year when Henry declared: ‘I never thought to make a friend of a churchman, but I swear this man seems to me the best friend I ever had.’
He would call on him without warning. He would shout: ‘Come out, Becket. I’d have speech with you.’
Sometimes he sat and drank wine with him. It amused him that Becket with a sip or two could tell the quality of wine and talk of it, but rarely drank much himself.
Henry liked to plague him while he admired him.
‘A churchman,’ he would say, ‘yet you live like a king.’
‘Rather say a king lives like a churchman.’
Every day fresh rushes were strewn on his floors; he used green boughs in summer and hay in winter; but it must always be fresh.
‘Your cleanliness is greater than your godliness,’ pointed out the King.
‘Why should not the two go hand in hand, Sire?’ asked Becket.
‘Is it meet for a man of God to display fine gold and silver plate on his table?’
‘If he puts them there for love of his friends,’ answered Becket.
The King would put an arm about the Chancellor’s shoulders. ‘One of these days I will show you for the coxcomb you are,’ he mocked. ‘Look at your table; look at your home! Should you not go out into the world with rod and scrip and preach religion?’
‘I go out with the rod of my office and preach of justice,’ replied Thomas.
‘Good Thomas, you amuse me and for that I would forgive you all your sins.’
‘Let us hope, sire, that that other King who alone can pardon our sins is as lenient with you.’
And so they grew closer together and hardly a day passed when Becket was not in the company of the King.
Chapter IX
THE ABBESS BRIDE
While Eleanor was awaiting the birth of her child in the palace and Rosamund was at Woodstock also awaiting the King’s child, Henry sent for Becket as he wished to discuss the proposed marriage between his son Henry and the little Princess of France.
He was as usual delighted to see the Chancellor.
‘I know not how you will find the French King,’ said Henry.
‘As you know the Queen was his wife and she rid herself of him to marry me.’
‘I know it well,’ said Becket.
‘He was somewhat jealous I believe, and loath to let the Queen go, but the Queen was determined. She’s a determined woman as you know also, Chancellor.’
‘I had gathered so,’ answered Thomas.
‘Now this methinks is a situation which will appeal to your humour as it appeals to mine. My son and the Queen’s son Henry shall be the bridegroom of Louis’s daughter by his second marriage. Do you think that is not an amusing situation?’
‘I think it a very suitable one, my lord, since it will secure alliance with the King of France and little could be more beneficial to you at this time.’
‘So thought I,’ said the King. ‘It is years before the marriage can take place. My son is three years old. The Princess Marguerite is one. But that will be no impediment to the ceremony as it would be to the consummation. We shall not put the babies to bed together...yet.’
‘I should think not.’
‘Poor innocents! Still it is the lot of royal children. You should be thankful, Chancellor, that you were not a royal boy or they might have married you when you were in your cradle and that would not have been to your liking, would it?’
‘I have never had any fancy for the marriage bond.’
‘Nay, you’re a strange man, Becket. You care nothing for women which seems strange to a man like myself who cares very much for them. You know not what you miss. It is a taste which never wearies. It is only that one wishes now and then to change one’s partner in the game.’
‘The Queen would not wish to hear such sentiments expressed.’
‘You are right, Becket. My Queen is a woman of strong opinions. You will have to mind your step with her...as even I do.’
‘The Queen is one who is accustomed to being obeyed.’
‘Indeed you speak the truth. I have managed very well during our life together. I always contrive to see that she is either going to have a child or having one. It is a very good way of curbing her desire to rule.’
‘It is not one which can continue forever.’
‘As the Queen tells me. She says when this one is born there must be a respite.’
‘It is better for her health that this should be so.’
‘I am expecting a child in another quarter, Becket.’
‘I grieve to hear it, Sire.’
The King burst into loud laughter and slapped Becket on the back.
‘You know full well that a king who cannot get heirs is a curse to the nation.’
‘I know it is well for a king to get legitimate heirs.’
‘My grandfather used to say that it is well for a king to have children – inside and outside wedlock, for those who are of royal blood will be loyal to it.’
‘It is not an infallible recipe for loyalty, sire.’
‘Oh come, Becket, you are determined to reproach me. I won’t have it. Do you hear me?’
‘I hear very well, my lord.’
‘Then take heed for if you offend me I could turn you from your office.’
‘My lord must turn me from it if he will and I shall pray that he finds another to serve him as well as I should.’
‘I never would, Thomas. I know it and for this I will stomach a little of your preaching. But not too much, man. Remember it.’
‘I will remember, my lord.’
‘You have seen my fair Rosamund, Becket. Is she not beautiful? More so in her present state than when I first saw her. It surprises me that my feeling for her does not pal. I love the girl, Becket. You are silent. Why do you stand there with that smug expression on your face? How dare you judge me, Thomas Becket! Are you my keeper?’
‘I am your Chancellor, my lord.’
‘Not for long...if I wish it. Remember that, Becket. And if you are going to tell me that I should give up Rosamund I am going to fall into a temper, and you know my tempers, Thomas.’
‘I know them well, Sire.’
‘They are not pleasant to behold, I believe.’
‘There you speak truth, my lord.’
‘Then it would be well for those around me not to provoke them. I have settled her at Woodstock and I am having a bower built there. A house in the forest...surrounded by a maze of which only I shall know the secret. What think you of that?’
‘That it is a plan worthy of you, my lord.’
The King narrowed his eyes and laughed again.
‘You amuse me, Thomas,’ he said. ‘You stand in judgement. You reproach me. You disapprove of me, but you amuse me. For some reason I have chosen to make you my friend.’
‘I am also your Chancellor, Sire,’ said Becket. ‘Shall we discuss the mission to France?’
For such a mission Thomas could display great magnificence without any feeling of shame. All the scarlet and gold trappings which he so much enjoyed could be brought into play without any feeling of guilt on his part because what he was doing now was for the glory of England. He could not go into France like a pauper. During his journey he must impress all who beheld him with the might and splendour of England.
A troop of soldiers accompanied the procession, besides butlers and stewards and other servants of the household; there were members of the nobility who were to form part of the embassy, and of his own household he took two hundred horsemen. He had brought dogs and birds as well as twelve pack-horses with their grooms, and on the back of each horse sat a long-tailed ape. The procession was followed by wagons which carried Thomas’s clothes and others in which were stored the garments of the rest of the party with gifts which would be judicially distributed at the court of France. And after these were larger wagons one of which was furnished as a chapel for Thomas’s use, and another for his bedchamber. In yet another were utensils for cooking so that the party could stop wherever was deemed desirable.
As this magnificent cavalcade – the like of which had never been seen before – passed through France, people came out of their houses to watch it.
‘What manner of man can the King of England be?’ they asked each other. ‘He must be the richest man in the world since this man, who is only his Chancellor and servant, travels in such state.’
News was brought to Louis that the Chancellor was on his way and that the magnificence of his retinue had startled everyone who had seen it. Determined not to be outdone he gave orders that when the party arrived in Paris no merchant was to sell his goods to any member of the English party. France was to be host to the English and they must have what they would and there should be no question of their paying.
Thomas guessed that this might be the King’s wish and in order not to put himself under any obligation – which might be detrimental to his mission – he sent his servants out secretly to buy any provisions they would need. He did however accept lodgings at the Temple. There he kept a sumptuous table of which all who came to see him were invited to partake.
In the face of such extravagance the French could only retaliate in kind. They must not be made to look less hospitable, less elegant, less generous than the English.
Louis received Thomas with every honour. How could he refuse the hand of his daughter to the son of a king who came to him in such a manner?
He had at first been uneasy. His little daughter Marguerite was but a year old. Poor child, how innocent she was, unaware as yet as to what this mission meant!
She would in time go to the English court there to be brought up as the bride of Henry who would, if all went well, become the King of England with little Marguerite that country’s Queen.
Louis still thought of Eleanor and that state of passion to which she had introduced him. He feared he would never forget her and even now he was reminded of how she had left him, and almost immediately her divorce was secured had married Henry Plantagenet whose mistress she had already been.
And now Eleanor’s son by another man, and his daughter by another woman...It was an unconventional situation but such there would always be with a woman like Eleanor. He wondered whether she often thought of him.
But that was a question he could not ask the King’s Chancellor. He must agree with his ministers that it was an alliance destined to bring good to both countries. It should ensure peace between them and peace was what the people desired more than anything.
The Chancellor in his magnificence had delighted the people of France. Louis made no objections to the proposed match. In fact he welcomed it.
Thomas was well pleased. This important mission had been achieved with the utmost success.
In the miniature palace close to his own at Woodstock the King visited Rosamund Clifford. He was delighted with the dwelling he had built for her. He called it Rosamund’s Bower. It was a fairy house and here she could live secluded while the royal party was in residence at the palace, and he could slip away to be with her with the utmost ease. It had amused him to create a maze of which only he, Rosamund and those who served her, should have the secret. He had not even confided the secret to Thomas.
He was not entirely sure of Thomas. He could not understand a man who was not interested in sexual pleasure with women. There were times when he suspected Thomas of indulging in secret what other men talked of openly. He always hoped that one of these days he would catch Thomas. The thought amused him. He often thought what pleasure it would have been for him if he and Thomas could have gone out adventuring together. The fact was there was no man’s company he enjoyed more.
Thomas’s love of extravagance was greater than his own for he was a plain man and hated wearing the garments of royalty. In fact he had, at the Easter church ceremonies, laid his crown on the altar and sworn that he would never wear it again.
‘There it stands,’ he had said, ‘as the sovereign’s symbol. That symbol loses nothing because it stands in a place as well guarded as it is on my head. Let no man mistake me. I am the King. But I do not need a crown to make me so. I stand here, your King by right of birth and on the throne I shall remain, but I can serve my country better by making just laws and defending it from all who would subdue it, by the power of my strong arm and the wisdom of my mind and these can work better when not hampered by a crown on my head.’
There he stood, this man who was neither tall nor short, whose hands were chapped with the wind; his tunic short that he might the easier move about, with his unbounded energy, his fierce temper which was terrifying to behold and his complete kingliness. He was right. He did not need a crown to proclaim him King of England. No man could look at him and doubt it.
And yet he came secretly to Woodstock. In his heart he knew it was due to his tenderness for Rosamund. He wanted no harm to befall her. He wanted to keep her the pure and innocent girl she was – the complete contrast to Eleanor. Perhaps he was a little afraid of Eleanor. He would not admit that fear. Yet she could be a scheming woman and he could not be sure what revenge she would take on him.
It was because of Eleanor that he wished to keep his liaison with Rosamund secret.
He found her feeding the swans on the lake before the little palace.
She stood up with a cry of pleasure when she saw him.
She was noticeably pregnant and it occurred to him again that she was even more beautiful than when he had first seen her. There was a serenity about her countenance. She had already the motherly look.
He took her hands and kissed them. ‘So my Rose is glad to see her King.’
She nodded as though her emotion at beholding him were so great she could not trust herself to speak.
Ashamed of his own feelings he touched her stomach jocularly. ‘And the boy?’
‘He fares well. But what if it should be a girl? I trust you will not be displeased.’
‘Nay, nay,’ he said, ‘I’ll forgive her if she has one tenth of the charm and beauty of her mother.’
Arms about each other they went into the house.
There he stayed for the night. It was idyllic, there to live like a simple man. He did not delude himself into wishing that he had been born to such a life. He was too enamoured of his kingship, but it was pleasant for a spell to live simply under the adoring eyes of a beloved mistress.
Thomas should see me now, he thought. Perhaps he would try to explain his feelings to Thomas.
No, no. Not even Thomas. No one should know how this beautiful innocent girl affected him.
The child would soon be born and she was to have the best attention.
‘When I return from France I’ll come and see the child,’ he told her.
The thought of his departure to France always upset her. She visualised all kinds of dangers. She begged him to take care. He laughed at her, but tenderly. How could a king take care?
‘It’s a peaceful mission. I go to see Louis to make terms for the marriage of my son and his daughter. He has already agreed. My good Chancellor got his agreement and I go to seal the alliance and bring the child away with me, for if she is to marry my son she must be brought up in my kingdom.’
‘Poor child! Poor mother!’
‘Ah, Rosamund, be thankful that you are not a royal mother. How much happier you will be with your child in your little bower awaiting the arrival of your lord and master.
And I swear to you that he will come to you whenever it is possible for him to do so and this child you carry shall have great honours and never regret, if I can help it, the day the King set eyes on the fairest Rose in all the world.’
He left her content with her lot; her only anxiety what dangers he might face across the sea.
What joy to be with one whose love was selfless, who asked nothing, no honours – except perhaps for their child – nothing for herself! She prayed not for herself but for him and the child.
He thought: Had she been my wife, I would have been a happier man.
How different was Eleanor. He would be going to France and she must perforce stay in England because she was once more with child.
‘I promise you,’ she raved, ‘there shall be no more of this. Since I married you it has been one child after another.’
‘You have a fine nursery full, my Queen,’ said Henry.
‘There are many queens who have prayed and made their pilgrimages in the hope of getting one son. You have two and who knows the next which I have kindly implanted in you may well be another boy. Think of it. Three boys in your nursery!’
‘Not to mention the little bastard you have brought to us.’
‘Young Geoffrey. How fares he?’
‘I do not make it my concern to discover.’
‘You’re a jealous woman, Eleanor.’
She did not answer. She would never forgive him for that bastard son. While she had been in love with him – and thought constantly of him – he had been sporting with other women and cared so much for this one it seemed that when she produced a child he brought it into the nursery.
‘What would I not give to be crossing the sea with you.’
‘I am flattered that you so much enjoy my company.’
‘It is not you I wish to be with,’ she said. ‘I wish to see my own fair land of Aquitaine.’
‘That you might sit in the gardens and surround yourself with soft-eyed singers who laud your charms and pretend to be in love with you?’
‘Why should they pretend?’
‘Because you are no longer young and the bearing of children does not beautify a woman but adds to her years. They would feign to set you up as the Queen of Love. And why? Because you are the Queen of England, that is why.’
‘Have done,’ she said. ‘When this child is born I shall go once more to Aquitaine.’
He nodded, smiling derisively at her, but his thoughts were far away in the bower of his fair Rosamund.
Soon afterwards he left for France.
A message came from his mother. She wished him to call at Nantes where she was staying with his brother Geoffrey.
Matilda met her son with the pleasure she always showed on seeing him. They embraced and she looked at him anxiously.
‘How fares it in England?’ she wanted to know.
‘All is well. I have left the government in capable hands. I have the best man in the world for Chancellor. And Eleanor knows how to rule.’
‘It was a good marriage,’ said Matilda.
Henry grimaced. ‘She’s an overbearing woman.’
Matilda could find no fault with that. No one could have been more overbearing than herself.
‘I wished you to come here,’ she said, ‘because of Geoffrey.’
‘Geoffrey again! Not plotting against me once more?’
‘Geoffrey will never plot against you again.’
‘You are hoping for a miracle.’
‘Nay, my son. Your brother Geoffrey is grievously sick. I fancy he will never leave his bed again.’
‘Geoffrey...but he is so young!’
‘Death strikes down the young as well as the old. You must make sure you lose nothing by his death.’
‘His death! You cannot mean this!’
‘You shall see for yourself. I wished to prepare you.’
She went with him into the chamber where Geoffrey lay.
‘Geoffrey, my son,’ she said, ‘your brother is here.’
Geoffrey smiled wryly. ‘The King of England,’ he muttered.
‘I am here,’ said Henry. He knelt by the bed and looked anxiously into his brother’s face. ‘What ails you, Geoffrey?’
‘My time has come. It was a short stay, was it not?’
‘Nay, you’ll recover.’
‘Is that a command?’
‘You should take it as such.’
‘You always wanted to command us all. But you cannot command Death, brother.’
‘You talk nonsense. You will recover.’
‘I think not. So you rule England now as well as Normandy which was to have been mine.’
‘I paid you for it, remember?’
‘I remember your promise to pay me a pension. I don’t recall receiving much of it.’
‘There are many calls on a king’s purse.’
‘I know, I know. And it is of no moment now.’
‘You had Brittany. You got that by my good graces.’
‘For which I must be grateful. Were not the dogs grateful for the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table?’
‘They were indeed, but I was never a rich man, brother, and you never a dog.’
‘Not with England and Normandy and...what else is it, brother? I’ll swear now it will be Brittany.’
‘Geoffrey, let us be friends.’
Geoffrey smiled and held out his hand. ‘It is always good to be friends with a dying man. Fear not that I should ever seek to haunt you with reproaches, brother. I was always proud to be your brother. You were our mother’s favourite.
She loved you. You must have had very special qualities to be loved by her.’ He smiled. ‘Do you remember how she hated our father?’
Henry bowed his head.
‘And he is dead now. And I shall soon follow him. You will go on and on to greater glory, Henry. It was good of you to come to my deathbed. Or did you come for Brittany?’
Henry looked at his brother with sorrowing eyes. He was thinking of how they had played together in their youth; but he was also thinking of Brittany. How could he help it? The Dukes of Normandy had always laid covetous eyes on it.
He could bring up the matter when he saw Louis.
