Текст книги "The Lion of Justice"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
He caught her eventually, as she intended he should. It was in the grounds of the castle where any might have come upon them. It gave a certain fillip to the occasion which pleased
Nesta and afterwards lying on her back staring up at the blue sky she said: ‘Now you are satisfied.’
‘Never!’ he cried. ‘I could live a hundred years with you and never be satisfied.’
‘Alas, I cannot put you to that test.’
She was amused by her cousin. They made love in various parts of the grounds and in the countryside, in the castle and in their bedchambers.
Then Owen’s father called him home.
‘I cannot leave you.’ he told Nesta.
She was beginning to be a little disturbed by the fervent nature of this young man.
‘Your father calls for you.’
'I'll take you with me.’
‘You are talking nonsense. Of course I must stay here. What think you the King would say if he came riding by and found me gone?’
‘I care nothing for the King. I care only for you.’
‘Hush! That’s treason.’
‘I care nothing for treason.’
‘You would if the King had your eyes put out.’
That sobered him.
‘You would plead for me, Nesta.’
‘Perhaps.’ she answered gently.
He seized her hand. ‘Would he be angered? You must have had other lovers.’
‘Yes, I have had others.’
‘And he knows?’
‘We do not speak of such things. We are too worldly.’
‘And I am not? So you prefer him to me.’
‘He is the King.’
‘He married that Saxon woman. Did you know what they call them? Gaffer Goodrich and Goody Maude! She does good works and the King finds her very dull. Who would not seem dull after Nesta?’
‘I believe the King to be well satisfied with his Queen.’
‘She has given him two children. You, too. By the Saints, Nesta, you shall bear my children.’
‘It’s to be hoped not, cousin. I do not want too many little bastards about me.’
‘Nesta, you madden me.’
There was nothing to do but make love.
He was a fair lover but he was too young and impetuous and she was not ill pleased when he was finally obliged to leave.
* * * * *
She should have known that that would not be the end.
Instead of satisfying him that she was just one of many women she had convinced him, as she seemed to have convinced the King, that she was unique. She was sensuous in the extreme, sexual desires were as demanding in her as in her lovers, and try as she might she could never stop herself implying that to each one he was the best lover she had ever had; and as she was known to have had many this was the greatest compliment she could pay, and such a one that it never failed to increase a lover’s ardour.
Cadwgan, father of Owen, had heard rumours of what had happened during his son’s sojourn at Carew Castle and knowing full well the unequalled charms of its chatelaine he was well aware of the effect she would have had had on Owen. Therefore he would not allow his son to visit the castle again.
The desperate Owen sent one of his servants to the castle to entreat Nesta to come to him.
‘He declares,’ said the messenger, ‘that he is mad for love of you. If you will come with me I will take you to him and he will defy the whole country including the King, and he will take you where you can live in peace.’
‘Go and tell him he is indeed mad.’ said Nesta. ‘We have had a pleasant friendship but it is over now. Tell him to obey his father for he is very young and he must forget me.’
The messenger shook his head and said: ‘My lady he will never accept that.’
Nesta was then a little uneasy and she was watchful night and day for what folly her cousin might commit.
* * * * *
Nesta awoke. Something had startled her. She looked at Gerald sleeping beside her.
Yes, there were shouts from below. She ran to the window and called down: ‘What is happening down there?’
One of the grooms looked up. ‘My lady, it is young Owen, son of Cadwgan, who is below.’
She ran to the door and drew the heavy bolt. Then she turned to Gerald who was sitting up in bed.
‘Owen is here. He is storming the castle.’
‘For what purpose?’
Poor old man! Did he not guess?
‘I think he has come for me. Dress quickly. There is no time to lose.’
‘What shall we do?’
‘He may kill you. He is a reckless, foolish young man. I would he had never come here.’
Gerald was trembling and she felt a compassion for him. Poor Gerald, he had had to marry her because the King commanded it. And trust Henry to choose an old man who could not rival him!
And now if that headstrong Owen forced his way in, which he undoubtedly would, and saw Gerald in her bed he might be capable of any act of folly.
Already he was trying the door. Finding it locked he hammered on it.
‘What do you want?’ cried Nesta.
‘You know full well. I come for you.’
‘Get you gone.’
‘When you come with me.’
‘I am in bed with my husband.’
‘I will run him through and take his place.’
‘I shall not come out. You can never break down the iron door. Go away. It will go ill with you if you do not.’
‘I have vowed to myself that I will not leave here without you.’
She turned to Gerald who was hastily throwing on some clothes.
‘This hot-headed young fool will do us an injury,’ said Nesta.
‘We are safe here,’ said Gerald. ‘He can never break down the door. It is especially made for attack such as this. It is of iron.’
There was silence from without.
‘He has gone away,’ said Gerald.
But this was not so.
They heard Owen’s voice suddenly. ‘If you do not come out I will burn you out.’
‘You cannot.’
‘I will. I will set fire to this room. I will burn you out like rats.’
‘He cannot mean this.’ said Gerald.
‘He does. He is a young man gone mad!’
She set about pulling up some of the floor boards for she knew that under the chamber was a passage through which her husband could escape.
‘Come then.’ he said.
‘Nay.’ she answered, ‘if I do not go out he will burn down the house. There are the children to consider.’
So Gerald concealed himself and Nesta unlocked the door and stepped out as Owen stood there, a blazing firebrand in his hand.
‘You are mad.’ she cried.
‘Yes.’ he answered, handing the burning brand to one of his men. ‘Made mad by my desire for you.’
With that he forced her into the bedchamber. He saw the disarranged bed and as he flung himself upon her he said: ‘So your gallant husband has escaped me. Never mind. I have that for which I came.’
‘This could cost your life.’ she told him.
‘It was worth it.’
‘You’ll not say that when the irons enter your eyes.’
‘I would say it if they flayed me alive.’
‘You are a young fool.’
‘I love you, Nesta. No woman will do for me but you.’
‘So you would take me by force?’
‘If the need arose. But it did not. You were willing. Don’t deny it. Now I shall take you away with me.’
‘Abduct me!’
‘You do not think I came here to stay.’
‘There will be trouble, Owen.’
‘Let there be.’
‘You are not considering what this could mean.’
‘Come away with me and you will see.’
‘If I refuse?’
‘Then I must needs bind you and carry you off.’
‘I will come.’ she said, ‘on one condition.’
‘Name it.’
‘That I bring my boys with me and those of my husband’s previous marriage.’
‘What do you want with them?’
‘Two of them are mine and the others are their playmates. I want them with me.’
‘They shall come. See how I indulge your whims.’
‘Well, do you intend to carry me off now or spend the night in this bed?’
‘Not the whole night,’ he answered.
* * * * *
‘There is trouble in Wales,’ said the King.
Matilda raised her eyebrows. Real trouble, she wondered, or just the desire to see the lady of Carew Castle?
‘And you must needs go to settle the matter, I doubt not?’
‘That is so. Two houses are warring together.’
‘Can they not settle their own differences?’
‘My dear Matilda, you know that aught that happens in this country is my concern.’
She did not ask what the trouble was but she noticed that he went off with that expression of expectancy which she had begun to associate with his visits to Wales.
It was not long before she learned the truth. Nesta again I Sometimes she wished she could see this woman for herself. At others she was glad that she could not. She knew that the rest of his mistresses were in truth of little importance in the King’s life. Not so Nesta.
Her attendant and friend Gunilda whispered to her that the war which was being waged on the Welsh border was due to a woman. She did not mention the woman’s name but Matilda knew.
‘Why should they be quarrelling over this woman?’ she asked.
‘Her cousin came and abducted her. He was so maddened by his love for her that he was ready to risk his life. His father is furious with him and the lady’s husband enjoys great favour since...since...since...’
Matilda said: ‘I understand. This woman is another Helen of Troy.’
Another Helen! she thought; and how can I hope to compete with her?
Henry came back from Wales—reluctant she knew to leave this Circe.
‘So you have settled this matter of war in Wales?’ she asked him.
He had, he told her.
‘And the lady is returned to her husband?’
He nodded, still smiling, the magic of those hours spent with Nesta still clinging to him.
At such times Matilda went to her nursery and there she stayed with her children. They soothed the hurt which would never quite heal. In time she promised herself she would forget the ridiculous romantic dream that had once seemed reality to her. She would live for the children.
Triumph in Normandy
In Normandy Robert was fulminating against his brother. He had been tricked out of his pension, he declared. He had been plied with wine and then lured into relinquishing it. He would be revenged.
Henry, listening to such reports, was delighted. He wanted Normandy. He could never forget his father’s deathbed prophecy that he should have all that his brothers had and more. The Conqueror had meant of course that Henry would have England and Normandy.
Normandy, he hold his ministers, was in a state of wild disorder. The country was ruled not so much by his brother as by barons like Robert of Bellême who terrorized the countryside. To take Normandy would be an act of clemency. It would be tantamount to a Holy Crusade. The people of Normandy deserved the good rule which those of England enjoyed under their Lion of Justice.
He decided first to put out tentative feelers. Would Robert be prepared to sell him Normandy? To offer a pension would be a little ironical at the moment when Robert was just considering himself cheated out of the one he already laid claim to; but Robert could always be tempted by money. He was always in need of it because when he had it he squandered it on gifts given in unwary moments, or on extravagant clothes and living, and women of course.
‘Robert is ruler in name only.’ he said, knowing that his remarks would be carried back to the Duke.
Robert was incensed when he heard this and railed bitterly against his trickster brother.
Henry’s ministers warned him that to buy Normandy, even if Robert agreed, would mean excessive taxation. The money would have to come from somewhere.
Less taxation would be needed to pay Robert a sum of money than to make war in Normandy, Henry pointed out. The people would be made to see this.
‘The people might think that life is becoming good in England so why consider Normandy.’
‘Because Normandy was my father’s Duchy. Because men such as Robert of Bellême are ruining it. Because Robert is unfit to rule. And because I want it.’
That was a good enough reason for Henry; and as Robert was not ready to come to terms with him, he prepared to go to war.
* * * * *
The people hated the taxes but they remembered Robert of Bellême who had briefly terrorized the countryside. Henry had made sure that they understood what this war was about. He had delivered his people from the wicked Baron and banished him to Normandy where he expected his brother to act as he had. But Robert had not done this. He had been unable to. Consequently Robert of Bellême flourished. He had the ascendancy over Duke Robert and it could be said that he ruled Normandy. He would very soon be turning his eyes to England. Before he was in a position to do that Henry was going to make war on Normandy. He was going to take it from his brother; he was going to set up there the just laws he had made in England and crush the Bellêmes forever. The people must decide that they would willingly pay their taxes (for their taxes would be taken no matter what methods must be employed) remembering the threat of Robert of Bellême.
The people paid their taxes with less trouble than had been anticipated. And in a few months the King was ready to set sail for Normandy.
He talked earnestly to Matilda. ‘Oh, what a comfort it is to me to know that I can leave the country in such worthy hands.’
She was eager to show herself worthy.
‘There is one whose services I could wish were at your disposal, my dear. Anselm. He is a stubborn man but a good one and would be of use to you. All this time we are without an Archbishop of Canterbury. It is not seemly.’
‘But you are still in disagreement with him.’
‘I shall see him and we may come to some understanding. It would please me if he returned to England and was at your side to support you during my absence. My sister Adela is very anxious for me to see him. So I will call on her at Blois and if I can succeed in breaking down his stubbornness I will send him back.’
‘Yes,’ said Matilda, ‘he is a good man.’
At a solemn ceremony Henry invested Matilda with the Regency and Matilda went with him to Dover to see him embark.
He embraced her warmly as he said farewell.
‘Always remember, Matilda,’ he said, ‘that I was happy in my marriage.’
She cried out in alarm: ‘You talk as though you are not coming back.’
‘Nay, do not say such things. My men would think them unlucky. Of course I shall return. You forget my father’s prophecy. I am to have more than either of my brothers. This is what he means. Normandy will be mine as well as England. Have no fear, Matilda, I shall return.’
‘I shall wait for you.’
‘I can trust you with my crown, my heart and my life.’
And at least she knew that at that time he would not have substituted her for Nesta.
* * * * *
In the castle at Blois Henry’s sister Adela received him joyfully.
Adela was the fourth daughter of the Conqueror, who had married Stephen of Blois and Chartres. She had inherited the family ambition and believed that if Henry conquered Normandy it would be to the advantage of the family. Robert was charming in his way but he was unfit to rule, while Henry had proved himself to possess his father’s flair. She was proud of Henry and she knew their father would have been.
Adela liked to have a hand in affairs and she it was who now contrived the meeting between Anselm and Henry for she knew that it was not advisable for the Archbishop of Canterbury to be in exile and such a state of affairs could lead to the excommunication of Henry which would not be a good thing.
She had arranged entertainments for her brother while he was at the castle but Henry was eager to begin the first stages of his campaign against his brother and did not intend to stay long. He did not wish Robert to have too much time to amass an army. Not that he believed he could very easily for he would lack the money. But men such as Robert of Bellême would be determined to drive Henry back and they were the real enemies.
Adela understood immediately and told him that she could arrange for a meeting between himself and Anselm at the Castle of L’Aigle the very next day.
‘Then let it be so.’ said Henry.
After that he could enjoy an evening in the company of his sister and her family.
She was about four years older than Henry and because of this apt to play the big sister. Henry remembered well how angry she had been when Simon Crispin, the Earl of Amiens, had rejected her.
Simon had been a handsome young knight at the Conqueror’s Court and the match had been arranged to everyone’s satisfaction in the first place. But as the time for the wedding grew near, Simon had gone into deep melancholy, and much to the fury of the family had declared that he could not marry because he had chosen the monastic life.
Poor Adela, she had raged—for like most of the family she had inherited their father’s temper—but she was soothed when Stephen of Blois was found for her, although Henry did not believe she had ever really recovered from the slight she considered Simon Crispin had subjected her to. As a result she had grown very dominating but Henry quickly showed her that she could not treat the King of England as her little brother.
There was no doubt that she admired his achievements in England and that she eagerly seized on all news she could get of her brother’s country.
‘Henry,’ she said, ‘I am so eager for you to meet the children. I am rather proud of them.’
Of course, Henry said, he must meet them. He was interested in his nephews and nieces.
They were brought to Henry and he found pleasure in talking to them. He was particularly interested in the third son, Stephen, who was about seven or eight years old. He was such a handsome, bright little fellow.
‘Well, young sir,’ said Henry, ‘what are you going to be when you grow up?’
Stephen said he would be a soldier and a king like his Uncle Henry.
‘Why so?’ asked Henry. ‘Do you think then that it is such a great thing to be a king?’
‘Yes.’ said Stephen. ‘I would like to be a king like you.’
Henry was delighted. ‘That is a bright boy.’ he told Adela.
‘I have been wondering if he could be brought up in England.’ suggested Adela.
Henry considered this. ‘I would consult Matilda.’
Adela raised her eyebrows.
‘Does she dictate these matters?’
‘I look after the State; she looks after the home.’
‘This would be a matter of State.’ said Adela.
Henry smiled at his sister.
‘You need have no fear that I would not look after my nephew’s interests.’
‘There might be members of her family whom she would put before him.’
‘You do not know Matilda. Her interests are mine.’
‘I can think of some fields in which her interest—or her knowledge—may not penetrate.’
‘Now, Adela, you play the censorious sister. Desist, I pray you. I am as I am and Matilda knows this well. If she accepts this, you assuredly must.’
‘A court follows the morals of its king.’
‘Then those who follow me will be discreet and brook no interference from their families.’
‘Guard your temper, Henry. You look just like our father when you frown! Do you remember how we used to tremble when we saw that look on his face?’
‘I remember well and as I am so like him those who perceive my frown perforce should tremble.’
‘Come, no quarrels. This is a reunion to which I have long looked forward. Will you, in due course, take my son Stephen into your court? Will you look to his future which could be greater in England than it is in Blois? Henry, will you do this for your sister?’
‘If she asks I may well. If she demands, most certainly I shall not.’
‘Then she asks most humbly.’
‘Her request is granted.’
‘In a few years then my Stephen shall join your Court to be brought up with your Matilda and little William.’
‘That affair is settled,’ said Henry.
* * * * *
In the castle of d’Aigle Anselm awaited the King.
Henry went forward and took his hands in his.
By the saints, he thought, the man has aged.
‘Anselm,’ said the King, ‘it has been a long time since we met.’
‘On your insistence, my lord.’
‘We have had our differences. Should we not try to solve them?’
‘I have always wished to solve them.’
‘So have I. But you must admit, Archbishop, that you have been somewhat intransigent.’
‘The Church would say that of you, sir.’
‘Oh, the Church and the State, this perpetual quarrel.’
‘The Church must claim its dues, my lord.’
‘And so must the Crown. Let us speak seriously and frankly together. For settle our differences we should. You have excommunicated several of my bishops; you have even threatened to censure me.’
‘With just cause, sir.’
‘That I cannot admit.’
‘And therein lie our differences.’
‘Which must be settled. It is not meet that an archbishop should desert his flock. That must not be allowed to continue. You are lacking in your duty if not to me, to those who need you.’
Anselm replied that he knew this to be so but while the Church and the State were in conflict he could not return.
‘I will agree to a settlement of our difference,’ said the King. ‘If you will concede a little to me I will so do to you. You must withdraw the penalties you have placed on churchmen because they obeyed my laws. As my subjects you and your priests must do homage to the Crown. In all temporal matters they and you must bow to my will. If you will agree to this I will not claim spiritual investiture.’
Anselm was thoughtful. He said he would lay this before the Pope and if permission was given for him to do so, he would comply with Henry’s terms.
The Pope! thought Henry. It was always the Pope. There was a big conflict beginning to grow between the temporal rulers of the world and the man who thought himself above them all—the Pope!
He narrowed his eyes and studied Anselm. He wanted him back in England; he wanted to pursue his Norman campaign. So he did not give vent to his irritation. He nodded slowly and said: ‘Do this then and when you have your overlord’s permission to accept my terms, inform the Queen that you will be returning to England.’
Henry then left for the first stage of his campaign against his brother. He had not planned to make immediate war. He was too clever for that. What he would first do was establish himself in his own stronghold of Domfront and reinforce his position while he sounded some of the more important barons as to whether they would be responsive to bribes in exchange for their help.
Once he had sown the seeds he would return to England and prepare for the main attack.
* * * * *
Matilda was at Dover where she was awaiting the arrival of Anselm.
She was shocked by his appearance. He was indeed an old man.
She welcomed him warmly and he returned her greeting with pleasure. They had always been friends since he had called his council and proved to the country that she had never taken the veil. He knew her for a good and pious woman; he had heard of her Lenten activities and he thought her a noble spouse and a good influence on her more worldly husband.
‘I know that you and the King have settled your differences.’ she told him, ‘and this affords me great pleasure.’
‘Ah, my lady.’ he replied, ‘it is not as simple as that. We have made a compromise and I trust that in future the King and I will have less cause for disagreement.’
‘I am sure the King is delighted by your return to office as so many good people will be. Let us hope that you can now continue in harmony.’
‘We will pray for it.’ he told her.
When she heard that both he and Henry had decided that celibacy must be enforced throughout the clergy she immediately thought of those who had already entered into the married state.
She questioned Anselm on this matter and he told her that this was a rule which all clergy would have to obey and it had been a source of great disquiet to him that in the past the lower members of the Church had been able to obtain licences to marry.
She argued: ‘I understand of course that this rule is made and therefore those who enter the church must comply with it, but I think of those already married. What can you do. Unmarry them?’
‘In marrying they have already offended the laws of Holy Church. There is only one course open now. Excommunication.’
‘But what will they do? They depend for their livelihood upon the Church. They are trained for the Church. If they are driven out they will have nothing.’
‘It will be a lesson to others. They sought to satisfy the lusts of the flesh. Now they must pay the price.’
‘But to enter into holy matrimony...’
‘A priest is a priest.’ said Anselm. ‘Matrimony is no concern of his. He knows this and in the past asked for a licence to marry. It was given him though it never should have been and he took it. Now he must pay the price.’
The Queen sighed. How hard were men! Henry who did not even need matrimony to satisfy his desires was ready to forbid priests to marry at all I Anselm of course had never wished to, being wedded to the Church; but did neither of them ever think of the hardship these priests would endure when cast out of office and mayhap forced with their families to beg for bread?
She decided that Anselm looked too frail to make the journey to London so she herself would travel on ahead of him to ease his journey by making sure that there should be good lodging for him on the road.
When Henry returned she would plead with him not to be harsh on the poor clergy who now found that they had erred unwittingly against the new law of the Church.
* * * * *
The King returned to England pleased with the first stages of his campaign. A less able general might have been misguided enough to continue the fight. Not so Henry. He had made valuable headway; he had ascertained that several barons in strategic positions were ready to betray Robert if satisfactorily bribed. Bayeux and Caen had surrendered to him. He had garrisoned them and they would hold firm until his return which would not be long delayed. He needed just enough time to raise more money and a bigger army. Then he would go into the attack once more.
Matilda met him at Dover. He looked in fine spirits and was glad to be back with her. She had proved a good Regent in his absence and once more he congratulated himself on his marriage.
The homecoming was marred for Matilda by the sight of members of the clergy who had come in a sad procession to waylay the royal party as it passed through the streets of London.
Such a sorry sight brought the tears to Matilda’s eyes. Rarely had she seen such desperation in any face as she saw in those of this displaced clergy. Their feet were bare but they wore their clerical robes and they chanted as they went: ‘Have pity on us.’
These were the members of the clergy who had married and were now excommunicated and deprived of their livelihood because of it.
‘Oh, Henry.’ said Matilda, ‘could you not take them back? Make this rule for the future if you must but those who have already married when it was not illegal to do so should not be blamed.
‘You don’t understand.’ said Henry. ‘Too much is at stake.’
‘Surely a little pity.’
‘Be silent, Matilda. This cannot be. It is one of the conditions the Church has made. If I waive it the trouble will start again. I can’t afford trouble with the Church while I’m engaged with Normandy.’
One of the priests was trying to kneel beside the King’s horse.
‘Out of the way!’ shouted Henry, and the man fell backwards onto the cobbles.
But some of those who pressed near had seen the compassion in Matilda’s face and one man came close to her horse and said, ‘Lady, you could plead for us with the King. You could save us.’
‘If I could.’ she said, ‘I would do so. But I dare not.’
They fell back in despair and for Matilda this could only be a sad occasion because she could not get out of her mind the faces of those miserable priests.
There was another matter which gave her great cause for sorrow. Her Uncle Edgar, of whom she had always been very fond, and who had accompanied Robert of Normandy on his crusade to the Holy Land, was now ranged on his side against Henry.
Edgar was the kindest of men, extremely cultivated but he was no fighter; and she trembled to think what his fate might be if he during the coming battles fell into her husband’s hands.
* * * * *
Henry’s stay in England was brief. He did not wish to delay too long. There must be just time to augment his army and prepare it for the campaign in which he was determined to capture Normandy.
Matilda once more accompanied him to the coast and waved him farewell.
She returned then to her children and the management of the country’s affairs. One of the most pleasant of these tasks was the building of Windsor Castle, and she spent many a happy hour with Gundulph the architect, who was also a bishop, discussing the plans for this magnificent edifice.
She was also concerned with adding to the Tower of London. Rufus had built the imposing White Tower which had been an impressive addition; she and Henry were putting in the royal apartments. Henry had said that his father would be delighted if he could see what a superb building they were making of his original fortress.
She prayed for Henry’s success, never entirely forgetting that this would mean the defeat of Robert. He had charmed her, this feckless brother-in-law, and she would always feel guilty because of the part she had played in robbing him of his pension, but she must remember that the people of Normandy were suffering under the tyranny of men such as Robert of Bellême and it was from this that Henry was rescuing them. Everyone must admire what he had done for England, as all admitted the just rule of his father, be they Norman or Saxon.
Henry had talked to her about the poor state of the clergy and expressed his sorrow at their state.
‘But you will understand.’ he told her, ‘that in ruling a country one faces many important issues; and it is sometimes necessary to shut one’s eyes to the injustice done to a few in order to protect the interests of many.’
He had convinced her. She would add to her charities; she would see that a great deal of the money she gave should go to indigent clergy. She must not blame Henry. But this was a little difficult to remember after a conversation with her women Emma and Gunilda.
Matilda had just received a visit from Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, who was that priest who had first appealed to Henry because he said the mass in record time and so released Henry from the irksome business of spending too much time on it. Roger had risen high in the King’s favour and the bishopric was a result of this. He was clever, astute and fast becoming a very rich man.
Matilda said: ‘The King is far-seeing. It is amazing that not long ago the Bishop was but a humble priest of Caen and the King, after a short acquaintance with him, realized his powers and now he is of great assistance in the governing of the country during my husband’s absence.’
