The Lion of Justice

Текст добавлен: 8 сентября 2016, 22:19

Текст книги "The Lion of Justice"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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‘I feel I have no right to it.’

Stephen surveyed William intently. William was too gentle, too honest for kingship^ he decided. He wondered what would happen to the kingdom under him. He would be his close friend and cousin and William would honour him. Their lives would be bound together. How often had he wished that he had been Henry’s son instead of his nephew; being older than William he would have been the heir. Sometimes he thought that Henry wished that too.

‘You have a right to what has been honourably won in battle.’ said Stephen.

‘This horse pines for its master.’

‘It would soon forget.’

‘I think not.’

William continued to stroke the horse. ‘You see, he does not respond to me. He resents me. There is only one thing he wants from me and that is that I should send him back to the master he loves.’

Stephen laughed aloud at the thought; but William turned on him almost angrily. ‘That is what I am going to do.’ he said.

Stephen stared in dismay. ‘Your father...’

‘I shall do it first and he will hear of it when it is done.’

He called a groom and said, ‘I want this horse taken into the enemy’s camp. It is to be delivered to William the Clito with my compliments.’

The groom thought the Prince had gone mad, but one did not question one’s master’s orders; one obeyed them.

* * * * *

The King said: ‘So you sent the horse back?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘With a fortune on its back!’

‘I am not a thief, my lord.’

‘You are a fool,’ said Henry. ‘A man is not a thief for enjoying the spoils of war.’

‘I could not in good conscience take it.’

‘William, you are a fool.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And fools do not rule kingdoms.’

‘But a man must be at peace with himself, sir, and if he is not how can he hope to be at peace with others? Peace is necessary to the prosperity of any land and to have kept my cousin’s horse would have seemed to me a violation of the rules of chivalry.’

Henry said: ‘Go, my son, I will think of what you say.’

Surprised, William left him. His father’s reception of the news had been much milder than he had believed possible.

Was he perhaps in a subdued mood because of the Queen’s death, or did he in fact understand?

Later Henry spoke to him of the matter. ‘I believe you were right to send back the horse.’ he said.

The expression of affection on his son’s face was rewarding.

‘I am not sure about the rich caparisons.’

‘Nay, father, to have returned the horse without them would have seemed to me churlish.’

Henry nodded. Then he laughed aloud. ‘My son,’ he said, ‘you have noble thoughts. You and I will spend more time together. You will have to learn when to be generous as you have been this day and when it is necessary to be harsh. This gesture was not without merit although it has lost us the cost of those jewels. But our enemies will see with what men they have to deal and that is not a bad thing. They will know us to be just and virtuous in our thoughts. It may be that your actions will bring those who are wavering to our side. Then it would be worthwhile, as you see.’

William did see, but his father’s motives and his were not quite the same.

‘So,’ went on Henry, ‘we have lost a valuable horse and his splendid accoutrements. Let us hope we have gained in good will. But you have done this thing without consulting me and it would seem that you now fancy yourself as a man capable of rule. Well, then, it is time you married. The ceremony must be delayed no longer. I fear your father-in-law may grow restive. Your wife is young...twelve years old, but Matilda went to her German Emperor at that age.’

‘I would lief wait awhile, father.’

‘Come, you are a laggard. And we cannot wait on your whims. This marriage must take place without delay. We have routed the enemy; now we must consolidate our gains. I need the help of Fulk of Anjou and only when his daughter and my son are wed can I be sure of it. We shall leave for Burgundy forthwith and there a very impatient young bride will be awaiting her husband.’

* * * * *

She was very young and her name was Alice, although the King said that he wished her to be known as Matilda.

‘It will give me great pleasure if this be done,’ said the King, ‘for deeply do I mourn my beloved and virtuous Queen.

And it will give her pleasure if when looking down from Heaven she sees her son married to another Matilda. My mother too was Matilda, my wife was Matilda, though she was christened Edith, and this beautiful child, this Alice, shall be another Matilda too.’

Fulk did not care what his daughter was called as long as she was the future Queen of England.

As for the girl herself, she was so enamoured of the handsome, gentle youth who was to be her husband that she was as happy to change her name to Matilda as her father was for her to do so.

In the town of Lisieux there were great celebrations. Fulk was delighted with the honours done to him and that he had succeeded in making a brilliant match for his daughter. The King was under no illusion. He knew that this marriage was the price Fulk asked for his loyalty but he felt it was wise to pay it.

The young couple were charming to look upon and there was great revelry in the neighbourhood for everyone hoped that this marriage would bring the peace they so desired.

William was tender with his little bride, aware of her extreme youth. His cousin Stephen chided him and said that he was no husband, but William had no intention of frightening the child.

‘‘Tis a pity,’ said Stephen, ‘that we cannot marry where we will.’ He was thinking of another Matilda, such a one as he had never known before, nor ever would, and his young meek Matilda who was now his wife. So many Matildas and all different! Only one was bold and exciting and what was she doing now? He did hear that her husband was indulgent towards her. Stephen laughed. Poor old man, trust Matilda to make sure of that. She was popular with her husband’s German subjects. She spoke German well; she was cheered when she rode into the streets.

He could imagine her, bold, proud and exciting Matilda!

If he could have married her...If William had been killed in battle and the King too and Matilda were Queen of England and she married Stephen...

He was being foolish, indulging in impossible dreams; but in dreams he often saw a glittering crown that was being put on his head.

It was ridiculous. How could it possibly happen? There were too many in between, so he must be content with the lands his uncle would give him, and he must try to be satisfied with his mild little Matilda. There were other women and always would be. He would follow his uncle in his way of life. Others had done so before him. He and Matilda must get children and he would obtain grants and blessings for them from his uncle; and his cousin he guessed would be even more generous when he came to the throne.

It was a promising future, but he was near enough to the crown to covet it and not near enough to be able to grasp it.

And so he gave himself up to the revelry and often his nights were charmed by some fair maiden of Burgundy. His little wife was safe in England, no doubt longing for his return. That would not be long delayed for the King had been away from England for more than a year.

Matilda the Queen had died; and William the Prince was married.

It was time the royal party returned to England to assure themselves that all was well there.

The White Ship

Henry could congratulate himself. For the time being at least there was peace in Normandy. He had friends in useful places and he could afford to return to England from which he had been away for two years.

With his cavalcade he arrived at Barfleur where his ships were waiting to carry him home. Among these was the beautiful White Ship undoubtedly one of the finest in his fleet. He was filled with pride as he watched her dancing on the waters.

He was in his tent making the last preparations for leaving which he liked to superintend himself and which gave him a chance a display his special talent and to assure himself that all details were correct when the captain of the White Ship asked for an audience.

Captain Fitz-Stephen was a man he respected and Henry was pleased to hear what he had to say.

‘I have a request to make, my lord,’ he said.

‘Well then, make it,’ replied the King.

‘I would like the honour of carrying the heir to the throne to England, sir.’

Henry who had planned to sail in the White Ship himself was momentarily silent. He could not sail in the same vessel as his son. That was a rule he had made and it seemed fitting to him that the King should sail in the finest ship.

‘My lord,’ went on Fitz-Stephen, ‘my father was captain of your father’s ship the Mora, and he had the honour, of which he talked often, of carrying Great William to England in the year 1066.’

‘That was before I was born, Captain.’

‘Ay, sire, and he never forgot it. He made a sea captain of me and he said that he hoped one day I should enjoy as great an honour. If I could but take the Prince of England, sire, my father would look down in such pride that the angels would sing for us.’

Henry laughed.

‘So you would carry the Prince, not the King.’

‘I would follow your wishes, my lord.’

‘But you asked to carry the Prince.’

‘It came to me that I would like to carry the heir of England.’

‘So be it,’ said the King. ‘I will not travel on the White Ship but will sail with my men. Let the Prince sail on that ship and choose those of his friends whom he would wish to accompany him. I wish to sail with my gallant soldiers who have helped me to win this victory.’

Fitz-Stephen bowed and left to make his preparation.

Then Henry thought of all he had heard of that great occasion when his father had set sail in the Mora, the ship which his mother had built for him and presented to him for the great enterprise. He had often studied the work on the tapestry which was now in the Bayeux Cathedral and which had been worked by his mother.

How many times had he heard the story of that great Conquest which had changed the course of his family’s history and made kings of them and which was a great example never to be forgotten?

Well, his father would smile on him this day.

He went down to the shore and watched the ships being loaded. Very soon they would sail for England.

* * * * *

They would sail at the end of the day with the tide and if the wind was with them they would soon see the white cliffs of home.

William was happy to be going home. He had left his bride behind in France. Poor child, she had wept at their parting.

But she was so young. When he returned to her side she would be more of an age to be a wife.

He was touched that Fitz-Stephen had begged for the honour of conveying him and the Captain told him that all the members of the crew were celebrating because they were to have the honour of taking him to England. He said at once that he would choose who should accompany him and immediately went to Stephen.

‘I am to sail in the White Ship,’ he told his cousin. ‘You will accompany me, will you not?’

‘With pleasure,’ replied Stephen. ‘She is the greatest ship in the fleet. I wonder your father does not sail in her.’

‘Fitz-Stephen asked that he might take me and my father will sail with his soldiers. He wishes to show them that he appreciates all they have done in Normandy. So I am choosing my companions. I shall ask Richard and the Countess of Perche. That will please my father.’

Stephen nodded. Richard and the Countess Matilda of Perche belonged to the King’s numerous family and it always pleased Henry to see them honoured.

William then began to enumerate the friends he had decided to take with him on the White Ship. They were all young men. He said: ‘We will have a very merry time and there shall be much revelry aboard.’

Because he wished the crew to know how delighted he was to sail with them he ordered three casks of wine to be sent on board for them before they started.

Consequently there was much merrymaking on the White Ship all that day and every sailor drank the Prince’s health not once but many times.

* * * * *

‘The afternoon was coming to its end.

Stephen went on board. He could hear the sounds of singing coming from below. The ship reeked of wine.

He found William and said: ‘Many of the crew are drunk. They are in no fit state to take the ship across the sea.’

‘Nay,’ cried William, ‘we have the best ship in the fleet.’

‘Of what use a fine ship with a drunken crew?’

‘Fitz-Stephen is the best captain afloat. Are you suggesting he cannot manage his ship? His father took the Conqueror across on that all famous occasion.’

‘I’ll warrant the crew of the Mora were not drunk.’

William laughed aloud. ‘By all I hear of my grandfather he himself was never in that state.’

‘Nay, and he was said to be the wisest of men.’ Stephen was thoughtful. ‘I have changed my mind, William. I shall not sail on the White Ship.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I like not to sail with a drunken crew.’

‘They will stop their merrymaking when we sail.’

‘They’ll be too fuddled for anything by the look of them. Nay, William, I’ll not sail on the White Ship and if you are wise now you will wait until tomorrow.’

‘What mean you? I have promised myself that we shall be the first to reach England.’

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish you a good voyage.’

‘You cannot really mean you are leaving us!’

‘I shall join the King’s ship.’

‘What has come over you?’

‘Just the notion that I will not sail this time in the White Ship:

‘You’re joking. I know you.’

‘Nay, I shall leave you now.’

‘You’ll be back before we sail. Don’t leave it too long, Stephen.’

Stephen did not answer but went ashore.

When he turned and looked at the vessel he thought it-looked like a ghost ship.

* * * * *

‘Come,’ cried William. ‘I have sworn we shall be the first to reach England. Is she not the finest ship in the fleet?’

‘She is my lord,’ said the Captain. ‘But she is doing all she can.’

‘She’ll be beaten at this rate. I have promised the men...I have promised myself. The oars must increase their speed.’

‘Not easy, my lord.’

‘But they must.’

In ten minutes the order had been given. All the sails were out; the oarsmen were pulling with all their might.

The Captain was disturbed, for he believed this high speed was putting the ship into danger.

He tried to remonstrate but the Prince and his young friends were delighting in the speed. They were taking wagers as to by how long they would beat the rest of the fleet.

The distracted Captain urged them to be reasonable. The White Ship was known to be the fleetest on the seas. She would be home first. He was sure of it.

‘Captain.’ cried Richard, son of the King, ‘I have a wager with the Countess my sister on this. I cannot afford to lose. For my pocket and the honour of the ship do not slow her down.’

‘My lords, my lords.’ cried the distraught Captain. ‘We are not yet free of the rocks. I beg of you do not ask me to act against my judgment.’

But it was already too late for the White Ship had struck one of the sharpest of the rocks.

‘The Catte raze!’ cried the Captain. ‘By God, my ship will founder.’

He called: ‘To the boats.’ His one thought was to save the life of the heir to the throne.

The ship was filling rapidly with water; she would sink at any moment. There was no hope of saving everyone on board. But the Prince must be saved.

With great relief the Captain saw one of the boats lowered and the Prince with some of his companions climb into it.

‘Get away fast!’ shouted Fitz-Stephen. ‘Back to Barfleur. You can do it.’

They were away.

* * * * *

William looked back in dismay at the sinking ship.

The men were pulling at the oars trying to get clear of the vessel, knowing that if they could do so in time there was a chance of saving their lives.

William could hear the sound of crying.

‘It is terrible.’ he said to his brother Richard. ‘We are safe but those souls are in danger.’

‘Look.’ said Richard, ‘there is our sister.’

It was true. The Countess of Perche was clinging to the rail on a deck which would be swamped at any moment.

‘Brothers! William...Richard...’ Pier arms were stretched out appealingly.

‘We dare not go back, my lords.’ said one of the boat men. ‘We’ll be caught up and dragged down if we attempt it.’

‘But we cannot leave my sister I’ cried William.

‘‘Tis death to attempt to go back, sir. We ourselves are in danger even now. We must get away from the ship without a second’s delay if we are to save our lives.’

‘Nay,’ replied William. ‘We cannot leave her. We must do our best to save her.’

‘‘Tis death, sir. ‘Tis death, I tell you.’

‘Turn back,’ commanded William. ‘We shall not leave my sister.’

The Countess saw that they were rowing towards her.

‘God bless you, William...’ she called.

‘We are coming,’ shouted William. ‘Soon now, sister...’

But he never reached her for at that moment the ship went down taking the Countess with it, and the small boat carrying the heir to the throne was swallowed up in the wake of the White Ship.

* * * * *

Captain Fitz-Stephen was clinging to a broken spar. There was nothing but sound and fury all about him. He had lost his ship but he believed he had saved the heir to the throne. The boat carrying him and his friends could reach the coast of France for they were not far out. At least he had done his duty.

How foolish to have allowed the Prince to make his sailors drunk! How wrong to have followed the boyish wish to exceed a safe speed I Oh God, he prayed, if I could but live the last hours of my life again. But his consolation was that he had saved the Prince.

Clinging to the top of the mast which was just visible above the water was a man.

The Captain called to him.

‘Hi, man, who are you?’

‘I am Berthould, Captain, the butcher.’

‘Are you the only one there?’

‘Yes, Captain, I climbed here right at the start. So far I am safe.’

‘The Prince got away. Did you see him go?’

‘Ay, sir. But he came back for the Countess of Perche and the boat went down with the ship.’

The Captain cried: ‘It cannot be. I saw him leave. He would have got away.’

‘I saw him, Captain. Went down with the ship! The

Countess too and the Princes. Everyone, sir. You and I, Captain, are the only ones left.’

The Captain’s hands were limp on the spar. They felt cold and dead.

How could he face the King? How could he tell him: ‘I have lost the White Ship and the White Hope of England.’

The waters swirled about him; he was exhausted.

He let the spar slip away from him and he sank down into the water.

* * * * *

Henry was amused. He and his soldiers had reached England before the White Ship.

‘Stephen.’ he said, ‘what ails you? Why are you so nervous?’

Stephen said he did not know that he was.

‘You are back in England now, my lad. The fighting is behind us for a while. I think never have events in Normandy augured so well for peace. We must be eternally on the watch of course, but the signs are good. The White Ship is not sighted yet. I will ask Fitz-Stephen what he means by bringing in the fastest ship of all the last.’

Stephen did not answer. He could not get out of his mind his last glimpse of the White Ship.

The King’s Resolve

They had brought the news.

The butcher had been picked up and taken back to Normandy. He had seen what had happened.

The White Ship lost with all on her—except butcher Berthould who had climbed the mast and seen the ship go down.

They brought the news to Stephen for he was now considered to be nearest to the King.

‘How can I tell him that his son is lost?’ asked Stephen.

‘Someone must, my lord.’

‘Ay,’ said Stephen, ‘someone must.’

There came a time when the King could not be kept in the dark any longer.

Stephen went to him.

‘Uncle, there is bad news.’

The King turned his head slowly and looked full at his nephew. ‘It is William...’ he began.

Stephen nodded. ‘The White Ship foundered not far out of Barfleur. She sank and all went with her save one butcher who lived to tell the sorry tale.’

The King said nothing; his lips moved but no sound came.

Then slowly he got to his feet. He would have fallen had not Stephen caught him.

The news had been such a shock to him that he had fainted.

* * * * *

The King shut himself in his chamber. He wanted to see no one. Only Stephen ventured near him and for a few days he did not speak even to him.

Then there came the day when Stephen went to him and he said: ‘Sit down, nephew.’

‘My lord,’ said Stephen with a smile of compassion which seemed beautiful in the King’s eyes.

‘My boy,’ said Henry, ‘I wish you were my son, then the tragedy would seem less severe.’

It seemed to Stephen then that he felt the crown upon his head. The dreams that seemed so wild where wild no longer. Was it possible? There is no male heir, those words kept hammering in his brain. There is Matilda but she is the Empress of Germany. If I could have married Matilda there would be no doubt.

‘I would I were.’ he answered the King vehemently.

‘You are a comfort to me, Stephen, in my bereavement.’

‘My uncle, there is nothing I would not do to bring you comfort.’

‘I know it well. I rejoice in you. You shall not suffer for your devotion to me. You see a man bowed down with sorrow.’

‘But a great King, sire.’

‘I have done what I thought best for my people.’

‘And will for many years to come, please God.’

‘There is life in me yet, Stephen.’

‘It is clear to all who behold you, sire.’

‘I have suffered much tragedy of late. I lost my wife, my good Matilda, and I was hoping for more sons from her until the last. And then my son and heir, the future King. It seems God would punish me for all my sins. I lost two other children on that ship, Stephen—my daughter the Countess Matilda, my son Richard. Three children with their lives before them went down with that accursed White Ship. You see a man bowed down with misery.’

Stephen said: ‘I see a great King, sire, who will rise above his adversity.’

Stephen had always had a golden tongue. The King smiled at him affectionately. ‘You are a comfort to me, nephew. I’ve told your mother that I shall do well by you.’

‘Thank you, sire. You have been so good to me. I would ask nothing more but to serve you to the end of my days.’

‘Talk to me, Stephen. Tell me what the butcher told you.

Tell me of William’s last hours. The butcher saw him go back for his sister. He was a saint, Stephen.’

Stephen thought: And so do we all become in death. But he said: ‘A saint, sire.’

‘I sometimes thought that he would have had too gentle a nature to be a king. For we have to be harsh, often, Stephen, to do what is best.’

‘You have always done what is best for your subjects, sire.’

Oh yes, there was great comfort in Stephen.

When Stephen left the King he could not help feeling exultant.

Who is there? he asked himself. Why should I not be the next? The King loves me. If he does not get himself an heir...why should the next ruler not be King Stephen?

* * * * *

Henry had come out of stupor. A king cannot mourn forever. We should have had more sons, he thought. Better too many than not enough.

He went to the window and looked out.

Across the courtyard walked a comely young lady of the Court. He felt the familiar stirrings which invariably assailed him at the sight of a nubile girl.

I am not old, he thought. I am not as old as the Emperor of Germany—yet he took a young wife.

Why should I not get sons, a prince who will follow me? I have the time; I have the vitality.

It was the answer.

Then he would stop grieving. He had loved Matilda; he had loved his son; but they were lost.

He was not old; he was full of vigour. His desire for women had not yet begun to fail.

The King had made up his mind. He would take a young wife and that without delay.