Текст книги "The Heart of the Lion "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
He did not have to wait long.
The Chancellor’s supporters saw in the recent agreement with John victory for Longchamp and those connections who had benefited by his rise to fame were convinced of his ability to get the better of Prince John.
Roger de Lacy, a member of the Chancellor’s family, quarrelled with the castellan of Nottingham castle who had handed it over to John, accused him of treason to the King, and hanged him. He then did the same to the custodian of Tickhill. This was arrogance in the extreme.
‘The great Chancellor William de Longchamp, my respected kinsman has been avenged,’ vowed Roger; and riding with his friends he took them to that spot where the body of the custodian of Tickhill was swinging on its gibbet. One of the victim’s menservants was attempting to drive the crows from his master’s body and take it away for decent burial.
‘Hi there,’ cried Roger, ‘what do you?’
The man answered that his master should be decently buried.
‘This man is a traitor,’ cried Roger. ‘Should traitors be decently buried? Any who defend traitors is himself a traitor. Take that man,’ he ordered, ‘and hang him beside the one whom he calls master.’
This foolish, arrogant and cruel action gave John the chance he needed. He came with a troop of soldiers and laid waste Roger de Lacy’s lands.
John was now ready to make war on the Chancellor but his friends advised him to hold back for a while for another incident had occurred which they saw as causing far more disquiet to Longchamp and enraging the people against him to a greater extent than John could do by marching against him.
They managed to make John see that if he were to succeed he needed the people behind him. The Chancellor was fast becoming the most unpopular man in the realm and John only had to wait a while and public opinion would do what he was planning to do with arms.
Geoffrey, John’s bastard half-brother, who had been forbidden by the King, with John, not to return for three years, now returned, declaring that Richard had given him permission to come back when he had done the same for Prince John.
Longchamp immediately sent him orders to keep away from England.
It was a September morning when Geoffrey landed at Dover. Geoffrey was the son of Henry II and his one-time mistress Hikena, who was a woman of loose morals and had managed to captivate the King for a while – at least long enough for her to persuade him to care for their son. Henry had always looked after his bastards. He delighted in them and had often said that they had been more faithful to him than his children born in wedlock, which was true.
Geoffrey had been brought to the royal nursery by the King and had shared the tutors of the princes and princesses, much to Queen Eleanor’s disgust. Indeed the coming of Geoffrey to the nursery had been the beginning of the rift between her and her husband.
King Henry had doted on Geoffrey who had loved his father as none of his legitimate sons ever had. When they had been conspiring against the King, Geoffrey was the one who had remained with him and had been at his side at the time of his death, and the King’s dying wish had been that Geoffrey should be given the Archbishopric of York. Richard had respected his father’s wishes and complied with this request.
Geoffrey was a great soldier as well as a man of the Church and had commanded troops under his father. He was the son Henry would have liked to have been his heir; as Geoffrey was a bastard that was out of the question but he had done all he could for him.
Richard suspected that Geoffrey might have ambitions for the crown; he was friendly with John; and for this reason Richard had imposed the ban on his going out of England for three years.
When he had taken his farewell of Richard before the King left for the crusade, Geoffrey had paid Richard a sum of money in exchange for his promise to be allowed to return to England. Richard’s crusade was in constant need of money and the King was ready to do almost anything to obtain it. However to allow Geoffrey to return to England seemed wise when rumours of the unpopularity of Longchamp reached Richard. A good strong Archbishop of York would be a restraining influence.
So Geoffrey set out for England.
Longchamp had had no notification of the fact that he had bought his way back and sent him a message to the effect that he was not to return.
This Geoffrey ignored and when he arrived at Dover and was met by a company of men who told him that the Chancellor had ordered them to meet him and conduct him to Dover Castle, he said that first he would take refreshment at an inn.
It was not refreshment that he took but the clothes of one of his humble followers and he rode out to St Martin Priory where he asked for sanctuary.
The Chancellor’s sister, Lady Richenda de Cleres, who lived in the neighbourhood, took it upon herself to attempt to arrest him. Her brother had stated that Geoffrey was not to come to England and he had deliberately disobeyed. All the Chancellor’s family were devoted to him, and when he rose they had risen with him. They could never forget it nor could they be grateful enough. His command was their will.
And how could a grateful sister show her gratitude more than by having arrested a man who was her brother’s enemy?
She sent soldiers to the Priory to take Geoffrey of York. He was at prayers at the altar when the soldiers burst in.
‘You are our prisoner,’ they cried. ‘You will ride with us to Dover Castle.’
Geoffrey looked calmly at them and stated: ‘I shall not ride to Dover Castle. What right have you to arrest me?’ he asked.
‘We are the servants of the Chancellor,’ they said.
‘Forget not,’ said Geoffrey, ‘that I am a man of the Church and a brother of the King.’
‘Brother of the King maybe,’ was the retort. ‘Begot in the bed of a whore.’
‘By a great King,’ said Geoffrey.
‘You have sworn not to enter this country for three years.’
‘I have the King’s permission to return.’
‘Tell that to your judges.’
They seized him and dragged him out of the Priory.
People crowded into the streets demanding to know what was happening and when they saw the Archbishop of York being taken to a prison in Dover Castle many crossed themselves in horror. Geoffrey’s father, King Henry II, had done penance once because it was believed he had ordered the murder of another Archbishop. Nothing had gone right for England after Thomas à Becket was murdered, until the King did humble penance for his part in the murder. And who was this low-born Chancellor to give orders to a holy Archbishop, son of a King?
Geoffrey was taken to Dover Castle and there made a prisoner but the news spread rapidly and the name of Thomas à Becket was repeated again and again. The murmurs against the upstart Chancellor grew and Longchamp realised that his sister, in her attempts to show her loyalty to him, had acted without wisdom. He sent word to Dover that Geoffrey was to be immediately released.
Prince John was at this time in his castle of Lancaster when the Bishop of Coventry called upon him.
‘Your brother Geoffrey has arrived in England,’ he told him, ‘and been imprisoned in Dover Castle by the low-born Norman.’
‘By God’s eyes,’ cried John, ‘he gives himself great powers.’
‘Is it not time, my lord, that they were wrested from him?’
‘How dare the serf’s son arrest a king’s son – albeit a bastard one! ’Tis time he were himself put in a dungeon. I’d like to deal with him with my own hands.’
‘’Twould be better, my lord, to let your servants do that. This last may not be such an ill matter, for surely others who have so far been reluctant to take action against him will now see that this must be.’
John nodded. ‘My good Hugh,’ he said, ‘I believe you to be right.’
Hugh Nunant, Bishop of Coventry answered: ‘I feel sure of it, my lord. Why do you not call together the most important barons to meet you and decide what should be done about the fellow?’
‘I will. We will ride south at once. I’ll have messengers sent. William the Marshal must be there. Men trust him.’
‘The Bishop of Lincoln has already declared himself ready to excommunicate all those who were party to the arrest of the Archbishop of York.’
‘Then let us send for the Bishop of Lincoln to join us.’
John, with Hugh Nunant, immediately set out for the South, messengers riding on ahead of them to invite the barons to join him at Marlborough Castle.
Longchamp was disturbed. It had been a rash act of Richenda’s to order Geoffrey’s arrest. He knew of course that it was done for love of him, but it was going to make trouble.
John would hold it against him. The Prince was already his enemy. This would not help.
He let it be known that he had meant no harm to Geoffrey. The arrest had been the work of his over zealous friends and he himself had had no thought of making a prisoner of the Archbishop of York. He had known that the King had sent him into exile for three years and as he was acting on behalf of Richard and had not heard that his order had been rescinded he considered it only right to ask Geoffrey to go back to France which was in fact all he had done. He reiterated that the arrest had not been on his orders and reminded everyone that as soon as he had heard of it he had set Geoffrey free.
He wondered what was happening on the crusade and whether Richard would come safely through it. It was certain that he would be in the thick of the battle. Could he possibly avoid death? Many did; on the other hand many fell; and soldiers of the Cross were apt to be reckless, seeing in death, when engaged on such a mission, a certain and quick way to Heaven.
And if Richard did not return from his crusade, what of William of Longchamp? It would go ill with him if John ever came to the throne.
Perhaps John never would. Hadn’t Richard named Prince Arthur as his successor? When Richard returned, if Richard returned, he would do his best to persuade him to bring Arthur over to England. The boy should be educated as an Englishman and then when he was of age the people would accept him. After all, as the son of John’s elder brother, he had more right to the throne than John.
Longchamp wrote a letter to the King of Scots asking him if he would support Arthur of Brittany as heir to the throne of England in the event of Richard’s death without heirs. If he would, he would make a pact in Richard’s name, with the King of Scotland. This was the time for if it were known that Scotland supported Arthur that fact must influence a number of people below the Border and they would become accustomed to the idea that Arthur had the prior claim to the throne.
The messenger was sent off but on his way to Scotland he was waylaid and his papers stolen. John’s spies had caught up with him and it was not long before John was reading the message to the King of Scotland asking him to support Arthur’s claim.
John foamed with rage.
‘By God’s eyes and teeth,’ he cried, ‘I’ll kill the Norman with my own hands.’
The Archbishop of Rouen conferred with the Bishop of Lincoln and William the Marshal, that staunch supporter of royalty who had saved Henry II’s life when he had disarmed Richard and indeed had Richard at his mercy; he had spared Richard’s life and had expected to lose his own when Richard came to the throne; but Richard was wise enough to know a good and loyal man when he saw him and guessed that he would serve him as well as he had served his father. In this he had made no mistake.
The fact that the Archbishop of York had been arrested in the name of Longchamp and now he was unmasked as attempting to negotiate with a foreign power with regard to the succession of the throne of England had roused reasonable and worthy men such as the Marshal against him.
In a small chamber at Marlborough Castle these men gathered together with Prince John to discuss what must be done.
William the Marshal said: ‘We have to bear in mind that King Richard gave power to William of Longchamp. What he does, he does in the name of the King and therefore it seems we must act with caution.’
‘Even when he conspires against me?’ cried John.
‘My lord Prince,’ replied the Marshal, ‘it is a matter of his conspiring against the King.’ The Marshal was never one to mince his words. He would speak against the King himself but only in his presence; and he saw it might well be that Longchamp had had secret instructions from Richard to sound the King of Scotland about the succession of Arthur. The news was that he had made a pact with Tancred of Sicily and had offered Tancred’s daughter Arthur as a bridegroom, which was significant.
‘Am I not the King’s brother?’
‘You are,’ answered the Marshal. ‘None could dispute that.’
‘And heir, in the event of the King’s having no issue?’
‘Prince Arthur is the son of your elder brother Geoffrey. It will be a matter for your brother the King to decide.’
John scowled, but he realised how much weight the Marshal carried.
‘It would seem to me,’ said Hugh Nunant, who could always be relied on to support John, ‘that Longchamp has exceeded his powers in arresting Geoffrey of York.’
‘That is true indeed,’ said the Marshal, ‘but he has released him and declares the arrest was made without his knowing.’
‘A likely tale!’ cried John.
‘He released him immediately,’ the Marshal reminded him.
‘When he knew the people were against him and were talking of Becket.’
‘If we but knew the will of the King . . .’ began the Marshal.
Then the Archbishop of Rouen spoke. ‘There is a matter I must lay before you. The King having heard that all was not well in the realm and hearing of the unpopularity of Long-champ sent me to govern with him and if the occasion should arise to depose him and take the reins of Regency into my own hands. I can tell you this: There has been no instruction from the King to prepare the King of Scotland to accept Arthur as his heir. He is newly married. It seems likely that he will get a son of his own.’
‘If a Saracen’s arrow does not get him first,’ murmured John.
William Marshal cried: ‘Is this indeed so? Then my lord Archbishop of Rouen is our Regent and we can indeed proceed against Longchamp. The people have never accepted him gladly. He is unpopular. He has exceeded his powers. We will summon him to meet us at the bridge over the Lodden between Reading and Windsor and there we will ask him to give an account of his actions. Do you agree with this, my lord of Rouen?’
The Archbishop declared that he thought it the wisest way to act.
When Longchamp received the summons he was so terrified that he had to take to his bed. He was too ill, he said, to meet his accusers. It was an alarming discovery to realise that he was not merely facing John and his friends, for whom he had no great respect, but others such as the Archbishop of Rouen and William the Marshal; and the fact that the King had given such special powers to the Archbishop of Rouen was very disconcerting.
He could not evade the meeting entirely and promised to be at the Lodden Bridge the following day. Just as he was about to depart one of his servants came hurrying to him with the news that his enemies were marching on London where they intended to take possession of the Tower. So instead of going to Lodden Bridge, surrounded by his troops, he set out for London. On the road he encountered the soldiers of his enemies and there was a clash but Longchamp and his men managed to fight their way through and proceeded with all speed to London.
They reached the Tower and shut themselves in. He was, after all, Longchamp reminded those about him, custodian of the Tower of London in the King’s name.
For three days he remained in the Tower but could hold out no longer.
His enemies then forced him to give up the keys not only of the Tower but of Windsor Castle. There was no help for it; one false step now could cost him his life. He must get out of England, back to Normandy and there begin to reform his life. He was not to leave England was the order, until the castles had changed hands, but he was determined to get away.
The best method seemed to be to disguise himself as a woman; and this he did. A woman pedlar would attract little attention and the fact that she had goods to sell would be a reason for her travelling.
He set out with two of his faithful servants and counted himself fortunate to reach Dover without mishap. Afraid to go near any town or hamlet they slept under trees and by great good fortune when they reached Dover they found that a ship would shortly be sailing for France.
Longchamp, burying his face in his cape and cowering beneath the skirts and petticoats was congratulating himself that he would soon be able to discard them when a group of fishermen came by.
One among them cried: ‘But see what a fair wench this is! What is she doing sitting here alone? I would fain share her company.’
‘You will go away,’ said Longchamp in a muffled voice.
The fisherman nudged one of his companions. ‘What airs she gives herself, this saucy wench, and what sort of wench is she that travels the country so . . . selling her wares? What wares? Tell me that, wench. Pray don’t play the coy virgin with me for I’ll have none of it.’ He seized the hood and tried to pull it off. Longchamp clung to it in terror. But they were too many for him, for the three companions of the fisherman had joined with him. ‘Such a coy creature must be immediately relieved of her coyness.’ They would every one of them be her tutors.
They were tearing at his clothes. Any moment now and he would be revealed. He could have wept with dismay. Desperately he fought back, but they were too much for him.
‘Why ’tis no maiden then!’ cried the first fisherman. ‘Look you here, what we have. A man . . . in disguise!’
They had made such a noise that others had gathered to look and one of them cried: ‘I know that face. It cannot be!’
‘He has the look of a monkey.’
‘’Tis Longchamp the Norman.’
So the secret was out.
They set three men to guard him while someone went to the castle.
Within an hour he was taken there, a prisoner.
When John heard the story of the amorous fishermen he roared with laughter.
Poor Longchamp! In danger of being raped. And to have got so far and then to be discovered . . . and by a fisherman!
It was the height of indignity. He could picture the ungainly little man.
‘His just deserts,’ he declared. ‘Let him go to France. We have no further use for him here.’
And so at the end of October of that year 1191 Longchamp left England for France.
Chapter XVI 
THE RETURN OF ELEANOR
Meanwhile Philip had returned to France. He had done the wise thing in coming back, he was well aware, but it was necessary to justify himself and he lost no time in doing so.
He smiled cynically as he ruminated on the new state of affairs. How fickle were human relationships, particularly it seemed such as those which had existed between himself and Richard! He had loved Richard passionately when they were young and Richard had been his hostage; now all sorts of emotions had mingled to change that love into hatred. His feeling for Richard was as strong as it had ever been and always would be. Richard obsessed him. He kept going over in his mind how Richard had allied himself with Tancred. How he had been bemused – as Philip expressed it – by Saladin. Wherever Richard was there was drama and excitement and when he was absent life became less colourful. There was an aura about the King of England which attracted not only the King of France but everyone who came into contact with him. It seemed one must either hate him or love him.
How could the King of France love the King of England? It had been different when Richard had been a Prince; they had not met on the same footing then and Philip, less handsome, less spectacular had been in the superior position. Now they were equals in power.
Philip had realised the state of his feelings when he had had an audience with the Pope on his way home. He had had to make excuses for his defection and he had been surprised by the vituperative storms of abuse which flowed from him.
Pope Celestine had been somewhat taken aback.
‘Holy Father,’ Philip had said, ‘it was imperative that I return. If I had not I should have died. I was so beset by fever that my hair fell out and my nails flaked off. I was delirious and a burden to my men. I could not lead them.’
‘I believe, my son,’ the Pope had replied, ‘that the King of England was similarly afflicted.’
‘His was a recurrent fever. It comes and passes. It was different with him.’
‘And you wished to return to the comforts of your court?’
‘I had my duties to my crown. My son is but a child. There could have been civil war in France had I died.’
‘The King of England is without an heir.’
This harping on the King of England had maddened Philip. Wherever he went there was no escape from Richard. Was he going to be haunted by him for the rest of his days?
He had cried out: ‘It is partly because of Richard that I found it necessary to go. His arrogance was causing strife throughout the armies. Leopold of Austria will bear me out and so will the Duke of Burgundy. Even the men were disgusted by his recklessness and extravagance. His severity to the men was without parallel.’
Philip had stopped suddenly. Celestine was looking at him with astonishment. Philip muttered: ‘I had to return because I have sworn an oath to protect my kingdom.’
‘Let us not forget,’ replied the Pope, ‘that this recklessness of the King of England may have been one of the reasons why Acre is now in the hands of the Christians and that we are a step nearer towards the Holy City.’
Philip bowed his head. He was glad when the audience was over. He knew he had not made a very good impression on the Pope. Richard seemed to cast his spell over everyone.
And he had returned home, brooding.
There was no need to justify his return in France. His ministers made it clear that he had acted wisely in coming back; and as some of them pointed out it was not a bad thing for the King of France to be in his dominions when the King of England was far from his.
He was warmly welcomed in Paris. Not that he had come back covered in glory. It would have been wonderful if he could have returned as the man who had brought Jerusalem back to Christians. Instead of that he must be content with the conquest of Acre, which he had achieved with Richard, who was certain to get the greater share of the glory.
The Cardinal of Champagne who had been regent in his absence assured him when they were alone that it was time he came back. He had shown his piety by going to the Holy Land; now France claimed his attention. Little Prince Louis was so young and with the King far from home there were certain to be those ambitious men who would seek to govern a child and rule a country.
Even to the Cardinal Philip must make his excuses.
‘I was close to death,’ he said, ‘and Richard was not to be trusted.’
His conscience smote him then. Richard might be arrogant, reckless, cruel . . . but untrustworthy, never. Hadn’t he teased him about his forthrightness, his lack of cunning?
‘An uneasy situation,’ agreed the Cardinal. ‘The King of France can never be on terms of real amity with the kings of England while they hold Normandy.’
‘He arranged the murder of Montferrat hoping that his man Guy de Lusignan might be King of Palestine, and then let it be rumoured that the Old Man of the Mountains was responsible.’
‘But Henry of Champagne now holds that post.’
‘’Tis so, for Richard was able to give his favourite Cyprus. He has a great fancy for this Guy,’ he added bitterly.
‘Suffice it, Sire, that you are back in France and with the King of England far away opportunities might arise.’
‘By God,’ cried Philip, ‘I would seize those opportunities.’
‘They are at hand, my lord.’
‘Is that so?’
‘We learn that John has his eyes on the throne.’
‘John! I was led to believe that his thoughts were all for extravagance and sporting with women.’
‘He still has time to dream of a crown. There is conflict between him and Longchamp.’
‘He’s a clever fellow, this Longchamp. I hear he rose from very humble beginnings to be virtually King of England.’
‘’Tis so, but his birth goes against him. He is not accepted by the people. He is ill-favoured – short of stature and malformed. Not a figure to win the acclaim of the people. Moreover he is a Norman and they prefer to be ruled by an Englishman. John is making much of the situation and particularly so since Richard made his compact with Tancred.
Philip’s face darkened. He remembered well his jealousy of Tancred and Richard. Richard had spent some time in Tancred’s castle and there they had made plans together.
‘Richard has offered Prince Arthur of Brittany to Tancred’s daughter and that means Arthur is heir to the throne of England – if Richard dies without issue, that is.’
‘Which is likely,’ said Philip smiling slowly. ‘He scarcely lived with Berengaria.’
‘Being most of the time with his army, I’ll swear.’
‘There were times when he could have had her with him, but he did not. He is not over fond of the company of women.’
‘He must realise it is necessary for him to get an heir.’
‘’Tis my belief that the matter is distasteful to him and therefore he consoles himself with the fact that Arthur can follow him. There is also John.’
‘It seems strange for a King to name another man’s son as heir when he is of the age to beget sons himself.’
‘But in a position to meet sudden death.’
‘All the more reason why he should spend much time with his wife.’
‘Ah, Richard is no ordinary man. What of this conflict between Longchamp and John?’
‘John wants Longchamp out of the country. It’s easy to see what he is after. He wants the throne. It would be good for France if he were to take it. He is weak; he is no soldier; I hear that his rages are terrible. With such a King on the throne of England . . . who knows what good could come to France?’
‘You are suggesting that I should form an alliance with John . . . against Richard?’
‘It would be the greatest good fortune for France. You could send for John. Offer him help in securing the crown. Why, Sire, trouble in England . . . in Normandy . . . is that not exactly what we have been praying for?’
Oh Richard, thought Philip, my love, my friend, I hate you now. John will take your kingdom from you. You will do your noble deeds in the Holy Land or perhaps meet your end. And it may be that one day you will come to me supplicating, humble, as it was when you were a hostage Prince and you and I were together as we have never been since.
‘There is your sister the Princess Alice,’ said the Cardinal.
‘Richard has treated her shamefully,’ cried Philip.
‘She is no longer young. It is an insult that Richard should put her aside that he might marry Berengaria although he had been betrothed to her in his youth.’
‘We came to an agreement that this should be,’ said Philip.
‘It does not alter the fact that a Princess of France was slighted. Why should she not even now be the Queen of England?’
‘How could she be that?’
‘If John were King and she married him.’
‘John is already married to Hadwisa of Gloucester.’
‘There is a blood tie. The Pope has never given them a dispensation. To set her aside would present no difficulty.’
Philip clasped his hands together. ‘It is a project which gives me great amusement.’
‘’Twould give more than that, Sire, were it to bear fruit. Richard deposed by John! We could do anything with John. In due course we could bring Normandy back to the French crown. Who knows we might even make England a vassal of France.’
‘I can scarcely wait. I shall send messengers to John without delay.’
Philip was excited. Richard could still dominate his life even when they were far apart.
John, in his castle of Lancaster, received the messengers from the King of France. When he heard what they had to say he was amazed and delighted.
The King of France was offering to be his ally. Glittering prospects stretched out ahead of him.
He sent at once for Hugh Nunant, the Bishop of Coventry, who, having received no favours from Richard, was eager to see John on the throne. Hugh looked for great advancement should this event come about and he was as excited as John.
‘With Philip on your side,’ he declared, ‘you cannot fail. This is a Heaven-sent opportunity. Richard must have offended Philip mightily to bring about this happy state of affairs.’
‘Such friends can become enemies and then the enmity between them exceeds the love they once had for each other. Philip hates Richard now and longs to bring about his downfall.’
‘Would you accept Alice?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘She is no longer young.’
‘There will be young girls to comfort me for that I doubt not.’
‘I doubt it not either,’ laughed Hugh. ‘But she was your father’s mistress remember.’
‘He had a great fondness for her. She must have been a worthy mistress to satisfy him. There was never a more lusty man than my father.’
‘She was young then.’
‘What care I! She is still the sister of the King of France.’
‘And bore him a child.’
‘Then she is fertile.’
‘Was fertile.’
‘Oh come, what is the marriage for but for the sake of Philip’s favour?’
‘It will be one of his conditions.’
‘And I’ll rid myself of my whimpering Hadwisa. That will not grieve me, as long as I keep a tight grip on her lands.’
‘We will arrange for that. And since you see the advantages that are being offered, it would seem we should set out for France without delay. Normandy will be yours and you will swear fealty to Philip. Do that and then I doubt not you can talk with him of how best to acquire the throne of England.’
‘Imagine Richard’s fury when he hears what is happening.’
‘It will madden him so much that he will doubtless return home.’
‘If he is not drowned on the way which I must confess would save a great deal of trouble. No matter. We will be ready for him. I will prepare to leave for France.’
Just at that time Queen Eleanor arrived back in England.
Having come, she was filled with misgiving. She had worked so hard to see her beloved son Richard King of England; in fact the greatest differences with her husband, which had resulted in those years of captivity, were in some measure due to him; and now that he had the crown he had left it for this romantic adventure abroad.
