ThePrinceofDarkness

Jean Plaidy, one of the pre-eminent authors of historicalfiction for most of thetwentieth century, is the penname of the prolific Englishauthor Eleanor Hibbert, alsoknownasVictoriaHolt. JeanPlaidy’snovelshadsoldmore

than 14 million copiesworldwidebythetimeofherdeathin1993.

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AlsobyJeanPlaidyTheTudors

UneasyLiestheHeadKatharine,theVirgin

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TheRevoltoftheEagletsTheHeartoftheLionThePrinceofDarkness

TheFrenchRevolutionLouistheWell-BelovedTheRoadtoCompiègneFlaunting,Extravagant

Queen

ThePrinceofDarkness

JEANPLAIDY

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Contents

I DeathofaKingII JohnandArthurIII JohnisCrownedIV TheGirlintheForestV Isabella

VI TheKing’sInfatuation

VII TheCrownedQueenofEngland

VIII TheTriumphofMirebeauIX ‘PutOutHisEyes’

X TheBodyintheSeineXI DeathatFontevraud

XII AnElectionatCanterbury

XIII TheSpectreofArthur

XIV TheVirginofDunmow

XV ASubstitutefortheBedchamberXVI TheProphecyXVII ThreatofInvasionXVIII John’sRevengeXIX ABrideforHughXX RunnymedeXXI Peace

I

ChapterI

DEATHOFAKING

n a quiet room in theChâteau of VaudreuilWilliamMarshal,themost

respected of all the King’sknights,satdozingpleasantly

after an excellent dinner ofroast venison. Half sleeping,half waking he wasconsidering what a happystate of affairs existed nowthat the King had returnedfrom theHolyLandandwasbringing law and order backto his dominions. AlreadyEngland was at peace andRichardhadrestoredmuchofthat land which Philip

Augustus, King of France –stealinganadvantagebecauseRichard was far away – hadtakenfromhiminNormandy.

WilliamMarshal,knowninthe days of his youth as thefinest knight of the age,renowned for his integrityand as a man who was notafraidtooffendtheKingeventhough it couldmean riskinghis life – and therefore

cherishedbywisekingssuchas Richard and his fatherbefore him–wasnow inhismid-fiftiesbutstillstrongandwiththeweightofexperienceto lean on, appeared to havegained rather than lost fromthepassingoftheyears.

HehaddeploredtheKing’sabsencefromthecountry,for,while he accepted the factthatRichardhadmadeavow

to bring Jerusalem back toChristendom,hehadbelievedthataking’sfirstdutywastohis own kingdom; he hadbeen against the excessivetaxationwhichhadhad tobeimposed in order to raisemoneyforthecrusade,buthehad been indefatigable ingetting together the fundsrequired for the King’sransom when it had been

discovered that Richard wasin his enemy’s hands in thecastleofDürenstein.

Now, his brother John’sattempt to take the crownfrom him during his absencehad been foiled and Richardwasrestoredtohispeople.AsWilliamsaw it, theprospectswere fair – or as fair as theyevercouldbe,consideringthevulnerability of the dukedom

of Normandy situated as itwas on the very borders ofFrenchterritory.

HiswifeIsabellacameintothe room and looked at himwith affection. She was agoodwifeandhehadmarriedher when Richard had cometo the throne. She hadbrought him not only finesonsbutriches,forherfatherhad been Richard de Clare,

Earl of Pembroke andStriguel and, although theKing had not yet confirmedWilliaminthe‘fullpeaceandname of earl’, the earldomwas in his possession, andthat ceremony would beperformed in due course.Before his marriage he hadbeen known as the ‘landlessknight’ and had had little torecommendhimbuthisnoble

birth and unrivalled skills.HenryIIhadrecognisedtheseand put him in charge of hiseldestsonPrinceHenry(afterhe had been misguidedenough to crownhim so thatthe boy had had the title ofKing while his father stilllived – one of the gravestmistakes that usually wisemonarch had ever made, forthe boy, as was to be

expected, became arrogant,immediatelyflauntinghistitleandfloutinghisfather,finallymakingwar against himand,with his brothers, bringinghiminsorrowtothegrave).

SmilingatIsabellaWilliamsaid: ‘Iwasback in thepast,thinking of the time whenRichardcametothethrone.’

Shelookedathimgravely.

‘You thought then, William,that your hopes of rising inthe world were ended forever.’

Henodded.‘Andthatdeathand imprisonment would bemylot.’

He lapsed into silence,thinking of that time whenRichard was his enemybecause he was making war

onhisfatherHenryII,whosestaunch henchman he,William,wasatthattime,andhowhehadcomefacetofacewith a defenceless Richardandcouldhavekilledhim.Hehad had no wish to do that,but he had satisfied himselfby calling him traitor andkilling his horse from underhim. And soon afterwardsHenry had died and Richard

wastheKing.

He mused: ‘I shall neverforgetit,Isabella.’

‘Iknow.Youhavetoldmemany times how you waitedfor him to order you to adungeon and how instead hetold you that he could trustonewhohadservedhisfatherwelltoservehim.’

‘I was determined he

should never regret thatdecision,’saidWilliam.

‘Nor has he. He couldnever have had a morefaithful knight and full wellheknowsit.’

‘He has been good to us,Isabella.Heisgeneroustohisfriends. Open, honest,forthright… aman aftermyown heart. I knew he meant

our family well when hecommanded me to carry thegoldsceptreathiscoronationand my brother John thespurs,andhowrightIwas!’

‘And he allowed us tomarry.’

‘The most importantbenefitofall,’heanswered.

‘Well,youhaveservedhimwell ever since. I wonder

when we shall be hearing ofthebirthofanheir.’

‘He has not long returnedto Berengaria. But he knowshis duty and that thedissatisfaction his subjectsfeel will end when he givesthe country an heir. He isyoungandvigorousstill.’

‘But they have beenmarriedsolong.’

‘Butparted.’

‘It seems to have been astrangemarriage.’

‘It was certain to be. TheKing loves battle better thanwomen.’

‘It seems unnatural that amancannotwantsons.’

He smiled at her fondly.Shewasproudofhers.Hedid

not want to say that Richardpreferred the company of hisownsextothatofwomenanditwasonlyhismeetingwithahermit in a forest, when hewas hunting and temporarilyalone,whohad soharanguedhimabout the lifehe ledandprophesied disaster, that hadmadehimconsiderreforminghis ways; and when shortlyafterwards he had been laid

low with a fever whichthreatened to end his life hehad decided to return toBerengariaanddohisdutybyhiscountry.

It was late, thoughtWilliam. But better late thannever.Richardwas amanofimmense strength and apartfrom the fever whichperiodically attacked him hewasveryhealthy.Ifhecould

produceasonortwoandliveuntil they had reachedmaturity, thatwouldbegoodforEngland.

‘I doubt not,’ he answeredhiswife,‘thatwhenhissonisborn he will be as delightedwithhimasanyfatherwouldbe … and more so,consideringtheimportancetotherealm.Itrustthatsoonhewillbesendingmenewsthat

theQueenisexpecting.’

‘PoorBerengaria.Hershasnot been a very happy life, Ifear.’

‘Suchisthefateofqueens,mydear.’

She sighed. ‘I dare swearone should be grateful thatonewasnotbornroyal.’

Itwaspleasant tohaveher

so satisfiedwith her lot. Shenever referred to the richesandtitleshehadbroughthimforsheconsideredherselfthemostfortunateofwomenandhe hoped she would longcontinuetodoso.

Astheysattalkingtogethertherewas a sudden clatter ofhorse’s hoofs in thecourtyard. William stood uphastily.

‘Who can it be?’ hewondered.

Isabellawasatthewindow.

‘Itlookslikeamessenger.’She turned to him, her eyesshining with excitement. ‘Iwonderifitis…Itseemssoodd.Wewerebuttalkingofitafewminutesago.’

‘Come,’ saidWilliam, ‘wewillgoandsee.’

They hurried down to thecourtyardbutone lookat theface of the messenger wasenough to tell William thatthe newshe broughtwas notgood.

He had dismounted and agroom had taken his horse.Williamcried:‘Whatnews?’

‘Illnews,mylord.’

‘Tellme.Letmeknowthe

worst.’

‘The King has beenwounded … mortally, somesay.’

‘It is not possible. Inwhataction?’

‘AtChaluzagainstOdamarof Limoges and Achard ofChaluz.’

‘This makes no sense to

me.’

‘My lord, you wereunaware that treasure wasfound on the land of AchardofChaluz.News reached theKing that gold figures hadbeen discovered by aploughman and claiming thatas the suzerain this belongedbyright tohimhewentforthto demand the treasure begiven up. Achard declared

thatwhathadbeenfoundwasnothingbutapotofoldcoinsbut the King did not believehim and attacked the castle.During the attack an arrowwent into the King’sshoulder.’

‘This is impossible,’ criedWilliam. ‘A foolish quarreloverapotofcoins.’

‘’Tisso,mylord.TheKing

sentforme.Heismortallyilland in great anguish.He hastried to pull the arrow fromhis shoulder but in doing sohas broken it and it remainsimbedded in his flesh and ismortifying.Hehassentmetoyoucommandingthatyougoat once to Chinon and theretake charge of the royaltreasure.’

‘He will recover,’ said

William.‘Hemustrecover.’

The messenger shook hishead.‘Isawhisface,mylord.Therewasdeaththere.’

‘Come in and refreshyourself,’saidWilliam. ‘Youwill be weary from yourjourney. I must to Chinonwithallspeed.’

Isabella came out andseeing her husband’s face

asked what ill news he hadreceived.

William told her. She wasbewildered. ‘What will thismean?’sheasked.

‘He has faced death manytimes. Always he hasrecovered.Wemusthope.’

While William Marshalwas preparing to leave forChinon yet another

messenger came toVaudreuil. This one broughtthe news that Richard Cœurde Lion had died of thewound he had received fromanarrowshotbyBertranddeGourdon, a nobleman ofQuercy who bore a grudgeagainst him and who sincehad declared that he wasready to suffer the greatesttorments if need be, for he

woulddiehappyhavingseenRichardonhisdeath-bed.

So the King was dead.Whatwastofollow?

Arriving at Chinon, andassuring himself that theroyal treasure was wellguarded, William askedHubert Walter, theArchbishop of Canterbury,

who was by good fortune inNormandy at the time, tocome to him at once.Realising the gravity of thesituation Hubert lost no timein complying with thisrequest.

William embraced theArchbishopandtookhimtoaprivate chamber where theycould talk together withoutbeingoverheard.

‘What think you of thenews?’askedWilliam.

The Archbishop shook hisheadgravely.

‘Itcouldbedisastrous.’

‘Everything hangs on thenextfewmonths.’

‘If he had but lived withhis wife; if he had producedsons…’

‘Any son they had hadwouldasyetbeaminor.’

‘That would not havedisturbedme.He could havebeen tutoredand therewouldhavebeenaking.’

‘Thereisakingnow,’saidWilliam.

‘Who?JohnorArthur?’

‘It must be John,’ insisted

William.

‘Nay, my friend, the trueheir to the throne is PrinceArthur.’

‘In the direct line ofsuccession maybe, but I forone could never supportArthur’sclaim.’

‘You mean you will giveyourallegiancetoJohn!’

‘I deplore that it isnecessary, but I see no otherway.’

‘Mygoodfriend,Arthur isthe son of Geoffrey andGeoffreywasolderthanJohn.Therefore according to thelaw of succession Arthur isthetrueheir.’

‘The selection of kingsdoes not necessarily depend

on direct succession.Suitability must beconsidered and Arthur is achild.’

‘But John is dissolute andunfitforthecrown.’

‘The English would neveracceptArthur.’

‘They would accept thefactthatheisthetrueheirtothe throne because that is

whatheis.’

‘Nay,Archbishop.HenryIInamedJohnashisheir–eventocomebeforeRichard.’

‘That was wrong. Richardwas the elder brother andmore fitted to reign. Thepeople would never haveaccepted John while Richardlived.’

‘That I agree with and

Richard had no intention ofstandingasideforhisyoungerbrother.Henryrealisedthisinhis last moments, whenJohn’s true nature wasrevealed, and would haveapproved of what was done.ButnowRichard isdeadandthenaturalheirisJohn.’

‘You are wrong, Marshal.Arthuristhetrueheir.’

‘Aboywhohasneverbeento England, who speaks noEnglish,broughtupinforeigncourts! The English willnever accept him. Moreover,Johnwouldbedetermined totake the crown, and therewould be continual strife.Manywouldbebehind John.Theyareprepared forhim tofollow his brother. He haslived in England. He is

English.Theywillnot takeaforeignerandlittlemorethana child at that.Arthur I haveheard is haughty and proudand has no love for theEnglish. Prince John is theone who is nearest to hisfather and his brotherRichard. John should followhim.’

‘Marshal,isthisreallyyourwish?’

‘Itis,mylord,foritseemsbut good sense tome.A sonhas a closer claim to hisfather’s inheritance than hisgrandsoncanhave.It isrightthat John should take thecrown.’

‘Therewillbeconflictoverthis. Arthur will have hissupportersandJohnwillhavehis.’

‘I consider it right and inthe interests of the countrythat John should be offeredthe crown,’ said theMarshalstubbornly.

The Archbishop inclinedhis head. ‘So shall it be.Butknow this, Marshal, andrememberwhat I say, for thedaywillcomewhenyouwillquestion your decision. Ipromiseyouthatnothingyou

ever did have you so muchcausetorepentofasyouwillhaveofthis.’

‘Ifyouareright,’answeredWilliam judiciously, ‘and itmay be that you will beprovedright,stillIknowthisshould be and that I am butfollowing the will of mymasters –KingHenry II andRichardtheLion-Hearted–inproclaimingPrinceJohnKing

ofEngland.’

‘So be it,’ said theArchbishop but he continuedtoshakehisheadsorrowfully.

In spite of his firmassurances that he had donethe right thing, WilliamMarshal was very uneasy;after all, if there was suchsturdy disagreement betweentwo men who wished the

crown and the country thegreatestgoodfortune–whichit would assuredly need –howwasitpossibletoexpectthepeopletobeofonemind?

Of one thing all could becertain. With two suchclaimants to the throne therewouldbetrouble.

Oh,whyhadRichardtodieatsucha time–andall fora

fewcoinsinapot!

Joanna,theKing’ssister,wasonherwaytoNormandy.Shehad determined to make thejourneybeforeherpregnancyprevented her. She and herhusband, Raymond ofToulouse, needed help andshe believed that Richardcould and would come totheir aid; he had been a

kindly and generous brotherto her, except on oneoccasion when he hadplanned to marry her to theSaracenMalekAdel in orderto further his treaty withSaladin, but she had alwaysbelieved that he had neverbeen very serious about that.Indeed when she hadindignantly refused he hadmade no effort to coerce her

and the event had notinterfered with the devotionbetweenthem.

Richardhadbeenaherotoherwhenasayounggirl shehad travelled out to Sicily tobemarriedtothekingofthatisland and Richard hadconducted her acrossAquitaine. Later she hadjoinedhiminSicilywhentheisland had been seized by

Tancred; she had becomecompanionduennatohiswifeBerengaria before hermarriage to Richard andafterwards had beenBerengaria’s constantcompanion until she herselfhad married Raymond ofToulouse.

She had often thought ofBerengaria with pity, andwondered how she was

faring.Sheknewagreatdealabout the married life of theQueenofEnglandforshehadbeenwithherduringthefirstyears of her marriage toRichard. He had never beenactivelyunkindtoher;hehadmerelybehavedasthoughshedid not exist. Perhaps itwould have been morecomforting to have lived astormy life with him; dislike

would have been easier tobear than indifference. Howembarrassing it had been –for both she and Berengariaknew that he was constantlyseekingexcusestoavoidher.

Joannawouldhavelikedtoexplain to Berengaria: It isnot you in person who doesnot please him. It is the factthat you are a woman. Hedoes not like our sex. It is

extraordinarythatonewhoissostrong,sovital,witheverycharacteristicofmanlinesssofirm in him, should lack thisone.Peopletalkedasmuchasthey dared of his one-timepassionatefriendshipwiththeKing of France, of his closetieswithfavouredknights,ofthe devotion of boys such asBlondel de Nesle, theminstrel who had travelled

across Europe in search ofhim when he wasincarceratedinthefortressofDürenstein, and haddiscovered his whereaboutsbysingingasongwhichtheyhad composed together andnone had sung but them. Inthe beginning, though, poorBerengaria had knownnothingofthis.

And when Joanna had

married Raymond she hadsaid farewell to hercompanion of several yearsandhadgonetohernewlife.Raymond had notdisappointedherandtheyhada beautiful son – Raymondlike his father – now twoyears old, and she had foundcontentment in her marriedlife.Herhusband’scourtwasone where beauty was

appreciated; he loved music;and poets and troubadourswereencouraged;inthegreathalls of his castles songswould be composed andjudged; religious views wereaired and there was greatfreedom of thoughtthroughout his domain.Alas,this had been noticed andreportedtoRomeandsinceitseemed to the leaders of the

CatholicChurchthatsomeofthedoctrines freelydiscussedwere subversive and couldharm that powerful body, itwas made known to rivalbarons that if they attackedRaymond, Rome would bebehindthem.

This knowledge hadstunned both Raymond andJoanna; there had merelybeenoneortwoskirmishesat

firstbutnowthehostilitywasgrowing more marked and itwas because of this thatJoanna had decided that shewould approach Richard andaskhisadviceforshehadnodoubt that hewould come totheiraid.

She and Raymond haddecided that shewas the onetoputthecasebeforehim;hewouldlistentoher;moreover,

hehadalwaysbeenaman torespect family ties. Sheremembered well hisindignation when he hadarrived in Sicily to find herTancred’sprisoneranditwasnot only the thought of herrich dowry which Tancredhad confiscated which madehim delay his journey to theHoly Land to right herwrongs.

As she travelled towardsNormandy she wascontemplatingthepleasureofher reunion with Berengariawho,shehadheard,wasnowwithRichard.Thatwasgoodnews. Perhaps by this timeBerengaria was in the samehappy condition as sheherself; she hoped so. HowBerengaria would love achild! And Richard must

realise that it was necessarytoestablishthesuccession.

Her mission was not thehappiest and she was deeplyconcerned for Raymond, butthere should becompensations at the end ofherjourney.

Ahead of her lay theChâteau Gaillard, and shewas filled with pride as she

contemplated it … thismagnificent castle whichRichard had declared shouldbe the finest inFrance– andit was. The great fortressglittered in thesunas thoughflaunting its defiance to theKingofFrance and anywhomight come against it. Itsmighty rectangular bastions,its seventeen towers, itscurtain walls, its casements

cut in the rock, proclaimedthe might of the man whowouldalwaysberememberedastheLionHeart,herbrotherRichardwhohadneverfailedher and she knew neverwouldaslongashelived.

Alas,hercomfortwastobeshattered.Richardwasnot athis castle. He had left forChaluz for he had heardrumours of great treasure

which had been found thereon the land of one of hisvassals.

She set out for Chaluzunawareofthetragedywhichawaitedherthere.

The battle was over. ThecastleofChaluzhadfallentoRichard but, though Richardhadwon his pot of coins, hehadlosthislifeindoingso.

Everyone seemed stunnedby the news.There had beenabout Richard an aura ofinvincibility. Often, being avictim of a virulent fever –whichhadpursuedhimallhislife – he had now and thencome near to death butalwayshehad risen fromhissick-bed as strong as he hadbeen before the attack. Thistime, however, death had

caught up with him throughan arrow shot by a certainBertranddeGourdon.

At least she could bereunited with Berengaria.They embraced warmly andBerengaria took her to herprivate chamber that theymight share their grief insecret.

‘Hewastooyoungtodie,’

wasallJoannacouldsay.

Berengaria wept silently.‘Such a waste of life,’ shesaid. ‘Mine too, for mine isendednow.’

‘You were together at theend,’saidJoannasoothingly.

‘Inaway.Heneverwantedtobewithme.Itwasjustthathefelthemustdohisduty.’

‘Berengaria, are you withchild?’

Sheshookherhead.

‘More is the pity,’ saidJoanna.

They mingled their tearsand found comfort in eachother’s company. Each waswondering what the futurecouldholdforher.Berengaria– a queenwithout a husband

(intruthsheoftenthoughtshehad never really had one) –withnochildwhowouldgiveher a reason for living. Itwould be a return to the oldpattern,existinguneasily–nodoubt on the bounty ofrelations. Perhaps she couldgo to her sisterBlanchewhowas married to the Count ofChampagne. In whateverdirection she looked the

future was fraught withuneasiness. While Richardlived she had always hopedthat life would be different,that some spark of affectionmight be kindled. If theycouldhavehadchildren–saytwo sons and a daughter –then he would not have feltthe need to get more andthere might have been acertain peace between them.

It was the physicalrelationship which hadrepelledhim;andbecausehewaskinganditwasexpectedof him to provide an heir ithad hung like a shadowbetween them – somethingwhich must be done andbeing distasteful to him itmustbetoher.

Joanna’s thoughts weresombre. She was thinking of

Richard’s death caused bythis trivial arrow at thisunnecessary siege when hehad come through a hundredbattles with the fierceSaracens in theHolyWar. Itwas an ironic twist of fatethathewhowassonobleandhad earned the title of theLion-Hearted, should haveendedhis life in suchapettycause.Moreover,nowthathe

was dead, who would helpher and Raymond againsttheirenemies?

Berengaria in due coursetalked of the last days ofRichard’s life, of terribleagony which beset him andhowhehadforgiventhemanwhohadkilledhim.

‘That was noble of him,’said Joanna. ‘And what I

would expect of him.Bertrand de Gourdon willbless him to the end of hisdays.’

Berengaria answered: ‘Hisdays are over. Richardforgave him but others didnot. You rememberMercadier?’

‘Wasn’thethegeneralwholed Richard’s mercenaries?

Yes, I do remember thatRichard thought highly ofhim and that they wereconstantlytogether.’

‘He was beside himselfwith grief and rage whenRicharddied.Somuchsothathe defied the King’s ordersand commanded thatGourdon be put to death inthe most cruel way he couldthinkof.’

‘ButRichardhadpardonedhim!’

‘’Twas so and what wasdone will not be laid at hisdoor. Bertrand de Gourdon’seyes were put out before hewasflayedalive.’

‘Oh my God,’ criedJoanna. ‘Is there no end tothis violence?’ She put herhands to the protuberance of

her body and felt themovement of her child there.‘It seems an evil omen. Iwonder what will become ofthischildandofusall.’

Berengaria hurried over toher and put her arms abouther. ‘Be thankful, Joanna,’shesaid,‘thatyouhaveborneonesonandcarrythefruitofyour husband’s continuedloveforyou.’

Then Joannawas ashamedandreproachedherselfforherselfishness. Berengaria’s wasthe tragedy. There was nochild to remind her of herhusband’s love; there wasindeed none of which to bereminded.

Queen Eleanor was inChaluz; she too had comewithallspeedwhensheheard

of her beloved son’scondition. His death was thegreatest blow which fatecouldhavedealther.Shewasseventy-seven years of age;he was but forty-two. Eversincehisbirthandthosedayswhen he had been herchampion in the nursery inher battles against his father,he had been at the centre ofherlife.Shehadlovedhimas

she could love no other;valiantly she had fought tohold his kingdom togetherwhen he was absent on hiscrusades; and now that hewashomeandseemedsetfairto reign for many years andshe had at last retired to theseclusion of the Abbey ofFontevraud, she was calledforth to be with him duringhislasthoursonearth.

Her griefwas such that asshe told her daughter Joanna– whom she loved onlysecond to Richard – and herdaughter-in-law Berengariaforwhomshehadalwayshada fondness, her only comfortwasthatsheherselfcouldnothavelongtolive,foraworldwhich did not contain herbelovedsonRichardhadlittleinjoytoofferher.

So the women who hadloved him mourned togetherand found a little comfort intalking of him – of hisgreatness,ofhisvalour,ofhisloveofpoetryandmusic,histalentforcomposingthem.

‘Therewasneveronesuchashewas,’saidEleanor.‘Norwillthereeverbe.’

She would see that his

wisheswere carried out. ‘Hetold me,’ she said, ‘that hewished his heart – that greatlionheart–tobeburiedinhisbeloved and faithful city ofRouen, the home of hisancestors the dukes ofNormandyforsomanyyears.Andhis body is to beburiedat Fontevraud at the feet ofhis father.He repentedat theend of his life of the strife

between them.God knows itwasnotofhismaking.Henrywas toblame for the conflictbetweenhimandhissons.Hewas a man who could neverlet go anything once it hadfallen into his hands, and helost sight of the fact that hissonsweremen.’

She smiled, looking rightback to the turbulent yearswhen she and Henry

Plantagenet had been firstpassionate lovers and thenequallypassionateenemies.

Yes, Richard’s wishesshould be carried out. Shewould serve him in death asshealwayshadinlife.

She would go back toFontevraudandspendtherestof her life there and shewould make some show of

repenting for her sins,whichsecretly she could not regretfor sheknew that ifby somemiracle she could regain heryouth and vitality she wouldcommit them all over againand she was too much of arealist,andhermindwasstilltoo active and lively, for herto be able to deceive herselfthat it would have beenotherwise.

Nowshe tookstockofherdaughter, who was soobviouslypregnant.

‘Takecareofyourself,mydear child,’ she said. ‘It istragic that Richard cannothelpRaymond.Yourhusbandmust be strong against hisenemiesforyouwillgetlittlehelp from John.’ Shefrowned. ‘John will be theKingnow.Itcouldnotbemy

grandson. Arthur is tooyoung. He is all Breton andthe English would neveraccepthim.’

‘Mother,’ said Joanna, ‘doyou not think that there willbe thosewhowill attempt toputArthuronthethrone?’

‘There are always thosewhoarereadytofindacausefor conflict,’ she said. ‘In

Englandthough,Johnwillbesafe. It is here that he musttake great care. Philip isalways ready to seize apretext for attack. It willalwaysbeso,forthekingsofFrance are the naturalenemies of the dukes ofNormandy. Oh God,’ shewent on, ‘I fear for John. Ifear for Normandy andEngland … This is a tragic

blow not only to us, mydaughters, but for thekingdom.’

Then with characteristicenergy she made plans forthem.Joannamustgobacktoherhusbandwithout thehelpshe had come to ask fromRichard; as for Berengaria,she might stay with Joannafor awhile and then perhapsjoinhersisteruntil shecould

make plans for her future.Her brother Sancho theStrong would no doubtwelcomeherathiscourt;andalthough Eleanor did not sayso, in her thoughts came thenotionthatperhapsahusbandwouldinduecoursebefoundfor Berengaria. She was stillofanagetobearchildren.Ohyes, it might well be shewould yet make a marriage

thatwasmore truly one thanthat with the late King ofEngland.

Butnowtherewasnothingtodobutmourn.

They took him toFontevraud that his wishesshould be carried out. Hishearthadbeentakenfromhisbody and it was said that itastounded all who beheld it

because of its size. He wasindeed the Lion-Hearted.Theydressedhimintherobeshe had worn when he hadbeen crowned in England;and so they laid him in histomb. The women who hadloved himwept for him, andHughofLincoln,withwhomhehadhadmanyadifferenceduring his lifetime and whohadoftenreproachedhimfor

thelifeheled,performedthelast rites of the Church overhisbody,andwhileheprayedfor his soul he wept for thepassingofonewhoforallhissinshadbeenagreatking.

A

ChapterII

JOHNANDARTHUR

n uneasy atmospherehad prevailed in theCourtofBrittanysince

thearrivalofthatunexpected

visitor,PrinceJohn,CountofMortain,brotherofRichardIof England – a man whosereputationwassuchastoleadthe people to believe thelegend that theDevil’sbloodhad at one time infected theHouse of Anjou and that thePrinceofDarknesshadcometo Earth again in the personofPrinceJohn.

John had been guilty of

almost every known sinduringthethirty-twoyearshehad lived to plague thosearoundhim,soitwouldseemthathehadplentyoftimeleftto him to commit more; andhe showedevery intentionofliving up to thoseexpectations.

He was under mediumheight – a small man in afamily of tall brothers.

Richard was a giant incomparison and John hadalwaysbeenverymuchawareof the advantage that gavehim. Lest any should beunder the impression that alack of inches impliedweakness he was determinedthat all about him should beaware of his importance, sohe surrounded himself withcompanions who applauded

all his actions, knowing thatiftheydidnot theywouldbeout of favour which couldresult in disastrousconsquences for them; hedressed in a flamboyantmanner–hisclothesmustbeof the most costly materialandhelikedtoadornhimselfwith fine jewels; he struttedthrough thecastleshevisitedasthoughheownedthemand

was the overlord of all; hewas greedy and extravagant,his temper was as violent asthat of his father had been,yet Henry II had alwaysendeavoured to be just, evenwhen his rage was inpossession of him; John hadno concern with justice. Theonly thing that mattered tohim was his own pleasure;and one of his greatest

delights was to see peoplecringe before him while hetaunted themwith the powerhe held over them. BecausehewasawarethathisbrotherRichardhadpoweroverhim,hewasdetermined to remindeveryone else he had poweroverthem.

He hated Richard becausehe was jealous of him andbitterly he coveted what was

his. Richard was known asthe Lion Heart and secretlyJohn knew that he himselfwas John the Coward.Richard was the greatest ofhis age; John was notinterestedinwarexceptwhenit was victorious. Then hewould enjoy pillaging thetowns, setting fire to thebuildings and raping thewomen.Butitdidnotalways

turnout like that; andasoneof his greatest pleasures wasto sport with women hereckoned he could do thatwithout having to face thepreliminaries of war whichmight not always bring theresultshesought.

He was comparativelypleased with his lot. He wasthe youngest son of a greatking;andheoftenlaughedto

thinkhowhehaddeludedhisfather. Almost to the endHenry had believed that hisbeloved youngest was theonly one who loved him.Loved him! As if John everloved anyone but John. Hebelieveditwasfollytodoso.Howcouldonegetwhatonewanted if one was everswayed by emotions towardsothers which could be self-

detrimental?Ithadgivenhima great deal of pleasure torealisehowhehadpulledthewool over his father’s eyes.Henry Plantagenet wassupposed to be a wise king,andyethisyoungest sonhaddeceivedhimcompletely,andwhile Henry was talking ofleaving his kingdom to theonlysonwholovedhim,Johnwas making preparations to

desert him and join Richard,which at that time was theprofitablethingtodo.

But his father haddiscovered just before hisdeath what a perfidious sonhehad.Somesaidithastenedhisdeath.Somuchthebetter,thought John. He wasfinished, that old man. ButtherehadremainedRichard.

Howhehadrejoicedwhenhis brother had gone off tothe Holy Land. He didn’toften resort to prayer but hehad then – urging God tosend a poisoned arrowthroughhisbrother’sheart.Itdidnotseemanunreasonablerequest since Richard wasconstantly in the midst offierce and bloodthirstySaracens. How like Richard

toescape.

John congratulatedhimselfthathehadcomeveryneartotaking the kingdom. Thatwould have served Richardright. Ifamanwasakingheshouldbeinhiskingdomnotgallivanting over the worldtrying to win glory byconquering Jerusalem.Which, John thought withgreat satisfaction, he had

failed to do; and moreover,foundhimself theprisonerofhisenemies.Acurseonthosewho rescued him andparticularlyonyoungBlondelwhohadgoneoutsingingallover Europe until he foundhimandmakingsuchaprettystory of it that the peopleregardedtheirerrantkingasaheroofromance.

Well, that was in the past

and there was the future tothinkof.

Richard, curse him, wasback; strong and healthy andonly just turned forty – tenyears older than John, butwhatwas tenyears?Theyallsaidhelookedlikeagodandthat he was invincible. TheKing of France, who had,while Richard was in thehands of his enemies, been

preparedtoworkagainsthimto such an extent that hewould have put John on thethrone, as soon as Richardreturned had cried off. Itseemed that everyone wasafraid of Richard. He wassaid to have some mysticalquality.Hewasthegreathero–Cœur de Lion. Yet he hadno heir and was chary ofgettingone.

John laughed aloud at thethought.Therehadbeentheirfather lusting after everywoman he saw and being aking not inclined to denyhimself the pleasure of theircompany which in thecircumstances they wouldfind very difficult to refuse;andhe,John,wasofasimilarnature. His father had aromantic streak; he liked to

get awoman to his bedwithfair words and promises andhe was said to have anunrivalled gift for this; withJohn it was different. Hedispensed with suchpreliminaries. He liked awomantoshowfear; itmadetheexperiencesomuchmoreexciting for him.Well, therethey were, his father andhimself – and he had no

reason to believe that hisbrothers, since dead, wereanydifferentandhewassuretheyhadenjoyedthispastimeaswellas thatofhunting thedeerortheboar.ButRichardwas different – Richard thestrongman, theLionHeart–he had no fancy for womenbutchosehisbelovedfriendsfromhisownsex.

John could never think of

that without giving away togusty laughter. It was hisweakness–justas thetertianfever was; and it seemedcomic to John because bothweaknesses were so alien totheimagewhichRichardhadalways presented to theworld.

It was a most convenientstate of affairs, for Richard,being what he was, seemed

unlikelytogethimselfanheirand while Richard wasdisinclined to do this andBerengaria remainedunfruitful, the crown ofEngland was well withinJohn’sgrasp.

That was what he wanted.He longed to possess it. Hecould work himself into aviolent passion just thinkingofit.Hisfatherhadpromised

it tohim– thatwaswhenhewas fightingagainstRichard.Yes, Henry II had actuallynamed him as his heir. ButRichard was there to claimthe throne and their motherwasbehindhim.Richardhadalways been the favouritewith her; yet she had been agood mother to him so hecouldn’tcomplaintoomuch–not that he would dare. He

hadalwaysbeenafraidofherand itwouldn’thavebeensoeasy to deceive her as it hadbeen his father. People hadtheir peculiarways. Take hismotherforinstance–astrongwoman,arealistifevertherewasoneandabornrulereventhoughshewasawoman;yetshe had a weakness whichwasherloveforherchildren.She knew that he, John, had

worked against Richard, haddoneeverything inhispowerto snatch the crown whileRichardwas away – and shewas determined to hold thatcrown for Richard and hadshownherintentionsclearly–yet when Richard had comehome and might have beenexpected to kill John, or atleast shut him away in aprison – which, from their

point of view, they shouldhaveknownwouldhavebeenawisethingtodo–theyhadpardoned him. He suspectedthat his mother had pleadedforhimwithRichard,andtheresult – forgiveness andbrotherly affection at leastoutwardlybetweenthem.

Richardhadbeenslighting,of course, saying that Johnhad been led astray and

makingitclearthathedidnotfear him because he didn’tbelieve him capable ofconquest. Insulting – but itserved John’s purpose at thetime.

What he hoped for nowwasforRichardtodiebeforehaving planted the fatefulseed in Berengaria. A goodstrong attack of that fever –and there would be Richard,

heirless, departed for ever;andallJohnwouldhavetodowasstretchouthishandsandtakethecrown.Buttherewasoneotherconsiderationanditwas for this reason that JohnhadcometoBrittany.

Arthur!Howhe hated thatboy. What airs the youngfellow gave himself. He washaughty in the extreme andFrenchified too for the boy

hadspentagoodmanyyearsatthecourtofFrance.

ItwasveryunfortunatethatArthur’s father Geoffrey hadbeentheelderbrother.Ifonlytheirbirthshadbeenreversed–andhewasArthur’sfather!John smiled wryly, lustfullycontemplating Arthur’smother,Constance.Nolongeryoung–shewasmountingupto forty – she was still a

comelywomanwho had hadher adventures.Geoffrey hadmarried her to get control ofher estates of Brittany, andthey already had a daughter,Eleanor, when he died frominjuries received in atournament,towhichsporthewas much addicted. He hadleft Constance with childwhich, alas, was born maleandhealthyandprovided the

reasonforJohn’suneasiness.

Arthur! The very nameirritatedhim.HisgrandfatherHenryhadwished theboy tobe named after him, butConstance, backed by theBretons, was obstinate andthey had chosen Arthurbecauseoftheassociationsofthatname.Hehadpretensionsto the throne of England,therefore let him be named

after the legendary Britishking.

John disliked the boy’sname as much as he dideverythingaboutArthur.

Thearrogantlittledevil,hethought.He shouldbe taughtalesson.Hewouldliketoputhis hands round that boyishthroatandstranglethelifeoutof the creature. Nothing

would give him moreexquisite pleasure; as it washe had to play the avuncularrole, listening to the boy’sbright conversation andexchanging smiles with hisdotingmother.Itamusedhimin a way to play this game.Deceit always stimulatedhim;hehadanaturalgift forit. So he was enjoying hisstay at this court and this

pleasure was increasedbecause he knew he wasregarded with suspicion andthat many people would berelievedwhenhehadgone.

He had no intention ofgoing yet. There was toomuch fun tobehadhere.Hehad brought with him a fewof his friends who weredaring enough to join in hisadventures. When they went

out riding he would contrivewith them to help him eludethe party and ride on withArthur.Whenhehadtheboyto himself he would dally inthe woods and he alwaysenjoyed returning late to thecastleandwatchingthereliefonConstance’sfacewhenshebeheld her son, because heknew what agonies of fearshe had undergonewhen she

thought he was alone in thewoodswithhiswickeduncle.

What should he do toamuse himself on this sunnyApril day?Hemight call hisfriends together and theycouldrideoutintothewoods– force their way into somecottages and look for girls,and on finding them dragthem shrieking into thewoods.A finegame,butone

theyhadplayedsooften thatit could pall; moreover, theyhad to remember that theywere in Brittany and thearrogant Constance and herfriends would not hesitate tocomplain to the King ofFrance or perhaps Richard,and at this time John had toplay a subdued role, forRichard had not so long agoforgivenhimforhisrebellion

on condition that he mendedhisways.

Besides, his thoughtsweretoo serious to be diverted bysuch commonplace pleasuresas the rape of village girls.From a window he sawConstance going into thegardens and she was alone.Hehurrieddowntoher.

He watched her for a few

secondsbeforeshewasawareofhim–inhismindstrippingher of her garments andassessingherpossibilitiesasabedfellow. Shewould not beamildwoman – not like hispoor Hadwisa. He washeartily sick of that one andhewasgoingtogetridofher.He had determined on that.Whynot?Herlandsweresafein his keeping and he had

madenosecretofthefactthatthatwasallhismarriagewasabout. She had no children –hehaddecidedthathewouldavoid that complication sothat when the moment cametocastherofftherewouldbenoquestionoftheissueoftheso-called marriage. Helaughed to consider how theChurch had been against itand how with Richard’s

connivancehehadfloutedtheChurch. The Gloucesterinheritance had beenworth acertain inconvenience for theaddition of that to hispossessions had made himone of the richest men inEngland. But there was ablood-bond between them.Theywererelatedthroughhisgreat-grandfather Henry Iwho was Hadwisa’s great-

grandfather too – in her caseher royal blood came downthrough the bar sinister, butbloodwasbloodall thesameand that old fool theArchbishop of Canterburyhad ranted aboutconsanguinity. He had notcared; being rather glad, forhe saw from the first thatHadwisa would not interesthim except through her

possessions.

Sohehadnoneedtoworryabout Hadwisa. When themomentarrivedshewouldbediscarded like some oldgarmentonegavetoaservantwhen one had no further useforit.

An idea had been formingin his mind for some time.What if he married

Constance? Then if Arthurwere his stepson as well ashisnephewtheboywouldbecompletely in his power. Ofone thing he was certain, ifthe opportunity should ariseandRicharddiewithoutheirshe was not going to becheatedbyArthur.

Constance turned, startledwhenhe cameupbehindher– rather silently for the

pleasure of seeing hermomentarily off her guard.She was indeed a good-looking woman and beingrather tall she gave theimpression of looking downon him. Hewould soon stopher giving that impression ifhemarriedher.

‘How beautiful you are,Constance,’hesaid.‘IalwayssaidmybrotherGeoffreywas

themostfortunateofusallinhismarriage.’

‘You are very kind,’ shesaid coolly. Her eyes werewary; she was like a tigresswho suspects some attack onher cubs.Notwithout reasontoo.

‘Ah,’ he went on, ‘it isgood for families to betogether.Notalwayspossible

with those of our rank, butrestassured,Constance,thatIintend to seek everyopportunityofbeingwithmydelightful sister-in-law. Itdoesmegoodtoseemynieceandmynephew.Isay,whatacharmerEleanorisbecoming.AndArthur!How proud youmustbeoftheboy.’

‘Iamwellcontentwithmychildren,’sheanswered.

‘AndmayIsaywhatgoodwork you have done withArthur.’

‘You may indeed say it,but whether I can claim thecredit is anothermatter. Youknowhehasspentmuchtimeat the Court of the King ofFrance.’

‘And a thorough littleFrenchmanthatoldscoundrel

hastriedtomakeofhim.’

‘I have reason to begrateful to the King ofFrance,’ she answeredshortly. ‘I can’tagree thatheisoldorascoundrel.’

‘You are a stickler foraccuracy, my dear sister-in-law.Philipiscertainlynotsoaged, but wily you mustadmit.’

‘Asbecomessucha ruler,’sheanswered.

‘My brother, the King ofEngland, has reason todistrusthim.’

Herlipscurled.‘Onehearsthat there was once such agreat friendship betweenthemthatmenmarvelled.’

John came closer to her,leering slightly. ‘Ah, that

friendship. Our brother –yoursinlaw,mineinblood–isamanofmanyparts.’

‘Itwouldseemso.’

‘He has not been over-good to you, my dearConstance.’

‘Onelearnstobewary.’

‘You and I have a greatdealincommon,’saidJohn.

‘Isthatso?’

‘Indeed yes – both havingbeen married … after afashion … and not married,onemightsay.’

She raised her eyebrowsandstudiedhimcoolly.

He went on: ‘You know Iwent through a form ofceremony with Hadwisa ofGloucester. It was what my

brother wished. He had justtaken the throne and hethoughther landswouldbeaway of providing for hisyoung brother withoutmaking demands on hispurse.’

‘Had you no wish for thematch?’

‘YoushouldseeHadwisa.’

‘I gather you are not

pleasedwithyourwife.’

‘Shall I say that she is asdifferent from you as onewoman could be fromanother.’

‘Thatwouldtellmelittle.’

‘Except that you being soattractive, she wouldnecessarilybetheopposite.’

Sheshruggedhershoulders

impatiently.

Hewenton:‘Itwassadforyou, dear Constance, whenGeoffrey died sounexpectedly. Who wouldhave believed it possiblewhen he was playing in ajoust?’

‘Those jousts were toorealistic.Theyweremorelikeactualbattlesthanagame.’

‘’Twas so and Geoffreyloved them. And he left youwithEleanorbut ababy, andArthurontheway.’

‘My children have alwaysbeenagreatcomforttome.’

‘Andananxiety.Admitit.’

‘When great inheritancesareentailedthatisinevitable.’

‘’Tissadforwomen.More

sothanformen.Iknowhowyou suffered through RanulfdeBlundevill.’

He saw the expression flitacross her face – one ofhatred and revulsion; and ittitillatedhissensestothinkofthis fine woman forced tomarry a man she hated. Hewondered what had takenplace between them andthought of himself with

Hadwisa in the first days oftheir marriage when he hadstruck terror into his poorshrinking bride and had thusobtainedtheonlypleasureheeverhadfromher.

How different fromHadwisa was Constance. OnthedeathofGeoffreyshehadbeenforcedintothemarriageby her father-in-law Henry,theKingatthattime;butshe

had no intention ofsubmitting to such indignityas Ranulfwould have forcedon her. She had run awayfrom him and returned toBrittany where the peopleralliedroundherandshowedtheir intention to protect herfromaman shehated; as fortheKing of England, hewasat that time too busilyengagedelsewheretoenforce

hiswill.

She was a strong woman,Constance. She had ruledArthur’sduchyforfouryearswithgreatstrengthofpurposeand during that time she hadendearedtheBretonstohertosuchanextent that theywereready todefendherand theirheirfromallinvaders.

‘I’ve always admired you,

Constance,’saidJohn.‘Iwasso pleasedwhen I heard youhad escaped from that beastRanulf.Butyoudonotregardhim as a husband, do you?That is how it is with me.Youseeweareinlikecase.’

‘I doubt Hadwisa evercaused you the anxiety theEarlofChestercausedme.’

‘I have the advantage of

beingaman,dearsister.Youare a woman and womenneed men – good men – tolookafterthem.’

‘Someofus arenot so ill-equippedthatwecannotlookafterourselves.’

‘Andyou are one of thoserare women. Ah, Constance,how I rejoice that we aregoodfriends.Doyou?’

‘In a world fraught withdangers it is always good tohavefriends.’

Shehoped thatshedidnotbetray the fear which hadcome to her.Whatwas Johnimplying?Why had he comehere? Could it really be thatRichard was consideringmaking a match betweenthem?

Horrifying thought. Thismonster – for she knew hewas that – wasted his timeexchanging fair words withher.Therewasnotoneofheradviserswhohadnotbeenonthealertfromthemomenthehad arrived at her court. Shehad ordered that Arthur wasto be watched and that if itwerepossiblehewasnevertobeleftalonewithhisuncle.If

anything happened to Arthurwhile John was near, Johnwould immediately besuspectedand thatwouldnothelphim.Buthowcould shebe sure how foolish Johnwould be?Hewas not notedforhiswisdom.

It was certainly notinconceivable that Richardand his advisers might havesome idea of a marriage

between her and John sincethere was a question as towho – John orArthur –wastherightfulheirtothethrone.Such a marriage could meanthat John might rule untilArthur was of age or onJohn’s becoming a kind ofregent.

Never, she thought. Iwouldnottrustmysoninhishands…notforamoment.

That she was married toRanulfdeBlundevill,EarlofChester,andJohntoHadwisaof Gloucester would be noimpediment.Thosemarriagescould be set aside without agreat deal of trouble. MarryJohn! He would be athousand times worse thanRanulf. Besides, there wasGuy.Herexpressionsoftenedas she thought of her lover.

Hemightseeherfromoneofthe castlewindows and if hedidhewould come to rescueher from her odious brother-in-law.TheyhadtalkedofthePrince only last night andGuy had said he was inBrittanyfornogoodandthattheymusttakedoublecareofArthur.

She turned away fromJohn, murmuring that she

must leave him now, butwhenshewalkedtowardsthecastlehewasbesideher.Shewent quickly to herapartments and there sheasked one of her trustedwomen to bring Guy deThouars to her. When hecameandtheywerealonesheembracedhim.

‘Oh, Guy,’ she said, ‘I’mafraid…afraidforArthur.’

‘Arthur is well cared for,mylove,whilewearehere.’

‘There is something inJohn’smind. I can see it.Hecame to me in the gardens.Hehassomeplotbrewing.’

‘We must be careful ofhim, and we are. We knewthatfromthestart.’

‘I see him watchingArthur.’

‘Ohyes,hedoesnotforgetthat Arthur has a greaterclaim to the throne ofEnglandthanhehas.’

‘That’s what terrifies me.’She leaned her head againsthimandhe restedhis lipsonher hair. ‘This is peace,’ shemurmured. ‘Peace for just afewminutes.’

‘Nay,mylove,longerthan

that.Arthuriswellprotected.His faithful squire sleepsacross his door. ’TisnecessarywhileJohnishere.’

‘Iwishhewouldgoaway.’

‘Then he would besomewhere else plottingagainstArthur.’

‘At least he would not besonearhim.’

‘Nay. ’Tis better he werewherewecankeepaneyeonhim. We will continuewatchful. Never for onemomentwillweallowArthurtobealonewithhim.’

‘Yetintheforest…’

‘He is always followed. Ihave seen to that. John butseekstoplagueus.Hewouldnot allow harm to come to

Arthur when it was knownthat they had been together.ThepeopleofBrittanywouldkillhimbeforehehadtimetoescapeandRichardwouldnotforgive him. He knows fullwell that that would be theendofhishopes.’

‘Life is so cruel,’ saidConstance vehemently. Shewas thinkingofherbrief lifewith Geoffrey – perhaps it

had not been idyllic butGeoffreyhadbeenyoungandhandsome and had a certaincharm and it had resulted inher twochildrenEleanorandArthur; itwas afterhisdeaththe nightmare had begun.Ranulf!She shudderedat thethought. What right had theKing of England to give hertoamansheloathedbecauseit suited him to do so? That

had been no marriage. Shehad fought desperatelyagainstitsconsummationandhad quickly escaped fromRanulf, and the people ofBrittanyhadralliedroundherand she had had four yearswhen she had governed thedukedom, and cared forArthur, bringing him up inthe way she wished him togo.Alas,Ranulfhadafterthat

time captured her and keptheraprisoner inhiscastleofSt Jean Beveron but notbefore,withthehelpofgoodfriends, she had been able tosend Arthur out of harm’sway to theCourtof theKingofFrance.

It was the good people ofBrittany who had helped torelease her from her prisonand fearing that the King of

France might use Arthur togain his own advantage, shehad him brought back to herand thus they were togetheragain;butneverforamomentmust Constance forget howimportant her sonwas to theaffairs of Europe. There wasthe King of France on onehandandtheKingofEnglandon the other, both seeking touse him against each other;

but the real enemywas John– theuncle inwhosewayhecould possibly stand, for inthe minds of some peopleArthur was a step ahead ofhim in the succession to thethrone.

‘IalmostwishArthurwerenot his father’s heir,’ saidConstance. ‘There are timeswhen I wish we could goaway together… you, I and

my children, and forgetArthur’sinheritance.’

‘Do you really wish that,Constance?’ Guy askedwistfully.

And she could not answertruthfullybecauseArthurwashersonandher lovemingledwith her ambitions for him.Arthur could be King ofEngland and she could not

forgetthat.

‘IfArthurweresafeonthethrone of England, incommand of possessionshere, if he were a few yearsolder…’

‘While Richard lives, theboy is safe. No harm willcometohim.Come,mylove,forgetyourtroubles.Theboyis safe. None could be more

carefullyguarded.’

‘All the same,’ saidConstance, ‘wewill be waryofJohn.’

WhenJohnleftConstancehewent into the schoolroomwhere Arthur sat with histutor.Theboy’sfairheadwasbentoverhisbooksandJohnwas amused to see how alert

the tutor had become sincehisentry.

‘Ah, nephew,’ said Johnbreezily. ‘I find you at yourstudy. That is good. A boycan never learn toomuch. Isthatnotso,mygoodman?’

The tutor had risen. Hebowed to John and repliedthat learning was anadmirableassettoall.

‘Thenweareinonemind.’He nodded. ‘I wish to bealone with my nephew,’ headded.

The man had no recoursebuttoleave;buthewouldnotgo far, John thought with asmirk of amusement. Hisorderswouldhavebeen:keepnear and send word thatPrinceJohn isalonewith theyoung Duke; and someone

would be at hand to makesurenoharmcametoArthur.Hewoulddohisbest to leadthemamerrydance.

‘Suchabeautifulday,’saidJohn. ‘Not one to be poringoverbooks.’

‘Lessonsmustbe learned,’saidArthur.

‘What a model pupil youare! I never was. I preferred

the hunt and the good freshairtoporingoverbooks.’

‘I can well believe that,’replied Arthur. Insolentyoungdog,thoughtJohnwitha sudden uprush of temper.Be careful, he advisedhimself.It’snecessarytoplaythegoodunclehere.

Arthur went on: ‘Mymother thinks that I must

spendmuchtimeinstudyandsodidtheKingofFrance.’

‘I’llwarrantyouandyoungLouis had good sporttogether.’

‘Wehunted,wefencedandstudiedtheartofchivalry…’

‘All that a prince shouldknow,I’llwarrant–andmorealso. Come, we will go andride together, eh … just the

twoofus.’He said thatveryloudly for the sake of thelistening tutor. Now therewouldbepanic.

Like most young peopleArthur loved to feel a horsebeneathhim;hehadinheritedthe Plantagenet love of thechase from his father; andalthough he did not like hisuncle–andbeingyounganda little arrogant and well

aware of his importance, hemade little effort to hide thefact – he could not resist thesuggestion that they shouldride.

‘Come.Letusgo.’

Arthur stood up. He wasgoing to be tall and good-looking, resembling his lateuncle Henry, who was thebest-lookingofallthesonsof

Henry II. His sojourn at theCourt of France had had itseffect on him; his mannerswerecourtlyandheworehisclothes with grace. Thehaughtiness was there,though; there was no doubtthatArthurwaswellawareofhisimportance.

Theyrodeoutsidebyside,theirfollowersaroundthem.

Constance, with Guybeside her, watched themfromacastlewindow.

Guysaid:‘Don’tbeafraid.There are trusted men withthem.’

‘You know what he does.Hecontrivestogethimaway.Why?’

‘Becausehefindsgreatjoyintorturingyou.’

‘He’samonster.’

‘I have heard that said ofhim.’

‘Iwould toGod hewouldgoaway.’

‘He cannot stay here forever.Butwhenhegoesletusnot slacken our care. It maywell be that Arthur is saferwhile he is here, for if aughthappened to Arthur then he

would be immediatelyblamed.’

‘Iwishhewouldbreakhisneck.’

‘I doubt you are not theonly one who prays for thathappy event. Nay, my love,donotfret,Arthuriswithhisfriends and they will watchover him. This is for John alight diversion. One of his

greatestdelightsistofrightenpeople and that is what hehopestodonow.’

‘A thousand curses onhim.’

‘Amen,’saidGuy.

How pleasant it was in theforest. The boy’s face wasalight with his love of thechase. John noted the

clearness of his eyes and thefreshnessofhisskin.Hewastoo healthy to please hisuncle.

A boy … nothing more.Twelveyearsoldandtostandso much in his way! Thepeople of England wouldnever accept him, but overhere they would. Normandy,Anjou…ohyes, theywouldbe ready enough. And the

King of France woulddoubtless like to see aminoronthethroneofEnglandandif he threw in his lot withArthur…

When he thought of thathis temper started to riseandhemustkeepit inchecktoacertain extent. Moreover, ithadn’thappenedyet.Richardstilllived.

They gave chase to a finebuck. Hunting was exciting;helovedthewayinwhichthefrightened animal fled; heliked the killing not to beaccomplished too quickly.That took the fun out ofhunting.

There was no chance onthis occasion to get Arthuralone; no sooner had heeludedonethananotherrider

seemed to appear. MadameConstance had given herorders. ‘Never leave Arthurout of sight when he is withhisuncleJohn.’

He laughed aloud. Heguessed Constance was nowin a fever of anxiety and sowould she remain until theyreturned to the castle. Theywould dally just to keep herinsuspense.

The buck was slain; thebearer would take it to thecastle.

Arthur shouted: ‘We goback now. I have hadenough.’

You have had enough,mylittle nephew? thought John.Whatofyouruncle?

John said: ‘’Tis such apleasant day. Who knows,

there may be another buckfiner than the one we havecapturedlurkingnear.’

‘Nay,’ said Arthur. ‘Mymothercaresnotformetobeawaytoolong.’

‘Oh, but on this occasionsheknowsyouareinthecareofgoodUncleJohn.’

Arthur was too young todissemble. He opened his

blue eyes very wide andbegan: ‘Oh, but …’ Hestopped.

‘Yes, nephew?’ said Johncoaxingly.

‘’Tis nothing,’ repliedArthur.‘Ihavehadenoughofthe chase, though. I wish toseemymother’sdelightwhensheseesthebuck.’

‘We will not go yet,’ said

John. ‘Such a fine youngfellow has no wish to begovernedbywomen.’

Johnspurredhishorseandstarted to ride away, certainthat Arthur after such a gibewouldfollow.Arthurshoutedafter him: ‘This is notwomen.Itismymother,’andgalloped off in anotherdirection.

‘Curse him,’ mutteredJohn. ‘The young coxcomb.I’d like to whip him till thebloodflowed.’

But there was nothing hecoulddo.Hisown followers,knowing well from pastexperience that Arthur’sdeparture would mean thatthe Angevin temper was ontherise,wereawarehowwiseitwasnottobetooneartheir

master. A cut of the whipcouldleavealife-longscarasa reminder of an ill-chosenwordoraction.

John rode off, his men alittle distance from him,muttering curses againstArthur,theboy,thechit,whomight easily stand betweenhimandhisambitions.

It was dusk when he

returnedtothecastle.Hewasin an ill mood. The groomhurried to attend to him andas he came from the stableshesawamanstandingin theshadows. He paused. Themanappeared tobe abeggarand one of the contradictorycharacteristics of the violentPlantagenet Prince was thathewasnotedforhisgoodnessto beggars. He rarely passed

one without giving a coinwhich was strange for,althoughhespentlavishlyonhimself, hewas known to beparsimoniouswithothers.Buta coin or so to a beggarwaslittle compared with thegratitude it produced and heenjoyed distributing largesseto these people and earningtheir thanks. It was a cheapwayofwinningapprovaland

oneherarelyresisted.

So even now, in his evilmood, he paused to find acoinforthebeggar.

‘Mylord,’saidtheman,‘Iamnobeggar. Icome in thisguise with great news foryou.’

‘News!’ whispered John.‘Whatnews?’

‘The King of England isdead.’

‘No.’

‘’Tisso,mylord.’

Johnseizedtheman’sarm.‘Howcoulditbe?’

‘It was at Chaluz. It wassaid that treasure had beenfoundandRichardwantedit.’

‘Hewould,’saidJohn.‘Go

on,man.’

‘In the seige an arrowpiercedhis shoulder. It couldnot be withdrawn andfestered. He is dead. LongliveKingJohn.’

‘You’ll be rewarded,’ saidJohn.

‘May God preserve you,my lord. I have come instealth that you might know

whathashappened.Soon thenews will be abroad… here… in this castle …everywhere.’

‘And what would happento me here?’ asked John.‘Because if theyknewat thismoment they would be forputtingArthuronthethrone.’

‘I thought, my lord, youwould wish to leave in all

hasteforChinon.’

‘For Chinon and the royaltreasure,’criedJohn.

In the castle Arthur wastelling hismother of the finebucktheyhadbroughtin,andthe smell of roasting meatwas in the air. Butwhen thecompany assembled in thegreat hall it was discoveredthat Prince John and his

followerswerenotpresent.

‘Can they have gone atlast?’ cried Constance, hervoicejoyful.

‘It would seem so,’ saidGuy, ‘but I wonder for whatreason.’

Theywere todiscover thatthenextday.

Richarddead.ThenArthur

must be Duke of Normandy,Count ofAnjou andKing ofEngland.

But by that time John hadreached Chinon andpossessedhimselfoftheroyaltreasure.

W

ChapterIII

JOHNISCROWNED

hata thrill itwas torideintoChinon.Atlast that for which

hehadlongedandprayedwas

ready to fall into his hands.Richard dead! The man whoshot the arrow ought to berewarded; he could not havepleased his new King more.He laughed aloud. Whatwouldbe thereactionsof thelords, knights and barons ifhe said, ‘Bring that manbefore me’? They wouldbring theman, wretched andfearful, and he would play

with him for a while so thathe believed dire tortureawaited him and then hewould offer him lands andtitle. ‘You have served mewell.Goinpeace.’

Of course it could not belikethat.Justatfirsthewouldhave to follow theconventions a little. But byGod’sears,hethought,whenI am King with the crown

safely on my head, then Ishall do as I wish and menwill like it or suffer for notliking.

What a glorious future!Blessed man who shot thearrow, you aremy good andfaithful servant. Old LionHeart is no more. The terrorof the Saracens, the greatcrusader, who deserted hisown country to win glory in

the Holy Land, is just acorpsenow…deadandgoneand all his glory with him.AndthewayisclearforJohn.

Arthur–Bah!whathadhetofearfromArthur?

Never had the castle ofChinonlookedsobeautifulasit did on thatAprilmorning.Never had John felt sopleasedwithlife.

Nowwould come the firsttest.What if thecustodianofthetreasurerefusedtohanditto him? But there was noquestion of how he shouldact.Hewould run the fellowthroughandtakeitbyforce.

Into the castle he rode.There was no resistance. Hethrilled with delight. Theyrecognised him as Duke andKing.

Thetreasurewashis.

Therewasamessagefromhis mother who had alreadygivenorders that the treasurewastobehandedtohim.Shewas at Fontevraudwhere thefuneral was taking place.John, now Duke ofNormandy, Count of AnjouandKing ofEngland,was tocome to Fontevraud to payhis last respects to his

brother.

John hesitated. Noneshould give orders to him.Then he saw the folly ofresisting. His mother knewtheprocedureandshewasonhis side, a factwhich shouldmake him exult. Anyresistance Arthur and theBretons might put up wouldbe quickly overcome. Hismothercarriedgreatinfluence

andhemustbehumble for awhile. That was the part toplay and he always enjoyedplaying those parts whichdeceived people. To play thesorrowing brother now, alittle weighed down by therealisation of his heavyresponsibilities,wasaparthecoulddowellandfindagreatenjoymentinplayingit.

Being in possession of the

Angevintreasure,hepreparedto ride to Fontevraud. Butfirst, on hismother’s advice,he sent for Bishop Hugh ofLincoln, the most respectedof English bishops, whosepresence, as Eleanor said,wouldimpressthepeople.

John realised this and wasamusedtothinkofhimselfinthe company of such a man,for in the past he had been

guiltyofgreat levity towardssuch, and Hugh had a mostsaintlyreputation.

However, for the timebeing he must curb his highspirits and show a seriousmientothepeople.

Hugharrivedandgavehimhis blessing. JohnnotedwithsomeasperitythattheBishopwas not inclined to treat him

with great respect eventhoughheacknowledgedhimas King. These churchmenseemed to look on everyoneelse as their children. Hewould not endure hispreaching for long and thefellow would have to takecare how he treated his newsovereign. Richard had notallowed them to bully himalthough he had taken notice

oftheoldhermitinthewoodswho had upbraided him forthe life he led. Ah, but notuntil hewas laid low and onthepointofdeath!

As everyone knows,thoughtJohnlaughing,death-beds are the place forrepentance; before reachingthemoneshouldmakesureofcommitting enough sins tomake the grovelling for

mercyworthwhile.

‘God’sblessingonyou,mylord,’ said Hugh, embracinghim.

John thanked him andsuggested that they return toEnglandwithallspeed.

He was longing for theceremony in WestminsterAbbey and he wouldn’t feelcompletely happy until the

crown was on his head. Akingwasnotconsideredtobea king until after that all-importantceremonyhadbeenperformed. And with Arthurin the shadows it couldn’tbedonetooquicklyforhim.

Hughbeganbyrefusing togo to England. That wasimpossible for him at thistime. What he would dowould be to accompany the

KingtoFontevraudforitwaswellthatJohnshouldvisithisbrother’sgrave.

Herewego, thought John.The Church dictating to theCrown already. Very well,my old prelate. Just for awhile…until I am firmly inthe saddle – and then you’llhave to get out of my waybefore I trample youunderfoot.

Itwasnotlongbeforetheyreached Fontevraud, there topay homage to the graves ofHenryIIandRichard.

Johnknelt by the grave ofhis father and thought ofthose last days of the oldman’s life when he haddeserted him because it wasto his advantage to be withRichard at that time. Hecouldn’t help feeling a little

uneasy in such a solemnplace; he could clearlyrememberhisfather’seyesastheyhadfollowedhimandhehad called him the only oneof his sons whom he couldtrust. John had laughedinwardly at the time, andcongratulated himself on hisfine play-acting, tellinghimself what a clever fellowhe was. But here in the

solemn atmosphere of theabbey he felt a twinge ofsomething whichmight havebeen conscience but wasmorelikelytobefearofwhatreprisalsthedeadmighttake.Then there was Richard,freshly laid in his tomb –Richard, for whose death hehad prayed a hundred timesandmore.Coulditbethatthedead did not leave this earth

when they died, that theystayedtohauntthosewhohadwronged them? Morbidthoughts. It was that oldghoul of a bishop standingover him so disapprovingly,determined to maintain thewar between Church andState.

Itwasallfancy.Thosetwowere dead… finished… nomore earthly glory for them;

andtheirdeparturemeantthatJohnhadwhathehadalwayslongedfor.

He rose from his knees,and going towards the choirdoor,knocked.Frombehindagrille a nun appeared. TheAbbess was away, she said,and the rule was that nonemust be admitted in herabsence.

Thank heaven for that,thought John. He was wearyof these pious pilgrimages.HewantedtohavedonewiththemandgettoEngland.Oh,the glory of his coronation!He remembered Richard’swhichwasnot really so longago and how envious he hadfelt thatRichardwas theonewho would wear the crownandcarrytheorbandsceptre.

My turn now, he thoughtexultantly.Hewasthankfultothe old Abbess for beingaway.

He turned to Hugh andsaid: ‘Tell them that Ipromise benefactions to theirhouse. I pledge this in myname. Perhaps in return theywillprayforme.’

Hugh looked at him

sceptically. He did not trustthenewpietyinoneofwhomhe was well aware rumourhadnotlied.‘Icouldpromisenothing in your name until Iwas sure that the promiseswouldbemet.Youknowfullwell how I detest falsehood,and promise given and notfulfilledisthat.’

‘I swear,’ cried John, ‘thatwhat Ipromiseshallcome to

pass.’

‘ThenIwillgivethesistersyour message, but if youshould break your word,forget not that you areoffendingGod.’

John bowed his head inassumedpiety.

As they left thechurch theBishopbeganalectureontheneedtogovernwell.Thenew

King would have to bring aseriousness to his task; Godhad entrusted him with agreat mission. It was to hisadvantage to carry it out tothebestofhisability.

‘I shall maintain thecrown,’ boasted John. Hebroughtoutanornamentonagold chain from under hiscloak and showed it to theBishop.

‘You see this amulet? Itwas given to one of myancestorsandpasseddowntome.My fathergave it tome.ThatwaswhenhewishedthatI should follow him on thethrone. The legend is thatwhile this stone is in thepossession of our family weshall never lose ourdominions.’

‘You would do well, my

lord,’ answered the Bishoptersely, ‘to trust in the ChiefCornerStone.’

John turned away with agrimace.

They stood for a momentin the porch on the walls ofwhich had been sculptured asceneof theLast Judgement.Godsatonhis throneandonone side were depicted the

torments which awaited thesinners and on the other sidethe angels on their way toheavenlybliss.

‘I beg of you, my lord,’said the Bishop, ‘take goodheedof this.Seewhatawaitsthosewho offend against thelawsofGod.’

‘Look not at them, goodBishop,’ retorted John. ‘See

ratherthoseontheotherside.TheangelsaretakingthemtoHeaven. That is the path Ihavedecidedisforme.’

The Bishop regarded himuneasily. This virtue haddescendedtoosuddenlytobeplausible.

TheytravelledontoBeaufortwhere Queen Eleanor with

the sorrowing widowBerengaria and John’s sisterJoanna were waiting toreceivehim.

His mother embraced himwarmly.

‘This is a sad day for usall,’ she said. ‘Your brother,our great King, struck downin his prime by thismadman’sarrow.’

‘Alas, alas,’ replied John.‘He who survived the HolyLand and cruel incarcerationinanenemycastletocometothis!’

He was studyingBerengaria intently. What ifafter all she were pregnant?The thoughtwas toohorribleforcontemplation.Shewouldhavetobedisposedofbeforeshe brought another rival on

to the scene. It was badenoughforArthurtobethere.

He turned to Joanna,clearlypregnant.

‘Mydearestsister.Thisisasad occasion. I trust it hasdonenoharmtothechildyoucarry.’

Joannaturnedawaytohideher tears. ‘He was sowonderful,’shesaid.

‘We share our grief,’murmured John, forcing hisvoice to tremble. ‘And mydearsister-in-law…howsadforyou.’

He took Berengaria’shands and looked into herface. Don’t dare to bepregnant! he was thinking.No, you are not. Richardnever wanted you to be. Hehadnowishforason.

‘Come to my privateapartments,’ said his mother.He had to admire her. Shehad retired to seclusion, theyhad thought, but events likethis would always bring herouttofightforthefamily;hethankedhisgoodfortunethatshe had decided that he wasto inherit the throne.What ifshehadletherchoicerestonArthur? No, with her, a son

camebeforeagrandson.

When they were alonetogetherhecouldseeatoncethatshewasuneasy.Shewasbitterly mourning forRichard. ‘This has been suchasadblowtome,’shesaid.‘Ihad never thought it possiblethat he would go and leaveme here. I used to worryabouthimwhenhewasintheHoly Land and during that

terribletimewhenwedidnotknow where he was. Butwhen he came back – asstrongandasbraveasever–I never thought he could gobefore I did and leave melonely.’

Fighting his resentmentJohntookherhandandkissedit.

‘You still have one son,

Mother,’heremindedher.

‘You,John…theyoungestof them all. And you havebecometheKing.’

‘Itisagreatresponsibility.’

‘I’m glad you realise it.’She looked at him shrewdly.‘It will not be easy. Youknow that. You will havemore conflict to face thanRichardeverdid.’

‘Yes,’ he said, his mouthtightening.‘ThereisArthur.’

‘William Marshal believesthatyoucomebeforeArthur.’

‘William Marshal!’ Thejoy showed briefly in John’sface. There was one of themost influential men inEngland,amanrenownedforhis integrity. Others wouldfollowhim.

‘IhavesenthimtoEnglandtopreparethepeopleforyourreception there and to urgethem to accept you as therightfulKing.’

‘Youhavealwaysbeenthebestofmothers.’

‘Marshal, with HubertWalter, will convince thepeople that you are the trueKing.’

‘The Church must beinvolved,Idaresay.’

‘Hubert is Archbishop ofCanterbury. He will performthe coronation. His approvalisessential.’

‘Andyouthinkhewillgiveit?’

‘Ifhewavers,Marshalwillpersuadehim. John, youwillhavetocurbyourlevity.’

‘Allthatispast.Irecognisetheresponsibilities Ihaveformycrown.’

‘Then that is well. Youmustalwaysbejust.Thinkofyour father. Oh, he had hisfaults, but taking everythinginto account he was a goodandworthy ruler.Thepeopleacceptedhimbecausehewasjust. Try to follow hisexample.’

‘I shall not followRichard’sexamplebyleavingmy country in the hands ofmen likeLongchampwhile Igooffinsearchofglory.’

‘Richardhadamission.Hehad vowed to go on acrusade. He saw that as hisfirstduty.’

Johnclaspedhishandsandraisedhiseyespiously to the

ceiling. ‘Mineshallbe tomycountry.’

Eleanor looked at himsharply.‘John,’shesaid,‘thisis themost important timeofyourlife.’

‘Iknowitwell.’

‘You will have to walkwiththeutmostcare.’

‘Iknowthatalso.’

‘Philip will have to bewatched. Itmaywell be thathe will try to put Arthur inyourplace.’

‘Think you that I shallallowit?’

‘We must see that it doesnothappen.’

He was silent for a while.Then he said, ‘PoorBerengaria. She looks

fatigued.’

‘She has suffered much.His death was a great shocktoher.’

‘I was wondering … is itpossible … If it were so itwouldcreateanissue…’

Eleanor looked at himsharply. ‘You are afraid thatshe might be with Richard’schild.’

‘Itisapossibility.’

Eleanorshookherhead.

‘Itisnotso.’

‘Butpossible…’

‘Thinkyouthatthishasnotoccurred to me? I havespoken with her. It is notpossible.’

Johnwasdeeplyrelieved.

‘Then there is nothing to

fear,’hesaid,‘but…Arthur.’

Bishop Hugh was growingincreasinglyapprehensive.HewasoftheopinionthatArthurwould have been the betterchoice. True, he was Bretonand had been brought up forsomeofhisformativeyearsatthe Court of France, but hewas yet a boywho could bemoulded. It might be that

JohnassonofthelateHenryIIwascloser to thelateKingRichardthanArthur–andyetJohnwasanuneasychoice.

Toconsiderhispastrecordmust make all churchmenshudder. Setting his exploitsin Ireland, and his treacheryto his father, on one side,therewasstill thelifeheled.The last King’s departurefrom the orthodox in sexual

relations was deplorable, butithadnotaffectedhisrule;hehadneverhadfavouriteswhohadinfluencedhim.

Hugh was surprised thatQueen Eleanor, who was avery wise woman, andWilliam Marshal, whoundoubtedly had the good ofEngland at heart, could havelet their choice rest on John.The line of succession was

not so rigid that it could notbechangedforexpediency.Aking’s son was his naturalsuccessor but if that sonshould show himself to beunworthy it was quiteacceptable to select the nextcandidate.Itwasamootpointwhether Henry II’s youngestsonorthesonofanoldersonwas the heir to the throne. IfRichard himself had had a

son how different it wouldhave been. What alarmedHugh was that theArchbishop of CanterburybelievedArthur tohavebeenthe better choice and hadbeen overruled by WilliamMarshal.

OfcourseWilliamMarshalwas a man with a strongsense of duty and he was inclose service with King

Henry II. It could be that heremembered that it was hisoldmaster’s desire that Johnshould beKing and thiswaswhy he supported the claimoftheyoungersonratherthanthatofthegrandson.

In any case, it appearedthat Johnwas to be the nextKing and they must try tomakethebestofit.

He went to John’sapartments in the CastleBeaufortandtherefoundhimwith one or two of hiscompanions – young menwhose tastes were similar tohisown.

The Bishop asked if hecould speak to John alone.Theyoungmanregardedhimrather insolently and Johnhesitated; he would have

likedto tell theoldprelate togo, but his common sensewarned him that until thatcoronation ceremony he hadbetterbealittlecareful.

Hewavedhishandandtheyoungmensaunteredout.

‘What is it?’ asked Johnsomewhattestily.

‘TomorrowisEasterDay,’saidtheBishop.‘Youwillof

course wish to takecommunion.’

‘Not I,’ cried John. ‘’Tisnottomytaste.’

The Bishop was horrified,andJohnlaughedathim.‘Mygood Bishop, I have notcommunicated since I wasable to make up my ownmind on such matters and Ihavenointentionofdoingso

now.’

‘You are now a king …’TheBishoppausedandaddedominously: ‘Or hoping tobecome one. It is necessaryforthepeopletoseethatyouareworthyofthecrown.’

‘What has communion todowithkingship?’

‘I think you know. If youare to govern well you will

needtheguidanceofGod.’

‘I have no qualms that Ishallknowhowtogovern.’

‘Othersmighthave.’

John narrowed his eyes.Theinsolenceofpriests!Washe the King or wasn’t he?The answer to that was ofcourse,no,notyet.

Notyet.Thatwaswhathe

must remember.Hemust getthatceremonyperformed.

He said: ‘I know I haveliveda sinful life. I intend toreformnowthisgreatburdenhas been placed upon myshoulders, but if after allthese years I communicate –andtherearemanywhoknowthatforyearsIhaveabstained– they will think myrepentance over-sudden. Let

me come gradually back tothe good life. If I attend theHighMass, thatwilldoforastart.ItwillshowpeoplethatIammakingabeginning.’

TheBishopsaid:‘Godwillknowexactlywhat is inyourheart.’

‘Assuredly,’ answeredJohnwithhiseyesdowncast.

There was no point in

furtherpersuasion,theBishoptold himself. Time wouldshow what attitudes Johnwould take and the peoplewould accept or reject himaccordingly.

WhentheBishophadgoneJohn recalled his friends. Hegavethemanaccountofwhathadhappened,mimickingtheBishop.

‘He thinks he is to governme. We are going to havesomefunwithMasterBishop,myfriends.’

They applauded wildly; itwould have been unwise nottodoso.

Theywerewithhimat theHigh Mass. John liked themto be there because he feltover-bold when it was

necessarytoamusethemwithhisdaring.

Therewasonepointwhichshocked Hugh profoundly,when during the offertoryJohn approached jinglingsome gold coins in his handanddidnotputtheseintothedish which was there toreceive them but stood for awhilelookingdownatthem.

Hugh said sharply, ‘Whydo you stand there staring atthecoins?’

Johnlookedathimslyly.‘Iwas thinking that a littlewhileagoIwouldneverhaveput them into your hands.Theywouldbeinmypocket.I suppose now I must givethemtoyou.’

Hugh was scarlet with

indignation.

‘Put them in thebasin andgo,’hesaidshortly.

John hesitated for amoment and then did as hewas bid, putting the coins inonebyoneasthoughwiththegreatestreluctance.

TheBishopwasangryanddeeplydisturbedthatafuturemonarch could behave so in

God’s holy house! It did notaugurwellforthefuture,andhe was indignant as he wentto his pulpit and prepared todeliver his sermon. Johnwasseated immediately belowand with him were a few ofhisdissolutefriends.

Was is possible,wonderedHugh, to make this youngmanunderstandthatunlesshebehaved like akinghe could

neverbeasuccessfulone?Hewould do his duty and try tosowafewideaswhichmightbearfruit.

He had prepared a sermonwhich he would preachbeforeJohnandhehadmeantits bearing to be on the dutyof rulers to their people. Heenlarged on the subject,stressing the disaster thatcould come through careless

and wanton behaviour. Aking must be high-mindedandmustput thegoodofhiscountry before his ownpleasures.Hecouldnotstressthisenough.

He was aware of themurmurings and nudgingsthat were going on in thatpewbutignoredthemandthemore theypersisted themorehehadtosayabouttheduties

ofakingtohissubjects.

‘A king must never forgetthat he serves his peopleunderGod…’

There was a giggle fromJohn’spewand,whenoneofthe young men quietlyslipped out, Hugh wasastonishedtofindthathewasmaking hisway round to thebackofthepulpit.

‘My lordBishop,’ said theyoung man in an audiblewhisper, ‘theKing says,willyou bring your sermon to animmediate end? He is wearyofitandwantshisdinner.’

Hugh, colour heightened,continuedtopreachwhiletheyoungman went back to hisseat.

Oh God, thought Hugh,

whatwillbecomeofus!

Theserviceover,Hughleftthechurch.Hewouldtakehisleave tomorrow. There wasno point in staying with theKing. He would go back toEnglandandconsultwith theArchbishop of Canterburyand tell them that he hadindeed been right when hehad suggested Arthur wouldbeamoresuitableking.

ThenextdaytheBishopofLincolnsaidfarewelltoJohn.

John,hisfriendsstillroundhim, cried: ‘This is a sadleave-taking, Bishop. I shallalways remember yoursermon to me on myaccession.’

TheyoungmentitteredandJohn could scarcely containhislaughter.

‘Then,’ said the Bishopwith dignity, ‘perhaps it hasnotbeeninvain.’

The Bishop with hisentourage rode off and Johnentered the castle, there toenjoy the venisonwhichwasbeingpreparedforhim.Overthe table he talked with hisfriendsofthegoodsporttheywouldhave.Theyshould seewhat it was like to be the

faithfulfriendsofaking.

But while they feasted,messengers came to thecastle. It was clear by theirlooks that they brought illnews. They were takenimmediatelytoJohnwhofellintoaragewhenheheardit.

Philip was on the march;he was backing Arthur andthe Bretons, and Constance,

with her son Arthur and herlover Guy Thouars, wasleading an armyagainst him.Moreover,noonehadputupany resistance. Cities hadsurrendered; custodians ofcastles had declaredthemselves in favour ofArthur; andwith the backingof the King of France thesituation was perilous.Evreuxwas inPhilip’shands

andhewasalreadyinMaine.Moreover,baronsinsuchkeyplacesasTouraineandAnjouwere swearing fealty toArthur.

‘What can I do?’ criedJohn. ‘What forces have Ihere?’

Hemustget toNormandy.He rose from the table, gaveorderstomakereadyandina

short time was riding for LeMans, as yet not in hisenemy’shands.

He was surprised by hislackofwelcome.Thepeopledid not want him. Hisreputationwaswellknowntothem.Therewasayoungboywhose father came beforeJohn indirectsuccessionandhe was the one whom theywanted. Moreover, the King

of France was backingArthur. They did not wantJohn.

ItwasanuneasynightJohnpassed in Le Mans and assoon as dawn broke he wasready to get out of the placebecause he knew howdangerousitwouldbetostay.Philipwasnotfaroff,andthepeople were hostile. Tobecome Philip’s captive

beforehehadbeencrownedakingwouldbedisastrous.

Arthur, he had heard, haddone homage to the King ofFrance forAnjou,MaineandTouraine. The impudence!These were his dominions.Normandy was safe.Normandy had been theproud possession of hisancestors since the days ofRollo.

Itspeoplewouldbetruetohim.

Hemust gowith all speedtoRouen.

How different it was inRouen. The people therewanted him.As he rode intothe town they came to cheerhim. These were his faithfulsubjects.Hereinthiscity the

brave heart of Richard wasburied. Close by was thegreat Château Gaillard –Richard’s SaucyCastle. Thiswas the territory of the greatdukes who for many yearshad reigned there indefianceof theFranks.EveryKingofFrance wanted to takeNormandyfromtheNormansand every Norman dukesworetheynevershould.This

was the land of WilliamLongsword, Richard theFearless and William theMighty Conqueror. Thepeople of Normandy wouldneversupportthosewhowereupheldbytheFrench.

TheArchbishop ofRouen,Walter – he had the samename as the Archbishop ofCanterbury–cameatoncetowelcomeJohn.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it isnecessary that you beproclaimed Duke ofNormandywithoutdelay.Thepeoplearewithyou.Thelastthing theywill tolerate is therule of a Breton, particularlywhenhe is, asmanybelieve,the tool of the King ofFrance. Here you are indeedwelcome and it is theuniversal wish that the

ceremony take place withoutdelay.’

Johnwasquitereadytogothrough the ceremony at theearliestpossiblemoment.Thefact that Constance and herfriends,includingtheKingofFrance, were on the marchhadsoberedhim.He told theArchbishop with aseriousness rare to him thathe placed himself in his

hands, at which theArchbishop blessed him andannounced that the ceremonywould take place on LowSunday which was the 25th

April – nineteen days afterRichard’sdeath.

John, in the cathedral, thecoronet decorated withgolden roses placed on hishead, swore on the Gospelsandrelicsofthesaintsthathe

wouldupholdtherightsoftheChurch, that his laws wouldbejustandhewouldsuppressevil.

The Archbishop thenattached the sword of justiceto his girdle and took up thelancewhichhadalwaysbeenused by theNormans insteadof the sceptre as in theChurchofEngland.

Itwaswhile the lancewasbeinghandedtohimthatJohnheard his friends gigglingclose by and he could notresistturningtowinkatthemand assure them that he wasstill the same merry andirreligious companion whohadsharedtheirsportandthathe was merely indulging inthis solemn ceremonybecausejustatthemomenthe

must go along with the oldpeople; andbecausehisheadwas turned, the lance, whichthe Archbishop was at thatmoment putting into hishands, slippedand fell to thefloor.

Therewasahorrifiedgaspfromallwhobeheld this andasoftmurmurspreadthroughthecathedral.

Atthissolemnmomentthelance, the symbolofNormanpower which had beenhanded down and graspedfirmly by every duke ofNormandy, had fallen fromthegraspofthisone.

It was an omen, and whatcould it be but an evil onewith the King of France inarms against them and somebelieving that Arthur of

Brittany had a greater claimtotheducalcrown?

John refused to bedepressedbytheincident.Hewould laugh about it laterwithhiscronies.

After the ceremony therewas good news. TheindefatigableEleanorhadlefther seclusion once more andplaced herself at the head of

Richard’smercenaries led bythe brilliant commanderMercadier – he who hadinflicted such terriblepunishment on Richard’sslayer – and shewas drivingthe French and Bretons backfrom the territory they hadgained. Meanwhile, thepeople of Normandy wererallying to John and he wassoon ready to march on Le

Mans.

He took it with ease andwas exultant, rememberingtheir cool reception of himsuchashortwhilebefore.HewasgoingtoshowthemwhatitmeanttoincurthewrathofKing John. He was noRichard who only on rareoccasions let the Angevintemper take over. John wasgoing to show people right

fromthebeginningwhattheymustfeariftheywentagainsthim.

He burned the houses.Every one of them must bedemolished,hecried,andthecastlewasrazedtothegroundwhile the leading citizenswerebroughtbeforehim.

‘You were veryinhospitabletomebutashort

timeago,’hesaid.‘Youwerevery haughty, thinking youhad the King of France withyou. Where is he now? Tellmethat.Hehasdesertedyou.He left you to my mercy.Now you shall discover howmercifulIshallbe.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Putthem in chains,’ he growled.‘Put them in the darkestdungeons. We’ll leave them

there. There they can broodon what it means to setthemselves against KingJohn.’

Themenweretakenaway.Theyhadheardstoriesofhiscruelty. Now they wouldexperienceit.

Flushed with success Johncried: ‘What we have donewith LeMans we will do to

those others who have giventhemselvesfreelytothecauseof the King of France andlittleArthur.’

But his advisers remindedhim that the conquest of LeMans had not been difficultbecause the King of Francehad already left, and if hewere going to march onAnjou he needed a biggerarmy. Meanwhile, he should

go to England and there letthe ceremony of coronationbeperformedsothathecouldshowtheworldthathewasintruththeKingofEngland.

John needed littlepersuasion. War in itself didnot appeal tohim. Itwas theconquest he liked. He hadenjoyed ravaging Le Mansandworkinghimselfupintoarageoverthepeople’sperfidy

to him while he enjoyed tothe fullmaking thempay fortheir decision to support thewrongside.

But to go to war again, awar which could drag onendlessly, for Philip was awilyadversaryandConstanceheknewwould findmany torally to Arthur’s cause, didnotappeal.

He agreed to leave theconquest of Anjou for thefuture.

Hewould sail forEnglandandhiscoronation.

The day after he arrived inLondon John was crowned.That was on the 26th May.The Abbey had been hungwith coloured cloth. Sixteen

prelates, ten earls and a hostof barons graced theceremonywiththeirpresence;as was the custom at acoronation theArchbishopofCanterbury presided. TheBishopofYorkprotestedthattheceremonyshouldnottakeplaceuntil theArchbishopofYorkwas able to be present;butashewasnotonthespotitwas decided to offend him

if need be by continuingwithouthim.

The Archbishop addressedthe gathering in anunexpected fashion whichappeared to be a justificationof the selection of John andexclusionofArthur.

‘The crown is not theproperty of any one person,’heannounced.‘Itisthegiftof

thenationwhichchooseswhoshall wear it. This is bycustom usually a member ofthe reigning family, and aprincewhoismostworthyofwearingit.PrinceJohnis thebrother of our dead KingRichard – the only survivingbrother, and if he will swearthe oaths which this highoffice demands, this countrywillaccepthimasitsking.’

John gave assurance thathe was ready to swear anyoaths which would put thecrownonhishead.

‘Will you swear to upholdthepeaceof this land,’askedthe Archbishop, ‘to governwith mercy and justice, torenounceevilcustomsandbeguided by the laws of thatgreatKingknownasEdwardthe Confessor, these laws

having proved beneficial tothenation?’

‘Iswear,’saidJohn.

The Archbishop warnedJohn against attempting toevadehis responsibilities andreminded him of the sacrednatureofhisoath.

SoJohnwascrownedKingofEngland but he refused toreceive Holy Communion

after the ceremony ofcrowning which was acustomof thecoronationandwas looked upon as sealingthe oaths a king had justtaken.

There was much feastingafter theyhad left theAbbeyand John and all the guestshad to do justice to thetwenty-one oxen which hadbeenroastedfortheoccasion.

The next day he receivedthehomageofthebarons.

Hewas now trulyKing ofEngland and Duke ofNormandy.

S

ChapterIV

THEGIRLINTHEFOREST

urrounded by seriousmen, somewhatoverawed by the

ceremonies of centuries,

remembering stories he hadheard of his great ancestorsWilliam the Conqueror,HenrytheLionofJusticeandeven the virtues of his ownfather Henry II, John wastemporarily ready to beguided.

HisfirsttaskwastoreceiveWilliam Marshal, to let himknow of his appreciation ofwhat he had done and to

expressthehopethatWilliamwould servehim in the sameselfless manner as he hadservedhisbrotherandfather.

Williamassuredhimofhisloyalty and John could nothelp being impressed in thepresence of such a man. Heconfirmedhis title ofEarl ofPembrokewhichhadcometohim through his wife andshowed himself ready to

listentoWilliam’sadvice.

William was pleased thatEngland had accepted him;and that Normandy too waswithhim.Theywould regainAnjou, he promised John.Whenanewkingcametothethrone there were alwaysthosewhothoughttheyhadagreater claim. The maintroublewouldcomefromtheContinent, but all the kings

sincetheConquerorhadbeenfacedwiththatdifficulty.

It was from the North ofEngland, however, that thefirstthreatcame.

William,KingofScotland,known as William the Lion,had sent messages to theeffectthatifJohnwishedhimtomaintaintheloyaltyhehadgiventoRichardhe,William,

would need to becompensatedby thereturnofNorthumberland andCumberland to the ScottishCrown. Faced with theantagonism of Philip andarmies under Constance andArthur, John had repliedplacatingly to William,saying that if he would waituntil he returned to Englandhe would be happy to settle

allhisclaims.

Now that he was backWilliamwantedtheterritorieshe had claimed and sentanothermessengertosaythatif they were not given upimmediately he wouldperforce be obliged to takethem.

William Marshal wasinclinedtothinkthattheKing

of Scotlandwas bluffing andhad no intention of engagingin a major war, but it wasimportant that this did nottake place, for clearly John’sfirst task was to win backAnjouandthepropertywhichPhiliphadtakenfromhim.

‘Offer to negotiate withhim,’advisedWilliam. ‘Sendhimasoftplacatorynoteandwhileyourarmy ispreparing

for the Continent you mightmeet him somewhere. TheArchbishop of York wouldconduct him over the borderand you might travel to theMidlands and see him there.You must not give way.Parleywithhim.Maketerms.Your father was an adept atsuchdiplomacy.’

John was irritated by theMarshal’sfrequentreferences

to his father, but he had toacceptthemnonetheless.Hemustn’t forget that Williamhad been instrumental ingetting him the crown andthere had been opposition toit. He dare not offendWilliamMarshal…notuntilhe was more secure, ofcourse.

John wrote to the King ofScotland asWilliamMarshal

dictated and a meeting wasarranged at Northampton.When he reached that towntherewasnosignofWilliambut a peremptory demandawaitedhimtotheeffectthatif the territories were notrestored immediately thelargearmywhichwason theScottish borders wouldinvadeEngland.

John was in a quandary.

How could he take on awarin theNorthwhen he had somuch to regain on theContinent?Thiswasnotwhathehadthoughtofaskingship.Wars … wars … continualwars.What fun was there inthat? He had always thoughthis father liked wars –though, when he came tothinkofit,HenryIIwasmoreof a diplomatist than a

soldier.Hehadoncesaidthathe won more honours bynegotiating and getting thebetter of his enemy at aconference than he ever hadthroughfighting.

ThatwashowJohnwantedittobe.

Hehadastrokeofrealluckwhichwas so unusual that itmight be suspected of being

contrived.

WilliamofScotland,readyto invade England, hadvisitedoneoftheshrinesofaScottish saint; and while hekneltthere,avoicewasheardwarninghimagainstinvadingEngland which would bringsorrow and disaster toScotland.

Thishadthedesiredeffect.

He disbanded his army anddecided to shelve the matterof theNorthern Provinces. Itcouldn’t have been moreopportune from John’s pointof view, and he was able toforgettroubleonthenorthernborder and sail for theContinent.

Joanna,withBerengaria, hadreached Rouen where they

plannedtostayforawhileasJoanna’s pregnancy wasnearing its end. Those weresad days. Both queens wereovercome by grief atRichard’s death and theywould sit together talking ofhisvirtues.Berengariawouldforget the long years ofneglect and remember onlythat brief period after hisrepentance when they had

beentogether.Joannalikedtotalkof thedayswhenhehadtakenheracrossAquitaineonher way to Sicily. Sherecalled clearly how the sunhadglintedonhisarmourandhow nobly he had sat on hishorse.

‘It seemed inevitable thathe should die young,’ saidJoanna. ‘One could notimagine Richard’s ever

growingold.’

Berengaria said: ‘Perhapsin time I should have had achild. I envy you, Joanna, inyourhappystate.’

‘To love is not always ahappy state,’ Joannacomforted her. ‘There arecontinuous anxieties. InToulousewehaveabeautifulestate, fertile lands, faithful

servants and good friends.But there are those whopersecute us because we donot think as they do, andbecausewefearthatRomeisat the heart of thesepersecutionswe are afraid. ItisforthatreasonIamhere.’

‘I know, Joanna. But youhaveyourhusbandwholovesyou,dear littleRaymondandthe new child whowill soon

bewithus.’

‘And Richard is dead.Mybeloved brother … I neverbelieved that he would notcome back when so manythoughthewasdead.Whataday of rejoicing itwaswhenBlondel returned to tell usthat he had found him! Eversince he took me to Sicily Ihad told myself Richard ishere.Richardwillprotectme.

You see he came to SicilyandIknewthatassoonashearrived I should cease to beTancred’s prisoner and itcame to pass. My belovedbrother and champion! Hewould have saved us fromthose who now persecute us… and he is gone, so whatwillbecomeofus?’

‘You have your husband.Hewillprotectyou.’

‘He is but the Count ofToulouse. Richard was rulerofEnglandandhisdominionshere. Sometimes the weightof this tragedy descends onmeandIfeellifeismorethanIcanbear.’

‘That is no way for amother to talk,’ saidBerengariainmildreproof.

‘You are right, my dear

friendandsister.WhatshouldIdowithoutyou?’

‘We shall always betogether.Iwillstaywithyou,Joanna, as long as you wantme.’

‘YouknowIshouldalwayswantyoubutitmaybethatahusband will be found foryou.’

Berengariashookherhead.

‘I have done withmarriage,’shesaid.

Joannawasonthepointofsaying that because onemarriagehadbeenafailureitdid not mean that a secondwouldbe, but that seemed tocast censure on Richard, soshe was silent. He hadscarcely been as good ahusband to Berengaria as hehad been a good brother to

her.

That night Joanna’s painsstarted. They went on allthrough thenextdaywhen itbecameclear thatallwasnotgoingwell.

The doctors were gravewhen Berengaria questionedthem anxiously. QueenJoanna had suffered a greatshock on the death of her

brother and this had had anadverse effect on her health.She should have rested inToulouseinsteadoftravellingtoChaluztoseeRichard.

Thenextmorningthechildwasborn,apoorsicklyinfantwhowasclearlynotdestinedtolivemorethanafewdays.He was hastily baptisedbeforehedied.

Joannalingeredforawhilebut itwas soonapparent thatitcouldnotbeforlong.

Berengaria was with herduring the day and night, forJoanna found great comfortfromherpresence.

She said: ‘I am dying,Berengaria.Nay,donotdenyit. I know it well. I can seethe angel of death beckoning

tome.Theremight be a fewdayslefttome,butnomore.Imust repent of my sins andprepare myself to make mypeacewithheaven.’

‘Youhaveledagoodlife,’comforted Berengaria. ‘Youneedhavenofears.’

But Joanna talked of hermother in the peace ofFontevraud and said it was

herwish thatbefore shediedsheshouldbeveiledasanunofFontevraud.

Shehadonemore request.She wanted to be buried inthe Abbey of Fontevraudbeside her beloved brotherRichard whom she hadsurvived such a short while.Theywould lie together, shesaid,atthefeetofherfather.

Soshereceivedtheveilthedaybefore shedied and thenher body was taken toFontevraud where QueenEleanor received it andcarried out her daughter’swish.

Berengaria, who went tothefuneral,wasstrickenwithgrief. The companion of somany years, when they wereintheHolyLandtogetherand

she gradually understood thenature of the man she hadmarried, was gone for ever.The future looked bleakbefore her. She could go toher brother’s court or that ofher sister. Neither promisedheranygreatjoy.

As for Eleanor, she wasstrickenandfor thefirst timelookedhergreatage.

She was not bitter asBerengaria expected shemight be; she was merelyresigned.‘Ihavelost thetwoI loved best,’ she said, ‘andthat in the space of a fewmonths.Mylifeisover.Whatisthereleftformenowbuttowaitfordeath?’

She would go intocomplete seclusion. Shewould remain at Fontevraud

with the remains of herhusband,andherbelovedsonanddaughter.

‘My work is done,’ shesaid,‘andthereisnothingforme now but to wait fordeath.’

John,meanwhile,hadarrivedinNormandyattheheadofaformidable army, and in one

or two skirmishes with theFrench army was victorious,which led toameetingbeingarrangedbetweenhimselfandPhilip. The French KingwantedtheVexinforhimselfandAnjou,Maine,PoitouandTouraineforArthur,butwithanarmybehindhimJohnwasin a position to snap hisfingers at such demands; theresult was war. John’s good

fortunewas thatWilliam desRoches,whowas leading theBreton army for Constance,Arthur and Guy Thouars,could not agree with Philipand there was dissensionbetween them.Sogreatlydidthey fear the King of Franceand his intentions towardsArthur that in a moment ofpanic they decided to placehim temporarily under the

protectionofJohn.

John was delighted. Hewas in Le Mans at the timeand he welcomed WilliamdesRocheswithopenarms.

‘Ah, my good lord,’ hesaid,‘itpleasesmethat thereare some wise men in theworld. This conflictwithmyownnephewbreaksmyheart.I have never ill-wished the

boy.Iwouldhismothercouldbemadetounderstandthis.’

‘I am doing my best tomakeherdoso.TheKingofFrance is quite perfidious. Inevertrustedhim.’

‘Nor I,’ said John. ‘WhereisArthur?’

‘Not far from here. I willbringhim toyou,my lord, ifyou will promise to guard

him until such time as he issafe from the King ofFrance.’

‘Bring him to me with allspeed. I will guard himwithmylife.’

John was inwardlyexulting. The folly of otherswas always exciting. Theywere actually going to putArthur under his protection!

And Constance would bewith him. That was highlyamusing. He had to begrateful to William desRoches for quarrelling sofiercely with the King ofFrancethathesawPhilipwasthe very essence of villainybeside whom his otherenemiesseemedlikesaints.

FromthecastletowerJohnsaw the party riding towards

the castle – young Arthurbetween hismother andGuyde Thouars. He wasConstance’s paramour, ofcourse. That was obvious.John’s eyes narrowed as hethoughtof the sporthecouldhave with those two if theopportunity arose, but hismain concern must be withArthur, of course, becauseArthurwasthegreatthreatto

his security and he was theveryheartofconflictbetweenthem.

Rubbinghishandshewenttogreetthem.

‘Mydear,dearConstance,’hecried. ‘Itdoesmegood tobehold you. And Arthur!How you have grown,nephew! You are indeed aman. And here is the

Viscount de Thouars, yourverygoodfriend.Ithankyou,mylord,fortakingsuchgoodcare of my sister-in-law andmybelovednephew.’

Shewaswary,thatwoman.It had been against herjudgement that they werehere,hewassure.Shewouldnever trust him. But howfrightenedshemustbeof theKing of France to have

allowedArthur tobebroughttohim!

Arthur was too young tohidehisresentment.HeknewJohnhadbeencrownedKingof England and the arrogantyoung creature thought thathonourshouldhavebeenhis.It was maddening to thinkthatquiteanumberofpeopleagreedwithhim.Adangerousboy,thisone.

That was why he wasgoing to be very welcomingtohim.

Constance said: ‘We wishto shelter here for a shorttime. Our stay will not belongbutifyouwouldgiveushospitality for a while weshallbegrateful.’

‘Iwantnogratitudeforthatwhichcanonlygivemegreat

pleasure. Come into thecastle. A feast is beingprepared.IwantyoutoknowhowhappyIamtoseeyou.Ihave always deplored thatthere should be conflictbetweenus.Nowwecantalkas friends of any differenceswhich may have arisenbetweenus.’

Constance exchangedglances with Guy. Any

differences! Only theusurpation of a throne! Howcould she have allowedWilliam des Roches topersuade her to bring Arthurhere? She only had to be inJohn’s company for a fewmoments for all hersuspicions to be aroused.SurelyPhilipofFrancewouldhave been the better choiceeven though there was

disagreement between himandWilliamdesRoches.Shehadgreatly feared thatPhilipwould imprison Arthur. Butwhat if John did the same?Sheknewthenthatshefearedthe King of England morethan she did the King ofFrance.

She was given amagnificent bedchamber andArthurhadtheadjoiningone.

When they were alonetogether Arthur said: ‘Myuncleseemsverykind.’

She smiled wryly. ‘It iswhen he is most kind that Itrusthimleast.’

There was a scratching atthedoor.Constancewenttoitandopeneditcautiously.Shefellbackwithrelief.‘Guy!’

Guy liftedhis finger tohis

lips. ‘Depend upon it,’ hewhispered, ‘there will bethose towatch us. I like thisnot. We should never haveallowed William des Rochestobringushere.’

‘Butweareherenow,’saidConstance, ‘and must needsmakethebestofit.’

Guy shook his head. ‘Ihaveheardwhispers,’hesaid.

‘John will never let Arthurleave here. At first he willsootheuswithsoftwordsbuthis intention is to makeArthurhisprisoner.’

‘Thatmustneverbe,’criedConstance.

‘So think I. God knowswhatwouldhappentoArthurif he fell into that monster’shands.’

Constance clung to hisarm.

‘Oh, Guy, what shall wedo?’

‘We are not spending anight in this castle. I havegiven orders to men I cantrust.Tonightwhenthecastleis quiet we shall steal out tothestablesandhorseswillbeready. We shall not stop

ridinguntildawn.’

Sheleanedagainsthim,hereyes half closed. ‘Oh, Guy,how thankful I am that youarewithus.’

All through the night theyrode towards Brittany wherethey could feel safe for awhile.With dawn they cameto rest at the residence of a

knightwhomtheycouldtrust.

Beforetheycontinuedtheirjourney Constance talkedseriously to Guy about thedangerous position whichArthurwas in. ‘It isstrange,’shesaid,‘thatassoonasIseeJohnIsensethatwhichisevilin him, although when I amnotwith him I can be led tobelieve that he is not as badasIreallyknowhimtobe.’

‘Never forget,’ said Guy,‘thathefearsArthurwilltakewhat he wants, and whichmany believe by right isArthur’s.ArthurwillneverbesafewhileJohnlives.’

‘It terrifiesme. Iwould toGodsomeonewouldkillhimastheydidhisbrother.’

‘Itmayhappen,butuntilitdoesletusbeonourguard.’

‘I know not what I woulddowithoutyou,Guy.’

‘You know that you willneverhavetodowithoutme,Constance.Letusmarry.’

‘AndtheEarlofChester?’

‘That was no marriage.You could surely get adispensation.Marriagewhichwasneverconsummatedisnomarriageatall.’

‘Guy,thereisapriesthere.He shall marry us. Then Ishall know that we shallneverbeparted.’

‘It is what I hope for,’ hesaid.

And so immediately aftertheir flight from Le Mans,Guy and Constance wentthrough a ceremony ofmarriage.

When John heard thatArthur had escaped he fellinto such a fury that nonedaredapproachfortherestoftheday.Hethrewhimselfontothefloorandrolledamongthe rushes, cramminghandfuls of them into hismouth, grinding his teeth inhis rageand thenshouting toeveryonewhathewoulddotoArthurandhismotherifever

theyfellintohishandsagain.

Queen Eleanor was feelingher age, which was notsurprisingconsideringwhatitwas.Fewhadlivedaslongasshe had. In two years shewould be eighty years old.There had been a timewhenshehadthoughtshewastobeimmortal;butsinceRichard’sdeathshehadlostthatdriving

willanddeterminationtoliveand some force had gonefromher.Ithadsurprisedherthat shehadconsidered for awhile settling down inFontevraud and leading asemi-pious life of seclusion.Howshewouldhavelaughedat herself a few years ago;now it seemed a quitedesirable way of passing thetimelefttoher.

But it was not to be so.Experience had made herwise and she was naturallyastute. She had immediatelyseen what a precariousposition Johnwas in, largelydue to the existence ofArthur. None could be moreaware of John’s weaknessesthan herself, but he was herson and in her opinion hecame before her grandson.

She would therefore doeverything she could tomaintainhimonthethrone.

Herdutyhadseemedclearto her. The peaceful life atFontevraud must be endedandshemustgotoAquitaineinordertoholditforJohn.Ifshe did not, she was wellaware that it would fall toPhilip.

That she should ever bereluctanttogotothebelovedcountry of her birth amazedher; it was only because thedays of holding court wereoverandsheknewshewouldbe nostalgic for her youth –and even for the days whenshe had left that desirablestate somewaybehind–andyoung men had composedtheir songs of praise to her

beautywithwordsandmusicwhich throbbed with desirefortheladyofAquitaine.Butwhocouldhonestlysingsuchsongs to a woman close oneighty!

Some might try but shewould laugh them to scorn iftheydidandtheywouldsoondesist.

Thefactwasthatshemust

return, swear fealty to Philipas a vassal to France forAquitaine and take up thereins once more – to holdthemuntilsuchatimeastheycouldsafelybepassedovertoJohn. Then she would gobacktoFontevraudtothatlifeof quiet and seclusion whichhad suddenly becomeattractivetoher.

She was often anxious

wondering how John wouldbe able to stand up to thewily, subtle King of FranceoverwhomRichardhadheldsome spell, and wonderingtoo how Philip felt aboutRichard’s death. As in everyaspect of their relationshipthere must be contrastingemotions. While Richardlived therewas no chance ofPhilip’s regaining those

territories he so earnestlydesired; but now John hadsteppedintoRichard’sshoes?Thereweretimeswhenitwasbetter not to look too farahead,especiallywhenitwaslikely that one would not bealive to see the catastrophe.But suchwas her nature thatwhileshelivedshewoulddoeverythingtoavoidit.

Messengers arrived at the

castle, forerunners of a royalcavalcade at the head ofwhichwashersonJohn.Sheimmediately gave orders forthe preparation of a banquet,and went up to a turret towatch for the arrival. It wasnotlongbeforeshesawthemapproaching and she wentdowntogreetthem.

SheembracedJohnwarmlyand together they went into

thecastle thatshemighthearwhat news it was that hadbroughthim.

‘I met the King of Franceat LesAndelys,’ he told her,‘and there is a trucebetweenus. It is this that I wish todiscusswithyou.’

‘How did you find Philip?More amenable than usual,I’llwarrant,’shesaid,aglint

inhereyesandanexcitementgripping her to feel herselfonce more at the centre ofaffairs.Alifeofseclusionforher! How would she endureit!

She was amused byPhilip’s predicament.What acomplexcreaturehewas;andthefactthathewasthesonofher first husband had alwaysmade her interested in him.

She would have enjoyedhavinghimforason;andsheoften wondered how a poormonk like Louis hadmanagedtobegethim.Philipwas clever; in fact shewondered whether there wasany man alive to comparewithhiminmentalagility.Hewas ambitious but preferredto make his conqueststhroughdiplomacyandclever

juggling than throughfighting, which was the bestway in the end if thedesiredresultcouldbeachieved.Thathad been her secondhusband’s virtue. Henry IIhad had a reputation as agreat general and yet if hecould avoid battle he did so.This she had always seen asthe secret of his successes inhis early days. Philip

resembled him in that way.Richard – straightforward,seeing but one side to everyquestion – had believed thatwarwasthedecisiveweapon.It often was, and whenconducted by the greatestsoldier in the world,invariably successful, but itwasthewilyoneslikeHenryII and Philip who oftenachieved their ends at least

cost.

It was strange that Philip,whohadoncesopassionatelylovedRichard,shouldnowbeinlovewithawoman.Butinlove he must be to allow arelationship to affect himpolitically.

His first wife Isabella ofHainaulthaddiedsomeyearsbefore, leaving him a son,

Louis. Three years after herdeath he had marriedIngeburga, a princess ofDenmark. As soon as theceremonyhad takenplacehetook a violent dislike to herand refused to live with her.As was the custom in suchcases with kings he at oncetrumped up a case ofconsanguinity which wouldrender the marriage null and

this was immediatelyconfirmed by a French courtwhich did not wish todispleasetheKing.

It was not always easy,though, to rid oneself of aroyalprincess, forher familyrallied to her and popeswhowere often amenable whenone side was important andtheotherlesssolikedtobealittle more careful when

dealingwithroyaltyoneitherside. Thus Pope Celestinequashed the decision of theFrench court and forbadePhilip to marry again. Twoprincessesrefusedthehonourof becoming Queen ofFrance, fearing that theymight not please Philip andtheir fate be like that ofIngeburga; but then he metAgnes of Meran and her

beauty and grace charmedhimtosuchanextent thathewas determined, in spite ofthe Pope, to marry her. Thishe did. Celestinemight havebowed to a faitaccompli buthissuccessorInnocentIIIwasof sterner morals and,moreover, determined toexercisehispower.Hewroteto Philip to tell him that hisconduct had brought upon

himthewrathofGodandthethunder of theChurch and ifPhilip continued to live withAgnes he would impose theInterdictonhimwhichmeantthat there would be noreligious ceremonies andfestivalsinFrance.

Philip was furious anddeclared that he would dowithout the Pope. He hadrecently been fighting in the

Holy Land, he said, and henoticedthattheSaracenssuchasthegreatSaladinseemedtoget along very well withouttheblessingofRome.

Thiswasthestateofaffairsat the French Court andEleanor knew that althoughPhilip might show bravadooutwardly,hewouldinwardlysuffer a few qualms – if notexactly on religious grounds;

hewouldknowthattogointobattle without the Church onhissidewouldhaveitseffectonhisfollowers.

So now Eleanor wassmiling slyly, realising thatPhilip would be far morereadytocometoaconferencewith John with the Interdictthreatening him than hewouldotherwise.

‘Philip was ready to bereasonable,’Johntoldher.

‘I’ll warrant he was. HehashisaffairwiththePopetooccupyhimatthistime.’

‘We talked,’ said John,‘and we have come toagreement. He has acceptedme as the heir of all thatRichardheldinFrance.’

‘Then we should rejoice,’

said Eleanor. ‘But doubtlessyou have had to makeconcessions.’

‘I have had to give up theVexin.’

‘A pity, but naturally hewouldwantsomething.’

‘And I have agreed to payhimtwentythousandmarks.’

Eleanor grimaced, but a

cunning look had come intoJohn’s eyes.Agreeing to paywas not actually paying andhe had little intention ofkeeping that side of thebargain.Philipmightwellbeprepared for that, for hewouldhavelongagosummedup the man with whom hewasdealing.

‘And,’wentonJohn,‘hereis something that will please

you: my niece, yourgranddaughter Blanche, is tobebetrothedtoyoungLouis.’

Eleanor smiled andnodded.‘SoourlittleBlanchewill be the future Queen ofFrance.’

‘I knew that would pleaseyou.But thebest is to come.Philip recognises that I amArthur’soverlord.’

‘Ah,’ said the Queen.‘Then you have indeed donewell.’

‘TherearesomewhothinkI have given away toomuchand they are nicknaming meJohn Softsword. By God’steeth,ifIweretocatchthosewhomockedme in that wayI’dflaythemalive.’

‘Words are of no great

importance, and in gettingPhilip to agree that Arthurmust do homage to you youhavedoneverywell.Blancheshould be brought fromCastile before Philip has thechancetochangehismind.’

‘I’llsendforher.’

‘Nay,’ said the Queen.‘That’s not good enough. Ishall go to Castile and bring

hermyself.’

‘You…youarecapableofthejourney?’

‘Theday I amnot capableofdoingwhatIknowmustbedone to hold the throne formyson,Ishallbereadytobelaid inmy tomb.That day isnotyet.Ishallprepareforthejourney at once.’ Her eyesshone with pleasure. ‘I shall

be happy indeed to see yoursister Eleanor. It is so rarelythat I see my children, andthenbriefly.’

‘The journey will bearduous.’

‘My son,my life has beenmade up of arduousjourneys.’

Eleanorwasasgoodasherword. She made immediate

preparations to leave forCastile and soon she was onherway.

John was pleased withhimself.Heknewthatpeoplehad compared him with hisbrother Richard andwhispered that he lacked hisskilltorule.Theyshouldsee.Hadn’t he already made atreaty with the King of

France? Hadn’t he got anadmission from him that hewasArthur’soverlord?

Now was the time forenjoyment and what betterthanthechase?

He gathered together hisintimatefriends–youngmendaring like himself, whoapplauded everything he didand made him feel that he

was indeed the King. It wasgood to ride out in newforestsand,afterEleanorhadleft,he spentdays inhuntingon his way north toNormandy. Like hisancestors, he loved the chaseandtobeinatthekillandtosee a panting animal at baygave him a pleasure sointense that it could only berivalled by seeing human

beings in a similar state ofterror.

Hewasridingaheadwithaparty in the forests betweenLa Marche and theAngoumois when hecountered a party coming inthe opposite direction. Attheir head was a very younggirl.Shecouldnothavebeenmore than thirteen years old,but as he looked at her

something happened to Johnwhich had never happenedbefore.Thatshewasthemostbeautifulgirlhehadeverseenoccurred to him immediatelyas it must to everyone else;butshehadmorethanbeauty.She was dainty, imperious,mischievous … all in themost beguiling manner, andhe had an intense desire toseizeherandcarryheroff.

He called a halt and theriderscameuptohim.

‘Tellme,’hecried,‘wheredo you come from and whoareyou?’

The young man who wasriding beside the fascinatingyoung girl replied: ‘I amHughdeLusignan,sonoftheCount of La Marche, and Imight well ask what you are

doing in my father’sterritory?’

‘My good fellow,’ saidJohn, angry lights leapingintohiseyes, ‘I tellyou this:you may be the son of theCountofLaMarcheandcallthislandyours.IamtheDukeofAquitaineunderwhomyouhold this land. It would bewellforyoutorememberit.’

The young man leapedfrom his horse and bowedlow to John, whose goodtemperwasrestored.

‘Come, come,’ he said,‘’twas a mistake easy made.Who is this lady whom youescort?’

‘She is my betrothed, mylord.Isabella,daughteroftheCount ofAngoulême,who is

being brought up in mybrother’shousehold.’

‘Charming,’ said John.‘Charming, charming. Theson of the Count of LaMarche, you say. Well, amerrydaytoyou.’

With that he nodded androde on. His friends wereastonished.Theyhadseenthefamiliarlookinhiseyesashe

hadsurveyedthegirlandhadexpected him to take someaction. It would not havesurprised them if they hadbeaten off her protectors andabductedher.

He was thoughtful –unusually so – and it wasclear that hewas thinking oftheyounggirl.

Whenoneofthemspoketo

him, he did not answer.Instead he murmured: ‘TheCount of La Marche. Howmany years think you beforethatmarriagetakesplace?’

‘Thegirlisveryyoung,mylord.’Twouldhavetobetwoyearsatleast.’

‘Ifiteverdoestakeplace,’saidJohnwithasmile.

He couldn’t get her out of

hismind.Hedreamedofher.Itwasridiculous,forshewasonly a child. She had lookedat him in an odd way, too.There was nothing childishabout that. Perhaps she wasoverawed, for she wouldknow he was not only herfather’s suzerain butKing ofEngland.

Why couldn’t he stopthinkingofher?Hecouldsee

her face clearly – that thickcurling hair about the ovalcontours and the expressionin those wonderful eyes thatwas half innocence, halfknowledge. What anintriguinggirl.

His instinct was to carryher off and seduce herwithout delay. Rape ifnecessary. Would it havebeennecessary?

But the daughter of theCount of Angoulême, thebetrothed of the son of theCount of La Marche, couldnot be treated like a peasant.The Lusignans were apowerful family. They couldraise the whole of Aquitaineagainst him, because thepeople didn’t want him, andheknewit.Theyacceptedhismother joyfully because she

wasone of them.Hadn’t shebeen brought up there as theheiress of Aquitaine? Butthey had hated her husbandandhersons.Richardhadhadto fight incessantly to holdthat rebellious land.Much ashe deplored the fact that hehad not seized the girl, Johnknew very well that he hadbeenwisenotto.

Hekeptthinkingabouther.

Nowoman could satisfy himnow. Always he would seethe lovely haunting face ofthe fairylike child in theforest.

He could not forget IsabellaofAngoulêmeanditoccurredto him that if he had notalreadyawifehemighthavemade a match with Isabella.There was some grounds for

it. After all, the Count ofAngoulême would surely bepleased to see his daughterQueen of England; and suchan alliance would no doubtchange the antagonism ofAquitaine towards him. Ofcourse Isabella was alreadyaffianced to one of theLusignans and the Lusignanswere a great fighting family.They wouldn’t be pleased,

but one cannot pleaseeverybodyallthetime.

The more he thought ofIsabella the more he wasdetermined to marry her, forhe realised that he could notabductherandcarryherawayandkeep herwith himwhileshepleasedhimasthoughshewereagirlwithnoimportantfamily; and he would neverreally enjoy sexual

encounterswithotherwomenuntil he had satisfied hisdesireforthisone.

Therewasonlyonewayofgetting Isabella and that wasthroughmarriage.

True, he had beenmarriedfor the last ten years, sincejust before Richard’scoronation he had takenHadwisaofGloucesterashis

bride in order to possesshimself of her rich lands.That he had done to hissatisfaction and they hadmade him a wealthy man. Itwas long since he had seenHadwisa;sheloathedhimandthat had been the onlyattractionhehadfoundinher,and he had had a certainamount of pleasure ininflictinghisattentionsonher

only for that reason.Hadshewanted him he would neverhave gone to her.But as shegrew older and knew himbetter she steeled herselfagainstherrevulsionandthatdid not please him. She,however, achieved her wish,for he had rarely seen herduringthelastfiveyears.

But a king must considerhis successors. He did not

want to be like Richard andleave no one to follow him.He wanted a son anddeliciouslittleIsabellashouldprovidehim–oncehehadridhimselfofHadwisa.

How? He could have herpoisoned. No, better not. Itwould look suspicious if hemarried Isabella immediatelyafterwards and hewanted nodelay in his marriage. After

all he and Hadwisa werecousins and she had beenvery worried about theconnection and tried toprevent the consummation oftheir marriage in thebeginning.

The simplest way was adivorce.Orperhapseventhatwasnotnecessary.Hewouldbring up the old charge ofconsanguinity. That should

not be difficult because afterall there was a strongrelationship between themthroughHenryIwhowasthegreat-grandfather of themboth – although Hadwisacame down through theillegitimate line – for hisgrandmother, Matilda, andHadwisa’s grandfather,Robert of Gloucester, hadbeenhalf-brotherandsister.It

was a strong blood tie andtherefore it should becomparatively easy todissolvethemarriage.

None of his ministerswould dare deny him adivorce. The Pope might beawkward, though, as he wasbeing over the marriage ofPhilip of France. But ifHadwisaagreed,itshouldnotbe difficult. Then he would

befree…freeforIsabella…

As soon as he returned toEngland he rode toMarlborough Castle whereHadwisalived.

She came down to thecourtyard to greet him in thecustomary manner and tooffer him the stirrup cupwhich he always made herdrinkfirstincaseshehaditin

mind topoisonhim.Not thathereallyfearedthat.Hadwisahad no spirit; but one couldnever be sure with the quietones.

‘Ah,Hadwisa,’hecried.‘ItrustIseeyouwell.’

She drank from the cupwithouthispressinghertodoso and handed it to him. Hedrank it and threw it from

him. It clattered on to thecobblesasheleapedfromhishorse.

‘Come, Hadwisa. I havemuchtosaytoyou.’

Heslippedhisarmthroughhers and was amused to feelhertremble.Didshethinkhehad come to stay and spendthe night with her? She wasmorerepulsivethanevernow

that he compared her withIsabella. But he could stillenjoy letting her fear whatmightbeinstoreforher.

It might be amusing totorment her just once more.No,betternot.Whatifhegother with child? He didn’twant that complication now.Oneofhisexcusesforriddinghimself of her was going tobe that shewasbarrenand it

wasaking’sdutytogetsons.

All the same he led theway to her bedchamber andwaited awhile for her to tryto calm herself, to pretendthat she was not fearful ofwhatordeallaybeforeher.

But he was too impatientforIsabellatoenjoyplaguingHadwisa.Hisonegreatdesirenowwastoberidofher.

Hesatsprawlinginachair,his legs stretched out beforehim, and regarded the tipsofhis boots. ‘Well, Hadwisa, itwas not much, was it, thismarriage of ours?You knowwhy,doyounot?We shouldneverhavemarriedinthefirstplace. The blood tie was toostrong. Our lusty great-grandfather should haveremained faithful to his wife

and then, my dear Hadwisa,you would never have beenborn.’

She bowed her head. Shedid not want him to see thehopeful lights which sheknew must be shining fromhereyes.

‘When I married you,’ hewent on, ‘I was but thebrother of a king. It seemed

possible that Richard wouldhave sons whom the peoplewould say came before ayounger brother. So I wasallowed to marry you who,though of some royal blood,had come by it in a dubiousmanner.’

‘Iwas rich,’ she remindedhimsharply.

‘There you have a point,’

he said. ‘Our great-grandfather was generous tohisbastards.’

‘Itmayhavebeenthat,likehis grandson, he found theyserved him well, even moreloyally perhaps than hislegitimatesons.’

She had some spirit afterall.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘perforce

they must. They would fareill if they did not. Alegitimate son has rightswhich a bastard would havetotoadyfor.’

‘I cannot believe that mygrandfather ever did that.Bywhat I hear of him hewas amostnoblegentlemanandtheKingwaswellawareofit.’

John made an impatient

gesture. ‘I have not comehere to talk of the merits ofbastards,’ he said. ‘Hadwisa,you have come to greathonour. Somemight say youareaqueen.’

‘IsnotthewifeoftheKingaqueen?’

‘If he decides that she is.You remember you werenever at Court. You were

never beside me when Itravelled. You were notcrowned with me at mycoronation. It is the customfor a queen to be crownedwith her husband. Does thisgiveyousomeideaofwhatisinmymind?’

He could see her heartbeating wildly under herbodice. With hope, hebelieved.Ohyes,shewanted

tobe ridofhim.She loathedhim. She might easily havetriedtopoisonhimifshehadhad the courage. She hadhated those occasions whenhe had turned his attentionson her even more than herealised. He would love totorment her now but he wastooimpatienttoberidofher.

‘The fact is, Hadwisa,’ hesaid,‘thatyouhavenotgiven

me a child. I have beenmarried to you for ten yearsand although I admit youhave not had so manyopportunities, there have yetbeen some. I am a king. Imust have an heir. So sinceyoucannotgiveittomethereisonlyone alternative left tome.Imusttryelsewhere.’

‘You want to declare ourmarriage no marriage,’ she

saidcalmly.

‘Failingthat,therecouldbeadivorce.’

‘There would be nodifficulty,’ she said eagerly.‘The Archbishop ofCanterburywasmuchagainstourmarriage.’

‘Oh yes, old Baldwin. Heranted,didhenot?Thebloodtieisthere,Hadwisa.’

‘Then you should marryagain and perhaps this timeyouwillgetheirs.’

She was thinking: I pityyour bride. But her reliefmust necessarily be strongerthanherpity.

‘This iswhat I have cometotellyou.Ibelievetherewillbe no difficulty in releasingmefromthismarriage.Ihave

alreadysetmattersinmotion.I have chosen three bishopsfrom Normandy and threefrom Aquitaine. I have nodoubt what their verdict willbe. The Pope will notinterfere unless you raise avoiceagainstit.’

She said, almostbreathlessly, ‘You may relyonme. I shall raise no voiceagainst it. I shall be happy

withtheconclusionyouhavecometo.’

‘Thenalliswell,’hesaid.

He stood up and lookedabouttheroom.Hehadhadalittlesporthere,butnotmuch.He had quickly tired of herterror.

‘Goodbye, Hadwisa,’ hesaid.

‘Goodbye, John,’ shereplied in a subdued voiceand never had she been sohappy to say goodbye toanyonebefore.

He rode from the castle inhighgoodhumour.

Isabella, Isabella, he wasthinking. I shall soon haveyou.

It must not be too obvious.Hemust wait for the verdictof the bishops. He hadenjoyedexplainingtothemina sanctimonious manner. ‘Ihave given this matter greatthought. Hadwisa ofGloucester has been a goodwife to me and I hesitate toputher fromme. If Ididnotthink it was the will of God…’

They had looked at him alittlesuspiciouslythenandheknewhehadgonetoofar,sohe had continued: ‘I mustconfess that it is thesuccession which isuppermostinmymind.Ineeda son. The country needs anheir. Iwant todomydutytomypeople.’

They considered a whilebutnot for long. Itwasgood

that the King should end hisunfruitful marriage. It wastrue that when a king had ason it was the best thingpossibleforthatsontofollowhis father to the throne. Iftherewasnodirectheir therewasinvariablyconflict.Ithadhappened so recently withJohnandArthur.

The bishops decided – allsixofthem–thatitwouldbe

goodforJohn’ssubjectsifhemarried a wife who couldgivehimanheir.

John was a free man andthe Pope, after all the fussthere had been when he hadmarriedHadwisaandthefactthat they had been forbiddenby the Church to livetogether,couldnotbutagree.The only point which couldhavemadehimhesitatewasif

Hadwisaherselfhadraisedanobjection.

John was content. Therewasnofearofthat.

Henowamusedhimselfbypretendingtolookroundforabride. He did not wantanyone to know that he hadfound her already. He wasgoing to discover when thetime was ripe what a good

thing it would be for him tomarryIsabellaofAngoulême.

In the meantime hediscussed the possibility ofhis remarriage with WilliamMarshal.

‘Richard did well bymarrying Berengaria ofNavarre,’ he said. ‘Navarrehasbeenagoodfriendtoourhouse. I would wish to

preservethatfriendship.’

William Marshal agreedthatitwaswisetodoso.

‘But Navarre is threatenedby Castile and Aragonbecause theyarealliesof theKing of France. Now I havethoughtwhatagoodpolicyitwould be to use Portugal asan ally, which could beachieved.’

‘I see,’ said WilliamMarshal,‘youarethinkingofthe Portuguese King’sdaughter. She ismarriageable. It is anexcellent idea. We shouldsend envoys at once toPortugal.’

‘Let it be done withoutdelay,’saidJohn.

Soitwas;andwhenhewas

alone he laughed heartily toconsidertheexcitementinthePortuguese Court at theprospect of alliance with theKingofEnglandwhoownedlarge dominions on theContinent.

‘No, my Princess ofPortugal,’ he whispered. ‘Iam not for you, and you arenotforme.Thereisonlyonewhowilldoforme.Isabella.’

I

ChapterV

ISABELLA

t was some years beforeJohn had seen her in theforest that Isabella had

becomebetrothedtoHughdeLusignan. She would never

forget the day when herparents had sent for her andexplained that ahusbandhadbeen found for her, and hisfamily wanted her to go tothem that she might beeducated in the mannerexpected of a Lusignan andgrow to love her husbandbeforeshebecamehiswife.

At that time Isabella hadknownverylittleoftheworld

outside the Angoumois overwhich her parents ruled. Insomemeasuresheruledthem.That she was beautiful in noordinary way had quicklybecome obvious to her. Shehearditwhispered;shesawitin people’s eyes when theylookedather;infactshewasalways a little shocked ifpeople failed to react to herbeauty which they did only

on rare occasions. Perhapssome old bishop would lookupon her just as though shewere an ordinary child. Poorold thing, shewould think, Isupposehe’shalfblind.

Shenever lost a chanceoflooking at her reflection. Itdelighted her even when shewas very young. Thosebeautiful long eyes with thethick black lashes; eyes that

wereofabluesodeepthatitwas almost violet; her thickdark hair was a cloud aboutthe perfect oval of her face.She had been born a beautyandwould remain one to theendofherdays.

It was natural that thereshould be a certainimperiousness abouther.Hermother used to say to her:‘Never forget that you are

descended from the kings ofFrance and the French Courtis themost elegant andmostintellectualintheworld.’

Naturally her motherwould think so because shewas the daughter of Peter deCourtenay,whowasayoungson of King Louis VI ofFrance.Isabellaknewthathermother considered herself ofhigher social standing than

her father. He, however,being Count of Angoulême,was a man of influence andbecause she was their onlychild she was of greatimportancetothem.

When shewasveryyoungIsabellalearnedthat theyhadhopedforason;shewasveryglad that theywereunable togetonebecausesheknewthatif they had she would have

been of less importance tothem, and one thing Isabellahatedwasnottobethecentreofattraction.

She believed that at theCourtofAngoulêmeshewasthe most important figureeven though she was only alittle girl. Her motherwatched over her with thegreatest care; her father gaveinstructions to her attendants

andgovernesses thatshewasnever to be left alone. Thatwasanuisance,butbecauseitmeant they were so anxiousfor her she accepted it andwould have been put out toseeitslackened.

She worked hard in theschoolroom because she hadanaturalaptitudeforlearningand she liked everyone toknow how clever she was.

She wanted to be first ineverything. There was nodoubt that she was the mostbeautiful child any of themhadeverseen;butshewantedalsotobethecleverest.True,shehadtoworkalittleharderto achieve that, but she waspurposeful and made a pointofgettingwhatshewanted.

There was a great deal oftalk about Richard Cœur de

Lion, who was Duke ofAquitaine of which theAngoumois was a part. Shelearned that Richard was agreat fighter. He had left hiscountry to go to the HolyLand in an effort to restoreJerusalem to the Christiansandtheworldseemedtothinkhe was some sort of herosaint. Not so her father. HehatedRichard.

Isabella used to listen tothe talk between her fatherand mother, for she wasallowed to go into theirbedchamber in the morningandsiton thebedwhile theygloated on their beautifulchild. This appealed to hergreatly; she lapped up theiradmiration but at the sametime she liked to keep herears open for interesting

gossip and they were notentirely discreet before her,thinking her too young tounderstand.But although shewas young she could alwaysstore up these comments andbroodoverthemlaterandasknaïve questions which veryoftengavehertheanswersheneeded.

Isabellalikedtoknowwhatwasgoingon.

According to her father,Richard was an arrogantoverlord,andakingwholefthiskingdom togo toanotherlandtofight–eveninaholycause – was not a good oneand a bad king was not agood duke. Therefore,Aquitaine was ill-governedand theCountofAngoulêmewas not going to swearallegiance to suchaman.He

preferredtodosototheKingofFrance.

Of course the Countesswas in agreement with herhusband. She was alwaysready to lean towards whatwas French, which wasnaturalenoughsincethatwasthecountryofherbirth.

There was always a greatdeal of talk about the

Lusignans, an importantfamily who lived in Poitouwhich bordered on theAngoumois.At one time thisfamily had been bitterenemies of the dukes ofNormandy but they weregreat crusaders, and in theHoly Land they had comeinto contact with RichardCœur de Lion. In a commoninterest, the enmity had

disappeared and during theHoly War Guy de Lusignanand Richard Cœur de Lionhad become such closefriends that Richard hadsupportedGuy’sclaim to thecrownofJerusalem–whenitshould be regained – againstthe King of France who hadsupported Conrad deMontferrat.Guy andRichardhad fought side by side, and

asaresulttheirfriendshiphadstrengthened and this hadextendedtothewholefamily.Thus the Lusignans ofAngoulêmeweresupportingadifferentsidefromtheircloseneighbour in the perennialquarrel between the kings ofFrance and England. Therewasanotherreasonforrivalryand disagreement betweenthem. Both families coveted

the rich territory knowasLaMarchewhich lay to theeastoftheAngoumois.

Richard had been secretlypleased that the desire topossessLaMarchekeptthosetwo powerful familiessuspicious of each other andtherefore turned theirthoughts from planningforays into neighbouringAnjou.

When Richard had died,HughdeLusignan, theeldestson of the House, had withgreat temerity managed tocaptureQueen Eleanorwhileshe was out riding one dayandwith even greater daringhad declared to her hisintentions of keeping herprisoner until she gave himLaMarche.

WithRichard dead and all

her tact and skill needed toput John on the throne,Eleanor had given way andhad bought her freedom forthesurrenderofLaMarche.

The Count of Angoulêmewas angry that Hugh deLusignan had that which hehad coveted; he had to beplacated and the Lusignanshadhadtheclevernotionthatthe bestway of settling their

differenceswasbyamarriagecontract.

Hughwasinhistwenties–a young man of pride andstrength, worthy to be theheadofhishouse.TheCountof Angoulême had adaughter. She was not yettwelveyearsold, itwas true,but her lack of years couldsoonberemedied.Witheverypassingweekshegrewnearer

tomaturityand itwasonlyamatterofwaitingayearorsobeforeshewouldbereadyformatrimony.

Isabella knew there wassomethingafoot.Membersofthe Lusignan family rodeover and at their head wasHugh.Isabellawatchingfromawindowsawhimarriveandwhen he looked up, shesmiledathim.Hestoodthere,

legsapart,watchingherforafew seconds, and she wasexcitedbecausesheknewthathe was thinking – as almosteveryone else did – howprettyshewas.

Her mother came to herroom and dismissed theservants.

‘Ihavesomethingtosaytoyou,Isabella,’shesaid.‘Now

listen carefully. Some veryimportant gentlemen arevisiting us. You will meetthem and I want you to beverycharmingtothem.’

‘Why?’askedIsabella.

‘There is a very specialreason.’

‘Whatreason?’

‘Youwillknowallingood

time.’

‘But if I am to beespeciallynicetothemIwanttoknownow.’

‘You are too young tounderstand.’

Too young! This wasabsurd. She was not tooyoungforanything.Sheknewagreatdeal.Shelistened;sheasked questions; she trapped

people into admissions. Sheknew about the maids whowent out into the shrubberywhenitwasdusktomeetthemenservants. She had hiddenherself and been at firstgreatly astonished by theiractivities and although shehadseenthemrepeatedmanytimes she always liked towatch.Thisexcitedhermorethan anything she knew. So

she was certainly not tooyoung to knowwhy she hadtobeparticularlyattractivetotheLusignans.

‘Is it something todowithmy betrothal?’ she askedslyly.

Her mother stared inastonishment. ‘How couldyouknow?’

‘Because you said I was

too young to understand.When one is considered tooyoungitisusuallysomethingto do with men and womentogether.’

The childwas astonishing,thoughthermother.

‘What do you know ofsuchthings?’shedemanded.

‘Not as much as I shouldliketo,Ifear.’

‘It is nothing to be fearfulabout. Such knowledge willcome in due course. Whenyouhave ahusbandyouwillknowwhatisgoodforyoutoknow.’

‘Am I to have a husbandthen? Who is it? Hugh deLusignan?’

The Countess hesitated.Then she said: ‘Yes. You

haveguessedaright.’

Isabella clasped her handstogether and said: ‘I likehim.’

‘Thenthatiswell.’

‘He is a beautiful man,’cried Isabella. ‘He lookedupat the window when he wasenteringthecastleandsmiledatme.Ithinkhelikedme.’

‘Of course he liked you.Didyouexpecthimnotto?’

‘Of course not,’ saidIsabella.

‘Now you will be dressedin a gown I shall choose foryouandIshalltakeyoudowntothehallandpresentyoutoHugh.’

‘Willhetakemeawaywithhimnow?’sheasked.

‘Certainly not, my dearchild.Hewillmeetyouandifhe likes what he sees therewillbeabetrothal.’

‘AndifIdonotlikewhatIsee?’

‘Youhavealreadysaidyoulikehim.’

‘ButifIhadnot?’

‘Girls in your position

must marry where theirfamilywishesthemto.’

‘So youwishme tomarryHugh?’

‘It will be good for ourfamiliesifyoudo.’

‘Is that why Hugh wantsit?’

‘Hewillonlywantitifyouare charming to him and he

thinksyoubeautiful.’

‘Iwillbecharmingandhewill think me beautifulbecauseeverybodydoes.’

‘This betrothal will pleaseyour father. It is veryimportant that there isfriendship between ourfamilies.’

‘SoIshallbeawifenow.’

She was thinking of theservantsintheshrubberyandshe thought: I shall knownow. Her observations hadtaughtherthatitwasnotonlyservantswhobehavedinsucha manner. Her turn wouldcomeandsomething toldherthatshewasgoingtofindtheexercise highly diverting andeverybitasenjoyableastheyclearlydid.Shecouldn’twait

toindulgeinsuchpleasures.

‘My dear child, it will notbeforayearortwoyet.’

‘Not for a year or two!WhyshouldIwait?’

‘Because you are but achild.’

‘BessthekitchengirlisbutafewmonthsolderthanI…’

‘What are you saying?

Bess. Kitchen girl! My dearIsabella, you are not givingmeyourseriousattention.’

But shewasof course andshe was very disappointedthat she must wait for hermarriage.

Nowshesetaboutthetaskof charming Hugh. He wastall and looked very strong.He was wonderful. He was

very handsome and was, hermother had told her, a greatsoldier. He thought she wasbeautiful;shesawthatatonceby theway inwhich he keptlooking at her. He laid hishands on her shoulders andshesmiledupathim.

He said, ‘Yourdaughter isindeed a beauty, Count.Would to God she were butthreeyearsolder.’

Shewanted to shout: I amas wise as others who arethree years older. I am not achild … except in years. Iknow about marriage and Idon’t want to wait for it.Forget I am not yet twelveyearsold.

Butevenshedarednotsaythat, with her father andmotherlookingon.

Hermother said she couldgo to her own chamber. Shepouteda littleandsaidcouldshenotstay?

‘Your fatherandourguesthavebusinesstodiscuss,’shewastold.

She tried to linger but hermother had taken her by thearm and was leading hergently away, leaving the two

menwhileher fatherandherhusband-to-betalkedtogetherof the union betweenLusignanandAngoulême,thedowry, when the weddingwould take place and whatwas to happen in themeantime.

Her mother came to herchamber and sat on her bed.Isabella, rosy from sleep,

raised herself. How lovelyshe was! thought theCountess. It was smallwonder thatHugh had foundher irresistible and deploredthe fact that she was soyoung.

‘You are to leave us, mychild,’ said the Countesssadly.

‘Iamgoingtobemarried?’

criedIsabella.

‘In due course. But firstyou are to leave your homeand go to that of your futurehusband.’

‘When,Mother?’

‘Within a few days.’ TheCountess shook her headsadly. ‘It is always thuswithdaughters. They must leavethe family with whom they

have spent their childhoodand go to thatwhichwill betheirs for the rest of theirlives. You won’t forget us,Isabella?’

‘Forget you,Mother!Howcould I? Andmy dear fathertoo. Oh no, I shall neverforgetyou.’

She threw her arms abouther mother’s neck but even

then she was thinking of thestrong body of Hugh deLusignan and wonderingwhat his embraces would belike.

‘You must not fret, mydarling.’

Fret.Shewasalleagernesstogo.

‘I shall see you and myfather often, shall I not,

Mother? We shall be nearneighbours.’

‘We must make sure thatcomestopass.’

‘We will, we will. I shallinsist.’

Hermother smiled fondly.‘It will be as your husbandwishes,’sheremindedher.

Oh no, thought Isabella. It

shallbeasIwish.

She smiled complacently.She had no doubt that shewouldgetherwaywithHughasshehadwithherparents.

‘Now we must busyourselves with preparationsfor your departure. It isinconvenient that there is solittletime.’

She was not

inconvenienced at all. Shewas excited. She wonderedhow long she would have towait before they consideredheroldenoughtomarry.

Inafewweekssheleftherfather’s castle and wasescorted by her parents andsome of the men-at-arms tothecastlesituatedintheheartofLusignan country betweenPoitiersandNiort.

The stone walls of thecastle glittered in thesunshine and although shehad seen other castles therewas a special quality aboutthisonebecauseitwasgoingtobeherhome.Withinthosewalls she would become thebride of Hugh de LusignanwhowasalsoknownasHughleBrun.Hewasrich,hewascleverandhewasstrong.She

was delighted with herbridegroom and as she rodetowards the castle with herparentsshewasdeterminedtoprove to him that althoughshewas not yet twelve yearsold she was ready formarriage; she might beinnocent but she was notignorant. She might be avirginbutshewasanxioustocastoffthatnotveryexciting

state; and because she wasalreadyaware that theartsofseduction would be secondnature to her, she was goingto set herself the task ofmaking Hugh the Brownforget that she was only achild,andshehadeveryhopeofsuccess.

The family of Angoulêmewere given a very warmwelcome in the ancestral

home of the Lusignans andthose present marvelled atthis since they had alwaysbeen natural enemies –always fighting forpossession of La Marche,always trying to take a littleterritory from each other,seeking, it seemed, reasonsfor quarrels. And nowbecause of this beautifulchild’sbetrothaltothesonof

theclanallwaspeace.

It was certainly a time forgreatrejoicing.

Isabella was given a bevyof attendants only a littleolder than herself; and Hughdeclaredtoherparentsthatinthis household she would betreated with all honour. Hewould be absent for longperiods,buthisbrotherRalph

would take his place in thehousehold, and Ralph sworeto the family that he wouldmake it his personal duty tosee thatnoharmcame tohisbrother’s betrothed whosebeautyandcharmhadalreadywonalltheirhearts.

Isabella’s family, thoughsad to part with theirdaughter, rode away withoutmisgivings knowing that the

Lusignanswere to be trustedonsuchapointofhonour.

Theycomfortedeachotheras they rode back toAngoulême.

‘It has to happen,’ saidCount Aymer. ‘All parentsmustfaceit.’

‘If therehadbeenothers itwould have been easier toendure,’ replied his wife

Alice.

‘Alas, thatwehadbutonechild.’

‘It makes her aconsiderable heiress though,’saidIsabella’smother,‘andifweonlyhadone, at least theone we had must be theloveliestgirlintheworld.’

‘You speak with amother’sfondnesswhichmay

obscurehervisionslightly.’

‘Nay, I heard said by oneoftheLusignanstoanother–not meant for my ears:“When did you see a moreperfect creature? Thus mustHelenofTroyhaveappearedtothoseabouther.”’

Aymer laughed. ‘I hopeour Isabellawillnotcauseasmuch trouble as that woman

did.’

‘Hugh delights in heralready. I feel sure he willwishtohurrythemarriage.’

‘He must needs wait. Shecannot marry at twelveyears.’

‘She isnotas immatureassometwelve-year-olds.’

‘No, my lady, I will not

have her forced into themarriage bed before she isreadyforit.’

‘Youare right.Theremustbea fewyears’waityet.Butperhaps when she isfourteen.’

‘Weshallsee.’

And so they rode back toAngoulême. But the castletherehadlostsomethingwith

thedepartureofIsabella.

Isabella set out to charm hernew family and succeededadmirably.Hughwasalreadyin love with her and chafedagainst delay. This delightedher,butshedidnotwanthimto know this. She chose ahundred little ways ofkeeping close to him, ofclinging to him, calling

attention to her helplessnesswhich she knew he found soappealing;shecarefullychoseribbons for her hair whichwould be most becoming toher unusual colouring andenhancedherbeautyineveryway. Not that anything soobvious needed to haveattention called to it. Sheexulted in her beautiful face,her perfect little body which

irritatedheralittlebecauseitseemed to her so slow inreachingmaturity.

She would prance nakedbefore the young girls whowereinattendanceonheranddemand to know if she wasnot a little more grown upthan she had been the daybefore.Shecomparedherselfwith them and demanded toknow if they had lovers.

Thosewhohad,foundfavourwith her; she would givethem ribbons with which toadorn their hair before shesent themoff for a tryst; andpayment for these favoursmeant that she wanted adetailed description ofeverything that had takenplace.

She was their adored littlemistress; she was unlike any

othertheyhadserved.

‘What a wife you willmake my lord Hugh, mylady,’theydeclared.

‘Yes, yes,’ she criedimpatiently. ‘But it is allwaitingandIamreadynow.’

She was obsessed by thesubject.ShetoldthegirlsthatHugh would be so mad forherthathewouldinsistonthe

marriagetakingplacewithoutdelay.

Theylaughedandsaidthatwould not be difficult. Hewas halfway to that statealreadyandtheysworeitwasonly because he feared tooffendherparentsthathedidnotinsistonthewedding.

Each day she contrived tobewithHugh;hereyeswould

light up at the sight of himand she would throw herselfinto his arms which was notverydecorous,butheseemedto forget that. She wouldclasp him tightly about theneck and press her faceagainsthis.

‘Is itnotwonderful,Hugh,thatyouandIwillonedaybemarried?’

‘I never wanted anythingso much,’ he told herearnestly.

‘DoyouwishIwerenotsoyoung?’

‘I think you are perfect asyouare.’

‘But wouldn’t I be moreperfect if Iwereofanage tomarry?’

‘One cannot improve onperfection,’heremindedher.

She believed that her veryyouth was part of herattraction tohim. Inonewayhe didn’t want her to growup.Hewantedtokeepherasshe was – pure, he thought,unsulliedby theworldwhichmeant she had not yetcoupledwith aman. That hedesiredher,shehadnodoubt;

andyethewantedhertostayasshewas.

How contradictory!Perhaps she had somethingyet to learn of the ways ofmen.

Thiswasthestateofaffairsatthe time of the encounter inthe forest. She could notforget the man who had

lookedathersointently.Thathe thought she was beautifulwas obvious, but that was acommon enough reaction.There had been somethingmore than that. No one hadhad quite that effect on herbefore. She knewinstinctively that had shebeen alone at the time,perhaps the daughter of awoodcutter or a forester, he

would not have hesitated foronemoment.Hewould haveseized her on the spot. Shewas aware of anoverwhelming sensuality inthismanwhichHughlacked;itwas a quality – or perhapsoneshouldsayavice–whichshe understood perfectlybecause she now knew thatshe possessed it herself. Shehad wished – though

fleetingly–during thosefirstmoments in the forest, thatshe had been a humblecottagegirl.

That man had desired herinawayHughneverhadandthe experiences she wouldhave hadwith himwould bedifferent from any she couldsharewithHugh.

He was not handsome as

Hugh was. Hugh was tall,square-shouldered, with astrong jawandkeeneyes;hewas a fighter. This man wasdifferent. He was not verytall; she calculated that hecould not be more than fivefeet five inches. There weremanymenwhowerenotallerbut she was comparing himwith Hugh. He lacked thenobility which she had

admired in Hugh; his mouthwas sensual; his eyes a littlewild; he was dark andswarthy – no, not handsomeby anymeans. But hewas aking – King of England,DukeofNormandy,CountofAnjou … he was a veryimportant man, far more sothan Hugh who had had toleapfromhishorseandshowthathewasinthepresenceof

onewhowasfarabovehim.

KingofEngland!Andhowhe had looked at her! Hughhad never looked like that,even in thosemomentswhenshe embraced him and thrustherselfagainsthimoutwardlyartless, inwardly artful, hehad never looked quite likethat.

She had sat there on her

horse, her blue hood – thecolour of speedwell flowersand so good for bringing outthe blue of her eyes, fallingfrom her hair, her capeflowing about her – a lovelypicturesheknew.

Howhehadlookedather!Asnooneeverhadbefore.

Then he had ridden away.Hughhadbeensilentandshe

could not lure him from hismoodwithallherwiles.

‘Tell me about that man,’shedemanded.

‘He is John of England,’answeredHugh.

‘And Duke of NormandyandCountofAnjou.’

‘Hehasmanytitles.’

‘He is not exactly well

favoured.’

‘Hehasanevilreputation.’

‘Howso?’

‘He has done that whichwould be beyond yourunderstanding.’

‘You mean … withwomen?’

‘Andothers.’

‘Hehasbeencruelinwar?’

‘He is to be feared,’answered Hugh. ‘A manwould think twice before heoffendedhim.’

They were silent as theyrode back to the castle. Allinterest in the hunt had leftthemboth.

Isabella dreamed that shemet John alone in the forest;in her dreams she saw his

facecomingcloserandcloser– hungry, demanding,lascivious.

She awoke in fear andwished that she had gone ondreaming.

Ishallneverseehimagain,she thought, and did notknow whether she was gladorsorry.

She thought of Hugh, so

handsome, so strong. Hewould be a good kindhusband and shewould haveno difficulty in having herwaywith him.She smiled toherself to realise how shewouldrulehim.

Why could he not see thatitwastimetheymarried?

She toldherwomenof theencounter with King John.

Theywhisperedofhim.Suchstoriestheyhadheardofhim!When he was young he hadgone to Ireland. He had hadtoleave,though;hespenthistimejeeringatthenativesandrapingtheirwomen.

Shelistenedavidly.

‘Had I been alone in theforestwhenImethim…’shebegan.

They shrieked in horrorandsilencedher.

‘You would never beallowed out alone, my lady;and even King John wouldhavetorespectyourrank.’

Shewassilentimaginingit.

The girls marvelled at theobtusenessofthoseaboutherandinparticularCountHugh.

Didn’ttheyseeitwastimethe Lady Isabella wasmarried? True, she wasyoung, but girls such as shewas needed to be marriedyoung.

A

ChapterVI

THEKING’SINFATUATION

nembassyhadarrivedfrom Portugal. Johnreceived it with

outward eagerness. He was

greatly amused to note howexcited its members were atthe prospect of a unionbetweenthetwocountries.

And rightly so. Thedaughter of the King ofPortugal to be Queen ofEngland, or so they thought!How mistaken they weregoingtobe!Andtheexpenseof entertaining them and thatof sending a return party to

Portugal was well worth thesatisfaction he got from theaffair.Itwasgoodtoothatheshould be so sought after; itshowed that he was feared,and to be feared was to berespected.

The King of England wasfree to marry; such newswould send a quiver ofexcitement among ambitiousmen with marriageable

daughters.How envious theywould be of the King ofPortugal…forawhile.

‘My lord,’ he cried, ‘whatpleasure it gives me toreceiveyouhere.IbelievetheKing’s daughter will be anadmirablewife tome. I longfor the day when I shallreceive her here, so let usarrange thesematterswithoutdelay.Iwillsendanembassy

to Portugal that negotiationsmaygoaheadwithallspeed.’

The embassy prepared toreturn to Portugalaccompanied by thosemembersofJohn’sentouragewho would complete thesettlements so that in a shorttime themarriage could takeplace.

In themeantime John sent

for William Marshal that hemight speak with him onmatters in Aquitaine whichwere causing him somedismay.

Queen Eleanor hadrecently returned from Spainwhere she had travelled tocollect her granddaughterBlanche. The journey toSpain had been arduous butshe had found great pleasure

in being reunited with hernamesake, her daughterEleanor, Queen of Castile.They had been delighted torelinquish young Blanche toher care for the child’smarriagewith the heir of theKingofFrancewouldindeedbeagloriousone.

Blanchewasaprettychildand an obedient one; shewould make a good wife,

thought Eleanor, and shebelieved Philip would bepleasedwithher.Buthowshehad felt the rigours of thejourney!Therheumaticpainsin her limbs had increasedand crippled her and she feltangry with the passing yearswhich had taken her youthwith them. During thatjourney she often thought ofthe one she had experienced

withLouis,herfirsthusband,whenshehadbeenyounganddesirable and very desirous.Long-agodays!Somuchhadhappened since then. Shewould not want to go backand live it all again; but shewanted to cast off thestiffnessofherlimbsandshewanted to rid herself of thisperpetualtiredness.

It was a difficult journey.

She relied so much onMercadierwhowasinchargeofherescort;shehadalwayslikedthemanbecausehehadso admired Richard andduringthejourneytheytalkedcontinually of her best-lovedson;shewouldsingRichard’ssongs tohimandaccompanythem on her lute. Mercadierhad as many memories ofRichardandhadstoriestotell

her of him which she hadneverheardbefore.

She said to him: ‘Oh, mygoodfriend,youdonotknowhow you have relieved thisjourney of much of itstedium.WhenyoutalktomeofRichardIfeelyoungagain.I can see him so clearly as achild in my nursery. Healways defended me – nomatterwhocameagainstme,

and I remember an occasionwhen he ran to theKing, hisfather,his fistsclenched,andpummelled him because hethought he had treated meunfairly.Thatwasthesortofson he was to me then andalways.’

Mercadierwouldtellherofsome exploit in battle andtheywouldbesadtogether.

And thenoneday– itwasthe week which began withEaster, when they wereresting in Bordeaux –Mercadier had gone out intothe streets but he did notreturn.

She felt sick,old and tiredwhen they brought the newsto her.Hewas a swaggeringman, a typical mercenary towhom soldiering was his

livelihoodandthemeaningoflife.Hehadbecomeinvolvedinabrawlwithaknightwhoserved another mercenarycaptain. They had drunktogether,boastedtogetherandquarrelled together; and thatwas the endofMercadier. Inthe heat of the quarrel hisopponent drew his sword aninstant beforeMercadier did.Hewas bleeding to death on

thecobblesofaninnyard.

‘My old friends are dyingall roundme,’ cried Eleanor.‘Itissosadtogrowold.’

She had not heart for thejourney. She would see hergranddaughter married, andreturn to Fontevraud andthere live out the rest of herdays which could not bemany and she was not

displeasedbythethought.

John had met her atBordeaux where Philip andLouis had joined them andthe two young people hadbeen married. It was atouching ceremony. Blanchewas so pretty and showedevery sign of becoming abeautiful woman and Louiswasaboyofnoblebearing.

The married pair returnedto the Court of France withPhilip and there was amitybetween the kings of FranceandEngland.

‘There is nothing,’ saidEleanor, ‘that cementsfriendship between countriesasmuchasaroyalmarriage.Iam too old for these jauntsnow. I shall go back to theabbeytorestawhile.’

‘Doso,’saidJohn,‘andI’llswearthatinashorttimeyouwillbeasvigorousasever.’

She smiled sceptically andthey took their leave of eachother.

He was thinking ofEleanor’s departure forFontevraud now and decidedthat it could be a reason forhis taking a journey through

Aquitaine, there to confirmthe allegiance the vassals ofthat area owed him and tobring to their notice that hehadhiseyesonthem.

‘I suspect the Lusignansare not as loyal as I wouldwish them to be,’ he toldWilliamMarshal.

‘They have La Marchenow;theyshouldbecontent,’

repliedWilliam.

‘Content! When are suchas they ever content?Moreover, they have somesort of truce with the Countof Angoulême. By God’steeth, they could join forcesandattackAnjoutogether.’

‘Idoubtnotthatourarmieswould soon subdue them iftheystartedsuchtricks.’

‘Perhaps. If we caughtthemintime.But’tisbettertoprevent these uprisings andthis can be done by lettingthem know that we arewatchfulof them.It is timeIdid a tour of theneighbourhood and receivedfreshoathsofallegiancefrommensuchasthecountsofLaMarcheandAngoulême.’

William Marshal agreed

that it never came amiss forthe suzerain to visit hisvassals and now that therewas a trucewithPhilip sincethe marriage between youngLouis and Blanche, thisseemedagoodtimetodoit.

‘The embassy will bearriving in Portugal verysoon,’ the Marshal remindedhim.‘Youmightwishtokeepyourself in readiness for that

and perhaps after yourmarriagevisitthesestates.’

‘Ifeel,’saidJohn,‘thatthisisamatterof somenecessityand a kingmust put his dutybeforehispleasure.’

When John became mostsanctimonious the Marshalgrew a little uneasy. But hecould not think of a reasonwhy John should wish to

travelthroughAquitaineapartfrom his duty to keep thebaronsthereingoodorder.

Johnwent on: ‘To tell thetruth it is this truce betweenAngoulême and La Marchewhich makes me a littleuneasy.Ihopethisfriendshipof theirs is not of longduration.I’dratherhavethemsparringtogetherthanjoiningup.’

‘It could be a firmfriendship,’ said WilliamMarshal, ‘for Angoulême’sdaughterisbetrothedtoHughtheBrown.’

‘’Tis so, Ihaveheard.Sheis a child, is she not?Something may happenbefore the marriage takesplace.’

‘She is not far off

marriageable age and isalreadybeingbroughtupwiththeLusignans.’

John shook his head andmurmured: ‘One neverknows. Sometimes thesemarriagesdon’ttakeplace.Inany case, I shall go amongthem and they can take theiroaths of allegiance. It willremind them that I have myeyesonthem.’

‘And when you return Idoubt not that we shall bearrangingyourwedding.’

‘I doubt it not either,’replied John, a smile curvinghislips.

Isabella saw the messengersarriving at the castle and shewondered what news theyhadbrought.Sherandownto

thecourtyardaccompaniedbytwo of her attendants. Theystood back and watched thegrooms take thehorseswhilethemessengerswere broughtintothehall.

Hughwasthere.

Isabella ran to him andcaught his hand. He pressedherswithaffectionandeagerashewastohearthenews,he

had time to smile down ather.

The messenger said: ‘Mylord of LaMarche, the KingofEnglandisonhisway.Hewillbeherebeforethedayisout. He wishes to assurehimself of your allegianceand will want you to swearyouroathsafresh.’

‘He is coming solely to

me?’ asked Hugh inamazement.

‘Nay, my lord. He isvisiting every castle in thisneighbourhood. To save himtimehewishesyou tosendamessage to the Count ofAngoulême. He would havehim swear his oath here inyour castle so that he neednotmakethejourneytohim.’

‘It shall be done,’ saidHugh.

Isabella uncurled her handfrom his. She turned and ranoutofthehallandwenttothebedchamber which adjoinedthatsharedbyherattendants.

They came running in totell her the news she alreadyknew.

‘My lady, my lady, King

Johniscominghere.’

Shedidnotwant to talk tothem,whichwasstrange.Shewantedtobealone.

He was coming here. Shewould see him again – theman whom she hadencountered in the forest andwhom she had neverforgotten. They would seeeachotheragain.Whatwould

he be like then? Would helook at her as he had in theforest? Why was he cominghere? To make Hugh swearhisoath.Anotioncametoherthat there might be anotherreason. Could he be comingtoseeher?

No, even she could notbelieve that.Beautiful as shewas, he was a king and hemustmake his vassals swear

allegiance now and then.There was a perfectly goodreason for his coming. Hewouldrememberher,shewassure,butitcouldwellbethathe had forgotten themeetingintheforest.

Whatever itwas she couldscarcelywaittoseehim.

She ran to the top of thecastletoseeifshecouldseea

party approaching. Howwould he come? Royally, ofcourse, with pennants flying.Hewould ride at theheadofhismen;hewouldcomeintothe country andHughwouldhavetobewaitingthere.PoorHugh,hewasoflittleaccountcomparedwith thisman.Shehadlikedtoseethemannerinwhich Hugh was lord of hiscastleandhowherfatherhad

talked of him as though hewereofgreatimportance.Shehad thrilled at the thought ofthepowerHughwieldedoversomanypeople.Andwithherhewas soft and yielding andshewouldhaveherwaywithhim; what she wanted shewould wheedle out of him.She knew and exulted in theknowledge. And now hadcomethisman–thisKingof

England before whom Hughmust bow the knee. He wasthe all-powerful one – theoverlord.

It was exciting; it wasthrilling. Which ribbonshould she wear in her hair?Hewouldbetherethisnight.There would be feasting inthe great hall. Perhaps shewould play the lute for himandsingasong–itwouldbe

a song of love and longingwhich Hugh said fondly shesang as though she knew allaboutit.

Inthecastletheysaid:‘TheLady Isabella looks morebeautiful thanever.She is soexcited at the prospect ofseeingherparentsagain.’

Itwasasshehadthought.He

came most royally. Theheralds announcedhis arrivaland the sound of theirtrumpets sent shivers ofexcitement through her. Shehad decided against ribbonsforherhairandshookitlooseabouthershoulders;sheworeabluevelvetgowncaught inat her tiny waist with agoldengirdle.

She was in the hall when

he entered. She would haveknown he was the King byhis garments alone. Heworetheusuallooselyfittinggownbuckled at the neck, withsleeveswideatthetopcaughtinat thewrists,but theclothof this garment was of thefinest material she had everseen. It was silk decoratedwithgold.Heworeacloakofroyal purple which like his

bluesilkgownwasdecoratedwith gold tracing. The beltwhich caught in his gown atthe waist glittered withmagnificent jewels and theseheworeonhisfingers,athisthroat and at his wrists. Shehad never seen a man shinesoandshewasenchantedbythosebeautifulgems.

Hugh was bowing to him,but she saw the King’s eyes

wandering round the halluntiltheycametorestonher.

She hastily curtsied,lowering her eyes, andwhenshe lifted them she saw thatthey were upon her and thelookinthemwasthesameasthat which he had bestowedon her in the forest. Thenotion came to her then thathe had come here not somuch to accept Hugh’s

homage and that of herparentsbuttoseeher.

She heard him saying:‘Whoisyonderlittlegirl?’

Hugh answered: ‘She isIsabella, daughter of theCount of Angoulême, mybetrothed, who is beingbroughtupinthiscastle.’

‘Present her to me,’ saidtheKing.

She came forward; hereyes alight with excitement,hercheeksfaintlyflushed.

Hugh’s hand was on hershoulder, pressing down,implying that she shouldkneel.

Shedidsoandthenshefeltthe King’s hands on her,raisingherup.

‘Why,’hesaid,‘itissucha

pretty child. You are a mostfortunateman,Hugh.’

Andhiseyeswereburninginto her, saying somethingwhich she could not fullyunderstand and yet to whichshecouldrespond.

Hugh pushed her gentlyasideand led theKing to theapartment which had beenprepared for him. Isabella

went to her room, herattendants twittering roundher.

‘What think you of theKing?’theywhispered.

‘His reputation does notlie.’

‘Ishiveredwhenhelookedatme.’

‘I did not see him look at

you,’saidIsabellasharply.

‘Hedid,mylady,beforehefoundyou.Thenhehadeyesfornoonebutyou.’

She laughed. ‘Is he reallyas wicked as they say, thinkyou?’

‘Moreso,’wastheanswer.

‘Come, prepareme for thebanquet.Itwillbesuchaswe

have never had before. It isnot often that we entertain akinghere.’Shecouldscarcelywaittoseehimagain.

In the banqueting hall hesat beside Hugh. He waspleased, he said, that Hughwasnow inpossessionofLaMarche. ‘Oh, you stole amarchonus,mygoodHugh,’said the King waggishly.‘How dare you imprison my

mother and then force her togiveupLaMarche?’

‘Itseemedtheonlywayofgetting a decision, my lord.AndIpromiseyouitisbetterfor your territories to live inpeace than towageperpetualwarononeanother.’

‘And you will see thatthere is peace here, my lordCount.Youhavedonewellto

make a truce withAngoulême. And where aretheCountandCountess?Didthey not hear that I wishedthemtopresentthemselves?’

‘They will arrivetomorrow, my lord. ’Tis thesoonest they could get here.They sent word that theywould leave at once onreceivingyourorders.’

‘Then that is well. I mayrest here and enjoy yourhospitality for a few daysinsteadofmakingthetediousjourney toAngoulême.Ah, Isee there your little bride-to-be. She is charming. I willhavehersitonmyothersideand that will show everyonein what high esteem I holdyou.’

Hebeckonedtoherandshe

came to stand before him,bowing in a most delightfulway. He had been right. Hehadneverseenagirllikethatbefore. Twelve years old.Whatwouldshebelikewhenshe was eighteen? He knewinstinctively that there wasone who could give pleasuresuch as he had never knownbefore.

‘Come, my little one,’ he

said,‘sitbesideme.’

He took her hand, his hotfingers pressing it firmly.Hedrew her towards him andheld her there for amoment.‘You must not be overawedby one who wishes you asmuchgoodasIdo.Come,beseated.’

His hands touched her asshesat.

The venison was carved.As the highest rankingnobleman present, HughstoodbehindtheKing’schairand served him. Thisceremony was one whichappealedtotheKingforthereweremomentsduringitwhenHugh must actually kneelbefore him. It was good forthe little one to see the manthey had chosen for her

husband kneel to one whowas so much greater. Johnknew that power was one ofthemostpotentingredientsofsexual attraction with somefemales. Many an otherwisevirtuous woman hadsurrendered to him becausehewastheKing’sson,King’sbrother and later the King.Rank could be a powerfulaphrodisiac. He picked out

dainties from his platter andfed them to the lovely childbesidehim.Nowandthenhewould look at Hugh. ‘Yousee, my lord, how I amdeterminedtohonouryou.’

The meal over, theminstrelsplayed.Isabellahadbeen brought up to lovemusic and taught to sing andplay, and when John wasaskedifhewouldcaretohear

her sing for him he repliedthatthiswouldgivehimgreatdelight.

Soshesangforhimasongof love and longing. ByGod’s ears, he thought, Iwouldneverwanttoleavemybedweresheputinit.

Twelve years. What adelectable age! And neverknown aman yet. Hewould

be the first. He must be. Hewould be ready to give agreatdealforthatone.

He wished that she werethe daughter of some poorknightwhomhewasvisiting,so that he might say: ‘Yourdaughter pleases me. Sheshallsharemybedthisnight.’

Thiswasdifferent.Whatifhe abducted her? He would

have the whole of Aquitainerising against him.Angoulêmewould unitewiththe Lusignans and all hellwould be let loose.Have herhemust,andhewould,buthewouldhavetobemoresubtle.

Thesonghadfinished.

‘I trust it pleased you,mylord,’shesaid.

‘I have rarely been so

pleased,’heansweredher.

’Tis true, he thought. Andshe is excited. What passionisinthatexquisitelittlebody,justbegging tobeawakened.My task, good Hugh, notyours.Thischildshallbemybedmate … and soon, for Ishall go mad if there is toomuchwaiting.Iwanthernowwhilesheistwelveyearsold,untouched and yet eager to

be. What a combination ofpleasureawaitsme.

Her parentswould be herethe following day.Hewouldhave a proposition to makewiththem.

Others sang. They boredhim. He watched Isabella.Every now and then theireyes met; he would smile ather and there would be her

answeringresponse.

How irksome the waitingwas.

Heretiredforthenightandshewent to her bedchamber.She scarcely slept. She wasthinkingofhimallthenight.

Thenextdayshewalkedinthegardensofthecastlewithherattendants.Shelookedupand saw him at a window,

watching her. She shiveredafresh even though it waswarmandsunny.

When she went up thestone staircase to herapartment he was waitingthere, close to the door. Nooneelsewasinsight.

‘Isabella,’hewhispered.

‘Mylord!’

He held out his hand andsheputhers intoit.Thenshewas seized and held againsthim. As his hands caressedher body she began totremble.

‘You excite me,’ he said,‘as I never was excitedbefore.DoIexciteyou?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ sheanswered.

He kissed her then againand again. She was gaspingbut making no attempt toprotestorescape.

‘You are warm-hearted,’hesaid. ‘I sense it.You longto experience the sweets oflife.’

‘Oh yes, my lord,’ shemurmured.

‘Asyetnomanhasknown

you.’ Then he laughed andwhispered: ‘’Twillnotbe forlong.There’s joy in store foryou.’

‘My lord, I hear someoneonthestair.’

‘Do you then?’ heanswered. ‘So part we must…andyouareforme,forgetitnot.’

‘I am betrothed to Hugh,’

sheanswered.

‘Remember this. It is thecustomofkingstohavetheirway, sweetheart. And thisking is more determined tohavehisthanmost.’

He released her then andshe ran to her room. Shelooked at the patches on herskinwherehehadkissedher.

She knew that something

very exciting was about tohappen.

Her parents arrived the nextday.Howdelightedtheyweretoseeher!

Her mother wished toknowifshewerehappyintheLusignanhousehold.

‘Very happy,Mother,’ shesaid. ‘Everyone is kind to

me.’

‘And you are behaving aswewouldwish,daughter?’

‘Ithinkso,Mother.’

Herfatherembracedher.

‘The Lusignans aredelighted with you,’ he toldher. ‘Hugh told me so. Youareagoodchild.’

‘Yes, Father. The King of

Englandishere.’

‘Itisforthatreasonthatweowethisvisit.’

‘Yes,Hughtoldme.’

‘HaveyoubeenallowedtoseetheKing?’

‘Yes. I sat beside him atsupper. Then I sang to him.Hewasmostgracious.’

‘That is well. I hope you

werenottooforward.’

‘TheKingdidnot seem tothinkso.’

Her parents looked at herapartment and spoke to theyounggirlswhoattendedher.The Countess wanted toassure herself that they weresuitable to wait on herdaughter.

Then they went down to

the hall where several otherheads of noble familieswereassembledthat theymightdohomage to the King theirsuzerain.

When the ceremony wascompleted John said hewould like to walk in thegardens and he invited theCount and Countess ofAngoulêmetowalkwithhim.

He said that he wasdelighted by the friendshipbetween their house and thatoftheLusignans.‘Itisalwaysgood,’hecommented,‘toseethesefamilyfeudsended.’

‘Itwasanexcellentideatounitethefamiliesthroughthebetrothal ofHugh theBrownandourdaughter,’agreedtheCount.

‘Ah, your daughter.She isenchanting.’

TheCountess smiled. ‘Shehas been admired for herbeauty ever since she wasmoreorlessababy.’

‘She’salittleenchantress.Itell you this; she has cast aspelloverme.’

The parents smiled fondlybutJohn’snextwordsquickly

dispersedtheirsmiles.

‘So much so,’ said John,‘that I want her for myselfandIshallnotrestuntilsheismine.’

The Count and Countessappeared tohavebeen struckdumbfor theycouldnot findthe words to express theirshockandamazement.

John said: ‘You are

overcome by the honour Iwoulddoyou.YourdaughteristhemostenchantingchildIever saw. She is ready formarriage. I never sawone soripe and ready for theplucking.MydearCountandCountess, you will bless thedayIsentforyoutocometothe Lusignan stronghold. ForthereIsawyourdaughterandthemomentIclappedeyeson

her–whichwasatapreviousmeeting in the forest– Iwasin love with her. I want herand I will have her and youwill give her to me with theutmostjoy.’

It was the Count whospoke first. It seemed to himthat theKing had gonemad.He had heard stories of histerrible rages, how he struckpeopleoranythingthatwasin

his way, animate orinanimate, how he threwhimself about and would dohimselfadamageiftherewasno one else on whom hecould inflict his fury. Thismustbeapreludetomadness.

Butnowheappearedtobecalm enough. ‘Yes,’ he said,‘IwantIsabella.SomuchdoIwantherthatIampreparedtoface anything and anyone to

get her. She is to be theQueen of England. Whatthink you of that, my lordCount?’

‘’Tis a great honour, mylord, but she is betrothed toHughtheBrown.’

‘Hugh the Brown! Thepetty Count of Lusignan! Iam offering your daughter acrown. Duchess of

Normandy, Countess ofAnjou, Queen of England.Youarenofool,Count.’

‘It is honour beyond ourdreams,’saidtheCountess.

‘My lady, you know agood prospect when you seeit.Iamsoenamouredofyourdaughter that I will riskanything to get her, for nosooner did I see her than I

knewImusthaveher.’

‘She is but a child, mylord,asyet.’

‘She is no ordinary child.There is a woman in thatadorable immature body.Mywoman.’

‘Isabella has always beenmuchadmired.Weknowthatshe is possessed ofexceptional beauty. You

honour us greatly, but herbetrothal—’

‘Bah! It shall be asnothing. You will take heraway with you this day …back to Angoulême. I willcome with you and there Iwillmarryherwithoutdelay.’

‘The Lusignans wouldneverpermithertogo.’

‘Do you have to ask their

permissionastowhatyoudoforyourowndaughter?’

‘In the circumstances weshouldhaveto.Mylord,youradmiration for her has beennotedandweare in theheartofLusignancountry.Itseemscertain that theywouldneverpermitustotakehertoday.’

Johnwassilentforawhile.

Then he said: ‘I have it.

WewillgofromherethisdayleavingIsabellahere.Thenina week you will ask theLusignans if theywillpermityourdaughtertovisityoufora few days. You have beenwith her and you miss hervery much. They cannotobject to parents wishing tohave a visit from theirdaughter.’

‘Andthen,mylord?’

‘I shall come toAngoulême and there I willmarryIsabella.Asyouknow,I am free to do so. TheninsteadofbeingtheCountessofLaMarche, your daughterwillbetheQueenofEngland.Come, good Count andCountess, youwill find it farmore profitable to allyyourself with the House ofAnjou and royal Plantagenet

than with the Lusignans.Your daughter would neverforgiveyou ifyouattempt tospoilherchances.’

‘ItismydaughterofwhomI think,’ said the Countess.‘Sheisachild.Shehasgrownaccustomed to Hugh deLusignan, and she isreconciledtothefactthatsheistomarryhim.’

‘You’ll find your daughterishappywiththechange.’Helaughedaloud.‘Icanpromiseyouthat.’

Then they went into thecastle togetherand theCountand Countess of Angoulêmetold their host that theymustleave. There were mattersclaiming their attention inAngoulême.

They said farewell to theirdaughterandleft.

ThenextdaytheKingleftthecastle and rode off in theoppositedirection.

He had taken a brieffarewell of Isabella. She hadstood before him in the hallandsuddenlyhehadliftedherfrom her feet and kissed her

mouth. He had whispered:‘Soonweshallmeetagain.’

Thenheputherdown,andin an aside to those standingby, he said that he foundchildren enchanting. Asthough, she thought,momentarily angry, shewerebut a child to be petted. Butshe remembered his wordsand the brief embrace theyhad had on the previous day

and she knew that he wasactingforthosewatchers.

Herodeawayandshewaswith the crowdwho stood atthe castle gates watching;then she had gone up to aturret to see the last of thecavalcade.

The castle seemed verydull when the guests haddeparted.Hadhereallymeant

it when he had said theywouldsoonmeetagain?

Everyone in the castleseemed to be talking abouthim. She went down to thekitchens to listen to the talkthere. Servants knew somuch.

Sheheardhowhehadbeencalled John Lackland by hisfather when he was born

because there were so manyelderbrotherstoshareouttheKing’s possessions. He hadbeen to Irelandwherehehadshocked the natives with hiswild behaviour. He hadseveral illegitimate children.His weakness was womenand he could never haveenough of them. Had theynoticedhisclothes?Allthosejewels! His father had never

caredforfineclothes;hehadthe hands of a lackey for herefused to wear gloves; andhe ate standing up so thatnone would have known hewas a king. John wasdifferent. He was alwaysdressed in fine clothes andjewels. He always wantedeveryone to have no doubtfrom the moment they sawhimthathewastheKing.

The visit was the mostexciting the household hadever known. King Richardhad been very friendly withthe family because of thecrusades;nowitwasgood tothink that King John was onsuch excellent terms withthem.

Butlisteningtotalkofhimwas poor consolation for hispresence.

And what would happennow?Hewouldgoawayandforget her. Would he? Thewayhehadlookedatherandheld her surely had meantsomething.But then he likedallwomen.

The days passed. Nothingveryamusinghappened.

Shortly after the King’sdeparture Hugh had to go

awaytosettlesomerevoltonthe borders of his territory.He said farewell to Isabellaandkissedhertenderly.

‘Soon,’ he told her, ‘weshall marry. I begin to thinkthat in spite of your tenderyears we might go throughthe ceremony. As for theconsummation…’

He did not finish and she

didnotseektoremindhimasshe had on other occasionsthat shewasnot soyoungastheyallpresumedhertobe.

‘My brother Ralph willtake over my position in thecastle. He says his first dutywillbetoprotectyou.’

She watched Hugh rideawayrathersadlyfor inspiteof the impression John had

made on her she was stilldeeply attracted by Hugh. Infact it hadoccurred to her towish that Hugh were theKing. What a fine king hewouldhavemade!

A few days after Hugh’sdeparture came a messagefromtheCountandCountessof Angoulême. They missedtheir daughter and theywondered if Hugh would

allowhertopaythemashortvisit.

Hugh being away, Ralphcould see no reason why heshould not grant Isabella’sparentswhattheyasked.

Within a few days,surroundedbya considerableentourage,IsabellawasridingtoAngoulême.

Isabella welcomed thechange. It would be pleasanttobehomeforashortwhile.She was feeling a littledepressed, for her attendantshadtalkedconstantlyofJohnsince his visit and she hadheard a great deal about hismanymistresses.

Could it havebeen that hehad behaved with her as hedid to all attractive females?

Was it really true that she,being so young andinexperienced of the world,had believed there wassomething special in histreatmentofher?

She was soon to discoverthetruth.AstheycameclosetoAngoulêmeshesawapartyof riders in the distance andrecognised the King at thehead of them. Excitement

possessed her as he gallopeduptoher.

Hebroughthishorseclosetohersandlookedather.

‘IfearedIhadimaginedsomuch beauty,’ he said. ‘Butnay, you are even lovelierthaninmydreams.’

‘Mylord,Iamgladtogiveyoupleasure…’

‘Therehasneverbeensuchpleasure as we two shallknow together,’ he told her.‘God’seyes,Iwouldwewerealonenow.Iwouldthepriesthadmumbledhiswordsoverus. But soon it shall be so.YouandIwillrideontoyourfather’scastleandaswerideIwill tell youof the future Iamplanningforyou.’

He had turned his horse

and kept it close to hers. Hewavedhishandfortherestofthetwopartiestofallbehind.ThenheandIsabella rodeonclose together some wayaheadoftherest.

‘I cannot take my eyesfrom you,’ he said. ‘Eversincethedayintheforestyouhave shared my bed … butonly in my thoughts. I amgoingtomakethatareality.I

shallwakeinthemorningandfind you there. My littleQueen.’

‘Whatdoesmyfathersay?’sheasked.

‘What can he say? Whatcan he do but thankGod forhisgoodfortuneandgodownonhiskneesandblessthedayKing John saw the loveliestmaiden in the world before

she was thrown away on acountnotworthyofher?’

‘Hugh isavery fineman,’she said and was surprisedthat she felt a certainresentment to hear himmaligned.

‘Forget him, sweetheart.Youarenocountess.Youareto be a queen. I amgoing tomarry you. Yes, sweetheart.

It’s to be marriage for us.Your parents are besidethemselves with joy for thisgreatgoodfortunewhichhascome to them through you. Ihad awifewhowas nowifetome.IhatedherasmuchasIshallloveyou.Itmakesmelaugh to speak of her withyou beside me. She was asdifferent from you as onewoman could be from

another. She gave me nochildren. I gave her littlechanceto.Itwillbedifferentwithus.ButI’dnothaveyoubear children too soon. Youare too young for it. I’d nothave that perfect little bodyspoilt.Nay,we’llkeepitasitis, shall we… for a year ortwo?Andthenwe’llstartoursons.Whydoyounot speak,Isabella?’

‘I had no idea that thiswouldhappen.’

‘DidyounotknowwhenIheld you against me … andtalkedtoyou?Couldyounotguess how urgently I neededyou?’

‘Ididnotknow…’

‘My innocent sweetheart,you are but a child. Nevermind. I’ll teach you to be a

woman. There’ll be a warmwelcome for you atAngoulême and then thepriest shall wed us and I’llcarryyoutomybed.’

At the castle her parentswere waiting for her. Theylooked very solemn but shesaw at once that they werereconciled to the change ofbridegroom.

When she was in herchambertheycametoheranddismissedherattendants.

‘Yourealise,Isabella,’saidher father, ‘what a greathonourthisisforyou,forthefamilyandforAngoulême?’

‘I am to be a queen,’ shesaid.

‘Queen … duchess …countess…yourswillbeone

ofthehighestpositionsintheworld.’

‘You are pleasedwithme,Father?’

‘Thereisnotafatherintheland who would not bepleased to see his daughtermadequeen.’

‘There isonewhowillnotbe pleased to see me aqueen,’ she reminded them.

‘WhatofHugh?’

‘He must perforce acceptwhatisinevitable.’

‘We have been betrothed,Father.’

‘Thank God the marriagewasdelayed.’

‘You thought I was tooyoungforHugh.AmInottooyoungfortheKing?’

‘The King thinks not. Helikesyouryouth.’

Her mother lookedanxious. ‘There are matterswhich you must try tounderstand.’

‘Yourmothermust talk toyou,’saidtheCount.

She laughed at them. ‘Iknow of what you wouldspeak. I have looked about

me and I know well whathappens between men andwomen. I know what theKingwantsofme.’

‘You are old for youryears, my child,’ said theCountess,‘andperhapsthatiswell.’

Isabella could not stopthinkingofHugh–sotallandkind. She had tried to lure

him into forgettingheryouthbut he would not be lured.There was somethinghonourable and noble aboutHugh;itmadeheralittlesadto think of how angry hewouldbewhenhehadheardthatherparentshadtakenherawayfromhimtogivehertoKingJohn.

‘You are to prepare toleave for Bordeaux at once,’

said hermother. ‘You are tobe married there by theArchbishop. The King willhavenodelay,he issoeagerfortheceremony.’

‘ShouldnotHughbetold?’

‘My dear child, certainlynot!Thegreatpoint is togetthe marriage over beforeanyonecantrytostopit.TheKingwillbeveryangryifwe

do not all meet his wishes.Therefore you must preparewithoutdelay.’

It was exciting to have awedding. She thought ofherself wearing a crown. Itwould be most becoming.Within a fewdays theywereriding to Bordeaux and theretheArchbishopmarriedthem.

There was feasting in the

castle that night but at anearly hour John left the feastwithhisbride.

‘I am hungry for only onefeast,’hetoldthecompany.

She was very young – achild really – but thesensualitywasthereashehadknown it would be. He wasrarelymistakeninwomen.

Young as she was she

could give passion forpassion. He blessed the fatewhich had sent him into theforest that day. His hopes ofher had been high and theyhad not been one whitdisappointed.

During the days of thehoneymoonwhichwerespentmainlyinthebedchamber,forhewouldnotriseuntildinnertime, he became even more

infatuated with his childbride.

W

ChapterVII

THECROWNEDQUEENOFENGLAND

hen the King ofPortugal heard thateven while the

embassy from England hadbeenonitswaytoarrangethemarriage of his daughter,John had married Isabella ofAngoulême, he was furious.Thiswasaninsult.Therehadbeen no warning. Theywerepreparing to receive theembassy with all honourwhen thenewshadcome.Atfirstithadseemedincredible;but when it became obvious

that it was indeed true, theKing decided that there wasnothing to be done but sendthe embassy back with allspeed.Hewouldnot losehisdignity by complaining ofthis insult to himself and hisdaughter but he would notforget.

Hugh de Lusignan wasstunnedwhenhereturnedandfound that Isabella had been

taken away. Ralph explainedtohimthathehadreceivedarequest from her parentswhich did not seem anunreasonable one. Surely itwas natural for parents towish to see their child fromtimetotime.

Hughhadtoadmitthathadhebeenatthecastlehewouldhaveaccededtotherequest.

‘Didyounotknowthatthatlecher was there waiting forher?’hedemanded.

‘How could I know this?’criedRalph.‘HadhenotbeenhereandsentfortheCountofAngoulême to come here tosave himself the journey toAngoulême?’

‘Wehavebeendeceivedbyboth theKing and theCount

ofAngoulême,’criedHughinanguish. ‘Was not Isabellasolemnlybetrothedtome?’

‘There can be nogainsayingthat.’

‘Thenthiscannotbe.’

‘Alas,brother,itis.’

‘And he has married heralready! But she is only achild.’

‘Methinks that she wasolderthanheryears.’

‘Oh God in Heaven! Tothinkofherwiththatlecher!’

‘Brother,youmustputherfromyourmind.’

‘What can you know ofthis?Sheissoexquisite.Ihadtreated her with tendernessandcare…Ihadputoff themarriage solely because of

heryouth. Ididnotwantherto be frightened. I loved herdearly, Ralph. I had plannedour future together … andnow to come back like thisand find her gone … andgone to him. You know hisreputation.Howthinkyouhewillbewithher?’

‘You must put her fromyour mind, I tell you,’repeatedRalph.‘Sheislostto

you. She will be going toEngland soon to be crownedQueen.’

‘She was snatched fromme!’criedHugh.

‘You must face the fact,brother, that she may havegone with the utmostwillingness.’

‘How could that havebeen?’

‘There is a certain glitterabout a crown. I’ll tell youthis, Hugh, there was awantonness about her. Youwere bemused by her. Godknows she is an exquisitecreature.Ineversawagirlorwoman to comparewith her.It may well be that you willhave reason to rejoice that ithasturnedoutasithas.’

‘You talk of what you do

not understand,’ said Hughshortly. ‘Isabella wasbetrothed to me. I loveIsabella. I shall never loveanother woman as long as Ilive, and that’s the plaintruth.’

Ralph shook his head.‘Would to God it had beenany but myself who let hergo.’

‘Nay,Ralph,anyonewouldhavethoughtitwelltolethergo to her family. We havebeen thoroughly deceived.But I shall not let it pass. Ishalltellyouthis,Ralph,Iamgoing to be revenged onJohn.’

‘Whatcanyoudo?’

‘I shall kill him,’ declaredHugh.

‘Nay,donotacthastily.Donot speak without caution.Who knows what may becarriedtohim.’

‘I hope my words will becarriedtohim.Iloathehim.Idespisehimforacheat,aliarandalecher.Heshouldneverhave been given the crown.That should have beenArthur’s.AndbyGodIswearI shall never forget this foul

deed.HeshalldieforitandIshall send someone withoutdelay to him to take himmychallengeformortalcombat.’

‘Youthinkhewillagreetomeetyou?’

‘Hemust… in all honourhemust.’

Ralph shook his head.‘Youcannottalkofhonourtoonewhohasnoneandknows

notthemeaningoftheword.’

‘Ihavemadeupmymind,’saidHugh. ‘I shall challengehimtomortalcombat.’

His servants did not daredisturb John in hisbedchamber, and it wasdinner time each day beforehe emerged from it and thenwithgreatreluctance.

HewaslivinginaworldofsensualitywherenothingwasoftheleastimportancetohimbutIsabella.

He had found that he wasnotmistaken inher.Shewassexuallyinsatiableevenashewas and on this ground theywere completely in tune. Hehadrecognisedthisqualityinher;itwasattheveryessenceof her tremendous attraction.

She was indeed the mostbeautifulcreaturehehadeverseen; her immature child’sbody was just beginning toblossomintowomanhoodandcould be compared with themost perfect piece ofsculpture except that it wasliving. He delighted in her.To guide her, to teach her inerotic arts was the greatestjoy; and she scarcely needed

tuition. Such was hersensuality that she reactedinstinctively. For some timeshe had been trying to forceopen the floodgates of hervoluptuous desires. She hadtried with Hugh whosehonourable instincts hadrestrained him; John had nosuchscruplesandforawhileshewasgladofthis.

So they retired early and

rose late. The marriage bedwas more important thananything during those firstweeks.

Johnsaidduringthosedaysof his honeymoon: ‘I nowpossess everything that Icould desire. The crowns ofEngland and Normandy …and my most cherishedpossessionofall:Isabella.’

Onedaywhenheemergedfrom the bedroom to takedinner which was awaitinghis arrival at the table andwhich was served aftermidday, he was told thatmessengers had arrived fromHughdeLusignan.

‘Hugh de Lusignan?’ hecried. ‘Whatdoes that fellowwantwithme?’Hegrimaced.‘Can it be that it has

something to do with theQueen? I’ll send for himwhenIamreadytoseehim.’

He went back to Isabellawho had risen languorouslyfrom the bed and waswrapped in a gown of bluelined with fur, her beautifulhair in disorder about hershoulders.

‘There’s a fellow to see

me,’hesaid.‘HecomesfromHugh de Lusignan. Whatinsolencetosendhim.’

‘What does he want?’askedIsabella.

‘Thatwehavetofindout.’He lifted her face to his andlookedintohereyes.Thenheslipped the robe from hershoulders and marvelled ather beauty. She studied him

through veiled eyes and shewas thinking of Hugh whowas so tall and handsome,and she was angry with himbecausehehadresistedalltheindications she had givenhim. She wondered brieflywhatwouldhavehappenedifhehadnot.

She was a queen thoughand it delighted her to be aqueen.

John pulled the robe upover her shoulders. He tookherhandandpulledhertoherfeet.

‘I’ll not look at you now,my love, or it will be nodinner forus. I see that.Youare more attractive than athousanddinners.’

He went to the door andcalled: ‘Bring theLusignan’s

messengertomenow.’

Then he turned to her anddrawing her to the bed satwithheruponit.Heheldherhandpressedagainsthisthighasthemessengerentered.

‘Soyoucometodisturbmewhen I am engagedwith theQueen,’ he said. ‘What isyourmessage?’

‘I come from Hugh de

Lusignan, who challengesyou, my lord, to mortalcombat.’

Isabella said involuntarily:‘Ohno.’

John pressed her hand.‘Yourmaster is insolent, myman, and you brave to bringsuch amessage tome. I likenot suchmessages and I likenot the people who bring

them.HasitstruckyouthatImightdecide tomakeyousothat you could carry nofurthermessages?’

Isabella saw the sweatwhichappearedontheman’sbrow. She remembered himas one ofHugh’s esquires inthecastle.

She said: ‘’Tis no fault ofhis that he brings such a

message.’

John smiled. Everythingaboutherdelightedhim;evenher interference. She didn’twant the man punished.Thereforeheshouldnotbe.

‘Nay,’ said John, ‘theQueenisright.Theinsolencecomesfromyourmaster.Youbutobeyyourorders.Goandtellhimthat ifhe issoeager

for death I will appoint achampiontofightwithhim.’

The man, delighted to getaway, bowed his head andJohnwavedahandtodismisshim.

When he had gone Johnturned to Isabella. ‘Insolentfellow!’ he said. ‘He wouldinvite me to mortal combat.Does he think that I would

demean myself by fightingwithhim?Nay,heshallhavehis fight. There’ll be plentywhowillbegladtodomethehonour.’ He pulled the robefromhershoulderandburiedhis face against her flesh.‘Think you he will report tohis master that he saw usthus?’TiswhatItrusthewilldo.’ John began to laughloudly. ‘Master Hugh will

mayhap be more eager thanever formortal combatwhenhe realises all that he hasmissedinlife.’

There was no responsivelaughter from Isabella. Shewas thinking of Hugh –whose good looks had beensuch a delight to her – lyingcold and still with blood onhis clothes. But that wouldnot happen. She felt that in

combatitwouldnotbeHughwhowasthevanquished.

But she had losttemporarily her appetite bothfor dinner and sexualexcitement.

When Hugh received themessage he was filled withfury.

‘Thecoward!’hecried.‘Of

courseheisafraidofcombat.He knows full well what theresultofthatwillbe.Doeshethink I’ll be satisfied withsome mercenary captainwhomhewillpayto takehisplace?DidyouseetheKing?’heaskedthemessenger.

‘Yes,mylord.’

‘AndtheQueen?’

‘Yes,sir.’

‘Together?’

Themessengernodded.

‘HowlookedtheQueen?’

The messenger lookedpuzzled.

‘Contented with her lot?’suggestedHugh.

‘Yes,mylord.’

Such a child, he thought,andhewonderedwhatwould

becomeofher.

Hewent tohisbrotherandtold him that the King hadrefused to meet him inperson.

‘Did you expect him to?’askedRalph.

‘No.Ialwaysknewhewasacoward.’

‘Suchmenalwaysare.The

best thing, brother, is toforget this insult. Findyourselfabride–agoodandbeautiful woman who willgive you sons. There aremanywhowouldbehappytomatewiththeLusignans.’

Hughshookhishead.‘No,brother,’hesaid.‘Atleastnotyet. There is one thing I ampledged to do and that is totake my revenge on John of

England.’

‘Howso?’

‘You ask that? You, aLusignan,whounderstandthestate of this country. TheKing of France has enteredintoatrucewithhimbutitisan uneasy one. The Duke ofBrittany–andhehasmanytosupport him – believeshimself to be the trueheir to

all that John has seized.Rarely was a crown soprecariously poised on anyhead. I amgoing todoall inmy power to dislodge it. Iswearthistoyou,Ralph,thatere long Normandy will notbelongtoitspresentDukebutto theKing of FrancewhosevassalIshallbe.Richardwasafriendtoourfamily.Johnisan enemy. I shall not rest

untilIhavetakenmyrevengeon this voluptuary who hasrobbedmeofmybride.’

‘Boldwords,brother.’

‘Andmeant, Ralph, meantfromthebottomofmyheart.Youwillsee.’

EvenJohnhad to realise thatit was time he was on themove.Moreover,Isabellawas

ecstatic at the prospect ofbeing crowned Queen ofEngland. She was thrilled atthe thought of crossing theseabecauseshehadneveryetseen the sea. Her excitementabouthernewlifeaddedzestto John’s days. He began tosee things afresh through theeyes of a young girl and hefound the experienceexhilarating.

Thus they set out on theirjourney.

They called first at theAbbey of Fontevraud wherethe Queen Mother receivedthem.

She was enchanted byIsabella.Shesawinherson’syoung bride something ofwhat she had been so manyyears ago. A freshness, a

youthful outlook on life andthat overpowering sensualitywhichwasattheveryrootofthe secret of her power tomoveJohnsodeeply.

The young girl madeEleanor feel her age moreacutely. The journey toCastilehadbeentoomuchforher and shehadbeenglad togetbacktoFontevraudwhereshe could daily visit the

graves of her husband, hersonRichardandherdaughterJoanna.

‘My life is over,’ she toldIsabella. ‘Sometimesonecanlive too long. Perhaps thefateswouldhavebeenkinderto me if they had taken mewhenRicharddied.’

Thereweresomepleasuresleft to her, though. Thinking

over the past was one; andsometimes she could throwherself back so clearly thateverythingbecameasvividasthough it were happening atthatmoment.

‘Livefully,child,’shesaid,‘thatisthesecretofit.Iusedmy time… every minute ofit; and now I can look backand remember. There wereyearswhenIwas imprisoned

and even then I made themostofeveryhour.’

She thought a great dealabout John and was uneasydoingso.Sheknewhimwelland she felt that it had beenthe greatest tragedy thatRichard had died when hedid.Howironical itwasthat,just as he had come homefrom theHolyLand and hadbeen released from his

incarceration at Dürenstein,thatwickedmanhad shot anarrow at him that had killedhim, so that there was onlyJohn.

She knew what John haddone. He had taken IsabellafromHughdeLusignanbyatrick, for they would neverhave let Isabella go if theyhad known shewas going totheKing.DidJohnthinkthat

that would be forgotten?There would be retribution,she knew. Was John,uxorious, living in a state ofeuphoria, thinking only ofbed and Isabella, unable torealise what a storm hisactions might well havearoused, or was he simplyignoring this?TheLusignanswould be against him. Hemight have gained theCount

of Angoulême as an ally butthatwasnotmuchofagaintobe set beside the enmity ofthe Lusignans. What of theKing of Portugal nursing hiswounded dignity? And therewere Arthur and his motherwithhernewhusbandGuydeThouars, just waiting for achance to rise. And moreimportant than all, Philip ofFrance.Whatwashethinking

at thismoment?LaughingnodoubttothinkhowrecklesslyJohn was gambling with akingdom.

ButIamtoooldtoconcernmyself, thought Eleanor. Mydayisdone.AndwhatcouldIdo inanycase? IcouldwarnJohn. As if he would listen!He hears nothing but thelaughter of that child of his;he sees nothing but her

invitingpersonandhecannotsee the jeopardy inwhich hehasplacedhimselfwhileheisbemused by dreams of newwaysofmakinglove.

She could warn the girlperhaps. Voluptuous shecertainly was, andknowledgeable with aknowledge such as her kindwere born with. Eleanorknew, for she had been like

that herself. But what didIsabella know of the worldoutsidetheboudoir?

‘The King is deeplyenamouredofyounow,butitmaywell be that hewill notalways be so,’ Eleanorwarnedher.

Isabella looked startled.She could not believe thatanyone would fail to be in

lovewithher.

‘Men like change, mydear,’saidtheQueen.

‘You mean John will nolongerloveme?’

‘Ididnotsaythat.Hewillalways see inyou thebeautythat you have; it is a beautywhich is always there. Agecannot destroy it. You havethatsortofbeauty,Isabella.I

will dispense with falsemodesty and tell you that Ihave it. When I marriedJohn’s father he wasenamoured of me. It was anunsuitable match in manyways.ThereverseofyouandJohn, I was his senior bysome twelve years. That didnot stop us. We were lovers…evenasyouarenow.Butscarcely had the first year of

our marriage passed whenanother woman was carryinghischild.’

Isabella drew back inhorror.

‘’Twas so. I did notdiscover it until he broughtherchild intomynurseries. Inever forgave him, and thatset up a canker in our hearts…bothofus.Ourloveturned

tohate.NowhadIbeenwiserImighthavesaidtomyself:Itis the way of men. He mustgoforthtohisbattlesandwewere parted, and so he tookhis women. Had I realisedthathisdallyingwiththelightwomen he met on hisjourneysdidnotalterwhathefelt for me, we would nothave been such bitterenemies. Perhaps then our

children would not havelearned tohatehimand fightagainst him. I think a greatdealaboutthisnowIamold.I go down to his grave andtalktohimasthoughhewerethere. I go over our lifetogether and say to myself:Ah,hadIdonethis…orthat… we might have gone indifferent directions. Wemight have been friends

instead of enemies, for therewas always somethingbetween us. Often we calledit hate but with people suchasweare,loveisneartohate.Ah, I see I tire you.You areasking yourselfwhat this oldwomanistalkingabout.Why,you say, does she tell methis? Have I not a husbandwho adores me, who thinksme themost perfect being in

theworld?Hashenotsaidhepossessesallhecoulddesire?Yes,soitwaswithHenryandwithmeinthebeginning.Mychild, what shall you do ifJohn betrays you with otherwomen?’

She thought a while thenher beautiful eyes narrowed.Then she said verydeliberately: ‘I shall betrayhimwithothermen.’

Eleanorsaidgently:‘Itrustitmaynevercometopass.’

How excited Isabella was tosee the sea! She wanted torun into it and catch it withherhands.

She stood gazing at it inwonder. John watched herindulgently.

‘Sucha lot Ihave to show

you,mylove,’hesaid.

They went on board theirship and he found it hard todrawherawayfromthedeck,so enthralled was she. Shewas excited beyond wordswhen she beheld the whitecliffsofhernewkingdom.

‘You shall be crowned erelong,’ John told her. ‘ThemostbeautifulqueenEngland

haseverknown.’

He was excited to be inEngland which alwaysseemed more home to himthan any other land. Englandhadacceptedhimwhensomeof those who lived in hisoverseasdominionshadbeenprepared to take Arthur. Itwas because England wouldnever have accepted Arthurthat men such as William

Marshal had come down inhis favour. So he owed a lotto England; and now hewasgoing to honour that land bygiving it the most beautifulwoman in theworld tobe itsqueen.

He called together acouncil at Westminster andthere, glowingwith pride, hepresented Isabella to them.Theycouldnotbutbemoved

by such charm and beautyand the unfortunate affair ofthe Portuguese embassyseemed to have beenforgotten, aswas themannerofhissnatchingIsabellafromthe man to whom she wasbetrothed. After all, thetroublesofHughdeLusignanwere scarcely something fortheEnglishtoworryabout.

There would be a

coronationfortheQueenandthepeoplelovedacoronation.They had wondered why theKing’spreviouswifehadnotbeen crowned with him.Therehadbeenrumoursthenthat he was thinking ofcasting her off. They mighthave been sorry for her, buthere was a new bride andthere would be rejoicing inthe streets, dancing, bonfires

and perhaps free wine.Therefore,itwasamatterforrejoicing; and when thepeoplesawtheexquisitechildwho was to be their newqueen, they were enchantedby her. The cheers forIsabella resounded throughthecity.

HubertWalter,Archbishopof Canterbury, came toWestminster to perform the

ceremony. The King hadgiven orders that the Abbeywas to be strewn with freshherbsandrushesonthegreatday and a certain ClarenceFitzWilliam received thirty-three shillings for doing this.There was one choristerwhose voice was consideredthe most beautiful heard formany a year.Hewas knownas Ambrose and the King

ordered that he should begiven twenty-five shillings tosingChristusvicit.

John wanted his people toknowthatthiscoronationwasas important to him as hisownhadbeen.Hewantedthewhole country to welcomeIsabella, to see her in all heryouth and beauty and toapplaud their king forpossessing himself of such a

prize.

They were willing and soIsabella,amidgreatrejoicing,was crowned Queen ofEngland.

NoonecoulddoubtJohn’sjoy in his queen and hisdeterminationtohonourher.

Theywerehappy– JohnandIsabella. She continued to

delight him; he was sure hewould never tire of her, norlook at another woman onlyto compare her with Isabellato her great disadvantage.Isabella was supreme, withherchild’sbodyandthedeepsensual appetites of anexperienced woman, and hethought little of anything butthetimeswhentheycouldbealone together. As for

Isabella, everything thathappenedwassonew toher;andapart fromhersensualityshe was an inexperiencedchild of twelve. Noveltydelighted her and she hadplentyofthat;tobethecentreofanadmiringcirclewasnotnewtoherbut itneverfailedtodelighther;andtofindthatEnglish strangers were assurely delighted with her as

thepeopleofAngoulêmewasa delicious discovery.Sometimes she thought ofpoorHughtheBrownandshewonderedifhewereverysad.She hoped so for she couldnot bear him to forget her.Sometimes she thought ofwhat itwouldhavebeen likeif shehadmarriedhim.Howdifferenthewouldhavebeenfrom John. Hugh was very

handsome and he had neverunderstood what she wasreally like as John had fromthe moment they met.Something within her stillhankered afterHugh, but lifewastooexcitingforbrooding.She loved her golden crownandthehomageofthepeople.Thecoronationhaddelightedher.Shecouldhaveenduredagreat deal to win the title of

Isabella the Queen, so sheenjoyedtravellingthroughthecountrywithJohnwhichtheydid immediately after hercoronation.

She loved fine garments –so did John; she could nothope to wear such splendidjewel-encrusted clothes asthosewhichbelongedtohim,buthegaveherrichpresents.Fortravellinginthewinterhe

ordered for her a pelissonwithfivebarsoffuracross itto keep out the wind. Afterher coronation five ells ofgreen cloth and another fiveellsofbrownweresenttoherso that she might commandherseamstresstomakeitintoa gown for her. The Kinggave her jewels too and howshe enjoyed appearing withhim at the head of a table

while all others looked onwith amazement at hersparklinggemsandbeauty.

She could regret nothingwhile life promised suchexcitement.

Their journey through thecountry was leisurely, forthey stayed in the castles ofthe nobility and there Johnwould receive thehomageof

his barons which would beextendedtoIsabella.

ByChristmas theyreachedGuildford and the feast ofChristmas was celebratedwith much feasting andmerriment. Games wereplayed in which the Queentook the central part and foronce John was prepared tostand aside and let thelimelight fall on someone

else.Theydanced,theysang,they feasted and they drank;andtheKingwouldnotleavehisbeduntildinnertime.

UptothenorthofEnglandthey travelled, throughYorkshire to Newcastle andCumberland right up to theborders of Scotland. ByMarch they had reached thePennines and greatly daringtheybattledtheirwaythrough

this range of wolf-infestedmountains. Life was full ofadventure for the youngQueenwhountilshehadmetJohnhadneverbeenveryfarfrom Angoulême – the onlyjourney she had made beingthat to the castle of thosewhom she had then believedwouldbehernewfamily.

It was Easter time whenthey reached Canterbury.

Here they were greeted byHubert Walter theArchbishop,andduringMassintheCathedralheplacedthecrowns on their heads inaccordance with an oldcustom so that it was likebeingcrownedagain.

After this ceremony theywent to the Archbishop’spalace where a banquet hadbeenpreparedfor them.John

wasdelighted.

‘Itisrare,’hetoldIsabella,‘thataKingofEnglandisonsuch fair terms with hisArchbishop.’

They would return toWestminster,hetoldher,andthere they would hold Courtand shewould learnmore ofwhatitmeanttobeQueenofEngland.

Shewasdelightedwiththecountry–althoughthewinterhad beenmore rigorous thanthat to which she wasaccustomed but she wasyoung, her blood was warmandshehadherpelissonwiththefivebarsof fur toprotectherfromthefiercewinds.

Alas, their pleasurablemeanderingsthroughEnglandwerecomingtoanend.

The Easter festivitieswereno sooner over when amessenger arrived fromEleanor.Itseemedthatitwasimpossible for her to retirefrom life, for she could notresist watching closely whatwas happening in her son’sdominions. She had beenmore aware than he was ofthetroublehewasstirringupwhen he more or less

abducted the betrothed ofHughdeLusignan.

Nowshehaddisquieteningnewsforhim.Ifhewerewisehe would prepare to leaveEngland immediately. Inshort,whathadhappenedwasthatafterJohn’smarriagetheLusignanshadnaturallybeeninfuriated with the Count ofAngoulême, whom theyconsideredhaddeceivedthem

cruellybybeingapartytohisdaughter’s marriage with theKing after they had pledgedher to marry Hugh, and thatfeud,healedby thebetrothal,burst out again. John mustremember that Hugh’sbrother Ralph was Seneschalof the castle of Eu inNormandysothat thetroublecouldspreadintotheduchy.

The Lusignans, filled with

hatred towards John, haddeclared they had thrown offtheir allegiance to him andhad approached the King ofFrance, asking him to acceptthem as his vassals. Philip,like a wily spider, sitting inhiswebwatchingforunwaryprey, was congratulatinghimselfontheturneventshadtaken.

‘Thereisonlyonethingto

be done,’ wrote Eleanor.‘Gathertogetheranarmyandcomeatonce.’

Johnwasalittlepetulantatthe prospect of having hispleasurespoilt,buthismotherwas insistentand inhishearthe had known something ofthis nature would happensoon.

Whilehewasdigestinghis

mother’s news anothermessengerarrived.

This one came from theCount of Angoulême whohadthesamestorytotell.

TheLusignanswereonthemarch, vowing vengeance.Moreover, Arthur’sstepfather, Guy of Thouars,was proving himself a cleverstrategist. In Arthur’s name

he was amassing an army.There was trouble then notonly from the powerfulLusignans and the King ofFrancebutfromArthur.

Arthur must not bevictorious.

Johnmadeuphismind.Hemust prepare to leaveEngland. He would need abig army so he sent envoys

throughout the countrycommanding his barons tocome with all speed toPortsmouth with theirfollowers, for he planned tocrosstotheContinentwithoutdelay.

There followed the first clapof thunder from a stormwhichwastogrowbig.

Many of the barons hadbeen consulting together andwere recalling the good olddays before the reign ofHenry II when they hadindeed been rulers of theirestates. None of them couldremember that time but thestorieshadbeenhandeddownthrough their grandparentsand parents. In the days ofStephenabaronwasabaron.

He was the king of his ownlands and held jurisdictionover those who passedthrough them. They forgotthat during that time it wasnotsafefortravellerstogoonto the road and thatmany ofthosewho didwere capturedby cruel and avariciousbarons and either held toransom or robbed andtorturedforthesportofother

baron guests. This was asituation which to all decentmen was intolerable and theruleofHenryIIhadwiped itout, much to the relief ofalmosteveryinhabitantofthecountry apart from thoseunscrupulous men who hadprofitedfromthisbarbarism.

Henry II’s stern but justlaws had made the countrysafeagainand thatKingwas

such that none would havedared to go against him; butwhen Richard had come tothe throne and had enforcedtaxation in order to pay forhis crusade the people hadgrown restive. But theknowledge that he wasengaged in the Holy Warmade them little inclined torevolt against such taxesbecause they superstitiously

feared they would offendHeaven by doing so andwould consequently suffermore harm than if they gaveup theirmoney.So theypaidup: and when Richard wastakenprisonerandcamebacka hero they were proud ofhim. All who saw himdeclared that even towardstheendofhis lifehehad theappearanceofagod.

And then he had died andthere was John. In the firstplace John lacked thoseimpressive good looks, thatkingly bearing and world-widereputation.John’simagewastarnishedbeforehecameto the throne. They had allheard of his exploits inIrelandandwhen,asCountofMortain,brotherof theKing,he had ridden through their

villages,theyhadhiddentheirdaughters.ItwaswellknownthatwhenRichardwas awayhe had plotted against himwithout much foresight andwisdom and consequentlybeen forced to humblehimself and crave pardonwhen his brother returned.They knew that that pardonhad been given and Richardhadbeenheardtosaythathis

young brother had been ledastray,andinanycasehewasnot to be feared because hewouldneverbeable tomakea conquest and if by goodfortune a kingdom fell intohis hands he would not beabletoholditagainstafoe.

That clearly indicatedRichard’s contempt for John.It may well have been why,the barons now reasoned, he

hadatonetimenamedArthurashisheir.

Andnow,therewastroubleon theContinent.Thebaronscared little for theContinent.They were English now, forthough many of them hadNormanancestors,Normandynowseemedfaraway; itwastheirestatesinEnglandwhichtheycaredaboutandtheyhadno desire to pay with their

moneyandperhapswiththeirlives to help the King holdterritories on the ContinentwhiletheiraffairsinEnglandwereneglected.

Some of the more bold ofthem now called together allthose who had received asummons from the King andthey met at Leicester wherethey decided they wouldmake a stand against the

King’sorders.

They would notaccompany him in hisproposedwarunlessinreturnhe did something for them.They wanted the oldprivileges which their baronancestors had enjoyedreturnedtothem.

John was in Portsmouthawaitingtheirarrivalwhenhe

received the message.Immediately he flew into arage. Isabella was with himandthiswasthefirsttimeshehadseenoneofhisrages.Hehad been so delighted withhismarriage, so absorbed byIsabella that nothing irkedhim at all; he had beencontent to put aside anythingthatwas unpleasant and givehimself up entirely to

enjoyinghismarriage.

But this was too much.They had dared defy him astheywouldneverhavedefiedRichard or his father! Theyrefused to come, unless hecomplied with theirconditions.

‘I’llseetheminhellfirst!’he screamed and threwhimselfontothefloor.

Isabella watched him,round-eyed,asherolledbackand forth clutching therushes, tearing at them withhis teeth and spitting themforthashekickedoutmadly.

‘John!’ she cried. ‘Please…pleasedonotdothat.Youwilldoyourselfaninjury.’

For once he did not hearher.He lay kicking violently

at anything which camewithin range and when,frightened, she ranoutof theroom, he did not even noticehergoing.

Whenhisfuryhadabatedalittle he sent for themessenger. The man camepale and trembling, for thenewsthattheKingwasinoneof his raging tantrums hadreachedhim.

‘Go to these rogues,’shouted the King, ‘and tellthem that if they are not inPortsmouthwithintheweekIwill seize their castles andlands,andwhatshallbedoneto them I leave them toguess.’

The messenger made offwithall speed,hisonedesirebeing to put as great adistancebetweenhimselfand

Johnaspossible.

‘Now,’ cried the King,‘whichisthenearestcastleoftheserebelbarons?’

He discovered it belongedto a certain William ofAlbini.

‘TheyshallseethatImeanwhatIsay,’hedeclared.‘Wewilltakethiscastle,razeittothegroundandhangallthose

who stand in our way as alessontotheothers.’

John was on the march,Isabella temporarilyforgotten.Hismouthwas setin a firm line; his eyes wereslightly bloodshot; there wasa strength of purpose in himwhich all those about himrecognised and theywondered whether they hadmisjudgedJohn.

That was victory, forbefore they had reached thetarget castle, William ofAlbinisentoutabodyofmenwith his son offering him toJohn as hostage until he,William of Albini, couldgathertogetherhisforcesandpresenthimselftotheKingatPortsmouth.

John laughed aloud. Hehad won the day. This, he

thought, is the end of thesebarons’pettyrevolt.Thiswillshow them who is theirmaster.

All believed he was right,for the barons were nowarriving at Portsmouth withtheir men and the money hehad commanded them tobring.

Being John he must have

hisslyjokewiththem.

He collected the moneythey had brought which wasto keep them and theirsoldiersduringalongstayonthe Continent. His eyesglistenedasitwascounted.

Then he said: ‘You havedisappointed me, gentlemen.Youshowmethatyourheartsarenotinthisfight.Youlive

smug and content on yourlandshere…landswhichbutformynobleancestorknownas William the Conquerorwouldneverhavebeenyours.You forget the land of yourfatherswhichhasbeeninmyfamily’s possession sinceGreatRollocameand took itfromtheFrench.Itisinperil,gentlemen, and you wouldratherstaybehindandlivein

easeandcomfort.Thecursesof the Conqueror on you!Stay behind. Do you think Iwant chicken-hearted menservingwithme?Goback toyour lands. I will take butyour money. It will buy mesoldierswhoseprofessionitisto fight and will serve mebetterthanyou.’

With that he dismissedthem.

He laughed aloud in highgood spirits. He felt strong,invincible; and in such amoodhecrossedtheChannel.

Philip was considering thenewturnofaffairs.Neverforonemomenthadhedivergedfromhis ultimate goalwhichwas tobringbackNormandyto France and not onlyNormandy. Every acre of

land which was in thepossession of John, Philipwas determined to bring tothe crown of France.Politicallynothingcouldhavepleased him better than theaccession of John, though hewould always think ofRichard with sadness in hisheart.Hewould never forgettheir friendship, for nothinghad been quite so important

tohim inhis life as that; butnow Richard was gone hecould devote himself to hisgreat task which he hadalways made clear was tomakeFranceasgreatasithadbeenunderCharlemagne.

John was a weakling. Oh,he could strut and swaggerbutathearthewasnotaboldman. He was a bully andbullieswerecowards;hewas

vain in the extreme; he wasno strategist. All Philip’shopes lay in John. So hewould forget his regrets forRichard and rejoice that fatehad given him John to dealwith.

He did not at this timewant to indulge in anotherwar. Wars were rarelydecisive andwith aman likeJohn it should not be

impossible to get the desiredresultwithout agreat dealofunnecessary bloodshed anddestruction.

Timing was all-importantandat thisparticularmomentitwasbettertogoalongwithJohn and not let his trueintentionsbeknown.

Of course itwas clear thatthis foolish act of John’s in

abducting Hugh Lusignan’sbride was one which shouldbe exploited to the full. TheLusignans,feelingthemselvesto have been shamefullyinjured,wereyearningtotakerevenge. Thatwas good. Butnotjustatthistime.Hewouldkeep the wound open andfestering; but he was not yetready to go to war againstJohn.That timewouldcome.

Then hewould go to the aidofArthur and his supporters;Arthurshouldswearfealtytohim; he would offer him hislittle daughter Marie as abride. True, she was not yetsix years old andArthur hadbeen affianced byRichard tothe daughter of Tancred ofSicily; that was of noaccount. Then he, Philip,would have his hands on

Normandy and John’spossessions on the Continentand, who knew, perhaps hecould in due course stretchout to the crownofEngland.After all William theConquerorhaddone just thatwhen he had been only aDukeofNormandy.

But not yet. As the truestrategist he was, Philip hadalways known when to wait

andwhentoact.Somemightsayhehadbeenovercautious,but wise men knew that hewasinvariablyright.

Therefore, when JohnreachedRouenhewasmetbyplacatory messengers fromPhilipwhoinformedhimthattheKingofFrancehadurgedthe Lusignans to end theirrebellion until he and theKingofEnglandhadmetand

cometosomeagreement.

Puffed up with pride afterhis recent triumphantskirmishwiththebaronsJohnmistakenly believed thatPhilipwas afraid of him andagreed to meet the FrenchKingatLesAndelys.

When the meeting tookplacePhilipwasgraciousandinvitedJohnandhisbeautiful

bridetoParis.

How Isabella revelled in theluxuryoftheCourtofFrance.Philipwasverycourteousanddetermined to make themaccepthisfriendship.

‘Youmusthavethebestofall lodgings,’ said Philip.‘Yes, I will hear of nothingelse.MybrotherJohnandhis

beautifulbrideshallhavemyroyal palace and I with myCourtwillmovetooneofmyotherresidences.’

This delighted John. Hewas eager to show Isabellaofftohisrival,whoprofessedhimself enchanted by hercharms.TheQueenofFrance–ofwhomPhilipwasdeeplyenamoured since he wasbravingthewrathofthePope

for keeping her – seemed toJohn a poor creature incomparison with Isabella,though without that brightstarshewasfairenough.

Isabella, basking in theadmiration of the French,seeing new sights every day,leading a life of completeexcitement,ceasedtothinkofHugh the Brown, only toremembernowand thenhow

dulllifewouldhavebeenhadshemarriedhim.

She loved Paris with itsgrand buildings, its river, itspeople who were not unlikethose of her nativeAngoulême. There werebanquetsinthepalacealmostevery day; and she dancedand sang to the applause ofallconcerned.

The King of Franceflattered her andcomplimented John onacquiring such a beautifulbride. John preened himselfand laughingly told how hehadduped theLusignansandhaving seen her in the foresthaddeterminedtomarryher.

‘’Tis clear,’ said the KingofFrance, ‘thatyouhavenotbeendisappointed.’

‘I never knew a womancapable of such skills,’ Johntoldhim.‘Youngassheis…and a virgin when I marriedher … yet she is as wellversed in the art as anexperiencedwhore–butwitha fresh innocence, if youunderstand.’

‘We all understand,’replied the King of France,‘thatitmustneedexceptional

skill to keep you abed tillmidday.’

Johnlaughedaloud.

‘Sotheyaretalkingofthat,arethey?’

‘It reached my ears,’ saidPhilip.

‘Why not? I know of nobetterwaytospendthetime.’

Philip nodded and he

thought: How long will youhold your possessions, John?I’llprophesynotmanyyears.Then youwill learn, brother,that a king must have otherways of spending his timethaninhisbed.

Philip was delighted. Hecould see his goal nearereveryday.

At the table he talked to

John of serious matters.Isabella was there and Johnwas conscious of little else,holding her hand onemoment,strokingthesoftfairflesh…flashingmessagestoherwithhiseyestowhichsheresponded in a langourousmanner.

Good, thought theKingofFrance. I’ll have it all myway.He’llnotcareaslongas

he can go to bed with hiswife.

‘’Tis a mistake,’ he said,‘to go into battle against theLusignans.Unnecessarywarsshouldbeavoided.’

John nodded sleepily. Hesaid:‘Theyhaverisenagainstme.’

‘With reason,’ said Philip.‘You could hardly expect

themtoremainpassivewhensuch a prize was snatchedfromthem.’

Johnlaughed.‘SuchaprizewouldbewastedonHughtheBrown.’

‘That may well be,’ saidPhilip. ‘Why should you notsubmittheLusignanstotrial?They have stirred uprebellion. They have opened

up their quarrel withAngoulême. Ralph has madetrouble in Normandy. Bringthem to trial for forgettingtheir oaths of allegiance toyou and causing troublewhich could have resulted inwar.’

Johnhated tobe toldwhathewastodo.Hewascapableof ruling without Philip’shelpandhe’dhavehimknow

it. But to go to war was notwhat he wanted. It wouldmean Isabella wouldn’t beable toaccompanyhim.Thatwasunthinkable.

So he would agree withPhilip; and when he had theLusignans on trial he wouldsee that they were foundguilty of treason and hewouldsentencethemtoprovetheirinnocencebyfightingin

a duel with opponents whoshould be chosen for them.This was a perfectly legalmethodofsettlingdisputes.Itwas believed that if a manwasinnocent,Godwasonhisside. If he were guilty, thenhewouldbedefeatedbecauseGod would be on hisopponent’s side. John kept acompany of expert duellistswhohadneverbeendefeated

and if he wanted to ridhimself of an enemy hecontrived to sentence him toone of these duels knowingthat itwas invariably a goodwayofgettingridofhim,forhoweverskilledhewaswithasworditseemedhardlylikelythathecoulddobetterthanaman who had spent all histime practising the art in theKing’scause.

The duel sentence waspreserved for men of highrank. There were other lessaristocratic methods ofcarrying out the sameprinciple – such as plungingthe accused’s hand in a pailof boiling water to retrievesome object which had beenplaced at the bottom of thepail. If the damaged handlater festered, the man was

considered guilty. There wasanother punishment inwhicha naked man whose handsand feet were tied togetherwasthrownintoariveroranywater that was handy. Tofloat in such circumstancesmeant that he was supportedby the devil and he wasimmediately rescued and puttodeath;tosinkmeantthathewasreceivingnosuchaidand

hewasrescued.Ifintime,allwellandgood;ifnot,well,hedied anyway. Thesepunishments had been inexistencesince theoldpagandays but no one had at thistimeseenfittochangethem.

Thus, when John agreedwith the King of France tobring Hugh the Brown tocourtwherehehimselfwouldstand with him that their

cause might be judged, hehadnointentionofappearinghimself;andhaddecidedthathewould sentenceHugh andcertainmembersofhisfamilytomeet duellists who shouldbechosenforthem.

T

ChapterVIII

THETRIUMPHOFMIREBEAU

he Duchess Constancelay in her bed, feelingexhausted.

She had given birth to a

daughter, the Princess Alice,and had, since the child hadbeen born, felt her strengthslowlyebbingaway.

She was listless, idlywondering what the futureheld, and with her wascertainty that she would notbe there to see it. The childlay in its cradle, a healthylittle girl; the third of herchildren.Whatwouldbecome

of that little one? Therewouldnotbethestormabouther inheritance as there wasabout that of Arthur – yes,andevenEleanor,forEleanorwas the granddaughter ofHenry II and as such incertain circumstances couldbe an heir to England,NormandyandAnjou.

She stirred uneasily andher daughter, who had been

seatedatthewindow,cameatoncetothebed.

‘Is there anything youneed,Mother?’sheasked.

‘Nay,Daughter.Butsitandtalktomeawhile.’

‘Should you not reserveyourstrength?’

‘For what, my child …death?’

‘Do not talk so, Mother.You are going to be well. Itwasjustadifficultbirthandithasexhaustedyou.’

‘Ialwaysbelievedthatoneshould face the truth,however unpleasant. I hopeyouwilldothat,Eleanor.’

‘Ishalltryto,Mother.’

‘Iliehereandwonderhowit will end. I have terrible

fears for Arthur. Sometimesmy mind is plunged inmelancholy. I cannot sayexactly why but it is likesometerribleforeboding.’

‘It is because you areweak, Mother, that you feelthus.’

‘No, ’tis not that. It is asthough I can peer into thefutureandseehorrorthere.’

‘If it eases you to talk ofyourfear,Mother,doso.’

‘How can I talk of thatwhich I donotunderstand? Isee it there and you andArthurareat thecentreof it.It is my punishment for myambition perhaps. I was sodelighted when I marriedyour father because he wasthesonofakingandIhopedone day that Arthur would

takehisplace.’

‘Itmaybethathewill.’

Sheshookherhead.

‘Mother, what has comeover you? You alwaysbelieved that one day hewould havewhatwas his byright.’

‘Yes, I believed it and Iworkedforit.Yourstepfather

Guyhasworkedforit.Listento him, Eleanor, when I’mgone.’

‘You are not going,’ saidEleanorfirmly.

Constancesmiled.‘Iwouldyou and Arthur were a littleolder. I wish I could havelivedanotherfiveyears.ThatwasallIwouldask.’

‘You are young yet and

newlymarried.What do youthinkyourhusbandwouldsayifheheardyoutalklikethis?’

‘He will grieve for mesorely, Eleanor. He trulylovesme.’

‘Of course; as I do andArthur.’

‘Iknow.AnditisbecauseIlove you all so dearly that itgrievesme somuch to leave

you. Eleanor, listen to Guy.Take care of your brother.Oh, I knowhe is aduke andthinks himself a man. But IgreatlyfearJohn.’

‘Yes, Mother, I know. Sodoweall.’

‘John isamonster.Hehashis follies but do notunderestimate them, mychild. Even now he is with

theKing ofFrance.What doyouthinktheyareplotting?’

‘Philip is our friend,Mother,notJohn’s.’

‘You should not put yourtrust in kings, daughter.PhilipisourfriendtodayandJohn’s tomorrow. Philip’sdesire is to get for himselfwhat John now owns and isby right Arthur’s. That is

Philip’spartinallthis.’

‘He has been good toArthur.’

‘Only to serve his ownpurpose. I would like to seeArthur stand alone, withmighty armies behind him. Iwould like to see him andGuyridetogethertovictory.’

‘Itwillcome.’

‘Eleanor, watch over yourbrother.Donotlethimbetootrusting, particularly of hisUncleJohn.’

Eleanor swore that shewoulddoherbesttocarryouther mother’s wish but sheinsistedthatConstancewouldsoon be rising from her bedand doing all that she haddonebefore.Shewasmerelysufferingfromthedepression

whichoftenfollowsabirth.

Soitseemedforaweekorso and then one day hercondition changed for theworse. She sent for Arthur,EleanorandGuy.

She said: ‘This is indeedtheend.My lovedones, takecareofeachother.’

They knelt by her bed,Arthur who was but thirteen

years old, Eleanor who wasnotmucholder,andGuywhohad loved her for years andhadsorecentlymarriedher.

ThusdiedArthur’smother,and thatday theyoungDukelost his best friend andadviser.

John was at Chinon withIsabella. He was amused to

think how anxious theLusignans would be to havehim so close. He laughed toIsabellaaboutitastheylayinbedtogether.

‘I’llwarranttheywillkeepa close watch on the tower.Imagine it, sweetheart, theywon’t know fromone day tothe next when I shall bebearing down on them withanavengingforce.Hughwill

betremblinginhisshoes.’

Isabella frowned. ‘It is nothis custom to tremble,’ shesaid.

‘Oh,youwoulddefendhimthen?’

‘I would speak the truth,’she answered, a littledefiantly.

‘You are but a child,’ he

said. ‘What do you know ofthesematters?’

‘I know Hugh better thanyoudo.Youforget I lived inhiscastleforawhile.’

‘Do not remind me of it,’hesaid,‘orImightfallintoarage.Youhaveseenmyrage… once. Before I had you Iwas always in and out ofthem.’

‘Then I have brought yousome good, for I confesswhenyoulieonthefloorandkickyoulook…mad.’

She had knelt up on thebed,herhairfallingabouthershoulders. He lay back,feastinghiseyesonher.

Hecaughtherwrist.

‘Are you trying to angerme,littleIsabella?’

‘I must speak the truth,’sheanswered.

‘Virtuous little wife,’ hesaid. ‘I too will speak truthand tellyou that I likenot tohearyoudefendingHugh.’

‘Idonotdefendhim.Isaythat he is no coward. Askanyone.Theywilltellyouthesame.He fearsnoman–notyou nor the King of France,

andifyousayheistremblingin his shoes I will say that Idonotbelieveheis.’

Hepulledherdownbesidehim. ‘If you were not sopretty I might be angry withyou.’

‘WhyshouldIworryaboutthatwhenIamprettyenoughto divert your anger? And Iwill tell you this, that if I

were not, I would still saywhatIthought.’

‘She has spirit, thisQueenofEngland.’

‘Would you wish herotherwise?’ she asked him,stoopingoverhimandputtinghersoftcheekagainsthis.

He caught her in a fierceembrace. ‘I would not haveherotherthansheis,’hesaid.

‘So thought I,’ sheanswered.

But later he rememberedthat she had spoken toowarmlyinHugh’sfavourandhefeltdispleased.

There was to be a visitor toChinon. It was QueenBerengaria. She had heardthat the King was resting

thereawhileandwouldcometovisithimandhisQueen.

‘Poor Berengaria!’ saidJohn to Isabella. ‘She had asad time with Richard. Hewasastrangeman.Hedidn’tcare for women. Youwouldn’t have liked that,myIsabella,wouldyou?’

‘Perhaps he would havebeen different had I been his

queen.’

‘Ho. The vanity! Nay,Richardchosehis lovesfromminstrel boys.Youknow thestory of Blondel. I used towish I’d cut out his tonguebeforehewentsingingroundthecastlesofEurope.’

‘Youwerenotfondofyourbrother?’

‘Fond of Richard, who

took the throne from mewhenmyfatherhadpromisedittome!’

‘And Richard promised itto Arthur at one time. PoorJohn, you were hard doneby.’

‘Ah, but I came into myown,didInot?’

‘Youdid.’

‘And secured the greatestprizeintheworld…snatcheditrightfromunderthenoseofthatHughofwhomyouspeakso highly. Why so? Whathappened that you shouldgrowwarminpraiseofhim?ByGod,ifheeverlaidhandson you I’d have him flayedalive.’

She laughed up at himprovocatively. ‘Forget not

thatIwasbetrothedtohim.’

‘Anddidhetakeadvantageof that? You were a virginwhen you came to me, I’llswear.’

‘Ahyes,’shesaid.‘Iwasavirgin but a somewhatregretfulone.’

‘Youmean…you tried toseduce him and he wouldhavenoneofit?’

‘He is a man such as youcouldnotunderstand,John.’

‘Andyoudid?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I did. Hethought me too young andwouldnevertouchme.’

‘Differentfromme,eh?’

‘As different as it ispossibletobe.’

‘And now I have him,

Isabella. He is going to bebroughttoCourtandtherehewill be sentenced to fight aduel,andIshallmakesureheisnotthevictor.’

‘Areyouafraidofhim?’

‘Afraid of a petty count!Whatmeanyou?’

‘That I might like himbetterthanIlikeyou.’

She had gone too far. Shehad seen the red lights inhiseyes.

She ran her lips over hisface and murmured: ‘Couldyou be as foolish as that?Poor Hugh, if he could buthearyounow.’

She knew how to rousehimandshedid.

There was a slight change

in their relationship.Shewasno longer the child whomarvelled at everything thatwas happening to her; shewastakingagreatdealofthepomp and luxury, the sexualexcitement for granted. Shehadawillofherownandhadneverbeenfacedwithseriousopposition.

SheknewthoughthatJohnwas capable of the utmost

cruelty. At the moment hewanted nothing but her; yetwhen he had talked of Hughand had believed for amoment that she was moreinterested in her one-timesuitor than he wished her tobe, there had been suchvicious cruelty momentarilyunveiled in his expressivefacethatshehadfeltatremorofalarm.

ItwaspleasanttowelcomeBerengaria.

‘PoorBerengaria!’ Isabellacalledher.Whatasadlifeshehadhad!Johnjokedaboutherrelationship with Richard,when Berengaria had alwaysbeen watching and hoping,andRichardignoringher.

She was sad too but shewas clearly impressed by

Isabella’sstartlingbeauty.

They talked together inIsabella’s apartment andBerengaria said how pleasedshe was to see John sohappilymarried.

‘It is wonderful,’ saidBerengaria wistfully, ‘toknow such happiness as youmust. It is obvious that theKing isdeeplyenamouredof

you. You are so young. Is itpossible that you are not yetfourteenyearsofage?’

‘’Tistrue,’repliedIsabella.‘But I believe I am inadvanceofmyyears.’

‘Youwouldneedtobe–soyoung and yet a wife. I wasmuch older than you when Imarried.’

Isabellawonderedwhatshe

herself would be like whenshewasBerengaria’sage.

It was pleasant to bask inher admiration. At the sametime there was somethingdepressing about Richard’squeen.Shewas so clearly anunhappywomanandshewastoo given to talking of thepast.ShekeptbringingJohn’ssister Joanna into theconversation,andJoannawas

dead–haddiedinchildbirth.Apparently she andBerengaria had been greatfriends.

Totalkofwomendyinginchildbirth was not a pleasanttopic for a young wife,although John had said thathe did not want children yetbecause theywould spoilherbodyandhelikeditasitwas.

Berengaria explained toJohn what a desperateposition shewas in. She hadsettledinLeManswhichwaspart of her dowry but sheowned lands in England andshe hoped that John wouldcompensateherforthese.

John was affable: asalways he was ready topromise because he neverconsidered it necessary to

honourhispromises.

‘My dear sister,’ he said,‘you may rest assured that Iwilldoeverythingwithinmypowertohelpyou.Nowletusseewhat I can do.You shallhave Bayeux and there aretwo castles in Anjou whichshallbeyours.Itisonlyrightthat they should be. Richardwould have wished it,’ headdedpiously.

Berengariawept a little. ‘IwishRichard could hear younow,’shesaid. ‘Idon’t thinkhe thought you would be sogoodtome.’

‘I amaccustomed tobeingmaligned,’ replied John. ‘Ofcourse I was wild in myyouth. What man worth hissalt is not? But withresponsibilitiesonechanges.Ihave decided to give you a

thousandmarksayear.’

She kissed his hand andtold him Heaven wouldrewardhim.

‘For,’ she said, ‘but foryou, I should be little morethan a pauper and have noalternative but to throwmyselfontothemercyofmyfamily. I had consideredgoing to live with Blanche,

mysister,butmuchasI loveherIshouldhatetoacceptherbounty.’

‘You may trust me to seethat you are well providedfor,’saidJohn.

When she left ChinonBerengaria took anaffectionate farewell of JohnandhisyoungerQueen.

‘Whatwill become of her,

I wonder,’ said Isabella astheywatchedherrideaway.

‘Shewill go and livewithher sister Blanche ofChampagne,’saidJohnwithasmile, who had no intentionof giving her what he hadpromised.Whyshouldhe,hereasoned. Let her sisterprovideforher.

‘Richard was never a

husbandtoher,’saidIsabella.‘She must have been verymiserable.’

John gripped her arms,puttinghisfaceclosetohers.‘Whatwouldyouhavedone,my desiring and desirableone,hadyoubeenmarriedtoRichard?’

‘Findlovers,’sheansweredpromptly.

He laughed, but herememberedthatlater.

When the day arrived forJohntomeettheLusignansinacourtsetupbytheKingofFrance and presided over byhim, John failed to put in anappearance.

This was exactly whatPhilipwashopingfor.Hehad

taken advantage of the trucebetween them and wasprepared now to go intoaction.BynotappearingJohnhad given Philip the excusehe needed to go against him.As a vassal of Philip forNormandyhehadinsultedtheKingbyfloutinghiswishes.

John, said Philip, must betaughtalesson.

He sent to Brittany askingthatArthurcometohimashewouldknighthimandaccepthis fealtyasCountofAnjou,Duke of Brittany and all theland with the exception ofNormandywhichwasnowinthehandsofJohn.

Guy de Thouars, realisingthat this meant Philip wasnow prepared to help Arthuragainst John, most joyfully

travelled with his youngstepson to rendezvous withPhilip.

This was the signal forJohn’s enemies to rise; andtheLusignanscaughtupwithArthur at Tours and therepledgedtosupporthiminhisefforts to take from John notonly his Continentalpossessions but the crown ofEnglandaswell.

In the Abbey at Fontevraudthe aged Eleanorwas restingafterthestrenuousjourneytoCastile. She couldcongratulate herself thatalthough it had impaired herhealth still further yet it hadbeen a success and hergranddaughter was indeedmarriedtothesonoftheKingofFrance.Shehadneverlost

sightofthefactthatitwasinthatdirectionthatrealdangerlay.

John was more or lessfirmly established on thethroneofEngland;ifhecouldkeep a strong hand on hisContinental possessions hewould get through thatdangerous period whichfollowed accession to thethrone. He was married to a

beautiful young wife and ifthey had sons the peoplewould be pleased to see thesuccession assured. Thethreat came from Arthur, ofcourse; but now thatConstancewas dead hemusthave lostacertainamountofsupport. Eleanor could notmournConstance–awomanwhom she had alwaysdisliked. Perhaps Constance

was too forceful, too muchlike herself. Looking back itwas easy to understand thatshe wanted her son to havewhat she had considered hisrights and there were manymenwhowould have agreedwithConstance.Afterall,herson was the son of an elderbrother.Constance hadmadean error of judgement whenshe had refused to allow

Arthur to be brought up inEngland.

Had she? Would Arthurhavebeenaliveifshehad?

She had always pridedherself on never blinkingfacts. What was she doingnow? Was she being likeHenry, refusing to see whatwas obvious? She had givenher allegiance to John

because he was her son andmeant more to her than hergrandson did – moreover, atthebackofhermindwasherdislikeofConstance.Iwouldnever allow that woman torule, she had promisedherself; and as Arthur was aminor, very much under theinfluence of his mother, itseemed a likely conclusionthat if ever he becameKing,

Constance would indeed bethepowerbehindthethrone.

Well, she had given hersupport to John and so hadWilliam Marshal: and withtwo such adherents he hadwon the crown. It was nowhis responsibility to keep it;andshehadearnedarest.

Itwasstrangethatherideaofpleasurenowshouldbe to

lie late abed, to listen to thebells,tojoininthelifeoftheabbey, attending prayers,giving herself to meditation,retiring early, reading,resting,sleeping. Itwaswhatonecametoateighty.

Not that she had becomepious. She had always beentoo honest with herself forthat. She could say, Yes, Ihave led a sinful life and it

would have been better forothers and myself, too, if Ihad practised virtue. ‘ButGod,’ she said, ‘You mademe as I am. You should notcomplain. Had You wantedmedifferent,You shouldnothave sent me into the worldequippedasIwas.’

Trying to find some virtuein herself she could saywithhonesty that she had loved

her children, and hadunswervingly worked fortheir good. Even thoughRichard had been herfavourite, she had neverfailed any of the others.Andtothinkthatshehadoutlivedso many of them, so that offive beloved sons there wasonlyJohnleft!

John, King of England,was safely married and

deeplyenamouredofayoungwife; soon they would begiving her a grandson. Shecouldrestinpeace.

But it was not to be. Thiswasduetoherself,shewouldbe the first to admit.Although she wished to livequietly she must know whatwas happening and she sentout some of her servantswhosedutyitwastodiscover

what people were saying, orif therewas revolt anywhere,and come back and report toher.

Itwas in thisway that shelearned that the Lusignanswererising.Shehadexpectedthat, of course. They were aproud family and not of anature meekly to accept awrong done to them. Thattheywouldmaketroublewith

theCountofAngoulêmewascertain, but that was a smallmatter which should becomparatively easy to settle.Therewasmorethanthat.

The French King hadhonoured Arthur, whichmeant that he was invitinghim to take up arms againstJohn. Philip was on themarch;hehadalreadyharriedthebordersofNormandyand

one or two castles had fallento his forces. The Lusignanswere joining forces withArthur and Guy de Thouars,andamightyuprisingagainstJohnwascomingintobeing.

More news came. Philipwas advancing intoNormandywithintenmilesofRouen.

HowcouldEleanor remain

at Fontevraud when suchdisaster was threatening herson? Clear-headed, with thejudgement born of longexperience, she knew thattherewasworkforhertodo.She must hold Aquitaine forJohnotherwisetheLusignanswithArthurwouldtakeit.

The days of peace wereover. Itmatterednot that shewas old, her joints stiff, and

that her body cried out forrest.ShewouldnothavebeenEleanor if she had notprepared herself for ajourney, and that day set outforPoitiers.

There she proposed tofortify the castle and hold itagainstintruders.

She forgot that she wasold.Thefightingspiritwasas

strongaseverandinherheartshe was glad to be at thecentreofeventsagain.

Arthur with his stepfather,Guy de Thouars, and with aformidable army behind himhad reached the town ofTours, where he rested for anight at the castle. Since hismother had died he hadbecome more self-reliant.

Now he must make his owndecisions without his motherto remind him that he wasafter all only a boy. Peoplearoundhimhadbecomemorerespectful; they came to himwhereas once they had goneto his mother and he wasrealising how important hewas and relishing hisposition. Being so young hewas inclined to give himself

anauraofauthoritytoremindpeople of his importance lestthey should forget it. EvenGuy’s attitude towards himhad changed since hismother’s death. His was agreatinheritanceoutofwhichhe had been cheated by hiswickeduncle.

‘But we are going to winback that which has beenstolen,’declaredArthur.

‘Rest assured,’ cried Guy,‘that is our intent. I havepromised your mother toserve you with my life andthatIwilldo.’

His sister Eleanor, stillgrieving for her mother’sdeath, joined themandaskediftherewasanynews.

‘My dear sister,’ saidArthur, ‘you should not be

with us. This is no place forwomen.’

‘Nonsense,Arthur,’repliedEleanor, ‘I want to be withyou and Guy and so shall Ibe.’

‘We could forbid you,’Arthurremindedher;andshesmiled and told him thatalthough he might be theDukeofNormandy,Countof

Anjou and King of Englandas well as the Duke ofBrittany, he was still heryoungbrother.

Arthur frowned,displeased. Everybody mustunderstandthathehadputhischildhood behind him.Everybody,heemphasised.

Eleanor slipped her armthrough his. ‘What airs you

give yourself these days,brother!’shesaid.

‘Arthur is growing moreaware of his position everyday,’ said Guy. ‘From hereweshallbegoingtoPoitiers,’hewent on. ‘Eleanor,Arthuris right. You should not bewiththearmy.’

‘WhereshouldIgo?’askedEleanor. ‘To Brittany? There

towonderwhat is happeningtoyouall? Icouldn’tbear it.Now that Mother is gone Iwant to be with you andArthur.’

‘Weshallsendyouawayifthere are any signs offighting,’Arthurtoldher.‘I’llnothavemysisterindanger.’

Guy smiled at her.Let theboyhavehisway,heimplied.

It is right for him to feel hispositionforhewillbearulerone day and must preparehimselfforit.

While they were speakingmessengers came with newsthat Queen Eleanor had leftFontevraud and was on herwaytoPoitiers.

‘She must not be allowedto get there,’ cried Arthur,

‘for if she does thewhole ofAquitainewillriseuptohelpher. She may be mygrandmother but she is nofriendofmine.’

‘Itisdifficulttobeafriendof a grandson if it meansbeing an enemy of a son,’Eleanorremindedhim.‘Whata pity that there have to betheseriftsinfamilies!’

‘It is no use gettingsentimental,’ Arthur told hersharply. He turned to Guy.‘What are we going to doaboutmygrandmother?’

‘As you say, we have toprevent her reaching Poitiersand thatmeanswemust losenotimeingoinginpursuitofher.’

‘Thenwhyarewewasting

time?’ asked Arthurimperiously.

Itwasahardjourney.Withavery few supporters, all shecould muster at such shortnotice, Queen Eleanor hadriddenwithasmuchspeedaswas possible fromFontevraud. She wasexhausted at the end of theday and when news was

brought to her that Arthurwas on pursuit on one handand the Lusignans werecomingup from theSouth tojoinArthur,shesaidthattheymusttakerefugeimmediatelyand if possible defendthemselves.

ThecastleofMirebeauwasnear at hand. ‘Wewillmakeourway there,’ saidEleanor,‘and letmy son Johnbe told

thatIambeingpursued.Iamsurethatthenhewillcometomyrescuewithoutdelay.’

She was received into thecastle by loyal friends, andrealising the danger theymade ready for a seige.Eleanor was not greatlyperturbed.

‘I’mtoooldforpanic,’shesaid. ‘If they kill me I shall

die, which I expected to dosoon in any case, though inmyownbed.Andiftheytakemeprisoner,well,itwillbeashort imprisonment. But Iknowmysonwillcomewithall speed when he knowswhatapredicamentIamin.’

Shewentintothekeepandwatched from a window. Itwasnotvery longbefore shesawtheapproachingarmyled

byhergrandson.

She knew the castle couldnot hold out long because itwas ill-defended andunpreparedforaseigeandina very short time Arthur’smen had broken through totheinnercourtyard.

She picked out hergrandson. How young he is,she thought. Just a boy! He

couldn’t be much more thanfifteen.It’stooyoungtohaveto take decisions, to have tofight for a crown, shethought.

A noble-looking boythough – one of whom agrandmother could be proud.A little imperious perhaps.That was natural, for toomuch responsibilityhadbeenthrust on him at too early an

age and he made goodpretence of being able tocarryit.

Geoffrey’s son! How likehis father he was! And anorphan now. Poor Arthur,what would be his fate, shewondered.

He was the enemy, ofcourse.At anymoment now,hismenwouldbreakintothe

keep and confront her. Shehopedtheywouldlethertalkto Arthur and she would tryto explain to him how shebore no animosity towardshim; she was merelyfollowingaprinciplebecauseshe felt her son John had agreaterrighttothethrone.

Arthur looked up and sawher at the window. Hisformidable grandmother of

whomhehadheardsomuch!Hewonderedwhat hewouldsay to her when they brokedown the last door and heconfrontedher.

He felt very uncertain. Hewould ask Guy to take herprisoner perhaps. It wouldcome better from him; andtheywouldshutherupwhereshecouldno longerworkforJohnandcause thepeopleof

Aquitaine to rise up insupportofher.

He called a halt to thefighting. Hugh de LusignanandGuy asked himwhat hisorders were now that theywereonthepointofattainingtheirobject.

‘We have captured theQueenMother,’hesaid.‘Butifwebreakdownthedoorof

the keep, what shall we dowithher?’

‘We could ride on,’ saidHugh, ‘to one of my castlesand hold her there, for weshould keep her prison asecret.’

‘This we shall dotomorrow,’ saidArthur. ‘Themenaretirednow.Letusstayhereforthenightandleaveat

dawn.’

Both men agreed that itseemed a good idea and thesoldiers were delighted withthedecision.Theycouldhelpthemselves to food from thekitchens and wine from thecellars. They had ridden farand fought hard and theobject was achieved, theQueen Mother being theirprisoner. They were entitled

to enjoy a fewhours’ respitebeforegoingondutyagain.

Sothenightpassed.

Eleanorinthekeepwaited,at first expecting that shewould be confronted by hergrandson or Hugh or Guy,andtoldtomakereadyforthejourney to wherever theyweregoingtotakeher.

Canitbe,shethought,that

I shall once again be aprisoner? It was ironicalwhen she considered it. Firsther husband and now hergrandson. She would havelikedtohavehadawordwithArthur.Perhapsthatwouldbegrantedher.

Shecouldnotsleep,whichin the circumstances was tobe expected. In any case shereminded herself the old did

notneedagreatdealofsleep.

Where was John? shewondered. Had he receivedher cry for help? Would hecomewithallspeedorwouldhe be unable to tear himselfaway from Isabella? If shewere with him the answerwouldbeno.

It would be interesting tosee. Life was always full of

interestorsoithadseemedtoher;thatwasthesecretofherability to enjoy being alivewhile she was philosophicalenough to be prepared fordeath.

Arthurlayawakeonlyforashort while. This was avictory. To have capturedsuch an important person ashis grandmotherwould showthe world that although he

was merely a boy he was ageneral too. He would planand use his armies toadvantage. He had to showthemthatheknewhowtoact,becausepeopledismissedhimslightinglyasaboy.Andonedaysoonhewouldcomeintohis kingdom and his wickeduncle would be defeated forever. He had such goodfriends – his prospective

father-in-law, Philip ofFrance; Guy, his stepfather,whom his mother had lovedand who had promised toserve him faithfully; andHugh de Lusignan who hadhis own special grudgeagainstJohn.

Arthursleptpeacefully.

Hugh de Lusignan was

thinkingof Isabella.Shewasnever very far from histhoughts. He would go overand over again in his mindthat terribledaywhenhehadheardofhermarriagetoJohn.He had been stunned, unabletobelievetherecouldbesuchperfidy. And Isabella whomust have been willing wasonly a child really and herfatherwouldhavepushedher

into it. She could not beblamed. He thought of hercharming ways, the show ofaffection, the artless mannerin which she had clung tohim. He had restrainedhimself against her beguilingways, reminding himself ofher youth, and then thatlecher had taken her and,child that she was, hadmarried her. He had had no

respectforheryouth.Theslyinnuendoes had reached him.He knew that they lay abedhalftheday.

Isabella! He would neverforgether–heryouthandhercharm and the promise thatwas in her; he would neverforget either that John haddeceived him and taken herfromhim.

He would always loveIsabella but he would neverblame her. And he wouldalwayshateJohn.

They were up with thedawn.

‘There must be no delay,’said Hugh. ‘I would we hadleftlastnight.’

‘As soon as breakfast isoverwewillleave,’promised

Arthur.

The servants came withpigeonpiewhichwouldmakeanexcellentbreakfast.

‘Let us eat quickly and begone,’saidHugh.

‘When I have finished,’Arthuranswered,‘Iwillgotomy grandmother and tell herto prepare to leave and thatsheistobeourprisoner.’

But he did not do so, forwhilehewasstillatthetablethere was a shout fromwithout. An army wasmaking its way to theChâteauMirebeau.

When John heard that hismother,whowasontheroadto Poitiers in order to holdAquitaineforhim,wasbeingpursued byArthur andHugh

deLusignan, he actedwith aspeed which was unusualwithhim.

He saw at once theimportanceofthis.IfEleanorwere captured he could loseAquitaineandwhatheartthatwould put into his enemies!Philip penetrating intoNormandy with Arthur andHugh in the southwould puthim into a very uneasy

position.

He had to rescue hismotheratallcosts.

All through the night herode with his army and justbefore dawn they arrived atMirebeau. Great was hisdelight when he discoveredthattheenemywasstillthere.

Theystormed thecastle. Itwas an easy victory, for

John’s forces greatlyoutnumbered those ofArthurand Hugh. Exultantly Arthurand his sister Eleanor andHugh among others weretaken prisoner and Johnhimselfwentupto thetopofthekeep toescorthismothertosafety.

TheoldQueen’seyeswereshining with delight. John atlast was behaving like a son

of hers. She was proud ofhim.

This was John’s greatestvictory. William Marshalwhohadriddenwithhimlostmuch of the uneasiness hehadexperiencedsincehehadbeen adamant in supportingJohn’sclaimtothethrone.

John was proving himself

to be a king after all. Therecould not be a better turn toevents. Two of the mostimportant leaders of therevoltagainsthimwereinhishands.

‘We must lose no time inletting Philip know thatArthur is your prisoner,’ hesaid.

‘Philipshallbeinformedat

once.’

‘And Ralph de Lusignanmust know that his brotherHughisinyourhands.’

John licked his lips withpleasureatthethought.

‘Thisday’sworkhassavedusmanyabattle,Idoubtnot,’saidtheMarshal.

Johnwasproud.Itwasthe

sort of battle he enjoyed –quick and decisive andbringinggloryattheend.

He embraced his mother,whocongratulatedhimonthespeed with which he hadacted. Her praise delightedhim, he replied. And if shewere proud of him he wasdoublysoofher.Forshehadsought to save his duchy forhimandheknewthatshewas

tiredandlongedtorest.

‘Depend upon it if I wereneededIwouldrise frommydeathbed,’sheanswered.

She took her farewell ofhim; that which she had setouttodonolongerneededtobe done.Aquitainewas safe,forArthurandHughwerenolonger in a position tothreatenit.

‘Thatwillsoonbecommonknowledge,’saidJohn.

Eleanor went back toFontevraud, there to rest, fornow the ordealwas over sherealisedhowithadexhaustedher.

When she had gone Johnprepared to return toNormandy.

He was in high spirits.

There were two prisonersover whom he wanted togloat – one was his nephewArthurandtheotherHughdeLusignan.

FirsthesentforArthur.Heprepared himself verycarefully for the interviewandputonaredsatinmantledecoratedwith rich gems; hewore a girdle set with pearlsand diamonds and the

baldrick which held up hissword glittered withemeralds. Hewas a dazzlingsight.

Hesatsprawledinachair.He did not care to stand forhewasvery consciousofhislackofinchesandalwaysfeltbetter on such occasionswhenhewasseated.

Arthur,whowasbroughtin

by two guards,made a showof indifference but was notable to hide his nervousnessaltogether.

John surveyed himmaliciously.

‘Ha, my young nephewwho would be King. Howfaresit,Arthur?’

‘It has gone ill with me,’said Arthur, ‘but it will not

alwaysbeso.’

John raised his eyebrowsand leisurely took off hisgloves, one adorned with amassiveruby,theotherwithasapphire. He flung themnonchalantlyontoastool.

‘Yousetyourhopesalittlehigh,nephew.’

‘Ithinknot.’

‘Well, you will doubtlessbeabletobroodonthematterinyourprison.’

‘So you will send me toprison?’

‘Where do you think Ishould send you? ToWestminster Abbey to becrownedKing?’

‘Ididnotthinkthat.’

‘There you showed somesense.Whycouldyounotbeagoodboycontentwithyourvery pleasant Duchy ofBrittany?’

‘Because I have a right tootherpossessions.’

‘You mean mine? Have acare, boy. I might not likesuchtalk.’

‘Then why do you bring

me here if not to speak tome?’

‘I expect you to showhumility, to fall to yourknees,toadmityourfaultandbegforclemency.’

‘ThatIshallneverdo.’

‘Nay, if I had that tongueout youwould never be ableto.’

That made the boy growpale. No doubt he had heardtalesofhisuncle’smethods.

John enjoyed his fear. Henarrowed his eyes. ‘Takecare,boy,’hesaid.‘Ilikenotthosewhowouldtakewhatismine. You will be myprisoner,atmymercy.Knowyouthis:thatwhateverIordermy servants to do they willdo – they dare not do aught

else.’

‘I would rather you killedme than …’ began the boyandhis voicewas shrillwithterror.

‘There are many ways ofpunishing your arrogance,nephew,andIcoulddothemall. I could put out thosehaughty eyes, tear out thattongue.’ His eyes slid over

theboy’sslenderfigure.‘Youare scarceamanand I coulddo that to you which wouldmean that you would neverknow manhood. What sayyoutothat?’

Where was the haughtywould-be-Kingnow?Itwasafrightened child who stoodbeforehim.

‘I…I…’

‘Come, speak up, boy.What say you to thesesuggestions? Come, speak. Ilike answers when I askquestions and my temper isnot the most mild. Youmayhaveheardthis.’

‘Iwould say,’ saidArthur,‘that youwould not do thesethings even if it were yourpowerto.’

‘It is inmypower to.Youshouldknowthat.’

‘But … you would bereviled. The whole worldwould rise against an unclewho did such to his nephewwho was but fifteen yearsold.’

‘Do I care for the world’sopinion? Nay, nephew, I dowhatIwill.ButIspokebutto

frighten you and to impressonyouthatIneedobedience.If you do as you are told, itmay be that no harm willcome to you. Take himaway,’ he said to the guards.‘And,Arthur, thinkofwhatIhave said.Askyourselfwhatitwouldbeliketobewithoutthatofwhichawordfrommecouldrobyou.’

Arthurwasledaway.

He’ll not sleep easilytonight, thought Johnlaughing.

AndnowforHugh.

He was a good-lookingman.Hestood thereshowingnofearso that itwashard tobelieve that he felt any.Isabella had said that hewasnever afraid.Could it be thatshehadafancyforhim?

John was glad he wasseated. He would look verysmall beside Hugh deLusignan.He stroked his redmantle; the touch of gemsreassuring. Hugh might looknoble but he, John, lookedroyal.

‘So you are my prisoner,’hesaid.

Hughbowed.

‘Youshouldhavemadeofflast night. An error ofjudgement.’

‘’Twas indeed so,’ agreedHugh.

‘And now you are myprisoner. You who havecaused trouble in my realmand done everything you cantobringaboutrevolt.’

Hughwassilent.

‘You know what we dowithtraitors.’

‘Iamnotraitor,mylord.’

‘No traitor when you stirstrifeinmyrealm?’

‘Iwas under no obligationto serve you and made nosecretofmyquarrel.’

‘You were commanded tomeetaduellistincombatand

refused.’

‘I would not have refusedtomeet you,my lord. Itwasonly one of your hirelingswhomIwouldnotface.’

‘You have too great anopinion of yourselves, youLusignans.’

‘I beg your pardon, mylord, but we are a greatfamily.’

‘Donotspeakofgreatnessin my presence. We areenemies,HughtheBrown.’

‘’Tisso,mylord.’

‘Andyouaremyprisoner.’

‘Taken in honourablebattle.’

‘Whenyouwere in theactof taking possession of myroyalmother!’

‘Who was taking part inwar and therefore it was fairenough.’

‘Bah! Do not parley withme.’

‘Asyouwish,mylord.’

John sat back andnarrowed his eyes. Hewondered what he would doto Hugh. He could think ofseveral forms of torture; but

he knew that whatever wasinflicted this man wouldpreserve that outward calm,thatindifference.

There was no fun withpeople like that. He couldn’thavethefunwithhimthathehadhadwithlittleArthur.

But he would humiliatehim. That was the best way.Takesomeoftheprideoutof

him.

Hehadanidea.

‘Take the prisoner away,’hesaid.

TheytookhimandJohnsatalone for a little while, hisbrows drawn together in afrown. He was thinking ofIsabella and wondering howdeepherfeelinghadgoneforHugh. Could she really have

had some affection for him?He was a handsome fellowand Isabella was of coursewhat he would call ripe.Hughhadnotseen this; ifhehad…whoknewwhatwouldhave happened? Hugh was afool, better at war than love,nodoubt,andhehadbecomeaprisonereveninthat.

Hehadnorealreasontobejealous of Hugh. But he

would humiliate him all thesame.

He stood up and shouted.Hisservantscamerunning.

‘Thereisnoreasonwhyweshould stay here,’ he cried.‘We shall prepare to leave atonceforNormandy.’

He was so amused. He hadthoughtofabrilliantidea.He

had senthis servants forth tofind farm carts – those inwhichcattleorhayhadbeencarried – and in these,securely fettered, he put hisprisoners. He laughed aloudtosee them–haughtyyoungArthur, the would-be-King,riding there like a cow tomarket; Hugh the Brown,would-be-husband ofIsabella, like a proud bull

going in to be inspected andbidfor.

There were others ofcoursebutthosewerethetwowhogavehimmostpleasure.

Young Arthur wasovercomewithshame.

This, thought Johnunctuously, will be good forhim. Hewas too haughty byfar.

It was wonderful to ridethus, the conqueror. Peoplehad said thathewouldneverbe the king his father orbrotherwere.Theysniggeredathislyingabedlatewithhiswife. Any of them wouldhave lain abed if they couldhave done so with Isabella.Theyhad said hewould losehis dominions, for the Kingof France was too wily for

him, and ere long Arthurwouldbeonthethrone.

And how wrong he hadprovedthemtobe!

Philip would be veryuneasy,overcomewithshametoknow thathisprotégéwasin his enemy’s hands. AndHugh de Lusignan, too. Thiswould show the upstartbarons what happened when

theyopposedtheKing.

Oh yes, he was verycontent with himself ridingthrough Normandy to Caen.He was going to show hisprisoners to Isabella. Thatwould be amusing. Sheshould sit with him whilethey were trundled past. Itwould be quite a spectacleandhow theprisonerswouldwrithe with shame. Mental

torture was often morerewarding than the physicalkind, he was beginning torealise.

Arthurwouldnotliketobeseen in a farm cart chainedlikeananimal.

And bold brave Hugh?What will Isabella think ofyouthen?

Isabella was at Caenwaitingtoreceivehim.Hehurriedheroff to the bedchamberimmediately.

Shelaughedathim.Itwasthe longest period they hadbeenapart.

Later he boasted of hisvictory. ‘Speed is what isnecessary, Isabella. If I haddelayed it would have been

victoryforthem.Theywouldhave taken my motherprisoner. Imagine that. Theimpudenceofthem!’

‘But you were there andstoppedthem.’

‘Aye, and took themprisoner. I have some fineprisonerstoshowyou.’

She pouted slightly. ‘I donot greatly care for

prisoners.’

‘I want you to see these.There is young Arthurhimself.’

‘He’sonlyachild.’

‘Ha, hark who is talking!He’solderthanyouare!’

‘Ishouldn’tliketobeyourprisoner.’

‘Nay,’ said John

sentimentally.‘Iamyours.’

‘’Tisapretty thought,’shesaid.

‘And now I wish to showthemtoyou.’

‘ButIsaidIdidnotwanttoseethem.’

‘But you will to pleaseme.’

‘I thought you always

wantedtopleaseme.’

‘Idowhenyourpleasureismine.’

They laughed together;buthe had implied that he wasgoingtoinsistonherviewingtheprisoners.

She didn’t want to. Shehated unpleasant things andthe sight of men in chainsgave her no pleasure –

particularly if they werehandsome men. She wasbeginning to be a little waryof John. She had seen theredness tinge his eyes and itgaveheraqualmortwo.Shewould never forget how hehad rolled on the floor andstuffed the rushes into hismouth.

Ifsheweretohaveherwayit would have to be subtly;

andshemustneverappear togoagainsthim.

Soshefoundherselfsittingin the courtyard beside himwhilethefarmcartsrolledby.

Poor little Arthur, helooked so sad and frightenedtoo.Hewas such a boy. Sheknew he was a little olderthan she was but not much;andsheshudderedtothinkof

herselffetteredinafarmcart,John’sprisoner.

Andtherewasanother.Shestarted at the sight of him.Hugh! He stood up in thecart, his head high as thoughhe were quite unaware ofwhere he was. Her heartleapedatthesightofhimanda great emotion swept overher. Oh not Hugh! shethought, and was afraid that

she had spoken aloud as sheknew Johnwas aware of herevery movement, and waswatching the expression onherface.

Hugh had turned his headand was looking straight ather.Whatwasthatshesawinhiseyes?She tried toanswerhim. Oh, Hugh, Hugh, I amsorry.Itwasnotofmydoingreally.Theyforcedmetoit.

Iwanted to beQueen, shethought.Yes,Idid.Ilikedtheceremonyandtheclothes,thejewels, the people cheeringand saying Iwas beautiful. Ilike my nights with John –but he frightens mesometimes. Oh, Hugh, if ithadn’thappenedlikethis…

The cart had passed; shedidnotlookafteritbutstaredatthenextone.

‘Whatthoughtyouofyourone-time betrothed?’ askedJohn.

She hesitated. She couldnot bring herself to speakflippantly.

Shesaid:‘Ithoughtheborehimself like a brave man.’John was silent. He thought:If she had cared for him shewould never have dared

speakofhimlikethat.

Nay,sheiscontentenough.Areherresponsesnotenoughtotellmethat?

HegaveordersthatArthurwas to be sent under strictguardtoFalaise;therehewasto be held in the utmostsecurity.Ifhewasallowedtoescape, he commented, hewould not envy those who

had been in charge of him.His sister Eleanor should gotoBristol.Shewasonlyagirland he did not fear her. Letherbetreatedwithcourtesy.

Others he sent to CorfeCastleinDorset.

‘I have not yet decidedwhere I shall send Hugh theBrown,’hetoldIsabella.‘Butitshallbeastrongprisonfor

that one. Such a bold braveman might well attemptescape.’

Shedidnotanswer.

Thenhe said: ‘Ihave it. Itshall be here in Caen. Wehave some fine dungeonshere – damp and cold. Youcan think of him when youandIare revelling together–butno,yourthoughtsmustall

be for me. I’ll not have itotherwise.’ Playfully he puthis hands about her throat.‘You’d not disappoint me,sweetheart.’

‘How could I do so?’ sheasked.

‘BypityingpoorHugh theBrown.’

‘What goodwould that dohim?’sheanswered.

‘None, my love. None atall.’

They stayed on at Caenthrough theautumnandJohndeclared they would passChristmasthere.

This they did. There wasmuch jollity, feasting,singing, dancing; and theKing and the Queen, it wasnoticedandremarkedon,did

not leave their beds untildinnertime.

R

ChapterIX

‘PUTOUTHISEYES’

iding in the midst ofJohn’s guards Arthurwas quiet and sullen.

He missed his mother; he

wondered what washappeningtoGuy;ifonlyhissister Eleanorwerewith himthere would have been somecomfort, but here he wasalone with strangers, enemystrangers.

He kept going over theevents which had led to thishumiliating capture. If onlythey had taken hisgrandmother and left

Mirebeau with her, victorywouldhavebeen theirs.Howcould they have been sostupidas todelay?Hehadtoadmit it had been his wishand he had been so eager tohave his way. He knew thatthe soldiers had wanted tostay andhehadheard it saidthatwhenmenwere fightingthey must not be driven toohardall the time.Andaftera

battle must be given somesortofreward.Ithadbeensowonderful taking Mirebeauwithhisgrandmotherlookingonatthebattleand,ashehadbelieved, wishing she hadgiven her support to hergrandson Arthur instead ofworthlessJohn.

And then suddenly it hadall changed. They were thelosersandhehadhad to ride

in thatdreadful farmcart–adegradation he would neverforget.

BeforehimlaythecastleofFalaise–renownedbecauseitwasinthistownthathisgreatancestor William theConqueror had been born.Was that why John had senthim here, that he might beheld a prisoner in the oldhomeofthatgreatancestor?

WilliamdeBraoseandhiswife Matilda, who werewaiting to receivehim, cameout to the courtyard andWilliamheldArthur’s stirrupwhilehealighted.

‘I trust the journey wascomfortable, my lord,’ hesaid in a soothing andrespectful voice which wasreassuringtoArthur.

‘I could scarcely becomforted in thecircumstances,’ repliedArthur.

‘Mywife and Iwill do allwe can for you, my lord,whileyouarehere.’

Matilda de Braose cameforward then and curtsied toArthur.Shewasatallwomanwith strong features and a

deepresonantvoice.

She said she had had hisapartments made ready forhim, and had herself madesure that he should lacknothingforhiscomfort.

It was a better receptionthan he had hoped for afterhistreatmentfromhisuncle.

He was taken into thecastleandWilliamdeBraose

led the way up a spiralstaircase. Arthur followedand Matilda brought up therear.

Therewashisbedchamber.The bars across the narrowwindow were the onlyindicationthatitwasaprison.

WilliamdeBraoseglancedat themapologetically. ‘Alas,mylord,wehavetoholdyou

underrestraintandtheKing’sorders are that theremust beguardsoutsideyourdoorandonemustsleepinyourroom.It is with great regret that Imust carry out these ordersfor I know how irksome thiscanbe.’

‘We want you tounderstand,’ said Matilda,‘that it is our desire tomakeyour stay in Falaise as

comfortable as is possible. Ifthere is anything you need,pray ask for it, and if it iswithinourpowertogiveittoyou,thatshallbedone.’

Arthur thanked them,adding: ‘I had not expectedsuchagraciousgreeting.’Tisdifferent from what I havehadhithertofrommyuncle.’

‘Therearethoseofuswho

regret the need for this, mylord,’saidWilliam,‘butithascome about and we mustperforceobeyorders.’

‘I shall remember yourkindness to me,’ Arthurpromisedthem.

Makingsureofhiscomfortthey left him. He threwhimself down on the palletandwonderedwhatthefuture

held.

He dreamed that he hadescapedfromFalaiseandthathewasmarching at the headofhisarmies.Hismotherwaswith him and Eleanor wasthere too and they weresaying: ‘I knew you wouldnot remain a prisoner long.You will soon be free fromprison,Arthur.’

Thenhewokeupandfeltalittle better. Of course hewouldnotstayherelong.Thepeople of Brittany wouldnever allow it. Theywere soloyaltotheirDuke.Itwasnotinrealbattlethathehadbeenbeaten; it had just happenedby ill luck. Had he leftMirebeau the night before,Europe would have beentalking of his victory and he

would be halfway toregaining all that was his byright. He supposed even theConqueror had had uneasyperiodslikethisone.

No, he must not despair.Hewas in thehandsofgoodpeoplewhowerenotgoingtotake advantage of hisposition.HelikedWilliamdeBraoseandhiswife.

William and Matilda werediscussingtheprisoner.

‘He’s but a child,’ saidMatilda.

‘Neverthless,Johnisafraidof him, and you know whatJohnislikewhenheisafraid.Heiscapableofanything.’

‘Youdon’tthinkhe’llgiveyouinstructionstomurderthechild?’

‘I wouldn’t,Matilda, if hedid. But between the two ofus Iwouldwhisper thathe iscapable of giving such acommand.’

‘The whole world wouldrevilehim.’

‘John doesn’t considerconsequences when certainmoods take possession ofhim.’

‘I would Richard hadlived.’

‘Aye, there you speak forbothofus.’

William was thoughtful.He was one of the mostambitiousmenoftheday.Hisancestors had been minorbarons who had founded thefamily in the townofBraosein Normandy and had come

overwith theConqueror andacquired lands in Sussex,Devon and Wales. He hadprovedhimself amagnificentsoldier on theWelsh border;he had earned Richard’sapprobation and the two hadbecome friends.William hadbeen with Richard on theContinentwhenthelatterhadmethisdeathatChaluz.

William de Braose was a

man who was determined toadvance;hisambitionwas tobetheforemostofthebaronsof England. He hadconsidered carefully onRichard’sdeathwhichsidehewould be on and had chosenJohn, not because he likedJohn–hedidnotadmirehimas he had Richard – butbecausehebelievedthatJohnhad the stronger forces

behind him; and whenWilliam Marshal had placedhimself with John that wasthe signal for men such asWilliam de Braose to dolikewise. He agreed with theMarshal that Arthur wouldhavelittlechanceinEngland.Johnhadbeenbyfarthesaferbet;andtohavegoneagainsthim and failed would havebeentheendofallhisdreams

of riches. Matilda had beenwith him. A strong forcefulwoman,shewasjustthewifeheneeded.

John trusted him, for hehad proved himself a goodknight toRichard;and itwasforthisreasonthathehadputArthur in his charge atFalaise.

It was an honour and yet

WilliamdeBraosehopedthatit would not continue toolong. He did not want tospend his life as a jailer. Hehad other plans. But at thisstagethefactthathehadbeenappointedforthetaskshowedJohn’sconfidenceinhim,andhewasgratifiedat that.Witha man like John one coulddescend from favour todisgrace in a day. He must

make sure that that did nothappentohim.

At the same time, just incase Johnshouldbedefeatedhe would treat Arthur withespecial deference so thatshould the time come whenArthur was in a position tobestowhonoursheshouldnotthinktoobadlyofWilliamdeBraose.

Thus it was that Arthur’sstay in Falaise was pleasantenough and his guards weretheonlyoutwardsignthathewasaprisoner.

William would play chesswith him and Matildamothered him in a ratherdomineering way whichsometimes, when he feltyoung and lonely, he did notdislike.

While John was at CaenWilliam des Rochespresentedhimself.

John received himindifferentlyasthoughhedidnot carewhetherhe sawhimor not but William desRoches was a man who waswellawareofhisimportance,evenifJohnwerenot.

John was still puffed upwithprideoverhissuccessatMirebeau. He was going tobask in thatgloryforas longas he could. It was success,Williamconceded,but itwasnotonewhichaffectedJohn’sentire life and made hisContinental possessions safefor ever. It was merely asuccessful skirmish. John,however, appeared to have

sunk back into a life ofvoluptuousness on thestrength of this one mildsuccess.

Like William de Braose,William des Roches was anambitiousman.Bothof themrealised the importance ofbeing on the winning side,but if the victor was notinclined to honour Williamdes Roches then he would

look about him for othermeansofusinghistalent.

William des Roches hadbeen the leader of Arthur’sarmy when it had joinedforces with Philip of France;butitwasnotlongbeforedesRoches was quarrelling withPhilip, for Philip haddestroyed one of the castleswhichhadbelongedtoArthurbecause rebels against him

hadshelteredthere.

William des Roches hadprotested to Philip that theproperty of his young lordshould not be wantonlydestroyed, to which Philiphadsharplyretortedthatwhatwas and what was not to bedestroyed was a matter forhimtodecide.

Clearly, des Roches had

thoughtPhilipwasnoallyforhim.

Intheheatofhistemperhehad gone to John and saidthat he would persuadeArthur and Constance tocome to terms with him andgive up their claim; but hewould do this on onecondition: that he, Williamdes Roches, was to decidetheiractions.

John, rejoicing in the riftbetweenWilliam desRochesand Philip, had delightedlyagreed, and peace wasconcluded between Arthurand John – an uneasy one itwas true, for Constance hadbeen highly suspicious ofJohn’s intentions towardsherson.

William des Roches hadthen worked closely with

John.Whenhehadheardthatthe young Duke was atMirebeau itwasWilliam desRocheswhohadbeenoneofthose foremost in leading theattack.

‘If we capture Arthur,’ hehad told John, ‘youwill,mylord, remember yourpromisesthatIshouldhaveasay in the young Duke’sfuture?’

Johnhadpromised.

And now he had sentArthur off to Falaise wherehis jailer would be WilliamdeBraose.

William des Roches wasincensed when he presentedhimself to John, though hedidhisbesttohidehismood.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it isgood news, Arthur is your

prisoner.’

John laughed. ‘Youshouldhave seen the boy’s facewhen I threatened to castratehim. He believed it, youknow.’Twouldbeamusingtotakefromhimtheopportunityof savouring thatofwhichatthis time he is ignorant, Ibelieve.Hismotherkepthimunder close restraint, and Idoubthehadanyopportunity

totryhistalents.’

‘TheyoungDukeiswell,Itrust,’saidWilliam.

‘The would-be-King hasbecome a frightened littleboy.’

‘Poor child,’ saidWilliam.‘I have come for yourpermission to take over thecareofhim.’

John raised his eyebrows.‘He is well cared for. Youneed have no qualms in thatrespect.’

‘I am glad of it. Iunderstand he is at FalaisewithdeBraose.’

‘A good man, de Braose,’said John, ‘and one I wouldalways trust. He was a goodfriend tomy brother and has

beentome.Helikestoprofitfrom his service, but whatmatters that if his profit isminealso?’

‘I am prepared to ride toFalaisewithoutdelay.’

‘There’ll be no need, mydearfellow.’

‘Sir, I consider there isevery need. You haveforgottenourpact.Imadethe

peace between you andArthur;Ihavefoughtforyouand you’ll remember myrewardwastobethatIwastohavethechargeofArthur.’

‘Reward!’ cried John.‘Men do not generally askabout their rewards whenservingme.’

‘They think of them nonethe less, I dare swear,’ said

desRochesboldly.

Warning lights wereshining in John’s eyes.William des Roches wasawareof them,but importantenoughhebelieved to ignorethem.

‘Theyaretoocourteous…or perhaps too fearful … tomention them,’ said Johnmeaningfully.

‘Then perhaps I should bethesame,’saiddesRoches.

‘Youwerealwaysacleverfellow, William. You everknew which side to jumpbeforeitwastoolate.’

‘Thank you, my lord, forthatcompliment.’

‘You are welcome to it.’Johnnoddedtoimplyhewastired of the subject and

William desRoches took theopportunitytoretire.

‘Be careful,’ warned JohnasWilliam left. ‘Mindwhichwayyoujump.’

He had misjudged desRoches, who was in aposition todoagreatdealofharm and hewas determinedtodoit.

That day he deserted John

and without delay formed aleague of the lords ofBrittany,marched into actionand took certain castles, thuscutting off John’s means ofcommunicationtothesouth.

The rot had set in. ThesuccessofMirebeauwasseentobetrivial.WiththeFrenchKing ready to seize anyopportunity, with theLusignans raring to avenge

theinsultontheheadoftheirhouse in addition to theabduction of Isabella, andwithallthosewhohatedJohn– and theywere numerous –waiting for the moment tocome when they couldsuccessfully rise againsthim,John’s hold on hisContinental territories wasgrowingweakereveryday.

Hecouldnot see it, forhe

was still revelling in hismarriage, which after a briefseparationseemedlikeanewbeginningtohim.

Hissupportersbegan tobeanxious. It was as thoughIsabella’s beauty andallurements had beenbestowedonherbythedevil,who was determined onJohn’s destruction, for whenherosefromhisbed–latein

theday–hewouldbelanguidafter the night’s performanceand disinclined for anythingbut to wait for the night tocomeagain.

Isabella thought often ofHugh in his dungeons andwondered whether he everthoughtofher.Itwasnotherfault; she did hope heunderstood that. Shehadhad

no say in the matter. Herparents and the King haddecidedforher.

She shivered with horrorwhenrumoursreachedherofwhat had happened to theprisoners of Corfe Castle.Theywere all dead, for foodsupplies had been cut offfromthemandtheywereleftto starve to death in thedungeons.

People were whisperingthat this was not the way totreat honourable prisonerswho had merely followed aleaderandbeenloyaltohim.

TheyhadrevoltedandtriedtoescapeanditwasthenthatJohn had given the cruelorder: ‘Let them starve. Thatwillteachthemtoriseagainstme.’

Shewould lie in their bedand think of the terriblethingsthatwerehappeningallaround them and howpowerful John was and howterrible in anger. He wasneverangrywithheralthoughthere had been occasionswhenhewason thevergeofit. She used to wonder whatwouldhappenifsheevertookalover.Shehadtoadmitthat

shewouldhavelikedto.Suchwashernaturethatshecouldnever see a handsome manwithout picturing him as alover. Sometimes she wouldsee one of them looking ather and some sort ofunderstanding would flashbetweenthem.Itwouldbesoeasy–amoment’stemptationandtheymightsuccumbtoit.AndwhatifJohndiscovered?

Whatwould he do? In herwilder moments shesometimes thought she wasso eager to know that shewouldruntherisktofindout.That would be folly, sherealised on those occasionswhenshesawhistemper.

She wondered about him.The same thoughts mustoccurtohim.

He was getting anxiousnow because there waswhispering among hisknights. William des Rocheshadnotonlydesertedhimbutwas raising forces againsthim. So powerful was theman that the complacentmood following Mirebeauhadtochange,evenforJohn.He had to see what washappening, for he knew that

at any moment Philip couldbeexpectedtotakeadvantageofthesituation.

Johnwasat lastpersuadedthathemustleaveIsabellafora fewdaysandseewhatwashappening in his dominions.He reluctantly agreed to dothis and sent Isabella toChinon.

His enemies, who had

laughedathisobsessionwithhiswifewhichexceeded thatfor his country, decided thiswas too good an opportunitytomiss.WhatiftheycapturedIsabella? What could theydemand from John for herrelease?

Thus when Isabella wascomingintoChinonsheheardthat a party of rebel baronswere waiting to take her

prisoner. The news wascarried to John at the sametime. He was frantic. Shemust be brought to him atonce; never again would heallowhertogofromhisside.

He was advised againstgoing to her rescue, for itseemed that it might wellhave been a trap to capturehim.Instead,astrongbandofhismercenaries rodewith all

speed to Chinon and on theroad encountered Isabella inflight.

They brought her back toJohn.

He wept with relief whenhesawher,pickingherupinhis arms and carrying her totheirbedchamber.

Shelaughedathisfears.

‘What if they had takenme?’ she said. ‘What wouldyouhavedonethen?’

‘I would not have resteduntil I had brought you backwhereyoubelong.’

‘What of your country,John? They say that is indanger of being taken fromyou.’

‘Theysay!’hecried.‘None

would dare! In any case I’dsoonhaveitback.’

‘Youarelosingmuch.’

‘I’llgetitback.’

‘When?’

‘Inmyowngoodtime.’

‘Whenwillthatbe?’

‘When you don’t distractmefromallelse.’

‘Do you think that willevercomeabout?’

‘It could,’ he admitted.‘Butnotyet.’

‘You are unsure of me,’shesaid.

‘I deny that.Youwantmeasmuchas Iwantyou. I amasimportanttoyouasyouaretome.’

‘Yes, ’tis true, but youshowyoudon’tfeelthat.’

‘Howso?’

‘Well, your attitudetowardsHughtheBrown,foronething.’

‘Idonotunderstand.’

‘Heisinchains,ishenot?’

‘Yes,wherehedeservestobe.’

‘Youkeephimprisonerasyou keep Arthur prisoner.You have reason to fearArthur.WhatreasonhaveyoutofearHugh?’

‘FearHugh!’

‘Well, you keep him inchains.Doyoudo it becauseoncehedaredtoloveme?’

‘I do it because he is anenemy.’

‘People say that you areafraidofhim– thathemighttrytotakemefromyou.’

‘Whosaysthis?I’llcutouttheirtongues.’

‘’Tis whispered here andthere. There could be toomany tongues involved.Wouldyouwantatonguelesshousehold? You could stopthis foolish talk by freeing

him.’

‘FreeHughdeLusignan?’

‘Why not? It would showyourcontemptforhim.’

He was thoughtful. ‘Pettylord,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’tdarestandagainstme.Hedidnot like riding in that cart,Isabella. That wounded himmore than a hundred lasheswouldhavedone.’

‘I doubt that not for amoment. If you released himhewould see the humiliationatonce.Hewouldsay,“Johndespisesme. Ifhedidnothewouldneverletmego.”’

John laughed. ‘That’s awoman’sreasoning.’

‘’Tisatrueone.’

‘Why do you care whatbecomes of him?’ he asked

suspiciously.

‘I don’t. I care only thatpeople should not say youfearhim.’

Sheyawned.

‘I am weary of that man,’shesaid,andkissedhim.

He responded as ever buthewasstillthinkingofHugh.

What if he released him?

People would say ‘he bearsno rancour’. Butwhy shouldhe bear rancour? It wasHugh’s place to bear that.WhatifhesentHughbacktoLusignan? It would betantamount to saying thatwhat such a petty baron didwasoflittleconcerntohim.

WilliamMarshalaskedforanaudience. John received him

withwarmth.Hemustalwaysremember that it was theMarshal who had made thewaytothethroneofEnglandeasyforhim.

William said: ‘Is it indeedtrue, my lord, that you havemade certain propositions totheLusignans?’

‘Aye,’saidJohn,‘’tistrue.’

He was put out by the

incredulous wonder in theMarshal’s eyes and quicklymadeexcusesforhisact.

‘There is trouble in theSouth,’ he said. ‘I have toomany enemies there. I needfriends. If the Lusignanswouldworkforme,theentireaspectwouldbechanged.’

‘They are your worstenemies,mylord.’

‘Enemies can be turnedinto friends, Marshal. Youknowthatwell.’

‘Then they are scarcelyworththeeffort.’

‘The Lusignans were oncethefriendsofmyHouse.Mybrother and they had a greatdealincommon.’

‘My lord, your marriagemakes it impossible for the

Lusignans ever to be truefriendsofyourHouse.’

‘I think not.That iswhy Iam freeing Hugh the Brownand the others who are myprisoners. I am demandingcertainprivilegesinexchangeformy clemency.With themholdingtheSouthformetheywillstopenemypenetration.Ishall demand pledges fromthem – a castle or two …

somelands.TheycanholdLaMarche for me and myposition will be muchhappier.’

‘My lord, I beg of you,considerwhatyouaredoing.’

‘Ihaveconsidered.’

‘Thesemenwill be in oneof the most importantstrategic positions in yourdominions.’

‘Exactlyso.’

‘Andyoubelieve that theywillworkforyou?’

‘I shall extract pledgesfrom them. It will showeveryonethatIfearthemnot.In a way it is an act ofcontempt towards Hugh theBrown.’

‘Ifearhewillnotconsideritso.’

‘You are too set in yourways,Marshal.’

‘I fearyouwill regret this,mylord.’

‘I’ll warrant I’llmake youeatthosewords.’

‘I hope to God you do.Nothing would make mehappier.’

‘You shall, Marshal. You

shall.’

‘You are firmly fixed inthisdecision,mylord?’

‘Iam.’

WilliamtheMarshalturnedsorrowfullyaway.Wasittruethat John’s mind wasweakening? And were thosevoluptuousnightssappinghisstrength – mental as well asphysical? Many were saying

they did and it would seemtheymightberight.

TheMarshalwasofcourseproved right. No sooner wasHugh de Lusignan free andreturnedtohisestatesthanhebegan to break his pledgesandstoreuptroubleforJohn.

‘Pledges given to such aman mean nothing,’ hedeclared. ‘He iseviland if it

is necessary to dissemble tooutwithimthensomustitbe.I shall not rest until John ofEnglandgoesbacktothetitlehe was born with – JohnLackland. For onlywhenwehaveridourselvesofhimwillthislandbeahappyone.’

John fell into a rage. Hecouldseehehadbeenafool.Hebegantoshoutofwhathewould do to Hugh de

Lusignan if he ever fell intohis hands again. Obscenitiespoured from his lips and hiseyesseemedasiftheywouldboltoutofhishead.

He had been a fool, heknew. He had listened toIsabella’s soft words. Whyhad shebeen so interested inHugh? But it might haveworked. If Hugh had been aman whom he could have

trustedhecouldhaveheldtheSouthforhim.

As it was hewas a traitorand with his stirring uptrouble in the South andPhilip beginning to emergewith a big army behind himJohnwasgettingworried.

HethoughtofArthurinthecastleofFalaise.Whatiftheyrescued him and put him in

John’s place? Thatwaswhattheywereafter.

He ought to have thoughtmore about Arthur. NowWilliam des Roches wasworking against him and theLusignans were on thewarpath, the situation wasgrowing more and moreuneasy.

But Arthur was the great

menace.

Something would have to bedone about Arthur. To thinkthat that silly young boycould cause him so muchconcern! At least there wassomething in John’s favour;Arthurwashisprisoner.Ifhewere of less importance howeasy it would be to get himoutoftheway,butifhewere

to disappear there would besuchanoutcrythatthewholeofEuropewouldriseupinitsindignation. The fact thatArthurwas littlemore thanachildwouldbeplayedon;onecould imagine wily Philipmaking the most of thatfactor. All the same hemusttakesomeaction.

Preoccupation with thesubjectofArthurgotbetween

him and his pleasures; hewouldthinkoftheboyduringthe night even, imaginingsomeone rescuing him fromFalaise and spiriting himaway,gettinghimtoBrittanyor the Court of France, andwith so many enemies readyto go into action all abouthim, this made uneasypondering.

He sought about in his

mind for someone whom hecould trust and his thoughtsalightedonHubertdeBurgh.Hubert was a nephew of theLord of Connaught who hadbeen a steward to Henry IIand found favour with himforgoodservice.ThusHuberthadbeennoticedbyRichardIand when John came to thethroneandwaspretending tothink of marriage with the

daughter of the King ofPortugal, Hubert was amember of the embassywhich was sent to thatcountry.

John’s behaviour withregard to that embassy hadbeen to say the least cynical,for while his envoys wereactually in Portugal he hadmarriedIsabella,whichcouldhavemeant that the outraged

King was so angry that hecould have vented his wrathon John’s servants. Suchbehaviour was not unknownand the members of theembassy were well aware ofit. The King of Portugal,however, incensed as henaturally was by such aninsult,wastoocivilisedtolaythe blame just out of spitewhere it did not belong and

the embassy was allowed toreturntoEnglandinsafety.

Hubert de Burgh hadshown no resentment of thisbehaviour, John had noticed,whichwas strange asHubertwasnotameekman.Hewasonewhocaredforthewelfareofhiscountryandbelieveditwashisduty tosavehiskingbutifhedisagreedonapointhewouldnothesitatetoshow

hisdisapproval.John’s fatherHenry II and his brotherRichard Ihadcherished suchmen and in his heart Johnknew that they were right todoso.TheMarshalwassuchanother. He had disapprovedof giving Hugh de Lusignanhis freedomandhehadbeenright.Johnsawthatnow,butonlyinameasure.Itdidshowtheworldthatheborehimno

rancour and that meant thathefelthimselftobesecureinIsabella’s regard. The factthat he had paraded Hughbefore her in chains had setpeople wondering if heharboured some jealousy ofsuch a handsome man. Atleast,heconsoledhimself, infreeingHugh he had stoppedthat rumour. Marshal wouldsay it was folly to allow his

personalfeelingstoaffecttheholdingofhisdominions.ButMarshal had never – poorman – known the spell of awomanlikeIsabella.

But he must stop thinkingofIsabellaandconcentrateonStatematters.Wherewashe?Hubert de Burgh! Yes, hewas the man. Hubert woulddo what he thought right forthe good of his king and his

country.

He sent for Hubert deBurgh,andhemadesurethatthey were absolutely aloneand that there was nopossibility of anyone’shearing the conversationbetweenthem.

‘Hubert, my good man, itpleasesmetoseeyou.’

‘AndItoseeyou,mylord.

I trust you are in goodhealth.’

‘Asyou see,’ said John. ‘Ihave sent for you because Iam disturbed and you aregoingtoservemenowasyouhave served me and mybrother in the past. I knowyou are a man whom I cantrust.’

‘Thankyou,mylord.’

‘You must carry out myorders and know that bydoing so you will serve meandyourcountrywell.’

‘That ismy constant aim,’saidHubertsincerely.

‘You know full well thatthe situation here is not ahappyone.’

‘No, but …’ Hubertpaused. He could hardly say

to the King: It has alwaysbeen difficult to maintain ahold on the Continentaldominions but if the Kingwere to bestir himself, if hewerewithhissoldiersinsteadof lying in bed all night andhalf the daywith hiswife, itcouldbedifferent.

‘There is one whosepresenceisaconstantmenaceto our safety here,’ went on

John. ‘He’s a rallying pointformyenemies.TheKingofFrance used him mostshamefully. I refer to theDukeofBrittany.’

‘Indeed yes, my lord.Therearetheserivalfactions.But he is your prisoner nowand Sir William de Braoseand his wife are, I am sure,yourtrustedservantsandwillguard the Duke with the

utmostcare.’

‘I know, I know. But Ineed your help, Hubert. IwantyoutogotoFalaiseandtakeover theguardianshipofArthur.’

‘You are displeased withWilliamdeBraose?’

‘No,no.But Ibelieve it isyourturntoservemethere.’

Hubert was puzzled. Hecouldnot understandwhyheshould be a so much betterjailerthantheBraoses.

John said slowly: ‘I wantArthuroutofmyway.’

Hubert looked startled andJohnwentonquickly:‘Nay,Ido not wish you to kill theboy.Thatwouldbefolly.’

‘It would also be murder,

mylord.’

John frowned. So he wasgoing to have scruples. Hehad a pious look in his eyesnow. John said: ‘You havekilledatsometime,haveyounot?’

‘In battle,’ said Hubert.‘That was different. I wouldnot commit cold-bloodedmurder.’

‘ThatissomethingIwouldnever allow,’ said John withmild piety. He had learnednot to act so outrageously ashe once had, for now, withthe reputationhehad, peoplewere immediatelysuspicious.Nowhehad to showhimselfasamanwithfaultsbutwhowas not really bad at heart.‘Why, my good Hubert, youand I would have no rest at

nights if we cold-bloodedlymurdered a boy – and myownnephewatthat.’

Hubert looked a littleeasier.‘If,mylord,youwishmetogodownandtakeoverthe guardianship from SirWilliam de Braose I will dosoatonce.’

‘That’s what I wish. Thenwe have settled this point.

Hubert, it grieves me, thesebattleswhichgoon.Youmayhave thought I have beenremiss. Ah, do not deny it.’(Huberthadmadenoattemptto because he mostemphatically did believethis.) ‘I cannot bear to thinkofmendone todeathmerelybecause theyhappen toservea certain lord who wants acertain castle … I think of

theirwives, their children…Theyhauntme,Hubert.’

Hubert was silentlythinking: And what of theprisonersinCorfeCastle?Dotheyhauntyou?

‘Andso,’wentonJohn, ‘Iwishtoendthesewars.Iwantto live in peace with mypeople. Iwantmydominionsto prosper. You are a good

man, Hubert. Am I right inthinking that you want thistoo?’

‘Ido,mylord,asanymanofgoodsensemust.’

‘Thenweareoflikemind.ButthishappystateofaffairscannotbewhileArthurcouldescape at anymoment and ifhe did … think of theenemies who would rally

roundhim.War…wars…Itwouldgoonforyears.’

Hubertnoddedsadly.

‘If Arthur were no more…’JohnsawHubert’slipssetfirmly in a stubborn line.Hewouldn’t kill the boy. Hewould be afraid to, and in awayhewasright,forwhatanoutcry there would be. Itwould be almost like the

deathofThomasàBecketallover again. John inwardlysmirked to picture himselfdoing the penance his fatherhaddone.Notlikely, thoughtJohn. I’d see themall inhellfirst.Buthewenton:‘Arthurexistsandwhileheexiststhisdangerwillbethere.Myplanistominimisethedanger,andinthisyouwillhelpme.Youwill because youwant peace

andprosperity formypeopleevenasIdo.’

‘Iwilldoanythingtobringthisabout,mylord.’

‘My thanks, Hubert. YouhavegivenmeyourwordandI know you to be a man ofhonourwhowillnotgobackon it. So … you will go toFalaise. You will guardArthurandinduecourseyou

will render him powerless totake the throne fromme andso restore peace to ourtroubledlands.’

‘Howso,mylord?’

‘By putting out his eyesand castrating him. No onewouldwantablindking,andone who could not produceheirswould not bewelcome.Therefore we shall reduce

Arthurto…nothing…’

Huberthadgrownpale.

John said: ‘That’s all,Hubert.Youmaygonow.Goto Falaise, take over theguardianship and … notimmediately … but in duecourse…infiveorsixweeksshall we say, you will sendme a message. The deed isdone. Then you will have

servedyourcountrywell.’

‘Mylord,I…’

‘You will not gounrewarded … either way.’Johnlaughed.‘Youknowmewell. You can trust me toreward you … for yourservices.’

Hubertwaslikeamaninadaze.

He stumbled out of theKing’spresence.

Hubert de Burgh was ridingtoFalaise.

What can I do? he askedhimself. Five or six weeks.ThankGod,notyet!Thereistime to think, to see formyselfwhatcanbedone.

The sly look in his eyes

whenhetalkedofreward!Hemeant ifyoudonotworkforme you are working againstme. What a monster it wastheyhadputonthethrone.

ItistruethatifArthurwerenottherethethronewouldbesaferforJohn.All thosewhorose against him usedArthurasapretext.IfArthurdidnotexist there would be peace.Thousands of liveswould be

savedallforthecostofone.

But Arthur was to live.Hubert thought of a poorsightlessboygropinghiswayabout a cell; and he was theone to give the orders thatthisshouldbedone.

How can I? he askedhimselfasherodealong.Andthen:HowcanInot?

In due course he reached

thecastle.

He was greeted by SirWilliam de Braose and hisforthrightlady.

‘WhyhastheKingdecidedto change Arthur’s jailer?’askedMatilda.

‘I know not,’ repliedHubert,forhewaswonderingwhy, if such an order hadbeen given to him, it should

not have been toWilliam deBraose. He wondered whatSirWilliam’sreactionswouldhave been but he dared notask.Hedarednotmentionthematter.Notthathewantedto.It sickenedhimsomuch thathe wanted to thrust it out ofhisthoughts.

‘But you are glad to berelieved of the duty?’ askedHubert.

‘I like not to be jailer to aroyalboy,’saidSirWilliam.

‘He’sachildatheart,’saidMatilda quite fondly. ‘I’mbeginning to feel he is likeone of my own. He needsaffection, thatboy.I thinkhecouldbehappyifnoonehadever talked to him about athrone and let him play andlearn to be a knight likesomeoneofsimplerbirth.’

‘I can see you have beenkindtohim.’

‘Who knows,’ said SirWilliam, ‘when the tablesmightbeturned.’

But it was not only thisthought,Hubert knew,whichhad made them care for theboy. There was a tendernessinmostpeoplefortheyoung.

Hewastakentotherooms

in which Arthur wasconfined, and Sir Williampresentedhim.

‘This is Hubert de Burghwho is coming to take ourplace.’

The boy received Hubertwithatouchofhauteur.Poorchild, thought Hubert, youlittle know what fate is instore for you. For all his

dignity young Arthur wassumming up his new jailerand Hubert’s heart smotehim, for behind the regalmanner cowered a frightenedboy. How shall I do it? hekeptaskinghimself.HowcanIdothat tosuchachild…?Could I do it to the veriestvillain?Perhaps.Buttoaboy.Godhelpme.

TwodayslatertheBraoses

left.

Hubert felt that if he got toknowhiscaptivehemightbeable to warn him in someway; he might be able todiscover something of hisnature.Hewouldsitwithhimand talk and he often foundhimself staring at those fineblueeyesandimaginingwhatthat face would look like

withoutthem.

Between Arthur andHuberttherebegantogrowafriendship which Arthur hadnot felt for the Braoses.Matilda had been toomanaging, Sir William tooaloof. It was not so withHubert. There was a sadnessabout him which matchedArthur’s own and Hubert’svoice was often very gentle,

thoughsometimesitwouldbeharsh as though he wereangry with Arthur simplybecause he existed; then hewould seem to repent andbealmost womanish in hisattitude. Arthur found thisintriguing and for the firsttime since his captivity heforgothismisfortune.

Hubertnoticedthathewaslaughing more readily; that

often for hours he wouldforgethewasacaptive.Oncehe said: ‘Howglad I amyoucame,Hubert.’

‘Why so?’ said Hubert,suddenly in one of his gruffmoods.‘WasnotSirWilliamdeBraoseagoodcastellan?’

‘Youaremorethanagoodcastellan, Hubert. You are afriend.Doyouknow,Hubert,

that’s what I haven’t hadbefore.Afriend.Itishardforsomeone in my position tohave a true friend. One canneverbesurethat theymightnotwantsomething.Butwhatcanyouwantfromme?HereI am your prisoner … andsinceyoucame,Hubert,therehavebeen timeswhenIhavebeengladtobehere.’

Oh God, help me, prayed

Hubert.Icanneverdoit.

‘Why, there are tears inyour eyes, Hubert. I wouldnever have thought that ofyou.’

‘’Tis a kind of rheumwhichaffectsme.’

Arthur laughed aloud andseized him suddenly in agreathug.

‘Youlie,HubertdeBurgh.You are a man of emotion,andyouareglad…yes,youare glad … that you and Ihave had this chance tobecomefriends.Confessit.’

‘Well, perhaps I am, but…’

Arthur laughed. ‘Say nomore. Come, I’ll beat you atthe chess board. I have to

havemy revenge, youknow,forthelasttime.’

Togethertheybentoverthechessboard.

How clear his eyes are,thought Hubert, and heremembered horriblymutilated men who hadoffended their kings or theiroverlordsinsomeway.

Itisnecessaryforthepeace

of the country, he said tohimself.

‘No, no,’ he said aloud. ‘Iwillneverdoit.’

‘You are right,’ criedArthur. ‘The next move Ihaveyou.’

He had lifted clear limpideyestoHubert.

When he looks at me like

that I know I never will,thoughtHubertdeBurgh.

They talked together. Arthurtold him of his childhood,how he had been scurriedfromoneplacetoanother.

‘IsoonbecameawarethatIwas important and I seemedto be in perpetual danger. Iused to think it would have

been better not to be soimportant.’

‘It is always better not tobe too important,’ agreedHubert.

‘There are always peopletrying to take what is yours.What do you think of myuncleJohn?’

‘OnlythatheistheKing.’

‘Which many say heshouldnotbe.Butyouarehisman,Hubert,Iknowthat,soIwould not attempt to trickyou into treachery againsthim. What do you think ofhimasaman?’

‘I know him only as aking.’

‘Theysayhehasawickedtemper.ImustconfesswhenI

was with him he frightenedme a little. I wouldn’t admitthattoanyonebutyou.Ihaveheard terrible stories of him,Hubert.’

‘In his temper he can actimpulsively,’ said Hubert,‘evenagainsthimself.’

‘Perhaps one day he willdo himself an injury,’ saidArthur hopefully. ‘I hope he

never comes here. Do youthinkhewill?’

‘Iknownot.’

‘I wish I could see mysister. I wonder what he hasdonewith her. Do you thinksheisaprisonerasIam?’

‘Ihaveheardthatsheis inBristolCastleinEnglandandthat she isbeing treatedverywellthere.’

‘I am glad of that. Ofcourse hewould not fear herunless I were dead. Oh,Hubert,thathasjustoccurredtome. If Idied thenby rightshewouldbethenextheir tothe throne. What would thatmean?’

‘You are young, my lord,tospeakofdeath.’

‘Yet I am in such a

positionthatitcouldoccurtomeatanytime.’

‘Notwithmeheretoguardyou.’

‘That’s a comfortingthought,Hubert. I tellmyselfthat sometimes. I lie awakeand in the night with thedarknessallaroundme, fearscome. Sometimes I think,What if men come creeping

intomy prison to killme onKingJohn’scommands?Thatcouldbe,forhedoesnotlikeme to be alive. I am a threatto him. So many peoplewould rather see me in hisplace. Then I think: It’s allright. Hubert is here and hewillprotectme.’

Hubert nodded. ‘Yes,’ hesaid,‘Iwillprotectyou.’

‘So then I go to sleep andinthemorningIjustlaughatmy night fears. It’s in thenight that I like to rememberthatyouarenotfaroff.ButIdo think a great deal ofEleanor. She is older than Iam,youknow, andwhenwewere little she used to lookafter me. I liked being withher then. Iwish theyhadputus together. It would have

been pleasant if we couldhave both been here inFalaise with you, Hubert.Youwould likeEleanor.Sheis serene –more so than I, Ithink, but that is doubtlessbecausesheisolder.Shewasnever jealous because morewas made of me… being aboy. My mother was alwaysstressing how important Iwas.But it doesbothermea

littlethatsheisthesecondinthe line of succession. If itwasfair,ofcourse,shewouldreallycomebeforeJohn.’

‘The direct succession isnot considered so important,’Hubert pointed out.‘Although the people like aking’s son to follow him, ifthat son is not worthy thenthey would rather have thenext in line. And as your

sister is a girl I don’t thinkthere would be any thoughtsofputtingheronthethrone.’

‘No, I suppose not. I amthetrueheirandmysonswillbenext.I’dlovetohavesons.I wonder what my sons willbelike?’

Hubert closed his eyes. Ishall never do it, he thought.Each day it becomes more

difficult.

‘What ails you, Hubert?Areyoutiredtoday?’

‘Nay,Iamnottired.’

‘Youareinoneofyoursadmoods.Cheerup.Iliketoseeyougay,Hubert.’

And so it went on; andeachdaytheyseemedtogrowalittleclosertoeachother.

It was hardly likely that theBretonswouldremainpassivewhile their Duke was aprisoner. It was soon knownthat he was in the castle ofFalaise and reports came tothe castle that parties ofBretons were riding intoNormandy theobjectofeachbeing to have the honour ofrescuingtheirDuke.

Arthur was excited, for

Hubertcouldnotresisttellinghimthenews.Theystoodatawindow together looking outontheroad.

Arthursaid:‘Why,Hubert,I think you are hoping theywill come and take thecastle.’

‘How can you say such athing?’

‘I know you well. I know

yourmoods.Icanalmostfeelyourexcitement.Whatwouldhappeniftheycamehere?’

‘Therewouldbeasiege.’

‘Andyouwouldbeononeside, I on the other – youholding them out, I longingfor them to break in. Oh,Hubert,whatapity!YouandIshouldbetogether…onthesameside.Ihopeweshallbe

oneday.WhenIgainwhatisminebyright,youwillbemychief adviser perhaps. Weshallalwaysbetogether.Youwill be my best friend and Ishall always remember thesedays because, Hubert, sinceyou came everything isdifferent.’

Hubert did not trusthimself to speak. Hepretended to be scanning the

horizon.

ButnoBretonsreachedthecastle.Thiswasoneoccasionwhen John really did arousehimself and he went intoaction tomakesure that theywere turned out ofNormandy.

He sent a message to thecastle, and when Hubertheard that the King’s

emissary had come andwould speak with him alonehis heart sank because heguessed what the orderswouldbe.

He received him in hisbedchamberandshutthedoorsothatnonecouldhear.

‘Whatnews?’heasked.

‘TheKing’s orders are foryourearsalone.TheDukeof

Brittanyistobefettered.’

‘Fettered! He is safeenoughhere.Ihaveguards.Iwatchoverhimmyself.’

‘The King’s orders. Thereisanother.TheKingsaysthatyou are to do your duty ascommanded by him. Heexpectsnewswithoutdelay.’

Hubertbowedhishead.

Ashe feared, the timehadcome.

‘Must I wear these fetters,Hubert?’

‘ItistheKing’sordersthatyoushould.’

‘ButIdidn’tbefore.’

‘No,butsincethen,asyouknow, your supporters havebeentryingtoreachyou.’

‘So the King is afraid ofthem?’

‘Itwouldseemso.’

‘To be fettered so! It ishumiliatingforaprince.’

‘For all men,’ repliedHubert. ‘They have theirfeelingsjustlikeprinces.’

‘Butthehigheramanisinrank the deeper the

humiliation.’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ saidHubert. ‘Whenyouand I aretogether we will undo thefetters.’

‘You don’t like to see mechained anymore than I likeitmyself,Hubert.’

‘OfcourseIdon’t.’

‘Because at heart, Hubert,

you care for my welfare, doyounot?Ibelieveyouhopedmy friends would come andtakemeaway.’

There was a lump inHubert’sthroat.

‘You did. You did,’ criedArthur.‘Confessit.’

‘Foryoursake,yes.’

‘Ohdear,dearHubert.And

letmetellyouthis.Ithought:If they take me, what ofHubert? John will be soangry. What will he do toHubert? For he will blamehim. I couldn’t bear that,Hubert. He is such a wickedman. He does terrible thingsto those who anger him. Iwould take you with me,Hubert. Yes, I would. I hadthoughtitallout.Iwasgoing

to tell them: Bind Hubert deBurgh. Make him myprisoner.ThatwaswhatIwasgoing to do. I would havechangedourpositions…andthen we could have stayedfriends.’

‘But it did not come topass,’saidHubert.

Andtohimselfhesaid:OhGod,Iwishithad.

TherewasanothermessengeratFalaise.He toocame fromtheKing.Hewishedtoknowif Hubert de Burgh had amessagefortheKing.

‘The time has not yetcome,’saidHubert.

‘I was told to say that theKing expects to have newssoon. He grows impatient

withdelay.’

‘Heshallhavenewssoon,’saidHubert,andhestoodataturret window watching themessengerrideaway.

He knew now that themomenthadcome.Allhehadtodowasgive theorder andmerely stand by and see itcarriedout.

He shut himself in his

bedchamber. He knelt andcriedouttoGodtoshowhima way out of this terriblesituation in which he foundhimself. But there was noway. He tried to persuadehimself.Johnwasrightuptoa point. There could not bepeace while Arthur lived –butifhewereapoormaimedcreaturenoone,noteven theBretons, could wish to see

himonthethrone.

Betterfor theboytodie,athousandtimesbetter.

There was no way, ofcourse. That was clear. Hehad no recourse but to carryouttheKing’sorders.

Hesentfortwoattendants,loutish men who wouldperformanydeedformoney.He knew that they had been

used before for brutal tasksand found a certain pleasureinperformingthem.

Theywould do their workanddo it quickly,whichwasbest.

Hespoke to themand toldthem what the King’s orderswere.

‘’Tis so, my lord,’ criedone.‘AndnotsurprisedamI.

I’vebeenwaitingforit.’

‘When the deed is done,’saidHubert,‘youtwowillgofrom here. You will notmention a word of what hashappened. You know thepunishment for such as youwhothinkfittochatter.’

‘We’ll be silent as thegrave,my lord.Whenshouldtheworkbedone?’

‘Soon,’saidHubertfirmly.‘Letushavedonewithit.’

‘We’lldoitwiththeirons,mylord.’

Hubertwasshivering.

‘Go to,’ he said turningaway. ‘Be ready and waituponmycall.’

He went to his room; hekneltandprayedforstrength.

‘IwouldIhaddiedbeforeIwere called upon to do this,’he whispered. Then he roseand went into that roomwhichwas now a prison celland which he feared wouldshortly be the scene of thegreatest tragedyofhis life. Itwould haunt him for evermore,andmakehimwishhehadneverbeenborntoplayapartinit.

‘Hubert, ’tis you then.Welcome.Come,takeoffmyfetters.Isittobechess?Why,whatailsyou?’

‘My boy, I feel unwelltoday.’

‘You are ill? What is it?Tell me. Something terriblehashappened.Theyaregoingto take you away. I shallneverseeyouanymore.’

Hubert sat down andcovered his face with hishands.

‘It’s true,’ cried Arthur. ‘Ishan’t allow it,Hubert. Let’srunawayfromhere,together.We’ll escape to Brittany.High honours shall be yours.We won’t worry about thecrown and John and all that.We’ll just be friends as wehavebeenhere.’

Hubertdidnotanswer.

‘Hubert, Hubert, look atme.’

He pulled Hubert’s handsfrom his face and stared athimaghast.

‘Ineversawsuchsorrowinaface,’saidArthur.

Hubert put him from himandstoodup.Heclappedhis

handsand the twomencamein with the brazier and theirons.

‘What means this?’ criedArthurshrilly.

Hubertdidnotanswer.Thetearshadstarted to falldownhischeeks.

‘Oh God, have mercy onme. Oh God, help me.Hubert, they are going to

burnoutmyeyes.’

One of the men said:‘Ready,mylord?’

‘Not yet,’ said Hubertquickly.‘Onemomentyet.’

Arthur had fallen to thefloor;heclutchedatHubert’slegs. ‘Hubert, my friendHubert,’hecried. ‘Youcan’tlet them do this to me. Youaremyfriend.’

‘Arthur…’

‘Yes,Hubert,yes?’

‘These are the King’sorders. I am hisman. Imustobey.’

‘Not this, Hubert. Youcouldneverdothis.Ifyoudidyou would kill yourselfbecause you couldn’t bear it.You’d jump from the towerand take me with you …

because neither of us couldbeartolive…likethat.’

‘Mayhap you are right. Icouldnotendureit…butdoitImust.’

‘You cannot … Hubert.Youcannot.’

‘The irons are hot, mylord,’ said one of the men.‘Shallwebindhimnow?’Tishard to do when they

struggle.’

Hubert put up a hand tosilencethem.HekneltbesideArthur on the floor. Arthurtook his hand and lifted hisface.

‘Look atmy eyes,Hubert.Do not flinch. Look at themand remember that we loveeach other. You cannot letthem do this. I would never

let them do it to you. Ipromiseyouthat.Iftheytriedto, I would kill them rather.Not my eyes, Hubert …anything but my eyes. Haveyou ever thought what itwouldbelikenevertoseethesky again and the grass andthewallsofacastle, theflintglistening in the sun? Haveyouthoughtwhatitwouldbelike never to look into the

face of a friend, to see himsmile,toseehiseyeslightupat the sight of you? Youcouldn’t rob me of that,Hubert,couldyou?’

‘I must,’ cried Hubert. ‘Imust.’

‘You could not. I knowyou well. You will not,Hubert.’

How long the silence

seemed to go on. ThenHubert stood up. His voicerang out clear and strong.‘Takeaway those things.Weshallnotbeusingthem.’

The men trained to obeywithoutquestionimmediatelystartedtoremovethebrazier.

They had gone and thesilence went on and thensuddenlyArthurandhisjailer

were sobbing in each other’sarms.

‘Wemustthinknowhowbesttoact,’saidHubert.

‘Oh, you are indeed myfriend,’criedArthur.

‘We are in danger; youmust know that well. ThankGodIwas theonegiven thisfoul task. I was sad once

because it was given to mebut if it had been given toanother…’

Arthurshivered.‘Nonebutyou would have been braveenough to defy John,’ saidArthurproudly.

‘Let us not forget that wehavedefiedhim.Hemustnotknow.’

Arthur clung to Hubert’s

arms.‘Idofearhim,Hubert.IboastedandsaidIdidn’t.ButI do. I do. I believe Satan iskinder than he is and all thedevilsinhelllesscruel.’

‘You may well be right. Ishallhavetotellhimthedeedisdone,forhewillbesendingsoontoknowthatitis.’

‘What if he comes to lookat me? He will. I know he

will. He will not be able toresisttauntingme.’

‘I had thought of that. Imust say thatyoudiedwhileit was being done. We mustfind a hiding place for you,where you can live in peaceuntil the time shall comewhenyoucanbefree.’

‘Where,Hubert,where?’

‘’Tweresafer in thiscastle

for a while. If I can remainhere… its custodian… andwhyshouldInot?…wecankeepoursecret.’

‘Wewilldoit,Hubert.’

‘AndIwillsaythatyouaredeadandburied.’

‘Where should I beburied?’

‘Imustthinkofthat.Butin

the meantime I must bribethoseruffians.’

‘Canyoutrustthem?’

‘By paying them well andthreatening themwithwhat Iwillhavedonetothemiftheybetray us. They are safeenough,fornoonewillknowthat they were here. It is agood plan and I think it willwork.Ihavegoodfriendsina

Cistercianabbeynotfarfromhere. They will help me inthis and I shall tell the Kingthat I had you buried quietlythere.’

‘We can do it, Hubert,’criedArthurexcitedly.

‘We must do it,’ repliedHubert.

Inoneof the lower roomsof

the castle to which onlyHubert had the key, Arthurspenthisdays.Hubertvisitedhimfrequentlyandonlyafewof his trusted friends knewthattheboystilllived.

Acoffinsaidtocontainthebody of the young Duke ofBrittanyhadbeentakenfromthe castle to the Cistercianabbey and there buried in asecretplace.

Hubert decided that hecould not trust an account ofwhat had happened to themessengerandwouldsee theKinghimself.

John received him withalacrity.

‘What news?’ he cried. ‘Isthedeeddonethen?’

‘’Tisdone,mylord.’

‘So now he is without hiseyes and theoutward signofmanhood.’

‘My lord, during theoperationtheboyhasdied.’

John caught his breath.‘How was this? The menwereclumsy.’

‘Theboystruggled.Itoftenhappens like this … He didnotsurvive.’

John nodded. ‘Fate hastaken a hand then,’ he said.‘Whatofhisbody?’

‘Buried, my lord, in asecretgrave.’

‘Sobeit,’saidJohn.

‘My lord, I suggest itwould be better if I returnedto Falaise and lived therequietly for a while until thenoise which this will

inevitablymakeblowsover.’

John nodded. ‘Go back toFalaise. It would be well tokeep Arthur’s death a secretforawhile.’

‘Iwilldoso,mylord,withallspeed.’

So far, sogood.How longcan I hope to keep the truthsecret? he wondered. Andthenwhatwillbecomeofme?

Oddlyenoughhedidn’tcare.He was in a state ofexultation which he had notknownsincethedayJohnhadordered him to put outArthur’seyes.

T

ChapterX

THEBODYINTHESEINE

he news that Arthurwasdeadwasspreadingthrough Brittany and

the Bretons were forming an

army to come against Johnwhom they suspected ofmurderingtheirDuke.Arthurhad been John’s prisoner; hehad been in the charge ofJohn’s men; and now it wasbeing said that he was deadandtheywantedtoknowhowhehaddied.

In the castle of FalaiseHubertheardthenewsandinthe secret chamber where

Arthurnowlivedhetoldhimabout it. The excitement ofthe adventure was wearingoffandArthurwashaving toface the difficulties of livingincrampedquarters.Hecouldonly emerge from his roomby night when he might goout on to the parapet, everwatchful that he might beseen. Hubert could not visithimasfrequentlyashewould

havewished for he feared toattract attention by doing so.Thedayswerethereforelongfor Arthur and the nightswere terrifying, for he oftendreamed that he was boundfastwhilecruelmencame tohim with hot irons in theirhands.

He longed for the comingof Hubert and knowing thisHubertcouldnotresisttaking

certain risks, and he camemore often than he knew heshould.

HetoldhimthatthepeopleofBrittanywereincensedandthat they were determined toavengehim.

‘Iknew theywould,’ criedArthur. ‘They will marchagainst John – and what joytherewillbewhentheyknow

that I am alive andunmaimed. I shall neverforget what I owe to you,Hubert.’

‘Let us pray,’ repliedHubert,‘thatonedayyouwillbe at peace with your ownpeople.’

‘I shall never forget whatmyunclewouldhavedonetome. He is a wicked man,

Hubert. That he takes mycrownIunderstand,formanyambitious men would havedone that, but to give ordersto put out my eyes – that Ishall never forget. He isboundforhellsurely,Hubert,andmayitbethatthegatesofthat place soon open toreceivehim.’

‘Letusthink,’saidHubert,‘of your future rather than

his. If the Bretons aresuccessfultheKingofFrancewillnodoubtjointhem.Thenit may well be that you willbefree.’

‘Freedom. I dream of itwhen I am not dreaming of… other things. It seems tome the most beautiful thingon earth … better than acrown … not better thanone’s eyes, though.

EverythingIwouldbarterforthem, even freedom. Now Iseethingsdifferently,Hubert.I notice the birds and thetrees. The sky was beautifulatdawnandasIwatchedthesunriseIsaid:ButforHubertIwouldnothaveseenthat.Ithas all become precious tome, Hubert. I see thingswhich I wouldn’t havenoticedbefore.’

‘Do not speak of it,’ saidHubert.‘Youunmanme.’

‘I love you unmanned,Hubert, for methinks thatunmanned you are a betterman than you could ever becold and strong and incommandofyouremotions.’

Thus they talked and eachtimewhenHubertlockedhiminhis roomandcarefullyput

the keys on the belt whichneverlefthimhethought:Buthowlongcanthislast?

When he was alone hesalvedhisconsciencebecausehe was a loyal man at heartand he had disobeyed hisking. He would never havethought of disobeyingRichard but John was notRichard. He had assuredhimself that the Bretons,

believing Arthur to be deadand themselves without aleader, would have no heartfor the fight. He hadpromised himself that theywould reason:Arthur isdeadand therefore the cause forconflict is removed. WithoutArthur, John’s claim to thethroneistherightone.

As if they would. Theywanted revenge for murder.

So they were on the march.TheKingofFranceexpressedhimselfoutragedbythedeathof theDuke ofBrittany – sotimelyforsome–andwantedto know how he had died.Here was an excuse formarchingagainstJohn.Philipwas rousing John’s enemiesagainst him. He had usurpedtheCrownofEnglandandthecoronet of Normandy, said

Philip, but these were thecrimes of an ambitious man;whereas the murder of aman’s own nephew – littlemore than a child – was theworkofabarbarouscriminal.

John shrugged aside thethreats.Hewasfollowinghispractice of spending half theday inbed.Thereweremoreexciting ways of passing thetime than fighting wars, he

said.

There were times, though,whenhis ragesgot thebetterof him and then he cursedArthur.Whydidtheboyhavetodie?hedemanded.Whataweaklinghemust havebeen.Eveninsuchamomentwhenhewas out of control he didnot mention the operationwhich he had ordered shouldbe carried out and under

which he presumed the boyhaddied.

If Arthur was alive, hesaid, there would not be allthistrouble.

Hubert, realising this,decided that he could salvehis conscience by telling theKing that Arthur was aliveand well. If this could beknown, if he could be seen,

the trouble would cease. Heknew that he could not keepArthur’sexistenceasecretforeverandthiswasagoodwayoflettingitout.

HeleftFalaiseandwenttoseetheKing,whowasatthattime residing in châteauGaillard,thegreatfortressnotfar from Rouen. No doubt itgavehimcomfort tobe thereat such a time, for this

château built by RichardCœur de Lion had been hisdarling; itwas said to be themost formidable fortress inEurope. John would be safethere no matter who cameagainsthim.

Hubert was receivedimmediately by John, whoremembered that so recentlyHubert had had instructionstoputoutArthur’seyes.

He shouted at him:‘Clumsy creatures. Whathave theydone?Cannot theyperform a simple operation… without bringing thisabout?’

‘My lord, I have news foryou,’ said Hubert. ‘I wouldhaveyouknow that anythingI have done has been in myservice to you. Your orderswere not carried out in the

castle of Falaise. Arthur stilllives.’

Johnopenedhiseyeswideand a sly smile played overhisface.‘’Tistruethen.NowI can show him to myenemies…Oh,but…’

Johnwas thinkingofwhatArthurwouldbe looking like… two horrible inflamedsockets where his eyes had

been.Hispoorcastratedbodysent back to Brittany. Thiswouldbeworsethandeath.

‘My lord,’ said Hubert, ‘Iknewthatyouwouldneed toproduce Arthur and that ifyoucouldnottherewouldbetrouble, so thinking of yourneedsIdidnothavehiseyesputoutnorhisbodytamperedwith in any way. He is yourprisonerstill…andashewas

whenyoutookhim.’

There was a moment ofhesitation. Hubert did notknowwhathisfatewouldbe.TheKingmightorderthathebe dragged away and thatdone to him which he hadordered for Arthur. Suchactionwould seem to John ajust and to him amusingreward. But John had beenfrightened of the armies

rising against him and thethought of being able toproduce an Arthur who hadsuffered no harm was justwhatheneeded.

He said: ‘You’ve donewell,Hubert.Letitbeknownthat theboy is safeandwell.Whereishe?’

‘At Falaise Castle still,’said Hubert. ‘But living

quietly.’

‘In hiding?’ John laughed.‘Youcraftyoldfox,Hubert.’

Hubert allowed himself tosmile. ‘And trust I shallalwaysbe so inyour service,mylord.’

John was still laughing.‘Goback toFalaise.Producetheboy.Letallsee thathe isalive andwell. Ride out into

the town with him, makingsure he is well guarded. Iwant the whole world toknow what calumnies theBretons and that old roguePhilip have uttered againstme.’

Hubert lost no time inreturningtoFalaise.

Arthur was delighted. He

rode out in the streets ofFalaise with Hubert besidehim, laughing and talkinggailywithhisfriend.

‘Donot fear that Iwill tryto escape,’ he said. ‘I wouldnot go without you. I shallwait for the day when youand I, Hubert, escape toBrittanytogether.’

Hubert did not think that

could ever be but he did nottellArthur;hewassopleasedto see the boy enjoying hisfreedom, pointing out thebeauties of nature which hehad scarcely noticed before,occasionallyputtinghishandstohiseyeswhenHubertknewhe was offering a silentprayerfortheirpreservation.

John and Isabella, lying in

bed during the mornings inChâteau Gaillard, talked idlyof trivial matters thoughsometimes John mentionedStateaffairs.

Much as he was stillenamouredofher,hehadnotbeen faithful to her. On theoccasionswhen they had notbeen together – which werenot many – he had foundopportunities for sporting

with other women. He hadreminded himself that asKing he had a right to do ashe pleased and if Isabellaobjected she should be toldthis. But when he was withher he preferred thesepeccadilloesshouldbekeptasecret from her and hewarnedhisfollowersthatanywho tattled of them mightfindhimselfwithoutatongue

torepeattheoffence.

She knew of course whathe had planned to do toArthur and she had deploredit. Arthur was a pleasant-lookingyouthandshedidnotcare to think of handsomemen being maimed in anyway.Sheenjoyedlifeandshelikedtothinkofothersdoingthe same. She was good-hearted as long as being so

did not curb her pleasures.She disliked that viciousnesswhich she was discoveringmore and more in John andshe often thought of thedifferent life she might havehadwithHughdeLusignan.

Now as they lay in bedJohn mentioned Arthur andhow Hubert had disobeyedhisorders.

‘And rightly so,’ saidIsabella.

‘Iamnotsureofthat.True,I am glad he did not carrythem out but when I giveorders I expect them to beobeyed.’

‘And are mightily gladwhen they are not – sincetheyarethewrongorders.’

He twirled a piece of her

hairroundhisfinger.

‘I don’t know that Ishouldn’t show him that Iwon’tbeflouted.’

‘He did what he did foryour sake.He thought itwasright,andsoitproved.’

‘You seem to be muchconcernedabouthisfate.’

‘I like thanks to be given

wheretheyaredue.’

‘Andyoudonotforgetthathe is a handsome man andyoungArthurisaprettyboy,eh?’

‘Icannotsee that that isatissue.’

‘Can you not? I can. Youhaveafondnessforattractivemen.’

‘Is thatnotobvioussinceIhavemarriedtheKing?’

He wound a strand of herhairroundherthroat.

‘Do not have too muchfondnessforothers,’hesaid.

‘WhyshouldIwhenIhaveone?’

‘Somelikevariety.’

‘Asyoudo?’sheasked.

He was wary. What hadshe discovered? Nothing, hewas sure. They would all betoo much afraid to tell her.And if she did know shewould be angry and nothesitatetoshowit.Hedidnotwant that. She was still thebest, still the only one hereallywanted. It was strangethat after so long she couldstill excite him.He reckoned

that theywouldhave tohavechildren soon. That was ameasure of how his feelingswerechangedtowardsher.Inthe beginning he had notwantedherbodychanged;hehad wanted to keep thatvirginal look which soexcited him. But nature waschanging her. She was asbeautiful as ever – mostwould say more so. But she

was no longer the child shehadbeeninthefirstyear.

‘I found the perfectmistress and that she is mywife gives me completesatisfaction.’

‘That is well then,’ shesaid.

‘Well?Justwell?’

‘ItmeansthatIdonothave

toventmyrageuponyou.’

‘You think I would fearthat?’

‘Youwould,John.’

‘Nay,’ he said, suddenlyangry. ‘I’d have you knowthatIamKinganddowhatIwill.’

‘It might well be that IwouldletyouknowthatIam

Queen,’sheanswered.

‘Whatmeanyoubythat?’

‘That what the King maydo,somaytheQueen.’

‘’Tis not so. By God, ifyouwereunfaithfultomeI’dmakeyouregretit.’

‘AsIwouldifyouweretome.’

‘Howcouldyoudothat?’

‘Thereareahundredwayswhich it is not beyond awoman’s wits to discover.Butletusnotfretaboutwhatisnot.’

He was relieved. She didnotknow.

He started to talk aboutArthur and it suddenlyoccurredtohimthat itwouldbe a good idea if hewent to

Falaisetoseetheboy.

WhenamessengerarrivedatFalaise Castle to informHubert that the Kingwas onthe way, he was filled withapprehension. He went atoncetoArthurandtoldhim.

Arthur turned pale. ‘Whyshould he come here,Hubert?’

‘We shall soon know,’replied Hubert. ‘In themeantime we must prepareforhim.’

‘I hate him,’ said Arthurfiercely.

‘Keep control of yourfeelings.’

‘I’ll try, Hubert. But it isnot easy when you hatesomeoneasIhatehim.When

Ithinkofwhathewouldhavedonetome…’

‘Donotthinkofit.’

‘I can’t help it, Hubert. Ithinkofitconstantly.’

‘He will not harm you…yet,’ said Hubert. ‘He maywell be coming in peace. Itmaywellbethathewillwantyou to ride out with him toshow thepeople that youare

aliveandwell.’

‘I will never ride in amitywithhim.’

‘I beg of you, take care,’saidHubert.

But by the time Johnarrived at the castle Arthurhadworkedhimselfupintoafrenzy of apprehension andhatred.How could he help ittowards someone who had

wanted to rob him of hisprecious eyes and hadactually commanded it to bedone?

I will hate him for ever,thoughtArthur.

The King came to thecastle and strode inarrogantly. There wassomething about Falaisewhich threatened to subdue

him. He supposed it wasbecauseitwasinFalaisethathis great ancestor theConquerorwasborn.Inthesecold stone-walled rooms theyoungWilliamhadplayedatthe skirts of his low-bornmother. All his life WilliamtheConqueror had been heldup as an example. Even hisfatherhadtalkedofhimwithawe. Consequently John had

never liked Falaise. Heseemed to sense the oldman’s disapproval and heimaginedwhat he would sayif he could see the state ofNormandy today and beawareofhowJohnlayinbedhalf the morning with hisseductivewife.GreatWilliamhad never understood suchemotions. He would havebeen very impatient with

them.

But what was he doing,thinking so of one who waslongdead?Hewas alive andhe was the King of Englandand Duke of Normandy andsohe intended to remainandif he were not the greatsoldier his ancestor was, itmight be that he was moresubtle.

HehadcometoseeArthurand to talk tohim.Hewouldtry to make the boy seereason.Thatwastheobjectofhisvisit.

Hubert de Burgh receivedhim. A good servant,although he did take the lawintohisownhands.Hewouldgivehimareprimandforthat,butHubertwould say he didit to servehimandhewould

havetoacceptthat,becauseitcertainly had. If Arthur hadreally been dead, all hellwould have been let looseover Europe. If he had beenblinded and castrated whathowls of rage there wouldhave been. No, it was notgood policy to have orderedthose things to be done –though it would have servedtheambitiousboyrighthadit

happenedtohim.

‘Well, Hubert,’ he said, ‘Ihavecalledandwillstayherefor a night before being onmyway.Andwhile I’mhereI must see this boy, thisnephew of mine who iscausingme somuch trouble,andsee if Icantalkhimintogoodsense.’

‘Heiscomingnowtogreet

you,’saidHubert.

And there was Arthur. Hestood still for a momentlookingathisuncle.OhGod,prayed Hubert, do not showyour hatred so clearly,Arthur.

Johnsaw it forhe laughedaloud andwent forwardwithoutstretchedhands.

‘Nay, nephew, do not

kneel.’

Arthur raised well-markedeyebrows, for he had had nointention of kneeling to onewhoserankheconsideredbutfor usurpation did not equalhisown.ForinhisopinionheArthur was King and Dukewhereas John, if he lost thecrownwhichhehadusurped,wouldbeamerecount.

‘I have to see you,nephew,’ went on John.‘There is much we have tosaytoeachother.Butwewilltalk later. After we haveeaten,forIsmellvenisonandI am hungry. Good Hubert,beingawareofmycoming, Iseehaspreparedforme.’

Hubertsaidhewouldhavethemhurryinthekitchenssothat theKingdidnothave to

waitlongforhismeal.

HehimselfconductedJohnto the best of thebedchambers andArthurwasleft in the hall looking afterhis uncle with undisguisedhatred.

In the bedchamber theKing turned to smile atHubert.

‘Methinks my nephew

giveshimselfcertainairs,’hesaid.

‘He isbutyoung,my lord,andhasmuchtolearn.’

‘Letushopethathehasthegood sense to learn hislessons,’saidJohn.

He feasted in the hall andcomplimented Hubert on thevenison. He drank freely ofthe wine and looked about

him for the comeliest of thewomenwithwhomhewouldspendthenight.

But first hemust talkwithArthur forhedidnotwish tolingerinFalaise.

AtlastheandArthurwerealonetogether.Arthur’sheartwas beating wildly. All hecould think of was: He gavethe order. He commanded

themtoputoutmyeyes.

He would remember italways, he knew, wheneverhewas in thepresenceofhisuncleJohn.Tothinkthismanwas his father’s brother andhe had ordered that thatshould be done to him!Hatred filled Arthur’s heart.Huberthadwarnedhim:Takecare. Do not offend him.Think before you speak. But

allArthurcouldthinkofwas:He ordered that they shouldput out my eyes and but forHubert it would have beendone.

‘Now,nephew,’ said John,‘it is time you and Iunderstoodeachother.’

‘I think I understand youwell,’repliedArthurcoolly.

‘Then we shall be able to

talk good sense. It is no useyourthinkingthatyouhavearighttowhatismine.Youarebutaboy.Youhave togrowup.’

‘I have grown up, in thelastmonths.’

‘You have grown a littleolder, but Iwant you to stopthis foolish conflict.Thousands ofmen have died

and more will because ofyour obstinacy unless youwithdraw your claim toEngland, Normandy and allthatismine.Promisemeyouwill.Ifyoudidthat,doubtlesswe should be very goodfriends.’

‘There is that between us,Uncle,whichpreventsthat.’

‘ThenbyGod’sears letus

removeit.’

‘Thatisnotpossible.’

‘Andwhynot?Whynot?’

‘Becausewhatyouhave ismineand I shallnot cease toclaimit.’

‘You talk like a fool.Haven’t you seen whathappened to you when youmade war on me? You

thought to capture yourgrandmother and look whatthatbroughtyouto.’

He saw the shiver passthrough the boy’s body andhesmiledgrimly.

‘Yousee,mydearnephew,youhavemuchtolearn.Giveme your word that you willgive up your claim to thecrown. I will have a treaty

drawn up and we will bothpledge our solemn word.When that is signed andsealed you shall go back toBrittany.How’sthat?’

‘I couldnot sign awaymybirthright.’

John sighed elaborately.Hefelttoodrowsytolosehistemper; he was thinking ofthe woman who would be

waiting for him in hisbedchamber if she did notwishtodispleasehim,andhedid not think she would. Hewantedtobewithherandhewas impatient with foolishyoungboys.

‘If I had no legitimate sonthen the crown would go toyou,’ said John. ‘Is that notjust?’

‘’Tis most unjust that youshould hold that which ismine.’

John yawned. ‘Think ofwhat this means, nephew.Rememberwhat happened toyou at Mirebeau. You weremyprisonerthen.Youdonotwant to remain my prisonerallyourlife,doyou?’

‘That would not be. My

peoplewouldneverallowit.’

‘IseeyouareinastubbornmoodandIwastemytimeintrying to make you seereason. I shall leave heretomorrow.’ Arthur could nothelp showing his relief andJohn smiled. ‘I see that factdoesnotcauseyouanygreatsorrow,’ he went on. ‘ButwhenIgoIwantyoutothinkvery clearly. You have been

myprisoner.Ithasnotbeenavery happy experience foryou.’

Arthur cried out: ‘I knowfullwellwhatyouintendedtodotome.’

For a moment John’s lazymooddroppedfromhim.Hiseyes flashed and he cried:‘Remember it. Think of itwhen you consider what I

havesaidtoyouthisnight.Itwould be well for you,nephew,ifyousetasideyourclaim to what is mine andwere content with yourdukedom of Brittany. I willleave you now to yourthoughts.’

John rose and went to hisbedchamber.

HeforgotaboutArthurbut

thenextdayheremembered.

A week after John’s visit toFalaise the King’smessengers arrived at thecastle. Therewere orders forHubertdeBurgh.

TheKingwaspleasedwithhiscustodianshipofthecastleand wished him to remainthere.Hehada fancy though

to remove his nephew andshortlyafterthearrivalofthismessenger, guards would becoming to the castle to takeArthurtoanothercastleoftheKing’schoosing.

When Hubert read themessage he felt sick withgrief. So he andArthurweregoing to be parted. HowmuchhadJohnguessed?Hadhe believed that Hubert had

sparedArthur’s eyes becausehe felt he would serve hiskingbetterbydoingsoorhaditbeenoutofaffectionfortheboy?Arthur did not hide hisfeelings well. He knew hehadshownhishatredandfearof John; he would mostcertainly have betrayed hisaffection for Hubert. ThisJohn would think was thereason why the boy kept his

eyes.

It would amuse John toseparatethem.Hedidnotseewhy if Arthur would not doas he wished he should doanythingforArthur.

‘What is it?’ asked Arthurfearfully. ‘Is it orders fromJohn?’

Hubertknew thathecouldnot keep the news from him

for long and in any case itwas better for him to beprepared.

‘’Tisillnewsindeed.Heisgoingtoseparateus.’

‘No, Hubert, no. I won’thearofit.’

Hubert said: ‘It won’t beforlong.’

‘Where am I going,

Hubert?’

‘I have not been told. Butheissendingaguardforyou.Itcouldarriveatanytime.’

‘OhHubert,letusgetawayfrom here. Let us go toBrittany.’

‘We could not do it,Arthur. The King has setguardstowatchoveryou.HeknowsthatIhaveanaffection

for you and fears what Imightdo.Weshouldneverbeallowed to escape from here.We should be caught,imprisoned and then you canimagine what would happentous.’

‘Iwould I could kill him,’criedArthur.

‘Hush, do not speak so.Thebestplanis togocalmly

with his guards. I willdiscoverwhereyouare.’

‘And we will escape toBrittany,’saidArthur.

‘Who knows?’ murmuredHubert,for therecouldbenoharminlettingtheboyhope.

‘Iknowwhyhe issendingme away,’ said Arthur. ‘Hetried to makeme promise togiveupmyclaimsandwhenI

would not and showed himthatIhatedanddespisedhimhe toldme to think of it andremember my imprisonment.Hewas thinking ofmy eyes,Hubert. I could see that inhis.’

‘Takecare,Arthur.’

‘Iwill.’

‘He will not dare to harmyou,’ said Hubert

comfortingly. ‘We have seenthat. He has learned hislesson.Heknowswhatwouldhappenifhedid.Soyouwillbe safe … though hisprisoner.’

‘I shall watch for you,Hubert. You must come tome.’

‘Ishalltry,’saidHubert.

It was only a few hours

laterwhen theguardsarrivedinFalaise.

From a turret Hubertwatched the departure untilhe could see them no more.Then he turned away andwent mournfully to hisbedchamber.

Mypoorunfortunatechild,he thought. Would you hadbeen born a shepherd or a

swineherd.Whatwillbecomeofyounow?

Arthur did not know wherethey were taking him. Heheldhisheadhighbuthewassick at heart. He had notdared look at Hubert at theparting. It would have beentoo shameful if he had burstinto tears. He knew too thatHubert – that dear good

saviour – felt as he did, soArthur tried to think of hishatred of his uncle and sostifle the emotion which hislove for Hubert aroused inhim.

They came along by theriver – and there was theChâteau Gaillard, such acastle as he had never seenbefore.Therehadneverbeensuch a fortress. How

formidable it looked in thesunshine.

The man who rode besidehimsaid:‘See,mylord,KingRichard’sSaucyCastle.Nonecould take it. That waswhattheKingintended.’

They were reminding himof course of the might ofKing John. I hate him, hatehim, he thought. He tried to

robmeofmyeyes.

Andat last theycame toacity that from a distancelooked like a mighty castle,foritwasenclosedinastrongstonewall and there was theriver flowingpaston itswaytothesea.

Heknewthathehadcometo Rouen, the capital city ofNormandy, which should, he

remindedhimself,behisifhehadhisrights.

He must rememberHubert’s words. Hemust trynot to offend them. Never,never must he forget whatcould so easily havehappenedtohiminthecastleofFalaise.

He was taken into thecastle – the stronghold of

Norman kings almost sincethe days when Rollo firstcame to Normandy. He wastreated with respect. Hisapartments were not like aprison but there were guardsoutsidehisdoor.Stillitwasacomfort to have somefreedom.Hemight go to thebattlements at the top of thetower and look down on thecity,onthehousetopsandthe

river and the city wall. IfHubertwerehereitwouldbebearable,hethought.

Eachdayhewent to thosebattlements and lookedhopefully to see if riderscame this way. He dreamedof plans which could becarried out – of Hubert’scoming to him and carryinghim off in a sack as he hadheard the Seneschal of

RichardtheFearlesshaddoneinyearsgoneby,longbeforethe birth of William theConquerorandhimself.

Life was only bearable ifhe passed the days dreamingof escape. Sometimes hethought a party of Bretonswouldstormthecastle.Therewould be a siege and hewould creep out to thebesiegersandplacehimselfat

their head. What joy thatwould be when he wasreunitedwithhisownpeople.But he liked best the fancythat itwasHubertwhocametorescuehim.

But the days passed andneither the Bretons norHubertcametoRouen.

A visitor did in due course

cometothecastleofRouen.

John could not get out ofhismind thememory of thatboy in the castle of Falaiseand now at Rouen. Themannerinwhichhiseyeshadflashed, the haughty way inwhich he held himself,showed that he was wellaware of what had beenplanned for him in the castleof Falaise. He would

remember it all his life; itwould be spoken of.Doubtless if he were free hewould find some means ofcommunicating what hadhappenedtoPhilipofFrance.Johncouldwellimaginewhatuse Philip would make ofsuchinformation.

Arthurwasamenace–thegreatest menace of his life,really.What a pity he hadn’t

diedatbirth.

John wondered how manypeople knew that he hadgiventheordertoputouttheboy’s eyes and castrate him.Hubert knew. Oddly enoughhe believed he could trustHubert. Therewas a nobilityabout the man which Johncould recognise; there wasloyaltytooandHubertwouldnot work against the crown

even thoughhedidnotagreewith what was being done.Somehow that boy hadmovedhimandthatwaswhyhe had saved his life.Hubertwould not betray his king,though … not unless hethoughtitwasforthegoodofthe country. His father hadalways said: If you have agoodman, respect him, eventhoughattimeshemayspeak

against you, for if he speaksfrom honesty and honour heisamantograppletoyouforheisworthalltheflatterersinthe kingdom. Although Johnhated to be crossed and thatdrove him into a frenzy ofrage,whenhewascalmerherealised the truth of this. Sohe would hold nothingagainstHubertdeBurgh.

But he was glad he had

separated him from Arthur.Hemustcometosometermswiththeboy.Ifhecouldonlydeludehimintosigningsomedocument inwhichhewouldrenounce all claims to thepossessions which were nowinJohn’shandshecouldwitha few strokes of the pendeprive the Bretons of theirreason for waging war onhim.

He was tired of war. Itseemed a king’s lifemust bespentinthisfutileoccupation.Thevictoryof todaywas thedefeat of tomorrow andcastles passed from hand tohandasthebattleswayed.

There were moreinteresting ways of spendingone’stime.Itwasaggravatingtohave to leaveone’sbed inthe early hours of the

morning to be on themarch,tobepreparedtostormsomecastles, to spring to thedefenceofanother.Itweariedhim. Then there was thepossibilityofbeingstruckbyan arrow. Three Kings ofBritainhadfalleninthatway:Harold at Hastings, Rufus inthe forest and Richard atChaluz–andall threein lessthan one hundred and fifty

years.Whyshouldamanputhimself into such dangerwhen he would have a verycomfortable life? As Johnsaw it a king should travelthroughhispossessionsbeingrespected and honouredwhere he went; there shouldbe feasting, singing, dancingat the various castles whichhe visited; there should bewomen only too eager to

sharehispleasures.Hewouldof course prefer to haveIsabella with him, and theywould lie abed until dinnertime as they used to. It wasnot asking a great deal, onlywhat he thought of as akingly existence. But therewere those who stood in hiswayofenjoyingit.

Chief of these was Philipof France: he would never

stop trying to make himselflordofallFrenchterritory.ItwasthreehundredyearssinceRollo had taken Normandy,andyetPhilipstilldreamedofgettingitback,andhewouldgo on trying to do so as theFrench kings had for all thattime. There was nothing hecoulddoaboutPhilip;buthecoulddosomethingabouthisnephew and if he could

prevent his continuallyharping on his claims, if hecould render him powerless,he would have removed onecauseofconflict.

He decided that nowArthur was at Rouen andHubert de Burgh was notthere to caution him andadvise, he would go and seehim. So John set out forRouen.

It was the 1st April whenhe started the journey,travelling through the fertilelands of Normandy. He wasthinking of his nephew andmade up his mind that hewould not leave Rouen untilhehadextractedfromhimanoathtogiveuphisclaims.Hefelt irritated by the need tohave to come to Rouenwithout Isabella for he had

decided on the spur of themomentnottobringherwithhim. He did not wantanythingtodistracthimfromthismatterofcomingtotermswithArthur,butwhenheleftherhealwayswonderedwhatshe was doing. The fact thathe was never faithful to herduring their partings madehimwonderwhethershewasfaithful to him, andwhile he

shrugged aside his ownadventures as natural and tobe expected, the thought ofhers could send him to theedge of one of his rages sothat he would be inclined toletitflowoverwhoevercamenearhimandoffendedhimintheslightestway.

He needed to keep hismind clear to deal withArthursohedidnotwantitto

be disturbed by outsideinfluences.Perhapsheshouldhave brought Isabella withhim. No, he could not be atall sure what was going tohappen at Rouen and it wasbettertobealone.

He was pleased by hisreception at the castle. Therewas a flurryof excitement athis arrival and serving menandwomenwerescurryingin

alldirections.Arthurcametogreet him sullenly and hespoke to him in a jocularfashion and told him that hehad come to talk with himandtobehisgooduncle.

Arthur was subdued, andtheyfeastedtogether.

Tomorrow,thoughtJohn,IwilltalkwithArthur.

He knew the castle well.

Oftenhehadstayedhere.Herememberedhowhehadgonewith a party ofmendown tothe stone steps where boatswere moored, for the riverwas close by. They hadrowed up that river to LesAndelys over which theChâteauGaillardstoodguard.He had always been thrilledbythatcastleandwishedthathe had built it instead of

Richard. It was the castle tooutshineall castles.Heknewthat Philip of France groundhisteethinenvywhenhesawit; it was like a sentinelstanding on guard protectingRouen, that favourite city ofall the Dukes. When Arthurhad signed that document inwhichhewouldadmithehadno claim to John’spossessions, John would

swear that on his deathwithout heirs everythingshould go to Arthur. Theywould sail up the river toRouen and there they wouldride through the towntogetherandall shouldknowof the amity between them.And once he had signed thatdocument proclaiming thatArthur should be hissuccessor if he died without

heirs, he must have childrenwithoutdelay.

That would be the rightthingtodo.Thefirststageofhis relationship with Isabellahad passed. He had adoredher child’s body, but shewasn’tachildanylongerandshemustfulfilherdutiesandgive him children. Thatwould keep her out ofmischief.Sowhathemustdo

was get Arthur to sign andthen get Isabella with child;and signing that documentwas the purpose of hiscomingtoRouen.

Itwasduskofthenextdaywhen he and Arthur werealonetogether.

Johnsaid: ‘Praybe seated,nephew. I have somethingofgreat importance to say to

you.Itisthis:YouandImustcometoterms.Iwantustobegoodfriends.’

‘Are you going to give upwhatyouhavetakenfrommethen?’askedArthur.

‘I said we should come toterms.’

‘Pray tell me these termsyou have in mind,’ saidArthur.

‘You are to give up allclaimtomypossessions.Ah,wait. Do not sulk like afoolishchild. If Idiewithoutheirs you shall be mysuccessor.’

Arthur shook his head. ‘Iwantwhatisminenow.’

‘You must not act like aspoiltchild,Arthur.Ihavethecrown of England and the

landsoverhereareminetoo.I have been accepted by thepeople. What do you thinkthe people ofEnglandwouldsay if they were asked toacceptyou?’

‘Doubtless theywould sayIwastheirrightfulkingsincemy father was your elderbrother.’

‘You are a foreigner,

Arthur.Youhaveneverbeenin England. You don’t knowtheEnglish.’

‘I know who is theirrightfulking.’

‘Sodothey,nephew,anditisJohn.’

‘John usurped the crown.Richard named me as hisheir. The King of Franceproclaimsme.’

‘And I wear the crown,’tauntedJohn.Hewaswishinghehad itwithhimso thathecould wear it on thisoccasion. That would havebeenamusing.‘Youcansaveusandyourselfagreatdealoftroubleifyouacceptwhat is.NowIshallhaveadocumentdrawnupwhichyouwillsignandwhenyou have signed ityou and I will be good

friends.’

‘Thatissomethingweshallneverbe.’

‘Have you made up yourmindtothat?’

‘Yes, I made up mymindwhenyousentorderstoblindme and rob me of mymanhood.’

‘Whattalkisthis?’

‘’Tisastatementoffacts.Iknowyouforthewickedmanyou are and if you think Ishall ever enter into anyagreement with you, you aremistaken.’

‘Ithinkyouwill,Arthur.’

‘Why should you thinkthat?’

‘Because you are going toseewhatisbestforyou.’

‘And you think it is goodfor me to sign away myinheritance?’

‘There areworse things tolose than your inheritance asyou came near todiscovering.’

‘Youareadevil.’

‘Iamamanwhowillhavehisway.’

‘AndIhavenomoretosaytoyou.’

Arthurroseandwenttothedoorbutbeforehe reached itJohnhadseizedhim.

‘Takeyourhandsfromme– liar, coward, lecher … Ihate you. Iwillwork againstyouuntiltheendofmydays.’

‘Soallmykindnesstoyouisofnoavail.’

‘Kindness…’Arthurthrewbackhisheadandlaughed.

A sudden blow sent himreeling. He fell against thewall and for a few momentshe looked into a face whichwasdistortedby rage. John’stemper had taken possessionof him and he made noattempttocurbit.

Another blow sent Arthur

staggering to the floor,bloodspurtingfromhismouth.Johnpickedupastoolandhithimwithitagainandagain…onhisheadandonhisbody.

Arthur moaned in agonyandthenhewassilent.

John kicked him, laughingdemoniacally.

‘What now, my bravecockerel, what now? What

say you, eh? What say you,King of England, Duke ofNormandy, Count of Anjou… You should have beencontent with being Duke ofBrittany.’

He was foaming at themouth; his eyes were staringoutofhishead;hisbloodwaspounding with excitement ashewentonkickingArthur.

Andthenhewasawarethatthere was no response fromArthur.Henolongermoaned;he merely lay slack and stillas if oblivious to the painwhichwasinflictedonhim.

Johnstoppedsuddenly,hisrageslidingawayfromhim.

Hekneltdown.

‘Arthur,’heshouted. ‘Stopshamming. Get up, or by

God’s teeth I’ll kick you todeath.’

Therewasnoresponse.

‘Arthur,’criedJohnshrilly,buttheboylaystill.

He’s dead, thought John. Ihave killed Arthur. Whatnow?

He must act quickly. IfArthurwere found thus there

would be an outcry. Theywould know who had killedhim and it would be usedagainst him. He imaginedsuch knowledge in Philip’shands.

CurseArthur!Hehadbeenaplaguetohimeversincehehadbeenborn.

His rage started to get thebetter of him and he kicked

theboyagain.

He must not. He must becalm. He must think clearly.Whatwashegoingtodo?HemustgetridofArthur’sbody.How?Itwouldbeobvioustoany observer what hadhappened and it would bewidely known that hewas atRouen and had been alonewiththeboy.Thisshouldnothave happened. He should

have controlled his rage. Heshould have had Arthurmurdered in a traditionalroyal manner – poison forinstance, or neatstrangulation, but to havebatteredtheboytodeath…

Cursehim.

There was blood on thefloor. He must have help.Therewasoneofhisservants

– a strongmanwho had hadhis tonguecutout.Johnusedhimnowandthenbecauseofwhat he thought of as thisqualification. He had said tohim once: ‘You are afortunateman, for tonguelessyou can serve your Kingwell.’ Had the tongue beenremoved by him he mighthavehadtobewary,forthesecreatures could harbour

thoughtsofrevengeforyearswhenonewouldhavethoughtthemattermightbeforgottenby reasonable men. But thisman had no grudge againstJohn and John had craftilydecided that because of hisusefulness he should becherished.

Locking the door of theroom in which the dead boylay, John went in search of

thesilentman.Hefoundhimin the stables, for he lovedhorses and was usually therewhen not engaged on hisduties.Johntookhimbacktothe chamber of death. Therewas only need to point toArthur and the manunderstood – the loss of histongue having sharpenedwhatwaslefttohim.

John said: ‘He must be

removed.Letusthrowhimintheriver.’

The mute nodded andindicated that they wouldneed to weight the body sothatitwouldsink.

‘We’ll weight it then andtakeittotheriver,’saidJohn.‘Then we’ll throw itoverboard. There are boatsmoored down there. How

shallweremovehim?’

The man went to thewindow, indicating that hewouldthrowthebodyout.

‘Good man,’ said John.‘That is the answer. Waitthough … until it is later.Thenthecastlewillbequiet.’

Johnleftthemutetoguardthebodybehindlockeddoorswhile he went down to join

thecastellanandhiswife.Hewasexcited.Hewasridoftheboy. Arthur would beforgotten in time and thatmenacewasremoved.

Itwas pastmidnightwhenArthur’s body was thrownfromthewindow.Theytiedastone about his neck andcarried him to a boat whichthey rowed along the rivertowards the sea. They threw

the body overboard and thencamebacktothecastle.

The next morning ajewelled button which wasknown to belong to Arthurwas found on the stonesbeneath his window. Therewere some traces of bloodthere–themutehadremovedall those in the room wherethemurderhadtakenplace.

It was said: ‘Arthur hasescaped. He must havelowered himself from thewindow; and he hurt himselfinfalling,hencetheblood.’

It was expected that soonthere would be triumphantnews fromBrittany that theirDuke was with them. Butnonecame.

Two fishermen out in theirboat one night were amazedtohaulinaheavyloadandtotheir horror they saw whattheybrought inwasthebodyof a youngmanwith a stonesecurelytiedabouthisneck.

Uncertain of what to dotheyrowedfor theshore, leftthe body in their boat andwentatoncetothelordofthenearbycastle.Whenheheard

what they had to tell him hewent with them to the boatandexaminingthefeaturesofthe dead boy he had asuspicion as to who he wasand when he noticed thejewelled buttons on hisgarmentsheguessed.

Arthur had been at thecastle of Rouen. There werealreadyrumoursincirculationthat he had disappeared.

Therecouldbenodoubtwhothiswas.

‘Say nothing of this,’ saidthelordofthecastle,‘onpainofyourlives,keepsilent.’

The frightened fishermenwere only too eager topromisetodoso.

Everyoneknewthattotalkof this could cost them theirtongues.

Very secretly the body ofArthur was buried in thechurch of Notre Dame desPrésclosebyRouenbuttherewas no indication of theidentity of the corpse. Nonewished it to be known byKing John that they had hadany hand in the disposal ofthe body. Their safety lay insecrecy, forwho couldknowwhat unpredictable turn the

King’sangermighttake.

ThusArthurwasburiedbutit was hardly likely that hecouldbesoeasilyforgotten.

‘Where is Arthur?’ theBretons were asking thequestion and the King ofFrance joined his voice totheirs. Theywanted to knowwhyKingJohn’snephewhadsuddenlydisappeared.

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ChapterXI

DEATHATFONTEVRAUD

isasterwasthreateningfrom all sides andJohn was haunted by

memoriesofArthur.Not that

he suffered remorse becauseofwhathehaddone,butfearwas there. If it were everknown that he hadmurderedArthurwithhisownhandshewould be discreditedthroughout the world andthereweresomanywaitingtotakeadvantageofhim.

He rejoined Isabella andplunged into such a life ofvoluptuous pleasure as even

he and she had notexperiencedbefore.Hewouldstay in bed, refuse to seemessengers, always fearfulwhat news theywouldbring.Hisgeneralsandhisministerswere dismayed. They didn’tunderstand this man who atone time was eager to takeeverything and at anotherbehaved in the manner bestcalculatedtoloseit.

Philipwas the first to takeadvantageofsuchasituation.Arthur had died on MaundyThursday; two weeks laterPhilip had taken Saumur.Hewas joined by Hugh deLusignan and the Bretonarmy. The whispers aboutArthur’s whereabouts werenow becoming angrydemands.

William theMarshal came

to John and begged him tobestirhimself.

‘Philip is undermining usat all strategic points,’ hepointedout.

‘I am innomood togo towaryet,’repliedJohn.

‘Philip is in just thatmood,’ retorted the Marshalgrimly.

‘Leave be. Leave be,’growled John. ‘Send adeputationtoPhilipandaskifhe is prepared to make atruce.’

‘My lord, why should he?He has his army on themarch.Heisjoinedbyallies.Why should he consent tomake a truce merely to suityourconvenience?’

‘Go and ask him,’ criedJohn, and because theMarshal could see the signsof temper rising he could donothingbuttakehisleaveandcarryouttheKing’sorders.

As he had known Philiplaughed them to scorn. IfJohn could humiliate himselfsoutterlyastobegforatrucenow he must be in a sorrystate, and the result of that

foolish strategy was to setPhilip planning moreintensive invasions intoJohn’sterritory.

Those barons who had nolove for John, although theyhad sworn allegiance to himas their suzerain, wavered intheir loyalty. What was theuseofaweakkingwholayinbedwithhiswifehalfthedaywhen the mighty king of

Francewasmarchingontheircastles? Philip capturedmany;andsomesurrendered,glad to change theirallegiance.

William the Marshalpresentedhimselfoncemore.

‘Mylord,mylord,Ibegofyou, give consideration towhat is happening.TheKingof France has taken your

seneschals.Doyouknowthatthere are those who will notsurrendertoFrance?’

‘’Tis to be hoped it is so,’said John. ‘Have they notswornallegiancetome?’

‘For their loyalty many ofthem have been tied to theirhorses’ tails and dragged toprison.’

‘I am glad they are good

andloyalmen.’

‘They are the prisoners oftheKing ofFrance,my lord.Does that not move you toaction? Philip is makinghimselfmasterofyour lands,yourgoods.Heistakingyourinheritancebitbybit.

John laughedunpleasantly.‘Do not excite yourself so,Marshal,’ he said. ‘Let the

KingofFranceenjoyhimself.Ishallwinbackeverycastle,every acre of land which hehastakenfromme.’

‘When shall you start, mylord?’ demanded WilliamMarshal.‘WhenyouhavelostthewholeofNormandy?’

TheMarshalstrodeoutandlefttheKing.

John hesitated a moment

before shouting after him:‘Come back, you insolentdog.’

But William Marshalpretended not to hear andJohn knew that there was aman he had to keepworkingfor him. In that moment hefelt a twingeof fear.Hewaslosinghisgrip,heknew.Andhere hewas in Falaise of allplaces – the castle most

associated with his mightyancestor. Was Williamwatching from the shadesnow?Was Arthur with him?What would the Conquerorthink of Arthur’s murder?One thing, thought Johncynically, he would notcondemn the murder ofArthur somuch as hewouldthe loss of the Normancastles.

Hemustbestirhimself.Hethought of the Pope. Philiphad not been on good termswithRomesincehisdefianceover Ingeburga of Denmarkwhomhehadmarriedandputfromhim.Inherplacehehadtaken as his queen theAustrian Princess Agnes ofMeran. The Pope hadprotested andPhilip had saidsome harsh things about

Rome, which would not bereadilyforgotten.

If Innocent wouldintervene in his favour Johnmightbeabletobringaboutatruce. John thereforecomplained to the Pope thatPhilip was making war onhim most unjustly and hebegged thePope to help himkeepthepeace.

This was always a goodway of bringing hostilities toat least a temporary halt; forthere would be deputationsfrom Rome to be met anddiscussions to ensure. Johnthought this would give himan opportunity to remainliving as he wished to dowithouthisgeneralsandmensuch as the Marshal gettingexcited about Philip’s

aggression.

Philip, however, was tooclever to be duped in thisway.Whatever thePope saidhewasgoingonwithhiswar.It was true, as John hadpredicted, that he hadoffended the papal embassyby telling them he had nointention of taking ordersfrom Rome and that hisattitude towards a vassal of

his – as John, Duke ofNormandy was – was hisaffair.

Johnsawthatprevaricationfrom Rome could avail himnothing because Philip wasgoingtoignoreitcompletely.It was inevitable thereforethathebestirhimself.

Buthewas too late.Philiphad already turned his

attention to that bulwark ofNorman strength, the greatChâteau built by Cœur deLion, the Château Gaillard,whichifitfellwouldopenupthe way to Rouen and thewhole of Normandy forPhilipandthusenablehimtocongratulate himself that hewas on the road to fulfillinghis great ambition – tomakeFranceasgreatasithadbeen

inthedaysofCharlemagne.

It had come at last. TheFrench were besiegingChâteau Gaillard, the lastbastion of the dukes ofNormandy.Howlongcoulditholdout?wonderedJohn.Hewas in the castle at Rouen,thesceneofArthur’smurder.Hehadnowish togo to thatcastle but itwas all thatwas

lefttohim.

He knew that his generalsand advisers, men such asWilliam Marshal, weredisgusted with him. Onlyloyalty held them to him.HowHughdeLusignanmustbe exulting now. How theBretons must be rejoicing.Did they hope to discovertheir Duke and set the ducalcoronet of Normandy on his

brow? John laughed. Arthurwouldnotlookwellinthat.

Château Gaillard,Richard’s pride and joy, thecastle which had proclaimedthe dukes of Normandymastersoftheland–abouttofalltotheFrench.

Theywereblaminghim,heknew. Theywerewhisperingtogether of how he had lain

abed with his wife while hiscastleswere falling one afteranothertotheKingofFrance.

‘Let them,’hecriedaloud.‘I’llwinthemallback.’

But he knew in his heartthat he couldn’t. Sometimeshehadfantasiesthatwerelikenightmares that all the pastdukes of Normandycongregated about his bed:

Rollo, William Longsword,Richard the Fearless, theConqueror himself, the mostforbidding of them all; evenRufus, who would havenothing much to boast of,Henry I the lawyer king,Stephen, who was not mucheither, although he was agreat soldier, soft in battlethough for different reasonsfrom John; and his own

father, Henry II. How angryhewouldbe.AndRichard…well, Richard, what did youcareforyourlandswhenyouleft everything to go off ontheCrusades?

It is going fast, hemuttered.Normandyisgoing.Well, I still have Anjou,PoitouandEnglandofcourse.IamstillKingofEngland.

He wished he were inEngland,awayfromitall.Hewould go soon. He wouldhave to when Gaillard fell,and Gaillard was going tofall.Howcouldtheyholdoutagainst the besiegers muchlonger?

William Marshal came tohim, sick with grief, andsorrowful.

‘My lord, this isa saddayforNormandy.’

‘Cannot they hold out atGaillard?’

WilliamMarshalshookhishead. ‘Philip surrounds theplace. There is no way ofbreaking through. Everythinghasbeenlefttoolate.’

‘Cheerup,Marshal.Ihavegood friends and all that is

lostwillberegained.’

‘Mylord,IthinkImusttellyou, there has long beendiscontentamongtheNormanbarons.’

‘Treason!’criedJohn.

‘I’dscarcelycallitthat,mylord.They say that youweredisinclined to protect them.They have seen manycaptured by the French and

heldprisoner, their landsandcastlestaken.Theysaythatifyouarenotpreparedtostandby them then they mustperforce seek anothermaster.’

‘Philip?’snarledJohn.

‘’Tis so, my lord. Philipsends his spies among them.Itishintedthatiftheywishtolive in peace they should

swear allegiance to him andaccept him as their suzerainwhich he is by rights … sosays he. For you, the Duke,are his vassal for Normandyand they being your vassalsareintruthhis.Heisofferingthem exemption fromconquest if they will comeovertohim.’

‘They cannot do that,Marshal. They would be

traitors to Normandy if theydid.’

‘They say Normandy hasnot cared for them and theywill offer themselves toFrance.’

‘MyGod,’ said John, ‘hasitcometothatthen?’

‘It has, my lord. Thecommander of Gaillard hascommunicated to Philip that

if you do not come to hisrescue within the month hewill surrender, for he can nolongerholdout.’

‘Whatthen?’askedJohn.

‘My lord, we are in nocondition to go to their aid,and all the castles fromBayeuxtoAnethavepledgedPhilip that once he ismasterof Rouen theywill surrender

tohim.’

‘IfGaillardfalls…’

‘ThenRouenwouldbelostandwithRouenNormandy.’

‘Wewill regaineverything… everything,’ cried John.He raised his face, his eyessuddenly alight withexcitement. ‘I will go toEngland. I will talk to mybarons there. I will raise a

great army.And Iwill comeand take from Philipeverythinghehas takenfromme…aye,andmorealso.’

William Marshal regardedhimsadly.

‘So,’wentonJohn,‘Ishallleave for England but soon Ishallreturn.’

When William Marshalhad gone John went to

Isabellaandtoldherthattheywere going to Englandwithoutdelay.

‘I am weary of this place,surrounded as I am bytraitors.WearegoingbacktoEngland.Thereweshallhavepeace.’

‘Andwhatwill become ofNormandy?’sheasked.

‘Philip will take it for a

while … but only for awhile.’

Shedidnotanswerandhesaid suddenly: ‘Why do youlook like that? You are likeeveryoneelse.Youthinkitismyfault.’

Stillshedidnotanswerandhe shook her. ‘Speak,’ hecried.‘Speak.’

She looked at him

fearlessly. ‘Mayhap if youhad been more of a soldier…’

‘It was your fault. Youkeptmechainedtoyourbed.’

Thatmadeherlaugh.

‘Where are the chains?’sheasked.

‘You are a witch. Youbewitchedme.’

‘Nay, ’twas your ownappetiteswhichchainedyou.’

‘Youfedthemwell.’

‘Aswasmyduty.’

They began to laugh andagain she thought of Hughwho would have been sodifferent.

‘We’llgotoEngland,’saidJohn. ‘We’ll have a family.

That will please them. It’sabout time you gave mesons.’

‘Iamready.’

‘Away from this cursedplace.I’vehadenoughofit.IlongforWestminster.’

‘Whendowego?’

‘Ihavealreadysenton thebaggage. We’ll slip away in

theearlymorningbeforetheyarise.’

‘Why?’sheasked.

‘Because they willreproach me. Old Marshalthinks I should stayhere andfight. I’ll swear he’s tellinghimself that that is whatRichardwouldhavedone.’

‘Ishallbegladtobegone,’shesaid.

‘Itiswellthatweareaway.When Gaillard goes, Rouenwill soon follow, dependuponit.’

‘Andwedonotwishtobeherewhenthathappens?’

‘You speak truth there. So… very soon we’ll be inEngland.’

The castle retainers wokeonemorningtofindtheKing

andQueenhadgone.WilliamMarshal explained that theKinghadreturnedtoEnglandto arouse the barons there toaction and to acquaint themwiththeneedtoraiseanarmytosaveNormandy.

But no one believed theKingwoulddothat;andtheythought that since he hadtakenhisQueenwithhimhedidnotintendtoreturnsoon.

ShortlyafterwardsChâteauGaillard fell to the French,and it was clear thatNormandy would soon belost.

Queen Eleanor in the Abbeyof Fontevraud knew that herend was near. She waseighty-twoyearsold–agreatage. Few had lived so long.She had lived life to the full

andhadbornemanychildren.She often thought back overthe years and dreamed thatshe was young again. Shecould not complain, shesupposed; it had been anexcitinglife.

She could not cut herselfofffromtheoutsideworldasthe nuns did. She had herfamily, she reasoned withherself; she cared for them

stillandshemustknowwhatthey were doing that shemightprayforthem.

She stillmournedRichard.Itwasbutfiveyearssincehisdeath and she had loved himso dearly – best of them all.Hehadbeenborntobeking–with all the kingly virtues,saveone.Itwasapitythathehad so little love for womenandhaddisappointedherand

hispeoplebynotbegettingason.ThenshethoughtofpoorBerengaria whose life hadbeen so different from herown and she wondered whatshe was doing. Did she stillthink of the time when sheand Joannawere in theHolyLand?IfshedidshewouldbemourningJoanna’sdeath.

Death, thought Eleanor, isconstantlywithus–andnow

itismyturn.

One of her messengerscame to the abbey, for sheoften sent them out onerrands since shemust knowwhat was happening in theoutsideworld.

Shecouldnotbelieve it. Itwas not possible. Themessenger assured her that itwas.

Château Gaillard fallen totheFrench!

Richard’s beloved castle.Sherememberedwhenhehadbuilt it.Howhehadcalled ithis darling daughter and hehadloveditashecouldneverhavelovedachild.Itwastheperfect castle, theimpregnable fortress, thegatewaytoRouen.AndithadsurrendedtotheFrench!

Oh,Richard,shethought,Icouldalmostbegladthatyouhadnotlivedtoseethisday.

What other news? TheKing had gone to England.Rouen was ready to fall andso was the whole ofNormandy. In a short time itwould all be in Philip’sgreedyhands.

Oh, my son John, she

thought. That it has come tothis. It should never havebeen.Arthurperhaps.Butno.He was but a child and theEnglishwould not have him.Would they not? How didthey like John? And wherewas Arthur? He haddisappearedmysteriously.Hehad been in Rouen and Johnhad gone to Rouen. CouldJohn tell them where Arthur

was?

If he had escaped byjumping out of awindow, assomebelieved,wherewashenow?

She was old and she wastired.AndNormandywasallbut in the hands of theFrench. And what could shedo? Richard was not here tocomforther.Ifyouhadlived,

my Lion Heart, this wouldnever have happened. Youwould never have let slyPhiliptriumph.ButallthatisleftisJohn…

Oh,Johnmyson,whatwillbecome of Normandy, ofEngland, with you at thehelm?

Howtimeshadchanged.Inthe old days shewould have

ridden to Poitou. She wouldhavedeclaredherintentionofholdingitforJohn,ofraisingan army, of going into battleforNormandy.

But she was too old nowand there was nothing to dobutturnherfacetothewall.

And so in her eighty-thirdyear she died in Fontevraudand they buried her by the

side of the husband she hadloved and hated; and theymade a statue of her whichthey laid on her tomb.Serenely the stone figurelooked on the world – thestrong features clearlymarked, wearing the gorget,wimple and coverchief overwhichwas the royal diadem.Inthehandshadbeencarveda book and there this statue

remainedtoremindtheworldthatEleanorofAquitainehadoncelivedherturbulentlife.

And so John lost not onlyNormandybuthismother.

H

ChapterXII

ANELECTIONATCANTERBURY

ismotherwasdead.Atleast she could notreproachhim, and she

would have done, comparing

himwithRichardmuchtohisdisadvantage. A plague onthem all! Those Normanbaronswhohadgoneover toPhilip, those English baronswho were criticising him forlosing his family’sinheritance!

‘I’llgetitback,’heboastedto Isabella. ‘This is but thefortunesofwar.’

He did not want to hearwhat was happening inNormandy, though he knewthat castle after castle wasfallingtoPhilip.

‘Let themgo,’ he shouted.‘Knaves. Traitors. By God’sfeet, when I regain myterritoriestheyshallsufferforit.’

Hewasplayingchesswhen

newswasbroughttohimthatRouen had fallen. Rouen!Rollo’sTower,thegreatestofallNormancitiesinthehandsof the French! No duke ofNormandy would havebelieved that could ever bepossible.

The messenger came andstoodbesidehim.Hedidnotlook; he merely nodded andcontinued to stare at the

pieces on the board. Thenvery deliberately he movedhisbishop.

‘They’d better make whatterms they can and sopreserve their ancientprivileges and customs,’ hemuttered.Thenheshouted tothebaronwithwhomhewasplaying, ‘’Tis your move,man. What are you gapingat?’

His opponent moved withapparent carelessness whichwas, in fact, calculated. HeknewitwouldnotdoforJohnto lose the game as well asNormandy.

John could not beindifferent to what washappening. People weresaying: ‘So Normandy isfalling. What of Anjou andPoitou? Is he going to lose

every acre of his overseasterritories?’

He would make a trucewith Philip, he decided; butwhen Philip heard of this helaughed aloud. There wouldbe no truce, he said, untilJohnhandedoverArthur;andhe added ominously: ‘Aliveordead.’

So the spectre of his

nephew was rising up tohaunt John. It seemed thatPhilip suspected that Arthurwas dead and if not directlymurdered by John, on hisorders. However, he knewvery well that John wasunlikely to produce the boy,nor would he confess hisguilt; but Philip wasdetermined tomake themostofJohn’sdiscomfitureonthe

matter. Philip turned hisattention to some of thenotable barons, such asWilliamMarshalandtheEarlof Leicester, who held landsin Normandy. These baronsnaturally did not want to bedispossessed, nor did theywish to swear allegiance totheKing of France. It was adelicatesituation,foritcouldbe that Normandy had only

temporarily passed intoPhilip’s hands. Philipsuggested therefore that theyshould pay the sum of fivehundred marks each for theprivilege of holding theselands for a year, and at theend of that time if John hadnot regainedNormandy, theyshould swear allegiance toPhilipanddeclarethemselvesvassalsofFrance.

This seemed a fair enougharrangement and the baronsagreedtoenterintoit.

Being the man he was, assoonashearrivedinEnglandWilliam Marshal hadacquaintedJohnwithwhathehad done. John received thenews mildly enough. ‘Iunderstand well,’ he said.‘Youareloyaltomeandthisis theonlywayyoucanhold

your lands. Depend upon it,beforetheyearisupIshallbebackinNormandy.’

William Marshal had notbeensureof that,buthewasgreatly relievedat theKing’sacceptance of what he haddone.

A fewweekspassedwhileevery messenger from theContinent was awaited with

breathless suspense, andsuddenly John woke up onemorning with a change ofmood. All his slothfulnesshaddroppedfromhim.

He sent for WilliamMarshal. ‘The time hascome,’hesaid,‘togointotheattack. Philip will haveAquitaine ifwe do not act. Ishall go up and down thecountry raising troops and

money that I may show theKingofFrancethatIamnowreadytostandagainsthim.’

‘It is late in the day,’ saidtheMarshal.

‘What, Marshal, nostomachforthefight?’

‘Mystomach isever readyinagoodcause.’

‘And you think this is not

one? Are you so eager toswear fealty to your Frenchmaster?’

‘You know me too well,my lord, to make such anaccusation with anyseriousness.’

Indeedhedid,andhecouldnot do without the Marshal.He knew that well enoughtoo.But therewasagrowing

haughtiness among thesebarons.ItwasdetectableeveninWilliamMarshal’sattitudenow. They were criticisinghim for what happened inNormandy. He wanted toscreamat theMarshal but hewas obsessed now by thedesiretogointothefightandhecouldnotquarrelwithmenlikethisoneatsuchatime.

William Marshal was

thinking how unpredictableJohn was. This burst ofenergy was now ascompulsive as his sloth hadbeen. For what could onehope from such a king?Sometimes, thought theMarshal, itwould seemgoodfor England if we wereconquered by the French.Better to be ruled by cleverPhilip than this king who at

times gave the impressionthat he was verging onmadness.

‘So you do not think weshouldfightforourrights?’

‘I think we should havedonesoearlier,mylord.’

Yes, it was insolence. Butbe calm, John warnedhimself.

‘There is a time,’ said theMarshal,‘whenactionshouldbe taken and if opportunitiesare lost it is sometimesunwise to try to make themlater.’

‘You have your views,Marshal,’ said John, ‘and Ihave mine. I shall starttravelling the country todaytoamassmyarmy.’

The year which Philip hadgranted to the barons forholding land in Normandyhad passed and it wasnecessary for them to returnthere and show allegiance tothe King of France and toswear ‘liege homage on theFrench side of the water’.Philipwasdelightedwiththisarrangement for itmeant thatseveral of the leading barons

of England could not inhonour take up arms againsthimontheContinent.

How it was possible toserveonemasterononesideof the water and another onthe other was something towhich it was difficult toreconcile oneself, butWilliam Marshal had seenthat it was the only possibleway in which he could keep

his possessions inNormandyand as he, among otherbarons, was feeling hisloyalty to John slackeningeveryday,heatlastmadethedecision that it was the onlywayoutofhisdilemma.

Meanwhile,Johnhadspentthewintergoingupanddownthe country raising money –neverapopularactivity–andletting itbeknown thata rift

between himself and hisbaronswasmakingitselffelt.Hewasgoingtotakeanarmyto France; he was going towin back what the Frenchking had taken and he wasdetermined on this. Thepeoplemust realise that theywere in a dangerouspredicament. With Philip inNormandy it was possiblethat he might be

contemplating an invasion ofEngland. Were the peoplegoing to allow their countryto be overrun by the French,forthatwasthedanger.

Such prophecies broughtpeople to his banner and hewas not displeased by theresultofhiswork.Conditionswereagainsthim,forthehardwinter hadmade food scarceanddear,andthefirstsignsof

rebellion among the baronsmade itself felt. Theyincensed him by refusing toswear allegiance to himunlessheupheldtherightsofthe kingdom. He ground histeeth in rage but sodesperately did he need tobuilduphisarmythathehadtopromisewhattheyasked.

He commandeeredsupplies, ordering the men

join him, and by Easter hehadoneofthefinestarmadasthe country had ever seenwaiting in Portsmouthharbourtosetsail.JohnwenttonearbyPortchestertomakethefinalarrangements.

News came from theContinent thatPhilipwasnotnow amassing his army ontheNormandyshores.Hehadevidently decided that a

conquest of England was atrickyundertaking;insteadhewasturningtoattackPoitou.

‘By God’s eyes,’ criedJohn,‘itistimeIwasthere.’

There was now noindefatigable Queen Motherto hurry to the defence ofAquitaine. He was alone,John thought bitterly, forwhom could he trust? There

weremany peoplewhoweretrying to warn him againstthis undertaking. ‘Traitors,’hecried.‘Traitorsall.’

There were two men whowere in particular set againstthe expedition – one wasHubert the Archbishop ofCanterbury and the otherWilliamMarshal.

Hubert as Archbishop was

almostcertain tobe regardedwith suspicion by John.Relations between them hadbeen far from easyparticularly since John’sreturn to England, for theArchbishop, like othermembers of the community,was beginning to realise thatJohnwasatyrant.

Hubert was more than anarchbishop; he was a

statesman, and many mightaccusehimofbeingmorethelatterthantheformer;hewasan astute man with the goodof England at heart andduring theyearsofRichard’sabsence he had managed toraise money for his king inthe manner which he hadlearnedfromhisuncleRanulfde Glanville. When it hadbeen necessary to raise the

hundred thousand poundsneeded for Richard’s releasefromcaptivityhehadworkedclosely with Queen Eleanortoproducethemoneyandhadmanaged this seeminglysuperhuman task with greatcredit to himself; andfollowing the methods ofHenryIIhehadsucceededinperforming a task so painfulto the people of England in

such a manner that theyresenteditfarlessthanmighthavebeenexpected.

He had of coursequarrelledwith Johnbut in amoment of good sense Johnhad realised that a quarrelcould profit him very littleand he made peace with theArchbishop.

NowatPortchester,Hubert

was preaching against takingan army into France. Theinvasion had been too longdelayed,hedeclared.Itcouldendinfailureandifthatarmywere beaten how couldEnglandbedefendedifPhilipdecided to turn his strengthtowardsit?

John raged and ranted, aseagernowtogointobattleasashort timeagohehadbeen

determinedtoavoidit.

WilliamMarshaltoofirmlybelieved that the expeditionwouldbeafailure,buthehadanother reason for notwishingtogotoFrance.

The barons, growingmoreandmore distrustful of John,had been deluded intothinkingthattheyweregoingto defend Normandy. Now

they had discovered that thiswas not John’s intention. Hewas going to do battle withPhilip for Poitou and Anjou.While the barons wereinterested in Normandywhere so many of them hadproperty, they were notequally so in the otherdominions. They began tomurmur among themselvesand when they discovered

that the Archbishop ofCanterbury and WilliamMarshal were reluctant too,they tookheartandsaid theydidnotwishtogo.

William Marshal, with anumber of the barons, cameto speak of the matter withJohn.

‘I myself could not go toFrancetofight,’hesaid.

‘I understand you not,Marshal,’criedJohn.

‘My lord, you know that Iand others made a pact withPhilip.Thiswedidwithyourapproval,youwillremember.We paid him that we mighthold our lands for a year,promising that if youdidnotconquer Normandy by thattime we would swearallegiance to him. That time

has passed,my lord, and theallegiancehasbeensworn.’

‘You … traitor!’ criedJohn. ‘So you have swornallegiancetomyenemy.’

‘Withyourknowledge,mylord.’

John’s eyes began toprotrudeandhislipsbegantomove although he did notimmediately speak. They all

sawthesignsofthenotorioustemper.

‘Arrest that man!’ heshouted. ‘I will not havetraitorsbesideme.’

There was a silence. Thebarons remained impassive.There was not one of themwho would raise a handagainsttheMarshal.

John began to scream. He

pointed at William Marshalwithashakingfinger.

‘ByGod’s ears and teeth,’he shouted, ‘I tell you thatmanisatraitor.HehasmadepactswiththeKingofFrancebehind my back. He is myman and he cannot fight theKing of France because hehasmadeavowtoservehim.This isamanIhaveallowedto be close to me. I have

givenhimmyconfidenceandhe has betrayed me. Arresthim. Take him away. Takehim to a dungeon. Let himthere await my pleasure …and my pleasure will not beyours,Marshal,Ipromiseyouthat.’

His eyes raked the silentcompany.

‘What’sthis?What’sthis?’

he cried. ‘So none of youmove. You stand there. Iorder and you do nothing…nothing … nothing!’ Hisvoice had risen to a scream.Then he suddenly seemed togrow quiet. ‘I see,’ he saidslowly.‘Iseeclearly.Youareall against me. Every one ofyou. Traitors … all of you.ByGod’seyes,thisisanuglymatter.’

He turned from them andstrodeoff.

The Marshal was againsthim. The Archbishop wasagainst him. And there wassmouldering resentmentamonghisbarons.

‘They shall not stop me,’he screamed at Isabella. ‘I’llhavemyway.Rest assured Iwill.Nothingwillstopme…

nothing … nothing …nothing.’

And he went on with hispreparations.

William Marshal came tohim. He looked sad andcontrite and for the momentJohn’sheartleapedwithhopebecause he thought he hadcometobeghispardon.

No so the Marshal. Johnthought:Nonewouldthinkheweremysubject.Icouldtakehimandimprisonhimandputout his eyes. Does he forgetthat?

No, you could not,whispered common sense. Ifyou did the whole countrywould rise against you. Thisman isbelovedof thebaronsandthepeople.Donotdelude

yourself. You need hisfriendship.

AllthesamehescowledattheMarshal.

‘Well,’ he cried, ‘why doyoucometome?Whydoyounot go to the lord you havechosentoserve?’

‘There is one I serve onthese shores,’ said WilliamMarshal. ‘There is one I

wouldalwayshavewishedtoserve. I have been forced toswear allegiance to the KingofFrancewheninthelandhenow commands and I am amanwhomustkeephisoath.’

‘So you swore away yourhonourforyourlands.’

‘Iwouldneverswearawaymyhonour,sire.Hasitstruckyou that if – and by God’s

grace may it be soon – youregain Normandy you willhave strongholds there ofthose who serve you well. Iamoneofthose.’

‘Am I expected to believethat?’ demanded Johnscornfully.

‘You must believe as youwill, my lord. The facts willremain as they are. I come

now to beg you to disbandyourarmy.’

‘Because you do not wishtofightagainstyourfriend?’

‘IfyourefertotheKingofFrance I must say I do notwish to. But my reason forbraving your wrath andcoming to you is to beg youconsider.The factsare these:Philip isnowincommandof

vast territories; he can putmore men in the field thanyou can.Youknow fullwellthetreacheryofthePoitevins.Can you trust them? Theywould be your friends oneday and if it wasadvantageous to them – as itcould well be – they wouldturntoFrance.Andwhileyouwereengagedovertherewiththe flower of your army you

wouldleavethislandexposedtotheinvader.Yourpresenceis needed here. The peopleare disturbed. They liked notthetaxationwhichhashadtobeimposedtoraisethisarmy.Thebaronsareontheedgeofrevolt.Mylord,youcanbestserve your interests bydisbanding your army andstaying here, to hold firmlyontowhatislefttoyou.’

‘You disappoint me,Marshal. I had thought Icouldrelyonyou.’

‘You can rely on me nowas ever. I have done nothingdisloyal. I had your consentto pay Philip that I mightretainmylandsinNormandyand you knew full well thecondition that if you did notregainNormandyinoneyearI must swear fealty to him.

This I did as youmust haveknownImust.AndbecauseIhave taken my oath ofallegiance to him I cannot inhonour bound accompanyyou to France … if youdecidedtogo–whichIhopeyouwillnot.’

Johnclenchedhisfistsandsworebuthemustnot lethistemper break out. He hadseen the looks in the barons’

eyes and he wondered whattheywoulddonext.

He said: ‘I will summonthebaronsandtalktothem.’

The Marshal lookedrelieved.

John looked round thecompany. They were allagainsthim…all!Hehadhismercenaries; they would

followhim.Butno,hecouldnotgoagainsthisbaronsandhisministers.

‘Youadvisemenottogo,’hecried.‘TellmethenwhatImustdo.’

Someofthebaronsthoughtthat a small company ofknights might be sent toPoitou, there to help thosewhowereloyaltohim.

‘A companyof knights! Isthat going to hold Poitou? Isthat going to win backNormandy?’ He had becomemaudlin.Hewas in tears.Hecould rely on nobody. Everyman’shandwasagainsthim.

‘Verywell,’he shouted. ‘Iwill dismiss my army. Butyou won’t stop my going. Ishallgo,takingwithmeafewofmyloyalsupporters.’

The barons gave theiropinionthathemustnotleavethecountry.Itwasimperativethat during this uncertainstate of affairs he remain inEngland.

‘Do not attempt to tellmewhat I shall do and what Ishall not,’ he screamed atthem, forgetting that he hadasked for their advice. ‘Youwillnotcomewithme.’

He left them andwent outtotheharbourwherehisownshipwasanchored.

‘Prepare,’ he cried. ‘Wesailatonce.’

Hiscaptainwasastonishedtohearthatonlythisoneshipwasgoingtocross,alltherestbeingdisbanded.

‘Nobody will follow me,’cried John. ‘Then I will go

alone.’

Hesetsailinhisshipwhilethe rest of the fleet wasdismantled and the soldiershe had gathered togetherreturnedtotheirhomes.

He did not intend to go toFrancethough.Ashistempercooled and the land receded,he knew it would beridiculous if he went to

France with just one ship’scompany.

He gave orders for thecaptain toput inatWarehamwhere he alighted,complaining bitterly that hewas surrounded by traitors.He had set out for France toregain his heritage and hissubjects had deserted him.The disaster abroad was dueto them. See, he had been

ready to fight.But theywerecowards. They had takenoaths to the King of France,forgetting their duty to theKing of England in theirdetermination to save theirlands. It would always berememberedagainstthem.

He had come to a sorrypass – not for what he hadlost but what he haddiscovered– the treacheryof

thosewhoshouldhave lovedhimbest!

Philip naturally tookadvantageofthesituationandin a short time had all ofPoitou inhispossessionwiththe exception of Rochelle,ThouarsandNiort.

HubertWalter,ArchbishopofCanterbury, was feeling his

years as he left CanterburyforthetownofBoxleywherehe was going to settle aquarrelbetweentheBishopofRochester and some of hismonks.

Hewasgetting tooold forsuch journeys and he wassuffering from a tiresomecarbuncle on his neck whichwas giving him a great dealof pain. On that morning

whenhehadawakenedhefeltfeverish and had wonderedwhether to postpone thejourney,butitwasneverwiseto allow these quarrels tofester. It was far better healways said to find somequick solution. There wastroubleenoughinthecountry.He had been very uneasy oflate,particularlysincehehadbeen with the King in

Portchester when the latterhadbeenthereassemblinghisarmy to take across theChannel. What violent ragesJohn could fall into! Hubertknew the Angevin temperwell; John was not the onlymember of the family whopossessed it for it had beenpresent in almost everymember of that family. Itmightwellbe truethat ithad

been introduced into theirblood by the witch womanwhom one of the Dukes ofAnjou was said to havemarried.Henry II hadhad it,so had Richard to someextent, but never had anyonepossessed it to such a maddegreeasJohn.Heseemedtoverge on madness when itflared up in him and to bepossessed by the Devil

himself. It was alarming tocontemplate that such a manwas at the head of thecountry.

Often the Archbishopthought of the King andwonderedwhathadhappenedto young Arthur who had sosuddenly and mysteriouslydisappeared. He had been inRouen; John had gone toRouen; and that was

significant. The ArchbishopprayedthatJohnhadnotbeenguilty of some foul deedwhich could only bringdisaster to him and, throughhim,toEngland.

They were good friendsnow, but conflict could arisebetweenthematanymoment.All monarchs resented theChurch, but John more thanmost andhewasnot the sort

to attempt to behave withdiplomacy.

Often the Archbishopwondered whether it wouldnot have been better to havebrought Arthur over toEngland and trained him tobecomeitsking.

All thishewasthinkingashejoggedalongonhishorse.The heatwas great – orwas

that his fever? The naggingpain of the carbuncle wasgrowing more insistent; hewould be glad to rest for thenight.Bythetimeheandhisretinue came to the town ofTenham he was quiteexhausted and very ready tosink intoabed.Hecouldeatnothing and his servants, hecould see, were anxious onhisbehalf.

‘Please let me rest,’ hesaid. ‘After a good night Ishallbefreshfor tomorrow’sjourney and pray God weshall soon have completedour business and be back inCanterbury.’

But in themorninghewascertainly not ready to set outagain. The carbuncle wasthrobbing painfully and thefeverhadincreased.Hewasa

little delirious and he agreedthat he must rest here for afewdays.

As the day wore on, thefevergrewworse.Norhad itimproved on the next day;andon the thirddayafterhisarrival at Tenham he wasdead.

Itwas necessary to informtheKingwithoutdelayofthe

death of hisArchbishop; anda messenger set out fromTenham as soon as it wasknownwhathadhappened.

John was at Westminsterwith his Queen when themessenger arrived. He wastaken straight to the Kingbecause it was clear that thenews was of the utmostimportance.

‘My lord,’ cried themessenger, ‘the ArchbishopofCanterburyisdead.’

John stood up and a lowsmile spread itself across hisfeatures.

‘Isittruethen?’heasked.

‘Mylord,itis.Hediedofafever and a carbuncle atTenham.’

John turned to Isabellawith a smile. ‘Did you hearthat? He is dead. HubertWalter, Archbishop ofCanterbury, isdead.Nowforthefirst timeamI trulyKingofEngland.’

When news reachedCanterbury that theArchbishop was dead, themonksofStAugustinecalled

a conclave at which theydiscussed theappointingofanew archbishop. This wasaccording to a long-standingtradition, for the Canterburymonks had the right, whichthey were very eager tomaintain, to elect theirarchbishop.

TheAbbotpointedoutthatthe death of Hubert was agreat tragedy which they

must all deplore but it couldbe an even greater one if anarchbishopwere electedwhohad not the good of theChurch at heart. They musttherefore come to a decisionto select a worthy successorto Hubert and without muchdelaysendtothePopeforhispermission that the man oftheir selectionmight take theoffice which was so

importanttotheChurch.

They disbanded andarrangedtomeetagainwithinaweek. But before that timeJohn had arrived inCanterbury.

He had come, he said, topay his last respects to theArchbishop, his dear friendandadviser.He thenextolledthe virtues of Hubert,

inwardlyamusedasheturnedtheir differences to displaysof amity. Such a situationappealed to his sense ofhumour.

‘We must make sure,’ hetold the Abbot, ‘that weappointaworthysuccessortoour good Hubert. He wouldbe distraught, looking downfromHeaven,ifweappointedonewhowasthewrongman.

Of course it is impossible tofindoneof hisworthbutwemust ensure that he whofollowsiscapableofwearingthe mantle so tragicallydiscardedbyhimself.’

‘We have been thinkingdeeply on the matter,’ saidtheAbbot.

John was alert. So youhave, have you? he thought.

Andyouwouldliketoputupyour man, somebody whowould bow toRome. I knowyouchurchmen!Nay,myoldabbot,thenextArchbishopofCanterbury isgoing tobemymanasoldHubertneverwas.

‘It is a matter which allthose who have the good oftheChurch… and theCourt… at heart, must considerdeeply. I myself have been

thinking and it seems to methat I could not find a betterman than John de Grey,Bishop ofNorwich,who hasbeenaverygoodfriendtohiscountry.’

The Abbot was dismayed.JohndeGreywas theKing’sman. It had been said thatHubertwasmoreastatesmanthanachurchmanbutatleasthe had always had the good

of the Church at heart. JohndeGreywouldwork entirelyfor the King and this wasclearly why the King haddecidedonhim.

The Abbot did not replyandJohnwentontoextolthevirtuesofHubert.

‘Alas, alas we shall neversee his like,’ he said andthought:ThankGodforthat.

He was present at theceremonial burying of theArchbishop and lingered forsix days in Canterburymaking himself agreeable tothe monks, never againmentioning that he wasdeterminedontheelectionofJohndeGreybutneverthelessmaking up his mind that assoon as he returned toWestminster he would send

envoys to the Pope. The factthat this had to be doneinfuriatedhimasithadkingsbefore him. The yoke ofRome was never verycomfortable fora royalneck.It was for this reason thatuneasiness always existedbetween Church and State,and therefore imperative forthe King that this mostimportant office should be

filled by a man who wouldwork for him. John de Greywasthatman.

As soon as John had leftCanterbury the Abbot calledanothermeeting.

‘It is clear,’ he said, ‘thatthe King has decided to putforward the Bishop ofNorwich. He is the King’sman; he will do exactly as

orderedandthatmeansthatifthe King demands theabolition of the Church’sprivileges, the King’sarchbishopwilldoasordered.That will not serve theChurchwell.’

One of the monksreminded the Abbot that itwastheirprivilegetoelectanarchbishop and ask thePope’s sanction for his

appointment.

‘That is exactly what Isuggestwedo.’

‘Against the King’swishes?’askedone.

‘ThatisnotaStatematter,’replied the Abbot firmly. ‘Itis for the Church to chooseand as it is our privilege toelect the Archbishop, let usdoso.Wewillthensendhim

in person to Rome to solicitpapalapprovalbutnotbeforewe have placed him on theArchbishop’schair.’

There were some of themoretimidmonkswhotalkedof theKing’s displeasure buttheAbbotpointedoutthatnotonly must the Church standagainst the State whennecessary but that they whowere the monks of

Canterbury,wherethemartyrSt Thomas à Becket hadshown his defiance to thecrown, must inspire theircountrymen to do their dutyandthat laywiththeChurch.They would, secretly bynight, elect their archbishop,go through the ceremony ofputting him on the Primate’sthrone and then send him toRome. By the time his

electionwasknownhewouldhave the Pope’s consent andwhen that was given, theKingcoulddonothing.

Themonkssawthatunlessthey were going meekly toaccept the King’s man, thiswas how they must act, sothey attended the secretconclave and elected theirsub-prior Reginald – a piousand scholarly man who had

proved his devotion to theChurch. They went throughtheceremonyat thealtarandsethimonthethrone.Thenitwasagreedthatheshouldsetout for Rome without delayand tell thePope that hehadbeenelectedbythemonksofCanterbury and that all heneeded was the papalsanctionforhisoffice.

‘It is imperative,’ said the

Abbot, ‘that none shouldknowwhathashappenedheretonight until you have thePope’s sanction, so I amgoing toaskyou to swearanoathofsecrecy.’

Reginald declared thatnothing would draw theinformation fromhimandheeagerlytookanoathswearingabsolutesecrecy.

ThenhesetoutforRome.

As soon as John leftCanterbury he sent for Johnde Grey, his Bishop ofNorwich.

The King was in a goodmood. With de Grey at thehead of the Church inEngland he could lookforward to little interference

in that direction and he wascongratulating himself onhaving the very man for thepost.

‘MydearBishop,’hesaid,‘itdoesmegoodtoseeyou.Ihaveplansforyou.WhatsayyoutoCanterbury?’

‘Canterbury,mylord!’

‘Oh, that makes you openyoureyes,doesit?’

‘My lord, I know thatHubertisdead…’

‘Interfering old man. Hisideawas thathewouldmakethe State subservient to theChurch.Hedidnotsaysobutthe implication was there.Well,nowheisnomoreandwemust find another to takehis place. Because I knowyouhavebeenmyfriendandwillcontinuetobeso,Ihave

decided to appoint youArchbishopofCanterbury.’

‘My lord!’ John de Greywas on his knees kissingJohn’shand.

‘My dear Bishop,’ saidJohn,‘Iamsurethatyouwillservemewellasyouhaveinthe past. You have been agood secretary and friend,andIknowthat,withyouon

the Primate’s throne, I shallhave done with these tryingand interfering old men whowouldpresumetotellmemyduty.’

‘I shall serve you with allmy heart and soul,’ theBishopassuredhim.

‘I know itwell and now Ishall send envoys at once toRome, though it irks me to,

but so must it be. Then, mydearfriend,whenyouaremyarchbishop we can worktogether for the country’sgood and keep the Churchwhereitrightlybelongs.’

A good day’s work,thought John, when he saidfarewell to the Bishop ofNorwich.

Pope Innocent III, bornLotharioofSegni,wasamanof great intellectual powers.He had been destined tobecome Pope ever since thetime – some sixteen yearsbefore–whenhehadbecomea cardinal under his unclePope Clement III. Highlyeducated, he had a lawyer’smind and was deeplyinterestedinworldaffairs.He

was not content with beingthe figurehead to whom theChurch throughout theworldwas answerable. Heconsidered all kings andrulerstobesubjecttothelawof the Church and thereforethey were under his controlnolessthantheclergy.

Every pope was aware ofthe conflict which it seemedmustinevitablyarisebetween

heads of states and theChurch and he was moredetermined than most of hispredecessors to keep allsubservienttohim.

HubertWalterhadbeenanideal Archbishop ofCanterbury; a strong manwhohadbeena statesmanaswell as a churchman; it wassuch men whom Innocentwished to see at the head of

the Church throughout theworld.

He was surprised,therefore, when ReginaldarrivedinRometoaskforhissanction of his appointmentasArchbishopofCanterbury.He had never heard ofReginaldandas themanhadarrivedwithsomesecrecyherealised that there must bepeopleinEnglandwhowould

not be eager to see him asPrimate. He learned thatReginald had already beenelected by the monks ofCanterbury, though neithertheKingnor thebishopshadset their seal of approval onthis choice. He would makecarefulinquiries.

He sent emissaries toReginald and demanded tosee his credentials. Reginald

assuredthemthathehadbeenelected by the monks ofCanterbury whom ancienttradition allowed to selecttheirarchbishop.InhisappealtothePopehesignedhimselfarchbishopElect.

The Pope was not greatlyimpressedandlaidthematteraside,whileReginaldwasleftchafing with impatience inRome.Thereweremanywho

knew why he was there andtothemhetalkedmorefreelythan was discreet, insistingthat he had been properlyelected and had even beenthroned in the Primate’schair. Every document hesigned as Archbishop Electand very soon the object ofhis mission was well knownthroughoutRome.

It was hardly to be

expected that no one wouldconsider it worthwhilereporting this state of affairsin England. John was atWestminster when hereceived a caller who hadcome from Rome with newswhich he thought should belaidbeforetheKing.

John,whohad shelved thematter of the election of thearchbishop because while

there was no archbishop therichesof thesee,whichwereconsiderable, were at hisdisposal,wasfurious.

The monks at Canterburyhad dared attempt to outwithim. They had selected theirman and sent him to Romefor the Pope’s approval. Theperfidy of such an actinfuriatedhim.

He shouted for hisservants. ‘Prepare for ajourney. I am leaving forCanterburywithoutdelay.’

When theKing travelled–whichwas frequently – nonecould be unaware of it. Hewould be at the head of acavalcade with the Queenridingbesidehimandnot farbehind him would be littersandtheirbearers incasethey

should get tired of riding.Following them were theirministers, knights, courtiers,musicians, entertainers andtherest;thenwouldcomethewagons filled with beddingand cooking utensils andperhaps some piece offurniture of which the royalpair were particularly fond.Servants of all types camebehindthewagonsandasthe

party progressed it would bejoined by pedlars, harlots,strolling players, all out toearn something from thisstroke of unexpected goodfortune in being able to joinupwiththeroyalpartyonthemove.

Thus the monks ofCanterbury heard that theKing was coming their wayandwhen thishappened they

guessed why, and werethrown into a panic. TheAbbot’s first actwas to sendamessengeratoncetoRometorepudiateReginald.Hehadbeen indiscreet and had notkept his part of the bargainand therefore they werejustifiedindisowninghim.

Meanwhile, John and hisretinue arrived at Canterburyand John paid an immediate

visit to the abbey anddemandedthattheAbbotandhis chief subordinates standbefore him. They quailedbeforehisrisingtemper.

‘By God’s ears, teeth andfeet,’ cried John in a voicewhich echoed through thevaulted chamber, ‘I’d knowwhatthismeans.Youtraitors,you scoundrels!Soyouhaveelectedyourarchbishop,have

you? You scheming curs.You have lied to me. Youhave accepted John de Greyand all the time you havebeen hiding the fact that youhave elected a man to thePrimate’sthrone.’

‘’Tis not so, ’tis not so,’cried the Abbot, trembling.‘Nay, you have beenmisinformed,mylord.’

John looked a little betterhumoured. ‘How is it thenthat I hear you have electedyoursub-priorReginald?Youhave sent him to Rome forthePope’ssanction.Hepratesthat you have alreadyenthroned him. By God’seyes,I’llhaveyouknowthatIshallsoonunthronehim.’

‘’Tis not so. ’Tis not so,’wasalltheAbbotcouldsay.

John seized him almostplayfully by the shouldersandlookedintohisface.Johnat such moments wasterrifying; the blood tingedthewhitesofhiseyesandthepupils were completelyexposed;histeethwerebaredand expressions of crueltyandsadismchasedeachotheracrosshisface.

‘Nay, ’tis not so, ’tis not

so,’ he mimicked. ‘For Iknow this, Sir Abbot, youwouldnotbesofoolishas tocrossmethus.DidInotcomehere and tell you that I hadappointedJohndeGrey?’

‘Youtoldus,mylord, thatyou believed he would be agoodarchbishop.’

‘And you agreedwithme,so it is not conceivable that

you could have so deceivedme. You would do no suchthing. How could you, agodlyman,solieandonsucha matter too? All Heavenwould rise against you – aswould your earthly master,Abbot. By God’s limbs, nopunishment would be toogreat foronecapableofsuchperfidy. It pleases me thatyou are innocent of this: It

should not care to be calledon to do my duty in yourcase. I would have to orderthat tongue to be cut out…since it was capable ofutteringsuchlies.’

The Abbot by this time,togetherwiththemonks,wasreduced to such a state ofterror that their only desirewastoplacatetheKing.

‘Mylord…mylord…’hebabbled.

‘Come, come,’ said John.‘Speak up. You are aninnocent man and innocentmen have nothing to fearfrom me. What is it youwouldtellme?’

‘That… thatwewill electanarchbishopnowwhileyouarewithus,my lord, thatwe

may have no fear ofoffendingyou.’

‘Well spoken,’ said John.‘Wewill elect JohndeGrey.Thenwemustperforcesendadeputy to Rome forconfirmation from the Pope.A fact which irks me, butnevertheless must be. Come,my good friends, we willproceed, for I see we are incomplete agreement on this

point.’

So before John leftCanterbury,hisprotégé,Johnde Grey, had been electedArchbishop and it wasarranged that adeputationbesent to Rome to inform thePope of the election and toprocurehissanction.

WhenReginaldheardthatthe

partyhadarrivedinRomehewas furious. That thedeputation came with theKing’s authority was indeeddisconcerting, but he was aman who was determined tohave his rights.He had beenelectedArchbishop,hadevengone through the ceremony,and he was not going to bebrushedasideifhecouldhelpit. He sent further proofs of

his election to the Popewhoby this timehad received thedeputationfromtheKing.

Meanwhile, the bishopshad learned that there weretwo candidates for thearchbishopric and neither ofthese men had their support.Those who were in Romeimmediately sent theirproteststothePope.

Innocentwasirritated.Thiswasallveryunorthodox.Firstthesecretelectionwasgreatlyto be deplored and he wassufficientlywell informed onState affairs to realise thatJohndeGreywas theKing’smanandthathecouldexpectlittle support for the Churchfrom him. Although, like allpopes,heregardedhimselfassupremeruler,nonebutfools

would run the risk ofalienating powerful kings,even though the Church hebelieved should hold swayovertemporalrulers;hecouldnot, therefore, openly floutJohn.But he determined thathis man should not becomeArchbishopofCanterbury.

Innocent believed thatwhen a difficulty of such anaturepresenteditselfagreat

deal was to be gained bydelay,butfinallyhecameupwithadecision.

The election of Reginaldhad not been conducted in aproper manner and thereforehecouldnotgivehisconsentto it. Nevertheless, it hadbeen an election andCanterburyhadinfacthadanarchbishop when John deGrey was elected. Therefore,

his electionwas invalid. TheArchbishopric of Canterburywas,infact,vacant.

ThisseemedtoInnocentanexcellent opportunity forputtingforwardhisownman,and he had the very one inmind. This was a certainStephen Langton. Thereshould be no objection toLangton, the Pope reasoned,for hewas reputed to be the

most illustrious and learnedchurchman of the age.Moreover, he was anEnglishman, having beenborn in that country. It wastrue he had lived there verylittle, having studied in theUniversity of Paris where hehad liveduntil ayearbefore.There he had lectured ontheologyandearnedhimselfareputationasoneof themost

intellectual men of the day.King Philip, realising hisabilities,hadshownhimgreatfriendship;moreover, hewasamanofhighmoralstanding.

A year or so beforeInnocent had made up hismindthatsuchamanmustberecognised for what he wasand he sent for him to cometoRomewherehemadehimCardinal priest of St

Chrysogonus. He gavelecturesontheologyinRomeand had become a friend ofthe Pope who saw in him aman who could do greatservicetotheChurch.

Innocent had learned thatwhen Stephen Langton wasinvited to Rome, King Johnhad written to congratulatehimasanEnglishman,forhispromotion.Johnhadsaidthat

he himself had been on thepointofinvitinghimtocometo the English Court for hebelieved that such anillustriousEnglishmanshouldreside in the country of hisbirth that he might bringcredit to it.But sincehewasin Rome and close to thePope,doubtlessheshouldnotforget that he was anEnglishman.

The Popewas amused. SoJohn thought he had anadvocate near the PapalCourt,didhe?Hewouldhaveto understand that StephenLangton was no man to bebribedorintimidated.Hewasone who would stand by hisprinciples in anycircumstances, and he was astaunch upholder of theChurch and would always

support it against anytemporalrulers.

He therefore calledtogether an assembly ofmonks and bishops and toldthem that his choice hadfallen on Stephen Langtonandtheymustagreewithhimthat there was no one moresuited to the post, and hetherefore proposed to electhim Archbishop of

Canterbury. The see wasvacant, rendered so by thedeath of good ArchbishopHubert.ThesecretelectionofReginald,becauseithadbeenconducted in an unorthodoxmanner, was void and theelectionofJohndeGreywassimilarly so because it hadtaken place before Reginaldhad been displaced. Neitherof these men seemed so

eligible and everyone mustagree with him that StephenLangtonwaseminentlyso.

The monks werefrightened, but the Pope wasathandand theKingwasfaraway, and thePope could beforbidding. In his hands laythe power ofexcommunication, which allmen feared, for to die withthe dread sentence on one

meant exclusion fromHeaven, and eternaldamnation.

Nevertheless, the monkswere uneasy. They wouldhave to return to England indue course and face theKing’s wrath. On the otherhand it was either that orbraving the Pope’s. As menof theChurch theymust feartheir spiritual leader more

thantheirtemporalone.

There was but oneexception.EliasofBrantfieldabstained from voting. Therest elected Stephen LangtonasArchbishopofCanterbury.

J

ChapterXIII

THESPECTREOFARTHUR

ohn had other matterswith which to concernhimselfat this time. Ifhe

were not going to lose the

whole of his ContinentalpossessionstoPhiliphemustdo something about thematter.Heconsultedwithhisgenerals andministers and itwas decided that if a smallforce could be taken to LaRochelle, which was stillloyal to him, it might bepossible to start an offensiveand regain someof the landslost to him. Moreover, La

Rochellewouldnotbeabletohold out for long if Philipmade a determined attack onit.He couldhiremercenariesto fight for him.He declaredtheywereoftenmorereliablethan his own knights; amercenary was in the battlefor what he could get and ifthere were plenty of spoilsthat was good enough forhim. Men of principle, such

as the Marshal, were notalways as useful as theymighthavebeen.

It was in June, while thecontroversyabouttheelectionof the archbishop was goingoninRome,thatJohnandhissmall force set sail for LaRochelle;andtohisgreatjoywhen he arrived there it wasto discover that Aquitainewas prepared to stand with

him, for it was clear thatPhilip was casting covetouseyesonthatduchywhichhadnodesiretoberuledbyhim.

After securing his positionat La Rochelle John went toNiort, another strongholdwhich had remained faithfulto him. He began to score afew successes which,although they were far fromdecisive, had the effect of

making the wary Philipreconsider the position anddecidethathewasnotat thistime ready for a majoroffensive.

Theresultwas thathewasquite prepared to agree to atruce which was to last twoyears.Johnwasdelighted.Hehad not hoped for suchsuccess,andoneofthetermsofthetreatywasthatIsabella

– her father having died –should be declared theCountessofAngoulême.Thismeant that John had allieswhich he had not possessedwhen he had set out on hisexpedition;and,moreover,hehad two years in which toprepare to go to war withFrance and regain all that hehadlost.

He came back to England

inhighgoodspirits, laughinginwardly at all those knightswho had criticised him forlying inbedhalf thedayandneglecting his duties. Thiswould show them. When hedid take action he wassuccessful. He had promisedthemthathewouldwinbackall he had lost to Philip andhewould.

Almostimmediatelyonhis

return he received news ofwhathadhappenedinRome.

The Pope had dared toreject his man and electStephenLangton.

The King’s fury was suchthat it threatened to chokehim.Hecouldonlysplutterindismay and all those abouthim knew that they were infor one of his major rages.

They faded away from him,fearing that he might givevent to his feelings on anywhowerecloseathand.

He went to Isabella andtold her what had happened.Tearsofragespurtedfromhiseyes and he plucked at thejewelledbuttonsonhiscloak,pullingthemoffandthrowingthemabouttheroom.

Isabella languorouslyaskedwhatailedhim.

‘What ails me?’ hescreamed. ‘That rogue ofRomehas setuphisman forthearchbishopric.’

‘Whichman?’

‘One called StephenLangton. A great scholar, hesays. I want no scholars. I’llputout the fellow’seyesand

see how he attends to hisstudiesthen.Verycleverheissaidtobe,wellsoamI,Itellyou.SoamI.’

‘We know,’ said Isabella,‘and we know also that youare the King. How dare thePopeputuphismanandcanhe do that if you are againstit?IsupposehecanasPope.’

John was foaming at the

mouth. ‘No,hecan’t. I’llnothave it.StephenLangtoncanstay in Rome where hebelongs, for if he attempts tocomeherehe’llsoonbelyingin a dungeon minus somevitalorgan,Icantellyou.’

‘Becalm,John.’

‘Calm!Whenmyauthorityisflouted?AmIKingof thisrealmoramInot?’

‘Undoubtedly you are, sobehavelikeit.’

Foramomenthisragewasturnedonher.‘Donottrymetoo far, madam. I have beenover-soft with you becauseyou have good bedmanners,butyouarenotinbednow.’

That made her laugh andhecametoherandseizedherangrily. She slid her arms

about his heck, and pressedher body against his. Heimmediately felt the familiarsurgeofdesire.Itwasstrangehowshecouldmovehimstill.It astonished him. She wasincomparable. It was somequality … witchcraft theysaid.Ifitwas,hedidn’tmind.He liked it.Still hewasgladof the women who now andthenreplacedher.Ifsheknew

aboutthemshe’dbemadwithrage.Heheldthatagainsther.She was more in his powerthanhewasinhers.

But thiswas too importantamattertobeshruggedasideby pleasures which he couldindulgeinathiswill.NowhewasfuriouswiththePopeandhewasgoingtoletthewholeworldknow.

He put her from him andshouted: ‘If I gave way thewhole world would laugh atme. I appoint an archbishopandthePopesaysnoandsetsup his. No king wouldstomach that – nor should I.Why do you sit theresmiling?’

‘Becauseyouwouldsetupa man who would work foryou and the Pope would set

up one who would work forhim. The stronger man willwin.’

‘And you know who thatis.’

‘You, my King. You ofcourse.’

He was not going to besidetracked with soft words.Hewasgoing to showRomeand England that he was the

Kingwhowouldrulehisowncountryand that included theChurchwithin it.HewasnotgoingtohavethePopesettinghimselfupovertheKing.

He set out at once forCanterbury and again theAbbot and his monks werethrown into a panic whenthey heard of the King’sapproach.

He summoned them all tomeet him and although hisragewasgreat itwasby thistimesomewhatundercontrol.

He shouted at theassembly. ‘By God’s teeth,there are traitors here. Thereare liars and enemies of theKing.IforgetnotthatIcamehere and was told thatReginald had not beenelected. Then it seemed he

had. And knowing that youhadelectedReginald,yetyoudenied itandelectedJohndeGrey. So says the Pope thismakes both elections invalidandhewould set uphis ownman.Iwillnothavethisman.I … and I alone, will selectmy archbishop. I will havepeople of my choice, thosewhoworkformeandnotforthemselves or the Pope.You

thought to trick me. Do notdenyit.Iknowfullwellyourcowardlyways. Insecretyouset your choice upon thePrimate’sthrone.Aplagueonyou all. You are no longermonksofmine.Getout!Thisis no longer your abbey.Go,go … go! No … nottomorrow…northenextday… as you are now … nowunless you, wish to be cast

into dungeons, which yourichly deserve. What wouldbe the best punishment foryou, I wonder – to depriveyouoftheeyesthatlookedonthat treacherous ceremony orthe tongueswhich applaudedit?’

Hewas amused to see theterrordawn inpeople’s facesat the prospect of theseterrible punishments. To

threaten them with deathcould not produce the sameconcern.

‘Soshallitbe,’hecried.‘Ifyouarenotonyourway thisvery day. Where to? youmight ask. Go where youwill.Gocrawlingbacktothemasterwhom you thought toserve better than you serveme. Go to Reginald and askhimtocareforyou.Yougave

him your support … indefiance of your King… lethimsupportyounow.’

The rage was in control.This was more enjoyable …to inflict punishment onothers rather than himselfbecausewhen the rageswereout of control he came closeto injuring himself. Howmuchmorefuntostriketerrorintotheirhearts.

Thatdaysixty-sevenofthemonks left Canterbury andmade their way to theContinent. Johnwas pleased,fornowhewasinpossessionoftheirlands.

Hewasinnohurrytosettlethe dispute – even to installJohndeGrey–becauseuntilthere was an Archbishop ofCanterbury the riches of thatveryprosperousseeremained

inhispossession.

Johnsatdowntowrite to thePope. He was not going tocurb his anger. He wantedInnocent toknowthathehadno intention of submitting tohiswill.HewouldnotacceptStephen Langton as hisarchbishopandheunderstoodwell Innocent’s reasons fortrying to impose this man

uponhim.Hewantedtoforcepapaldoctrinesonhimwhichas a King of England hecould not accept. It was amatter of amazement to himthat a Pope could have solittleregardforthefriendshipof theKingofEngland as totreathimwith sucha lackofrespect, as a man whosedesires were of so littleconsequence.Johnwasafraid

thathemustpointout toHisHoliness that he could not –nor would he – accept suchtreatment;andifthePopehadso little regard for him, thatwasnot the casewithothers.Heknewnothingofthisman,StephenLangton, except thathehadbeenparticularlywellreceivedattheCourtofKingPhilipinFrance–amanwhohad shown himself to be no

friend to John, indeed hewouldfinditdifficulttonameonewhowasagreaterenemytohim.AndthiswasthemanwhomthePope–withoutthesanction of the King ofEngland – had chosen to beEngland’s Primate. This wasbeyondJohn’sunderstanding.

Exceedingly irritated toreceivesuchaletter,thePopewrote with great dignity

reminding theKing, in everyline, of his supremacy overtemporalrulers.

‘The Servant of theServants of God informs theKingofEnglandthat inwhathe has done there was nocausewhyheshouldtarryfortheKing’sconsent,andashehas begun he will proceedaccording to canonicalordinancesneithertotheright

nortotheleft…’

John scanned the letterwithgrowingimpatience.

‘We will for no man’spleasure,’ went on the Pope,‘defer the completion of thisappointment, neithermaywewithout stain of honour anddangerofconscience.’

John ground his teeth inanger. ‘Curse him. Curse

him!’hecried.‘Godcurseallmy enemies … and nonemore than thisonewhocallshimself the servant of Yourservants.’

‘ … Commit yourselftherefore to our pleasurewhich will be to your praiseand glory and imagine notthatitwouldbetoyoursafetyto resistGodand theChurchin a cause for which the

glorious martyr Thomas hasshedhisblood.’

AnyreferencetoThomasàBecket always made Johnuneasy. Becket had been thecause of his father’s publichumiliationatCanterbury.Hemust never find himselfforced to do the sort ofpenancehisfatherhad.Curseon all churchmen who madesaintsofthemselves!

The Pope went on to saythat he did not believe Johnwas as ignorant of StephenLangton’s qualities as heimplied. True, Stephen hadspent little time in Englandand had been appreciated bytheKingofFrance,asamanof such outstanding abilitymustbebyallwithwhomhecame into contact. Johnhimselfmustbeawareofhis

work–ifonlytherevisionofthe Bible. It was not only inParis that Langton hadenjoyedgreatfame.ThePopehad heard of it in Rome andhe knew that John had inEngland, for had he notmentioned this to StephenLangtonhimselfwhenhehadcongratulated him on beingelectedCardinal?Johnshouldbe gratified that such a man

was bringing his greatintellectualitytoEngland.

John danced with ragewhen he read the Pope’sreply.

‘Doeshethinkwehavenomen of intellectual staturehere? We have our scholarshere. Does he think Englandis populated with theignorant?’

He sat down and wrote inthe heat of his anger oncemore to the Pope. He wouldnot have Stephen Langton inCanterbury. He had decidedonJohndeGreyandJohndeGreyitshouldbe.IfthePopedidnot agreewithhim, ifhewithheldhissanction,lethim.Why should he be governedby Rome? He was quitepreparedtobreakawayifthe

Popewished it.Let thePopedo his worst. He was readyfor him, but first let himconsiderhowmuchpoorerhewouldbefromallthebenefitswhich he would miss fromEngland, for if John brokewith Rome he would notallow his churchmen tojourneybackandforthtakingrich gifts, which he knewthey did now. It was not

Englandwhichwould suffer;itwasRome.

This vituperation wasreceivedcoldlybyRome.

The Pope merely repliedthatJohnshouldgivethoughttowhat could happen to himif he continued to offend theHolyChurch.Thiswasahintthat there could beexcommunicationforhimand

an interdict placed onEngland.

John snapped his fingersand put the matter from hismind. Another event hadoccurred – a much morepleasantone.Intheearlypartof the year Isabella haddiscovered that she waspregnant.

Isabella was delighted. Shewas nearly twenty years oldandhadbeenJohn’swife forseven. She had begun to berather worried about the factthat she had not conceivedduring that time. It was truethat Johnhadnotwishedherto in the first years of hermarriage – and it may wellhave been that her extremeyouthhadpreventedherfrom

doingso.Inthoseearlyyearsneither of them had wantedchildren and even later thepassionbetweenthemandthesexualsatisfactionwhichwasso necessary to them bothwasoffargreaterimportancethananythingelse.

Andnowshewassure.Shewaswithchild.

She had to watch her

beautifulbody–ofwhichshewas very proud – becomemisshapen. Never mind, itwould return to its formerbeauty when the child wasdelivered. It would beinteresting to have a child,andshehopedforason.

John was delighted whenheknew.

‘People have been

murmuring,’ he said.‘They’ve been saying wecouldn’tgetchildrenandthatit was God’s punishmentbecausewewere too fondofthe preliminary act.’ Helaughed aloud. ‘They weresniggeringaboutus,mylove,whenwe lay abed till dinnertime.Rememberthosedays?’

‘Irememberthemwell.’

‘And no child to show forthem!Thatwas strange, theysaid. They can say that nolonger.’

‘Do you think it will be aboy?’

‘Ofacertainty,’saidJohn.‘Thefirstofmany.’

‘Not too many,’ Isabellareminded him. ‘Your fatherhad toomany and lookwhat

happened to some of them…’ She looked at him slyly.‘Andtheiroffspring.’

He flushed with suddenanger. He did not like toremember that scene inRouen Castle when he hadlookeddownatthestillfigureof his rival nephew; nor didheliketothinkofhimselfandthe mute carrying the bodydown to the river. Could he

trust the mute? What couldthe man say when he hadbeen so convenientlydeprivedofhistongue,whichwastheveryreasonJohnhadused his services on thatoccasion.

Nomatterhowcarefulonewas, such news seeped outsometimes.Where isArthur?was a question which wasgoing to be asked for some

time to come and there wasone who would bedetermined to find the trueanswer:PhilipofFrance.

Isabella should not havereminded him. She hadalways been over-saucy,perhaps because he had beenso enamoured of her, but hewas less so now. Otherwomencouldpleasehimtoo,although oddly enough he

still preferred her. But hewould brook no insolencefromher.

‘People should learn theirlessons,’hegrowled.

She folded her handstogether and raised her eyespiously to the ceiling.‘’Twouldbegoodforusalltodothat,’sheobservedmeeklyenough but with sly

insinuations.

No matter for now, hethought.Shewascomely;andhecouldstill say thathewaswell pleased with hismarriage. If she gave him ason,hewouldbedelighted.

SuccessontheContinent–for not even his worstenemiescouldsayhehadnotmade progress – and an heir

atlast!

She was only twenty.There were years ofchildbearingaheadofher.

Yes,hewasasdelightedaseverwithIsabella.

Isabella was six monthspregnant when news camethatInnocenthadconsecratedStephen Langton as

ArchbishopofCanterbury.

John laughed sneeringlywhen he heard and toldIsabella that Innocent couldhave saved himself thetrouble, for the election wasnotgoingtoberecognisedinEngland. He’d not haveLangton set foot on hisshores,andbyGod’sfeetandtoesaswell,he’dputJohndeGreyinthePrimate’schair.

It was a different matterwhen the Pope sentinstructions to the leadingchurchmen of England andWales reminding them oftheirdutyfirsttotheChurch;and he named three of them,William, Bishop of London,Eustace, Bishop of Ely, andMauger,BishopofWorcester–threeof themost important– to approach the King and

remindhimalsoofhisduty.

It was three veryapprehensive bishops whofacedJohn.

He shouted at them:‘Come, my good Bishops,youhavecometotalktome.Youcomestraight fromyourmaster and I believe you areveryboldwhenyouarenotinmy presence. What ails you

nowthatyoutremble?’

‘My lord,’ saidWilliamofLondon, ‘we come on theordersofthePope.’

‘The Pope,’ screamedJohn. ‘He isno friend tome,and nor are those who valuehis friendship more thanmine.’

‘Wewouldbegofyou,mylord,’saidEustaceofEly,‘to

listen to His Holiness’scommands.’

‘It is a king whocommands in this country,Bishop,’retortedJohn.

‘In all matters temporal,’Mauger of Worcesterremindedhim.

‘In all matters,’ snarledJohn.

‘My lord,’ said theBishopof Ely, ‘if you would butreceive Stephen Langton andgivethemonkspermissiontoreturn…’

‘You are mad,’ cried theKing. ‘Do you think that Iwill allow myself to be sotreated?Youcometothreatenme.Isthatso?’

‘Nay, nay,’ cried the

bishops in unison. ‘We butcometotellyouthewishesofthePope.’

‘That he will lay aninterdict on my kingdom. Isthatwhatyouwouldsay?’

‘I fear, my lord,’ said theBishop of London, ‘that ifyou will not accept StephenLangton as Archbishop ofCanterbury and allow the

monks to return there, thePope will put the countryunderinterdict.’

‘As I said, as I said. Andlet me tell you this.’ Johnnarrowed his eyes and hislookswerevenomous.‘Ifanypriest under my rule shoulddare toobey thePope in thismatter, I shall take hisproperty from him and sendhimabeggartohismasterthe

Pope since itwill be clear tome that he is no servant ofmine and it is meet that heshouldgotohismaster.’

‘His Holiness will notallow the matter to rest,’beganEustace.

‘No, he will send hisenvoys with dire threats, Iknowthat.AndIshalllethimknowwho is ruler here. Not

him,hemustunderstand,buttheKing.Tellhimthis…youwhoservehimsowell…thatifIcatchanyofhisenvoysonmy land I shall send themback to their master … aye,and not in quite the samecondition as that in whichthey came. They’ll gropetheir way back for they’llhavenoeyes to seewithandI’llslitanoseortwoforgood

measure.’

‘My lord, I beg of you,remember that thesemessengerswouldcomefromHisHoliness.’

‘Remember it. Rememberit. Do you think I shouldforget? It is for that reasonthat I shall make them verysorry they ever came thisway. As for you, my lord

Bishops,Ihaveenduredyourcompany too long. Itmaddens me. It sickens me.Getout…whileyouarestillinpossessionofyourorgans,for byGod’s ears, if you arenotgonefrommysightinthenext fewminutes I shall callmy guards and you will beshown what happens to menin this realm who dare defyme.’

They could see that hemeant it, for the temper wasbeginningtoflowover.

They bowed and hurriedout.

John burst into loudlaughterashewatchedthem.

‘Farewell, my braveBishops,’heshouted.

Isabella was lying in at the

castle at Winchester whichhad been built by theConqueror.

It was October and theleaves of the trees wereturning russet, red andbronze. She lay in her bedandwaitedforherchildtobeborn, fearful yet expectant,asking,‘Will itbeaboyoragirl?’

Isabella would prefer aboy, of course, but it wouldbe amusing to have adaughter. How she wouldenjoy dressing a girl!Wouldshe be beautiful like herselfor resemble John who wasscarcelythat?

Johnwas getting old now,having lived for forty years.Thatmattered little. Shewasbut twenty. It was perhaps

well that she was having achild, for she was no longeras eager for John’s companyasshehadoncebeen.Sensualintheextremeshestillwas–but not for John. During herpregnancy she had beenthinking a great deal of thechild and like most womenshe had changed a little. Butoncethechildwasbornthosedesires which had been so

importanttoherwouldreturn– but they would not be forJohn.

Butthechildwasthemainconcernnow.Hereshewasinthis ancient town ofWinchester where it wasfittingthatheirstothethroneshouldbeborn–Winchester,oneoftheoldesttownsofthecountry. The Early Britonshad called it Caer Gwent or

the White City; then theRomanshadcomeandnameditVentaBelgarumanditwasthe Saxons who afterwardscalled it Witanceaster whichhadbecomeWinchester.

The original castle wassaidtohavebeenfoundedbyKing Arthur himself and itwasinthiscitythatwhenthepeople were weary of theDanish occupation the order

had gone out that all goodSaxon women should take aDanishloverandonacertainnighteachshould,ashelayinbedbesideher, cuteitherherlover’s throat or hishamstrings.Thathadbeentheorder of Ethelred theUnready. She could imagineJohn’sgivingsuchanorder.

Whenherpainsstartedshecouldthinkofnothingbutthe

need to come through herordeal. Therewere people inplenty about her bed to helpheralongand the labourwasneither very long nor toodistressing.

‘My lady will give birtheasily,’sheheardoneofthemsay.

Andsoitwas,fornotlongaftershehadbeenbrought to

bedherchildwasborn.

It was a moment of thegreatestsatisfactionwhensheheard the words: ‘A boy. Afineandhealthyboy.’

The child was christenedHenry after his grandfatherHenry II and there wasgeneral rejoicing, manyexpressing the hope that the

baby would resemble theKingwhose name he shared,commenting that they couldhardly have expressed suchsentiments if he had had hisfather’sname.

His birth had subtlychanged the relationshipbetween his parents. Isabellahad quickly regained hergood looks and her mainattraction would always be

that inherent sexuality whichhad been apparent when shewasachildandwouldremainwith her until her death, butthe pregnancy and the birthhad sent John elsewhere andhecontinuedtoroam.

Isabella was for a whileabsorbed by the child and assherealisedthesatisfactionofmotherhood,shedecided thattheremust bemore children;

littleHenry needed a brotheror sister and it was alwayswise for a king to haveseveralchildren.

After the stormy interviewwith the bishops, Johnguessed the Pope’s answerwouldnotbelongincoming.He was right. Just beforeEaster of the following yearthe interdict was pronouncedfrom Rome and it was to

coverEnglandandWales.

This meant that there wasto be no public worship inchurches, and sacramentswere not permitted to beadministered. Services couldbe preached – but only onSundays – and not in churchfor the churchdoorsmustbekept closed. They must takeplace in the graveyards.Womenhadtobechurchedin

the porch of the church andtherewere no burial servicesnor could any person beburiedinconsecratedground.

Thiscausedagreatdealofdistress among the peoplewho feared that this finalshame of being buried in atrench might impair theirhopes of a heavenlyreception.

Aware of the murmuringsof thepeopleagainsthimforhaving incurred this quarrelwith the Pope, John’sdetermination to fight theenemyincreased.

‘The Pope has taken frommy people their rights toreligious consolation,’ hecried.‘Verywell,IwillshowthePopewhatIcandotohisservants. Any priest who

closes his church to thepeoplewillforthwithlosehispossessions, for I will notallowhimtohavethemwhenhe turns his face against theneedsofthepeople.’

The priests were in aquandary. What should theydo? Lose their goods or asthey thought their souls?Many of them decidedagainst their goods, much to

John’samusement.

‘By God’s hands,’ hedeclared,‘thisinterdictmakesme grow rich. I am not surethat I should not be gratefultoMasterInnocentafterall.’

Theclergywere in troublewhicheverwaytheyturned.Ifthey obeyed the Pope theylost their possessions to theKing; if they refused toobey

the Pope they wereexcommunicated. Many ofthem, including the threebishops who had warned theKing,fledthecountry.

‘Let them go,’ screamedthe King. ‘As long as theyleave their goods behindthem, why should I care? Ihope Innocent realises howheisenrichingme.’

Hebegan tocastabout formeans of gaining more fromthe situation. He knew verywell that some of the richchurchmen kept their secretmistresses and it appealed toJohn’s sense of humour toextract money through them.He sent his men throughoutthe country to spy out thesecret amorous lives of theseoutwardly moral churchmen.

When a mistress wasdiscoveredJohnarrangedthatshe should be kidnapped.Hethen sent messengers to thechurchmen telling them howmuchwould be paid in finesfor the return of theirmistresses.

This caused the King agreat deal of amusement andin spite of the Interdict hewasenjoyinglife.

He had a healthy sonwhowas almost a year old andIsabellahadbecomepregnantagain.

HersecondsonwasbornatWinchestera littlemore thana year after Henry hadappeared,sonowshehadtwohealthy sons, as though tomakeupfortheunproductiveyears.

Little Henry was provingto be quite bright and asource of interest and shefound that she liked to bewithherchildren.Thesecondboy was named after hisuncle,RichardCœurdeLion,whichpleasedthepeopleandthe two little boys did muchtoaddtothepopularityoftheKingandQueen.

They were not very often

in each other’s company andIsabella was well aware thathe had mistresses. She wasnot going to accept thatwithout some protest, but asshe did not particularly wishfor his company she decidedagainstbringingthematterupwithhim.

She found herself lookinground and admiring some ofthe more handsome young

men; they lookedat herwithfearful longing, no doubtawareof the invitation inherglances and dreaming of theexcitements they could sharewith her, while at the sametime they must consider theterrible consequences ofbeing discovered by an iratehusband – and such apowerfulone.

Danger added to the

excitementandIsabellaknewthat itwasin timetobecomeirresistible. She too thoughtoftheconsequences.Supposesuchanencounter resulted ina child, would it be soimportant? She had two sonswho were undoubtedlyJohn’s. John had had anumber of bastards, but thatwas before their marriage.There may have been others

later of whom she had notheard, but for the first yearsof their marriage he hadundoubtedly been faithful toher.Nomancouldhavebeenmorezealousinhisattentionsand he had had neither timenor inclination to disporthimselfelsewhere.

Butnowtherewaschange.Some wives might havethought it necessary to act

with especial care, to placatehim,toplaythehumblewife.But that was not Isabella’snature. Her power was stillthere, as potent as it waswhenshewasthirteen–moreso, for now she was so veryexperienced, and no mancould be in her presencewithoutbeingdeeplyaffectedbyher;therecouldhavebeenveryfewwhomshecouldnot

movetodesirewithverylittleeffort. As for the young andthe lusty, theywere ready torisk almost anything for herfavours. Anything. Yes, theyhad to consider that. Shewondered what punishmentJohnwould think up for oneofherlovers.

She played with the idea;her looks, her gestures werefullof invitation.Shewanted

a lover whowas prepared totake enormous risks for abriefspellwithher.

The inevitable musthappen.Howthrillingitwas!The secret meeting, lettinghim into her bedchamber,wondering all the time ifanyone had seen. It was themost exciting adventure shehadknownforyears.

Whyhad she been contentwith that ageing man of theviolent temper when therewere handsome young menwho adored her and wereready to risk mutilation forher sake? Mutilation thatwould be the most terribleJohn’s warped mind couldconceive,shewassure.

Life had a new spice forIsabella.

John was pleased with hisswollen exchequer. The cityof London was also pleasedbecausethenewbridgewhichhadtakenthirty-threeyearstobuild had now beencompleted. It was ninehundred and twenty-six feetlong and forty feet wide andsupported by twenty unequalarches. It was indeed a

worthysightandagreatboonto the people. They wereproudofit.

But even the citizens ofLondon were ill at ease andthey talked incessantlyof theInterdict.

Burial in unconsecratedgroundwasbutonecauseforapprehension. To be deniedthecomforttheChurchcould

offer was intolerable to agreatmanypeople,moreover,they feared the wrath ofHeaven on the ungodly ofwhich, if the doors of theChurchhadbeencloseduponthem, it seemed they musthavebecome.Iftheyhadhadtogotowar,whichwasverylikely, there would not havebeen a soldier in the armywho would not have felt a

greatsenseofuneasinessandhave been convinced thatGodcouldnotbeon thesideofmenwhowerethevictimsofthePope’sInterdict.

ItwasallverywelltohavedefiedRomeforawhilebutitshould not continue. Hedecided therefore that if themonksofCanterburyreturnedto England he would allowthem to do so and that he

would be ready to meetStephen Langton to discussmatterswithhim.

Thiswasastepintherightdirection, said the Pope, andit was arranged for StephenLangton to come to Englandin the companyof several ofthe exiled bishops. The Popewas adamant that if theInterdictwastobeliftedJohnwastoobeyallthetermslaid

down by Rome and failingthatHisHolinesswouldhaveno alternative but toexcommunicateJohn.

In due course the threebishops arrivedwith StephenLangton. John met them atthe coast and there was animmediate discussionbetweenthem.

John said that he would

reinstatethemonks;hewouldaccept Stephen Langton asArchbishopbuthewouldnotreceive him or show himfavour.

The bishops replied thatunless John conformed to allthePope’stermshewouldbeexcommunicated.

‘One clause of theagreementmust be fulfilled,’

hewas told, ‘and that is thatyou must return all theconfiscated property to theirrightfulowners.’

The thought of losing allthat he had gained andmeekly giving in infuriatedJohn.

‘Get you gone,’ he cried.‘Tell Innocent toexcommunicate me if he

wishes.Icarenothingforhimnor his threats. I shall keepwhatismineandchiefofmypossessionsistherighttorulethe country of which I amKing. Get back to yourmasterbeforeIamtemptedtogive you your deserts, youtraitors.’

The party left withoutdelay and the result wasexcommunication for the

KingofEngland.

As the effect of theexcommunicationbegantobefelt the King was mad withrage. It brought home moreclearly than anything couldhave done the power of thePope. That the land he ruledshould be in such fear andtrembling of a distant rulerinfuriated him more than

anything possibly could; andhe looked about for victimsonwhomtoventhiswrath.

The Pope’s edict decreedthatallthosewhohadcontactwith the King werethemselves contaminated.Any who obeyed him werethe enemies of Rome andwould suffer accordingly.Whatwerementodo?

When Jeffrey, Archdeaconof Norwich, stood up at theExchequer Table atWestminster and declaredthat since the King wasexcommunicated the Churchforbade any to act in hisname, the King ordered hisarrest.

Jeffrey was placed in adungeon and John himselfcouldnotresistvisitinghim.

‘You served the wrongmaster, Jeffrey of Norwich,’said John. ‘You should havethought twice before doingthat.’

‘My conscience is clear,’answeredJeffreyboldly.

‘Let me tell you this, youtraitor toyourKing,youwillnotlonghaveaconsciencetobeclearorotherwise.’

‘Youcannot intimidatemeinto acceptingwhat a greaterLord than you tells me issinful.’

‘You must be on bettertermswithHim thanyouarewithme,’ said John. ‘Let ussee how He will look afteryouinyouremergency.’

He then left the cell andordered that the Archdeacon

should be laden with chains.‘Iwantacopeoflead,alargeand heavy one, and I orderthatitbecrammeddownoverourpiousArchdeacon’shead.Letitcrushandsuffocatehimwhile he broods on his greatvirtues and his treachery tohisKing.’

This was done and mentalkedofitwithawe.

Allthebishopsandfriendsof Stephen Langton were tobe put into prison and theirlandsandgoodsconfiscated.

‘These churchmen havedone very well forthemselves,’ said John. ‘Andnowtheyaredoingverywellfor me. Thisexcommunication like theInterdicthasitsuses.’

But there was in this acertain bravado because thepeople were turning againsthim. The barons had alwaysbeen seeking a reason forrevolt and they were verypowerful; he feared themevenmore thanhefeared theChurch.

Iftheyweretoturnagainsthimnowandally themselveswith theChurch, his position

might be very difficult. Hedecided therefore that hedemand of the barons thateachofthemshouldsendoneoftheirsonstotheKingasahostage. When the youngmen were in his power hecould be sure of the fidelityoftheirparents.

Whilethisorderwasbeingcarried out Johnwasmakinga progress through the

countrytoassurehimselfthatthepeople realisedhispowerand that he himself was notdeeply concerned over theexcommunication.

Passing through thecountryside he came upon acrowd of people beatingbefore them a man whosehands were tied behind hisback.

The King called: ‘Whathappens here? What is thismanguiltyof?’

‘Heisamurderer,mylord.A thief as well,’ was theanswer. ‘He waylaid a manon the road, robbed him andmurderedhim.Hewascaughtintheact.’

Theman trembled.Fearfulpunishment awaited him. He

would doubtless be hangedon a gibbet. It might be hishands would be cut off. Butperhaps that was too mild apunishment for murder. Hehopeditwouldbethetree,forto have his eyes put outwasworse than death. ‘Who wasthemantheroguemurdered?’askedJohn.

‘Apriest,mylord.’

The King burst outlaughing. ‘Untie his hands,’hesaid.Theyobeyed.‘Comehere,’orderedtheKing.

Themanstoodbeforehim,raising fearful eyes to theKing’sface.

‘Goonyourway,’saidtheKing. ‘You are a free man.You have killed one of myenemies.’

The man bowed low andcried: ‘God’s blessings onyou,mylordKing.’

Andheranoffasfastashecould.

The crowd fell back inastonishment; there was amurmurofdisapproval.

‘What’sthis?What’sthis?’cried the King. ‘If any hasanything to say let him

speak.’

None dared reply. Theyknew tongues could be tornoutforraisingawordagainsttheKing.

People talked of theincident. A murderer hadgone free, pardoned by theKing,becausehisvictimwasapriest.

The family of Braose hadfallen out of favour with theKing since those days whenWilliam de Braose had beenthe custodian of Falaise andhadbeen inchargeofArthurbeforeHubert deBurgh tookover that duty. William, aman of great spirit with atradition of power behindhim,hadalwaysdefendedhisrights,andrulershadrealised

thathiswasnotafamilytobeneglected. When a BraosehadbeenkilledbytheWelsh,it was William who hadinvited a party ofWelshmento his castle as guests, andaftertheyhadpartakenofhishospitality he,withmembersof his family, killed them allasalessontoanywhomightfeel inclined to become theirenemies.

Hehadbeen in theKing’scompanyatRouensoonafterthe death of Arthur and hehad a very shrewd notion asto what had happened to theyoung Duke of Brittany. SohadhiswifeMatilda.Shewasa strong-minded woman; infactitwassaidthattherewasonlyoneperson in theworldof whomWilliam de Braosewas afraid. Although they

were aware that there hadbeen gruesome events atRouentheycouldnotbesureof how the murder had beencarried out; and fierce asMatilda was, her maternalinstincts were strong andwhen she and William hadbeen in charge of Arthur inFalaiseCastleshehadgrownquitefondoftheboy.

She declared: ‘I have

disliked and distrusted Johnever since Arthurdisappeared.’

No matter how earnestlyWilliam might warn her toguard her tongue, Matildawould speak when shewished and the thought ofthatboy’sdeath–perhaps inhorrible circumstances –couldrousehertoanger.

When a quarrel broke outbetween her family and theKing she was not altogetherdispleased. She was not awoman to disguise herfeelings and secretly –although she knew it wasdangerous – she preferred tobe on terms of hostility withJohn rather than those offriendship.At leastshecouldbe honest and, forthright

woman that she was, thatpleasedher.

When John had leviedtaxes on his barons,Williamhadobjectedandfailedtopayand towards the end of theyear1207JohnexpressedhisannoyancethatWilliamowedhim certain monies anddemanded that Williamsurrender his castles of Hay,Brecknock and Radnor as

pledgesforhisdebts.

There was another matterwhich angered John. TheBraoses’ youngest son Gileswas Bishop of Hereford andwhen John wasexcommunicated Giles hadleft England with otherbishops, indicating hisobjection to accepting John’srule and his desire to be onthesideofthePope.

John’s reaction to thiswasto rage against the wholefamily. He could not trustthem any more. William deBraosehadoncebeenaverypowerfulman, and Johnwasdetermined to curtail thatpower; the fact that he hadbeenobligedtogiveupthreeofhiscastleswouldbeagreatblow to him and Johnchuckled to think of how

resentfulhewouldbe.

‘I don’t trust theseBraoses,’ he said. ‘I amdetermined to show themwhoisthemaster.’

They should sendhostageswithout delay, for onlywhenhehad somemembersof thefamilyinhischargewouldhefeelheheldsomepoweroverthem. Matilda de Braose

guessed that something ofthisnaturecouldcomeabout.Shediscussedthematterwithherhusbandanddemandedtoknowwhathe thoughtwouldbecome of their grandsons iftheywereputintotheKing’schargeashostages.

‘Hewill be in duty boundto treat them with honour,’saidWilliam.

‘When did this King everfeelindutybound?’

‘Nevertheless, we shallhavenoalternative.’

Matilda cried out so thatseveralservantsheard:‘Iwillnever allow any son orgrandson of mine to go ashostage to theKing…and Ihave my reasons … verygoodones.’

‘You speak withindiscretion,’ said herhusbandinalarm.

‘Sometimes it is well forcertainmatterstobegivenanairing,’sheretorted.

Again he implored her tobe discreet, but Matilda wasonewhowouldalwaysspeakhermind.

In due course the

messengers from the Kingarrivedatthecastleandaskedto have speech with SirWilliam and his lady. Theyexplained that the King wasnot pleased with the mannerinwhich theywere behavingand he needed two of theirgrandsons to leaveatonce inthechargeofthemessengers.The boys were to come tohim where they would be

treated as became their rank;and their presence wouldensure thegoodbehaviourofthefamily.

Before her husband couldstop her Matilda cried: ‘DoyouthinkIwoulddelivermygrandsons to your master? Iwouldneverdosucha thing.Give up my boys to a manwho murdered his ownnephew!’

There was a brief silence.TheeyesofeveryonepresentwereonMatilda.Sheheldherheaddefiantlyand lookingather husband cried: ‘It’s true.We know it. Others know ittoo. In time thewholeworldwill know it. And I will notputmygrandchildrenintothehandsofsuchamurderer.’

SirWilliamtriedtosilenceher. He laid his hand on her

arm and said: ‘Pray do notspeak thus against the King.If Ihaveoffendedhim Iwillmakegoodmyerrorswithoutthesurrenderofhostages.’

‘TheKing’sordersarethatyougiveyourgrandsons intoourhands.’

‘Never!’ cried Matildastoutly. ‘I will never givethemtohim.Youmaygoand

tellhimthat.’

The messengers left. SirWilliam looked after them,shakinghisheaddolefully.

‘You should never havespokensofreely,’hesaid.

‘I will not give up mygrandchildren to thatmurderer,’reiteratedhiswife.

When the messengers

returned to the King hedemandedtoknowwheretheBraose hostages were. Themessengers replied thatLadydeBraosehadrefusedtogivethemup. ‘Soshedeliberatelydisobeyedme,’criedJohn.

‘Shesaid,mylord,thatshewould not hand her childrentoonewhohadmurderedhisnephew.’

Johnturnedpale;ahorriblesickforebodingtouchedhim.

The ghost of Arthur hadreturned after all this time tomock him. For a fewmoments he could findnothingtosay.Thentherageswept over him; hespluttered: ‘By God’s handsand feet. By God’s ears andmouth … they shall pay forthisandinparticularyou,my

LadyMatilda.’

He shut himself into hischamber;hethrewhimselfonto the floor. He wanted tobang his head against thewall, but he refrained fromdoingthis.Intheshadowsheseemed to see a slim boysmilingathim.Hethoughtofthose lifelesseyeswhen theyhadliftedthebodytothrowitintotheSeine.

Ohyes,Arthur had indeedcomebacktohaunthim.

Hewasworriednow.Matildade Braose had reawakenedthe rumour.Now theywouldbetalkingofitthroughoutthecountry; it would spread tothe Continent. Philip wouldtake it up. Philip had neverreally let it drop, but Philipwas far away and people in

England had not beenparticularly interested in theyoungDuke of Brittany. Butnow they would be talking.He had lost Normandy; aninterdict had been placed onEngland and Wales; he wasexcommunicated; and now ifthis ugly spectre arose theywould hold something elseagainst him. Itwas justwhathisenemiesneeded.

A thousand curses onMatilda de Braose. Sheshould suffer for this; and ifshe were spreading rumoursaboutArthur itwas time shewasremoved.

Realising that themessengers would haverepeated Matilda’s words toJohn, William guessed whataction John would take andthat there was only one way

open to him. Johnwould tryto destroy them, so theymight as well make anattempttoholdwhatwasleftto them. With his sons hedecided to try to recoverthose castles which he hadpledged to John until he hadsettledhisdebts;butJohnhadsuspected he would try this;he therefore declared that hewas a traitor and that the

same name would apply toanywhoassistedhim.

The result was thatWilliamfounditnecessarytoretreat to his Welsh estates,butwhenitbecameclearthatJohnwasdeterminedtoharryhim,heandhisfamilyleftforIreland.

One of his daughters hadmarriedWalterLacy,Lordof

Meath,theeldestsonofHughLacy, one of the conquerorsof Ireland. He had now andthen been at odds with Johnbutwasat this timeon fairlygoodtermswithhim.

In Ireland William feltcomparatively safe but hewas apprehensive about thefate of his possessions inEngland and Wales. WhenJohn knew that he had gone,

he demanded his extradition.The Lacys promised to sendhim back but day after daypassed and still William andhis family remained inIreland.

But John could not forgetthe threats behind Matilda’swords.Thefamilyhatedhim;they were his greatestenemies; and Matilda hadopenly accused him of

murdering Arthur. He couldnot feel at ease until he hadrid himself of that loud-voiced woman. He enjoyedpromising himself what hewoulddotoherwhenhehadher in his power. She mustnot know how she haddisturbed him; there wasnothing she could have saidwhich would have causedhim more uneasiness. Over

the years he had forgottenArthur; people seemed tohave taken it forgranted thathe had disappeared andaccepteditasamystery.Nowshe had to shout forth hermalice.ByGod’s teeth, ifhecouldbutlayhandsonher!

And they were in Ireland.Itwas time the power of theLacys was broken there. Hehad to be watchful, though.

Sometimes he felt that hisbaronswerebandingtogetheragainst him. No man in hiskingdom should have somuch power. Why shouldtheseLacysbehaveasthoughthey were kings of Ireland?How dared they shelter arebelwhenhehaddemandedhebedeliveredtohim?

HewouldgotoIreland.Hewould take the power the

Lacyshadassumed;hewouldshow the people who wastheir rightful ruler; he wouldestablish the supremacy ofthe crownover there; and hewould bring back theBraoses. He would not restuntilhehadmadethatwomanhisprisoner.

When William de Braoseheard that the King hadarrived in Ireland he was

greatlydisturbed.

‘God help us,’ he said toMatilda, ‘if we fall into hishands.’

‘We must see that we donot,’sherepliedfirmly.

John, however, had comewithapowerful armybehindhim and the Irish chiefsflocked to Dublin to payhomage to him; he had no

difficulty in seizing much ofthelandwhichtheLacyshadconsidered theirs;hedeposedthemandsetuphisoldfriendJohn de Grey in their place.He had failed to make himArchbishopofCanterburybutat least he could show hisappreciation of him in someway.

IftherewasonethingJohnenjoyed it was easy triumph

andhehadachievedwhathewantedwith theutmost ease.He could not stay of course.He must return to England;thatwaswhyhesentforJohndeGrey.

‘I do notwish you to stayhere,’ he said. ‘Just longenough to let the people seethat this is the end of theLacys’rule.Itcannotbelongbefore theBraosesare inour

power and when you havethem, I want you to bringthemtomeinEngland.Ihaveplans for this arrogantfamily.’

He could trust John deGrey,whohadalwaysbeenagood friendandnowhad theadded reason for being loyalto John – the promise of theArchbishopric of Canterburywhen the controversy with

thePopeshouldbeover.

John was a little toooptimistic. Matilda was notthe woman to submit easily.ItwasknownthatshewasinresidenceatMeathCastleandJohn’s men besieged thatcastle, their purpose being tocaptureher.Shewastoowilyfor them, for shehadalreadyleft the castle and crossed toScotland.

Infuriated by this, Johnseized William and said hepersonally would conducthimtoEngland.

John realised that he hadnot finished with thetroublesome family so far.When they crossed toEngland William escaped toone of his strongholds inWales and there declaredopen war on the King. John

was maddened. It was thewoman he wanted. She wasthe one who was going tospreadthescandalallovertheworld. Shewas the onewhowould tell the world that hehadmurderedArthur.

ItwasaroughjourneywhichMatilda and her eldest sonWilliam undertook, and itseemedtothemboththatthey

had escaped one peril for anevengreaterone.Clinging tothesidesoftheboattheyhadlittle inclination to think ofanything but immediatesurvival, but when the boatfinallydidreachthesafetyofGalloway her first thoughtswere of what might havehappenedtoWilliam.

‘Hehasbeenlessfortunatethanwehave,’shesaidtoher

son. ‘I shudder to think ofwhat will happen to him inthehandsofthattyrant.’

‘Father is clever,’ said theyounger William. ‘It maywellbethathewillthinkofawayofoutwittingtheKing.’

‘John has so much on hisside. It won’t always be so,William. Rebellion isgrowing throughout the

country. He is dislikedeverywhere. The barons areready to rise against him.Yourfatherisoneofthefirstofmany.Thedaywill come,youwill see,when Johnwillbeforced to listen to thewillofthosehecallshissubjects.’

‘Wewillhopeso,Mother.’

‘Itmustbeso. Ionlywishthattheywouldbandtogether

nowandcome to rally roundyourfather.Whataleaderhewouldmake!’

Wherecouldtheygonow?she wondered. They hadreached Scotland but it didnot seem a very hospitableland.

A party of fisherfolk whohad seen their arrival cameouttoseewhotheywereand

when they realised that theywere people of quality, theytook them into their homesandgavethemfood.

One of their partywent totell Duncan of Carrick thattheywere there and he cameto greet them andoffer themhospitalityofakindsuitedtotheir rank. Gladly theyaccepted.

Matilda toldhimwho theywere and why they hadescaped so hurriedly fromIreland; he listened closely,nodding sympathetically but,when theyhadretiredfor thenight and being exhaustedsoonfellintoadeepsleep,hesent a messenger to Englandasking what should be donewiththem.

The answer came back

promptly.

Thus it was that whileWilliam,havingseen thathisposition in Wales wasuntenable,hadfledtoFrance,Matilda and her eldest sonwere delivered into John’shands.

They were taking her toWindsor.Sheknewitwell.

What would he do to herthere? Imprison her in adungeon? She held her headhigh. Whatever he did hewouldnotintimidateher.Shewasnotafraidofhim.Hewasa coward, she told her sonWilliam, who rode with her,and it was always a mistaketoshowfeartocowards.

Windsor, she thought,where theSaxonshadbuilt a

palace, and which in thosedays was known asWindlesofra or Windleshorabecause of theway inwhichthe Thames wound throughthe countryside. There weresome who said its name hadcomeaboutbecausetravellershad to be ferried over theriverwitharopeandpoleandpeople had said, ‘Wind usovertheriver.’Itwasableak

spot andMatilda thought therealoriginofthenamemightwell be ‘Wind is Sore’,referring to the bleakness ofthegaleswhichassaulted theplaceinwinter.

EdwardtheConfessorusedto keepCourt here butwhenWilliam theConqueror camehe had set his mark on theplace as he had donethroughout England, and

therewastheRoundTowertoproclaim it. It was his sonHenry I who had built achapel there and made it aresidence.

Johnsecretlywatchedtheirarrival, chortling with glee.Now, my proud lady, hethought, you will be a littlelessbold,alittlelessinclinedto spread calumniesconcerningme.

His mouth tightened. Ofonethinghemustmakesure.She was never to leave thisplacealive.

Hesentforthemandwhenthey stood before him henotedthatshewasasarrogantas ever, although her sonWilliam looked a littlesubdued. He wished that itwasherhusbandhehadthere.He had cleverly made his

escape.Nomatter, itwas thewoman hewantedmost. Shewas the one who had madetrouble and, he doubted not,ledherhusbandintoit.

He dismissed the guardsforhedidnotwantanyonetohear any reference to Arthurwhich he feared she mightmake.Somewomenmightbea little humble in herdesperate position, but one

could not be sure ofMatildadeBraose.

John looked at her slyly,keepingherstandingwhilehesprawled in his throne-likechair.

‘So we meet at last,’ hesaid. ‘By God’s ears, Ithought we never should.FirstyouareinWales,theninIreland and finally in

Scotland. You lead awanderinglife,mylady.’

‘It was no wish of mine,my lord, that I wandered somuch.Ishouldhavepreferredto remain in my rightfulcastle of Hay, or that ofBrecknockorRadnor.’

The impertinence of thewoman!Ifhewerenotafraidof her and what harm she

might do him hemight havefounditinhishearttoadmireher.

‘And now you have cometo rest atWindsor. It pleasesme to see you here as myguest.’

Hesavoured the lastword.Heisadevil,shethought.Hewill murder us as hemurderedArthur.

‘I trust you feel a likepleasure,’ he added, smilingsardonically; and when shewas silent he went on: ‘Youdonotanswerme,mylady.Imust tell you that when Ispeak I expect to beanswered.’

‘Ithoughtyoudidnotwantan answer which must beobvious.’

‘Youarenotpleased tobemy guest,’ he said. ‘But youwhoareusuallymosteagertospeak your mind should sayso.’

‘And trust I always shallbe.Iwasneveronetosayonethingandmeananother.’

‘Iknowitwell,soIbelievedid that husband of yours.You’reaforcefulwoman,my

lady.’

Shebowedherhead.

‘Andnowyoustandbeforeme,’ he went on, ‘knowingthat you have been speakingill of me. That should giveyoucausetotremble.’

‘I speak nothing but thetruth.’

‘Thatisforustodecide.’

‘Nay,my lord, it is for theworldtodothat.’

‘You are an insolentwoman,’hecried.

She knew that she waslooking straight into the faceofdeathbutsheshruggedhershoulders almostnonchalantly.

‘Ihavesaidthatwhichhasoffendedyou,’ she said, ‘and

IcarenotbecauseIknowittobe the truth. If it is not so,whereisArthurofBrittany?’

‘You have not come hereto question me. Rememberyou are my prisoner. Youstand there with your son.Your husband has desertedyou.’

‘Nay,’ she said, ‘we havebeen parted through evil

circumstances. He is not themantodeserthiswife.’

‘You contradict me ateveryturn.’

‘IhavetoldyouthatIshallspeakthetruth.’

‘Very brave, very brave.Save your bravery, my lady.Youaregoingtoneedit.’

‘I know that well. I have

spoken outright what hasbeen in people’sminds thesemany years – in fact eversince the night when ArthurdisappearedfromthecastleofRouen.Youcannotkeepyoursinasecretforever,mylord.’

John began to shout.‘Guards. Guards. Take thismanandwoman.Puttheminone of the dungeons. I shalldecide then what shall be

donewiththem.’

The guards came in.Matilda went out, stillholding her head high, andher eyes flashed scorn at theKingandalthoughshedidnotspeak, her lips formed thewordMurderer.

How could he punish them?When he thought of that

woman his rage was almostout of control. He had to becareful though. William deBraose was still free. Whatcouldhedoifhemaimedhiswife – put out her eyes ormore appropriately cut outher tongue? The spectre ofArthur seemed very real atthat moment. Was he nevergoing to forget Arthur? Thebarons were growing more

andmorerebellious.Caution,whisperedhisgoodsense.

Of one thing he wascertain. Matilda de BraoseshouldneverleaveWindsor.

‘Take these two to adungeon,’ he said. ‘See thattheyarefettered.Letthembekeptinthesamedungeon.’

He smiled to himself.There they couldwatch each

other’s misery which wouldbeanaddedtorment.

His wishes wereimmediatelycarriedout.

Each day he wondered howthey fared. How could theybe living in that cell fromwhich there was no escape?They had no food and eventhe valiantMatilda could not

live for ever withoutsustenance.

He thought of her withpleasureeverymorningwhenhe awoke and sat at table.Succulent flesh, richpastry–hetookgreatdelightinthem,more especially because heknew that proudMatilda andhersonwerestarving.

Aftertwoweekshesenthis

guards down to the dungeonto see what had happened.They were both dead. Theson had died first and in heragonythemotherhadgnawedat his flesh in the veryextremitiesofstarvation.

John laughed aloud whenheheard.

So died proud Matilda!Thatwouldbealessontoany

who thought they couldaccuse him of his nephew’smurder.

But it proved otherwiseandafterthedeathofMatildade Braose the whisperingstarted up as fresh as it hadbeen at the time of Arthur’sdeath.

I

ChapterXIV

THEVIRGINOFDUNMOW

nthecastleofGloucester,Isabella was delivered ofher third child. This time

it was a girl and she was

christened Joanna. Havingborne three children in thespace of three years Isabellafeltthatshecouldgiveherselfa rest from childbirth. Sheloved her children but hernature made her moreinterested in the sexual sideofmarriagethanthematernal.

ShewasgrowingmoreandmoredisenchantedwithJohn.Shecouldstillattracthimina

way, although naturally thetremendous appeal she hadhad for him had slackened alittle. He liked to adddifferent flavours to hisactivities and as he grewolder his desires did notdiminish.

It was always a daringadventureforaqueentotakelovers because of thepossibility of children.Royal

children should be those ofthe King, for illegitimateoffspringcouldcauseendlesstrouble. Isabella was royalenough to be aware of this.But having presented Johnwith three children she feltshehadearnedalittlerespiteand there were one or twopersonablemenonwhomshehadcastspeculativeeyes.

Her inborn fascination for

the opposite sex had to begreat indeedfor themtodarerisk the dangers whichdiscovery would mean. Asgentlemen of the Court theywouldhaveexperiencedfromtimetotimethemadwrathofthe King and although hemight think it perfectlynatural for him to take amistresswhereverhefancied,he would certainly not offer

thesamelibertytohisQueen.

Therefore to one ofIsabella’s character thethought of infidelity wasirresistible.Johnwasabsentagreat deal and opportunitiesofferedthemselves.

Therewereoneortwomenwho were ready to take therisk, Isabella discovered,when she looked about the

Courtforlikelypartnerswithwhom she could spend hernights. They did not have tobe of high birth; their onlyqualifications were theirsexual prowess and theircourage.

There were not a greatnumber who had both; butshe did find the occasionalmanwhowaspreparedtoriskeverythingforherfavours.

Life was spiced withexciting adventure forIsabella.

John was becoming a littlesuspicious of Isabella. Therewas something slyabouther.When theymet theywere asamorous as ever and nomatter what women heencountered none of themcould really compare with

Isabella.He had set spies onhis wife where she wouldleast expect to find them butstillnothinghadcometolightaboutthelovershesuspectedheroftaking.

Sometimeshewouldlaughtohimselftothinkofherwiththembutatothersthethoughtwould send him into a madrage.Itwoulddependagreatdeal on his mood of the

moment, though he knew ofcourse that if he ever hadactual proof of her infidelityhewouldbefurious.

Meanwhile, he soughtladies to amuse him.Sometimes theywerewilling– in fact they almost alwayswere – out of fear of histemper or obsessionwith thehonour of being noticed bythe King. But it was the

reluctant ones who werebeginningtoattracthimmoreandmore.

WhenhecametoDunmowCastle to be entertained byone of his leading barons,Robert FitzWalter, thebaroniallordofDunmowandBaynard’s Castle, he metRobert’s daughter Matilda.Thatthegirlwasavirginwasobvious fromoneglimpseof

her, for she was very youngand her mother had guardedher well. Moreover, she wasthe prettiest creature he hadseen for a long time and justthe sort to soothe thosenagging doubts aboutIsabella’sfidelitywhichbesethimfromtimetotime.

RobertFitzWalterwasoneof the most important of thebarons and his possession of

Baynard’sCastlecarriedwithit the hereditary office ofstandardbearertotheCityofLondon which meant ofcourse that he was regardedhighlybythecitizens.Hewasa great merchant and ownedseveral ships; he was alsoengagedinthewinetradeandbecause of his importance asabarontheKinghadgrantedhim several privileges which

were useful to him in hisbusiness.

And now having seen hehad this fair daughter, Johnwas prepared to honourRobertFitzWalterevenmore.

As they rode together inthe hunt in the forest ofDunmow John brought hishorse close to that of RobertFitzWalter and said: ‘By

God’seyes,Walter,youhaveafairdaughter.’

Those words accompaniedby the leer on John’s facewere enough to make anyfatheranxious.

‘My lord,Matilda is but achild.’

‘Afairone,forsooth.’

‘Yes, her mother has

brought her up verycarefully.’

Johnlickedhislips.Hehada great fancy at this time forvirgins.‘SoIsee,anditdoesher credit. Your lady wifewill be pleased to hear thattheKingadmiresher.’

Robert FitzWalter did notanswer, knowing full wellthatthatwasthelastthinghis

lady wife wished to hear.Lady FitzWalter was awoman of strong characterand stern morals who hadbrought up her daughterfirmlyinthelightofherownbeliefs.

‘Iwilltellher,’saidRobertquietly.

‘Praydo.Imayextendmyvisit to Dunmow, Robert. I

like the place. It pleases me…asdoesyourdaughter.’

When the King talked insuchamannertherewasonlyone thing to do. RobertFitzWalter immediatelysought out his wife and toldherwhattheKinghadsaid.

Sheturnedpale.

‘This is terrible.What canwedo?’

‘Iknownot.’

‘I shall never give mydaughtertothatlecher.’

‘Itisimpossible.’

‘I would prefer to diedefendingher.’

‘RememberwhathappenedtoMatildaBraose.Starvedtodeathinadungeon.’

‘Thisman is a vile tyrant,

Robert.’

‘Iknowitwell.Thebaronshaveknownitforyears.Theywill not endure his villainiesmuchlonger.’

‘But not in time to saveMatilda. Our little girl,Robert! I feel illcontemplatingit.’

‘Iknow.Iknow.’

‘I’ll take her away. We’llleave at once. You must tellhim I have taken her on avisit … you can say it iswithout your permission. Infact it is better that you do,forhemightturnhiswrathonyou ifyoudonot.TellhimIhavetakenherawayandyouknew nothing of it. That Ioftendoitperhaps, thatIama disobedient arrogant wife.

Tellhimthatandthatyoudonot know where we havegone.’

‘It’s the only way,’ saidRobert.‘Whoknows,ifsheisout of his sight some otherpoor girl might take hisfancy.’

Lady FitzWalter lost notime. She sent for herdaughter and told her to

prepare fora journeyatonceandtobesurenottomentiontoanyonethatshewasgoing.

ThusLadyFitzWaltertookher daughter from the CastleofDunmow.

At supper that night Johnasked where Robert’s wifeanddaughterwere.

‘They have gone on avisit.’

‘While I am here?’ criedJohn.

‘My lord, my wife is amostcontentiouswoman.’

‘By God’s ears, Robert, itisaninsulttome.’

‘I trustyouwillnot take itassuch,mylord.’

‘ToleavewhentheKingishere!Whyso,man,whyso?’

‘It seems my wife hadarranged thisvisit andwouldlet nothing – not even yourpresence – prevent herdeparture.’

‘Youhavemarriedascold,RobertFitzWalter.’

‘Ifearso,mylord.’

‘Yet I would not havethoughtyouameekman.’

‘We don different faces,mylord,byourownfireside.’

‘’Tis true. I have seen theboldest men cowards beforetheirwives.’

‘Then here you see yetanother.’

John laughed aloud. Hewasingoodspiritsitseemed.Robert was delighted. Hiswife’s ruse had worked and

John was already lookingroundatotherwomen.

He did not know thatJohn’s men had made himaware of the departure ofLady FitzWalter and herdaughter and he had laidplans that they should beintercepted on their way.Lady FitzWalter should beallowed to return to the lordwho declared he was in awe

of her, but the delectabledaughtershouldbecarried toa place of John’s choosingwhere she could await hiscoming.

The following day John leftDunmowandshortlyafterhisdeparture Lady FitzWalterreturned. She was sodistraught that she couldhardly tell her husband what

hadhappened.Theirdaughterhad been abducted and shewas in great fear as to whatwas happening to her. Theyhad not ridden far from thecastlewhen theymet a partyof men riding towards them.Themenstoppedandaskedifthey were near DunmowCastle.

‘I toldthemthat theywerevery close,’ said Lady

FitzWalter,‘andIaskedwhattheirbusinesswas.Theleaderofthemenbowedandsaidheknew he had the pleasure ofaddressing Lady FitzWalterand her fair daughter. Thatwas the sign. It was terrible,Robert … a nightmare. Twoof them seized Matilda’shorse and started to drag itaway. She cried out but bythattimeIwassurroundedby

them, and her horse wasgallopingawaywithherwithtwo of these scoundrels.Someofourmengavechasebut they were followed byothers of the party whosehorses were fleeter thantheirs. Therewas a fight andseveralof themwere injured.Oh, Robert, they have takenMatilda.’

‘OhGod,’criedRobert,‘it

cannotmean…’

They looked at each otherinhorror.

‘How was he… when heknew we had gone?’ askedLadyFitzWalterfearfully.

‘Calm, jocular.He did notseemputout.’

‘Coulditpossiblybe…?’

Theydarednotanswerthat

question.

It was one of his smallercastles,notveryfarfromthatof Dunmow. It amused himthat it should be so near thehomeofherparentsandtheynotknowit.Heexpectedshewould be terrified. Whatwould she be like when sheknew who had ordered thatshe be brought here? They

couldsaywhattheyliked,allwomenwereatheartreadytoplease the King. It meantsomething to them to take aroyal lover. She might bereluctant at first but not forlong.

Her mother would beoutraged. Foolish woman!Didshenotknowthathewasconferring an honour on herdaughter?

Ashe rode to thecastle toconfront the young girl hewas thinking of her mother.What impudence to haveremoved the girl in that waybecausesheknewthathehaddesigns on her. Had sheforgottenwhat had happenedtoMatildaofBraose?Didshethinkthatbecauseshewasthewife of a powerful andsomewhat forceful man she

could act against him withimpunity?Matilda deBraosehad been the wife of a mostinfluential man – though hehad fallen low – and LadyFitzWalter should considerher.

By God’s ears he wouldhumiliate that woman whereit hurt her most. He wouldshowher that hermeek littledaughter came to him

willingly.Hewouldmakethegirl eager for him.Hewouldflaunt their lust before thatprimwoman. It was the bestway of dealing with her. Soashe rodealonghemadeuphis mind that he would notforce this youngMatilda.Hewouldmakehercometohimofherownfreewill.Thenhewouldtellhermotherthisandindeed the prospect of the

mother’s anguishwould givehimasmuchpleasure–ifnotmore – than the defloweringofthedaughter.

With this firm resolutionhe arrived at the castle andwent at once to the chamberwheretheyhadputthegirl.Itwas in one of the turrets –approached by a stone spiralstaircase – a safe refuge forher.Shewouldnotbeableto

escape from this place veryeasily.Thatwasthelastthingshe must do. If she did theywould secrete her abroadsomewhere, find refuge inFrance most likely. Thatwould not be difficult, forPhilip was master across theChannel now and whatpleasure he would take infresh scandal about his oldenemy! He would make the

most of it, honour the girl,take her to his Court, nodoubt find a noble husbandforherandholdherupasanexample of John’swickedness; he would revivethemurderofArthur.Reviveit!Hehadneverletitdie!

But hewould not think ofArthur now. The years werepassinganditwaslongsincethe day the boy had died.

Whowouldhave thought thescandal could have survivedso long? But now he wasinterestedinthattastymorsel,thevirginMatilda.

Shestoodupasheentered.By God’s teeth, he thought,she is a beautiful creature.Her eyes were wide, dilatedwith terror. She would haveheard stories no doubt of themonsterhewasreputedtobe.

She clasped her handstogether in front of her, asthough to guard her bodyfromhim,orperhapstotrytohide the fact that they weretrembling. Silly, frightenedcreature!Shewassograceful.Like a deer startled by theapproach of the huntsmen,poised for flight. But whereto, my pretty? Out of thewindow?Down, down to the

ground below, that exquisitebodybruised and tornby theroughstonewallsasshefell?No,Ihaveotherplansforit.

‘You must not be afraid,Matilda,’hesaid,smiling.

Toheritwasanevilsmilealthough he had meant it tobereassuring.

‘YoumustnotbeinaweofmebecauseIamyourKing.’

She continued to gaze athim,speechlesswithfear.

‘You must speak to mewhen I addressyou,Matilda.It is not goodmanners to dootherwise–particularlywhenyou are confronted by yourKing.’

She swallowed andstammered: ‘I … havenothing to say except to beg

youtoletmegohome.’

‘Allingoodtime,’hesaid.‘ButI’lltellyouthis,Matilda,there will come a day whenyouwill begme not to sendyou away. You will ask menot to send you back to thedull home of your fatherwhere your mother standscontinual guard over you.Youwillsay:IlovemyKing.IwishtoservemyKinginall

ways. Iwish to be a joy andcomforttohim.’

He put his hands on hershoulders and felt the tremorrunthroughher.

Foolish child! he thought.It was a pity she was sopretty. He would have likedtohaveshouted:Gohome toyour mother, you silly littlething. There are women a

thousand times moreattractive than you are whowelcomeme.

It was her youth thatappealed to him. She wasabout the age Isabella hadbeenwhenshehadfirstcometohim.Howdifferentshehadbeen! This child knewnothingofthepassionofmenlikehimselfexcepttodistrustand fear it; how different

from his gay adventurousIsabella who had longed toexperiment with everythingthatwasnew.

A great yearning for thedayswhenhehadfirstknownIsabella came to him. To beyoungwith Isabella. To startagain. Oh, he would haveactedjustthesame.WhentheMarshal and the baronswarned him that he was

losing his dominions hewouldstillhavestayedinbedwithIsabella.

There would never beanyone to replace Isabella.This foolish shrinkingvirgin,what had she? She had beennurturedbythatstrictwomanwhose main desire had beentoprotect her.What pleasurecould therebe in this child–excepttherapeofinnocence?

Hehadhadplentyofthat.

He wanted Isabella. Hewanted to be youngwith heragain. What was she doingnow? Had she taken lovers?She was not the sort ofwoman to livewithout them.Andthatslynessabouther…that acceptance of hisinfidelitieswhichhadangeredherinthefirstplace?

ButwhywashethinkingofIsabella herewith this lovelyyounggirlbeforehim?

It was not that he wantedthechildsomuchas toscoreoverthemother.

‘Now, Matilda,’ he said,‘you and I are going to befriends. Iwill showyouhowtogettheutmostpleasureoutof life. You would like that

wouldyounot,mydear?’

She had closed her eyesandhethoughtshewasgoingtofaint.

‘Please …’ she began.‘Pleaseletmego.’

He put his arms about herandkissedherroughlyonthelips. She gave out a cry ofanguish.

The impulse came to rapethe girl and get it over, sendher back to her mother andhopehehadnotgotherwithchild, for a weak creature itwouldbewithsuchamother.

Heshookherroughly.

‘You silly girl,’ he said.‘You are afraid of what youdonotknow.’

Her frightened eyes were

staringatthedoor.Therewasno one there; she wasthinkingofescape.

He said softly: ‘No use,Matilda, there isnowayout.There is a guard at the doorandothersonthestairs.’

She showed a spark ofspirit then. ‘Would they notbe doing you better serviceguardingyourpossessions?’

‘You are my possession,littleMatilda,’hesaid.‘Asallmy subjects are. Subjects,remember! That means theyaresubjecttomywill.’

‘Myfather…’

‘Your father, oh, he is avery powerful baron but heand your mother will learnthat there is none morepowerfulthantheKing.’

Her eyes appealed to himtoreleaseher.Oddlyenough,beautifulasshewaswithherlarge eyes like a doe’s, shedid not arouse him. HowdifferentfromIsabella’slong,languorous eyes. She wasunformed – attractive in away.HowwasitIsabellahadmanaged to bevoluptuous inherimmaturity?

Why did he not take the

girl and have done with it?Because he did not want to.Hewantedtorevengehimselfonhermother.Thatwoman’sdefiance of him could rousemorepassioninhimthanthischild’sobviouscharms.

Hewouldwooher;thenhewould make the motheraware of her daughter’sdepravity.

‘You should not be afraid,Matilda,’ he said. ‘I have afancy for you, ’tis true. Butyou have been listening toevil tales of me. It is a sadfact that a king is oftenmaligned. There are rumoursabout him, his deeds areexaggerated. You fear mebecause you have heardwhispers, have you not?Confessit,littleone.’

Shenodded.

‘I have to convince youthatyouhavebeenmisled,doI not? I shall have to showyouhowdifferent I am fromthe man they led you tobelieveme to be.Let us talknow of your home and yourfamily. You shall tell mewhatyoubestliketodo.’

‘I best like to be with my

mother.’

‘Ho,thatisbaby’stalk.Weare at our mother’s kneewhenwe are children, but aswegrowolderwe realisewecannot spend the rest of ourlives there. You will findinterests away from yourmother and I am going toteachyou.’

He took her hand and led

her to a bench. He sat therebeside her and put his armsabout her. He felt her wholebody shrink and itmadehimwanttoshoutathernottobea fool or he would give hersomething to be frightenedabout. But he restrainedhimself by thinking of theinsolence of her mother insnatchingherawayfromhimasshehaddone.Nobodywas

going to treat him like that.Did she think that becausePhilip of France hadhumiliated him, that hissubjectscould?

Be calm, he admonishedhimself. You are going torevenge yourself in full onthatwoman.

He talked to Matildaquietly, of his journeys

throughEngland.Hewasnotsure that she was listeningand when he rose to go hebelieved she had ceased tofear him asmuch as she hadwhenhearrived.

Itwas a difficult taskhehadset himself, but havingembarkedon ithedecided togoon.Hestayedinthecastletobenearher,expectingthat

inashorttimehewouldhavebeguiled her into acceptinghim of her free will as alover. That was what hewanted.Hewould say to hermother: Here is yourdaughter. My willingmistress.Isitnotso,mydearMatilda? And she wouldblush and stammer, for shehadbeenbroughtupnevertotella lie–and thatwouldbe

theultimatetriumph.

It had to happen thatway.Hehaddetermineditshould.

Therewere timeswhen helosthistemperwithher.

‘Matilda, you like me,don’tyou?’

Her foolish answer was:‘YouaretheKing.’

‘Whatdoesthatmean?’

‘That it would be treasonnotto.’

‘And you know whathappenstothosewhocommittreason,mychild?’

Shehungherhead.

Oh, she was a foolishcreature. He could imagineIsabella in suchcircumstances. How shewould relish such a game as

this.

On the day he tried tomake love to her, she begantoshoutforhelp.

More folly. As if anyonewould come to her aidwhenthey knew who her assailantwas. If it wasn’t for hermotherhewouldlethergo.

Fear had changed her alittle. It had made her grow

up. She might developfeelings, desires. She mightrealisethattherewasexcitingadventure outside her quiethome. He imagined themarriage which would beplanned for her. A powerfulnobleman with estates,carefully chosen by themother; someonewhowouldbring wealth to the darlingdaughter and be gentle with

her. ItwoulddohernoharmtobetheKing’smistressfirst.Shewouldgotoherhusbandwiserandmoreable toenjoyhermarriedlife.

Every time he visited hersheshrankfromhim.Shewasnever going to come to himwillingly.Hehadtomakeuphis mind whether he shouldtake her by force or give up.Giveherbacktothatwoman.

Virtuetriumphant.Never!

He tried to talk to herreasonably. ‘How can I besuch an ogre when I am sopatient?’

That made a littleimpression, for she was wellawareofwhathemighthavedone.

‘See how I seek to wooyou! I am tender and kind. I

have toldyouhow I came toyour father’s castle and sawyou and loved you for yourbeauty. You are a verybeautifulgirl,Matilda.Ihaverarely seen one as lovely asyou. But you are unformed,you are a child.Your beautyneeds tomature.You need alover…akingforalover.’

Butwhatwastheuse?

Shewasadamant.

One day, she stood by thewindow and said: ‘If youcome near me I will throwmyselfout.’

He looked at her in alarmandheknewshemeantit.

It was no use. She wouldnever give in willingly. Herfamilywouldbesearchingfor

her. He didn’t trustFitzWalter. He was toopowerful; he was the sort ofman who would lead thebaronstorevolt.Allthesamehe was not going to allowFitzWalter’swifetodictatetohim.

And what if theydiscovered the whereaboutsoftheirdaughter?Itwouldn’tbe difficult in the present

state of affairs for them toleadthebaronstoherrescue.

Hepictureditwithdismay.All those who had beenmurmuringagainsthimforsolong, settingoutagainsthim.Therecouldbecivilwar.

He had had enough ofMatilda. She would nevergive inwillingly.He did notwant just another rape. He

hadhadenoughofthat,andithad ceased to appeal as itoncehad.

What then? Return her toherparents?Never.

Butberidofherhemust.

He sent for one of thecooks, a good fellow whomhe knew would do a greatdeal if rewarded for it; andwith such a task one was

comparatively safe becausealthough he had ordered it,the act had actually beencommitted by someone elsewho was as involved as hewas.

It was so easy. A hintwhich was immediatelytaken.

During the day youngMatildawas taken ill.Before

the night was out she wasdead.

It was later said by thosewhoattendedonher that shehad become affected aftereatinganegg.

He sent her body back toDunmow and the young girlwas laid to rest in LittleDunmowChurch.Hermother

wept bitter tears of anguishand could not stop herselfgoing over and over thatmomentontheroadwhenherdaughter had been snatchedfromher.

What could I have done?she asked herself. I shouldhave gonewith her. I shouldhave died rather than let hergo.

Butitwasnouseweeping.Matildalayinhertomb,poorchild, and no tears couldbringherback.

‘I shall never forget this,’cried Robert FitzWalter. ‘IshallberevengedonJohn.Heshall suffer for this. He willwishhehadneverdaredharmmyfamily.’

‘What can we do?’ cried

hiswife. ‘Nothingwill bringMatildaback.’

FitzWaltercoulddoagreatdeal. His hatred burned sofiercelyinhimthatitbecameaninspiration.

J

ChapterXV

ASUBSTITUTEFORTHE

BEDCHAMBER

ohncouldnothelpbutbeawarethat thepositionofthe King of England had

deteriorated alarminglyduring his reign. The greatbogeywasPhilipAugustusofFrance, who having takenpossession of Normandy andmuch of John’s possessionsoverseas was in fact nowcasting his eyes on Englanditself, and much as Williamthe Conqueror had gazedlongingly across theChannelbefore the invasion, so now

looked Philip Augustus ofFrance.

Hereasoned thatJohnwasno great adversary. Howdifferent it would have beento faceRichard or his father,Henry II. He felt no suchqualms about John. A kingwhohadsportedinbedwhenhiskingdomwasinjeopardy,who had lost the heritage ofhis great ancestors, whose

country was under interdictand who himself wasexcommunicated seemed tohave placed himself in apositionofwhichitwouldbefolly for his enemies not totakeadvantage.

So Philip began to amassan army with the idea thatwhen the time was ripe hewould cross theChannel andtake the English crown from

John.

EvenJohnmustbealarmedat this prospect. The loss ofContinental possessionsmeant a respite fromperpetual fighting, but theloss of England would beintolerable. He would be nolongeraking.

He could not now be idleandspendhalfthedayinbed.

He did not wish to. He wastravelling about the countrymost of the time, takingwomen where he fanciedthemandenjoyingvariety.

He made an arrangementwith fiveof the chief tradingportsinthecountrytosupplyhim with ships. These wereDover, Romney, Hythe,HastingsandSandwichwhichwere known as the Cinque

Ports. Later Rye andWinchelseawereaddedtotheoriginal five. He demandedfromDovertwenty-oneships,fromRomneyfive,HytheandSandwichfiveeachandfromHastings twenty.Aswith theships came the men to manthem, this was ofconsiderable importance tohim. In support for the fleetof ships John was willing to

grantcertainprivileges.

This was a fair enougharrangement and specialprivilegesweregrantedtothetowns, and their merchantswereknownasbarons.

But John was in urgentneed of funds and he setabout getting these throughwhat he called ‘fines’. If aman was accused of some

misdemeanour it becamepossibletobuyhiswayoutofhis just punishment. ‘Bribes’wouldhavebeenabetterwayofdescribingtheseinequities.

The Jewshadalwaysbeenpersecuted and because theyhad a talent for amassingmoney, they became one ofJohn’s special targets. Hegave an order that all Jewswere to be imprisoned that

theymightonthepaymentofcertain sums of money beallowed to go free.Understandably reluctant topartwiththeirworldlygoods,manyof themrefused,whichso aroused the King’s wraththat he ordered them to betortured.Hemadeitclearthatthey could preservethemselvesfromthesehorrorsby the payment of certain

sums. From one rich Jew ofBristol the King asked for apayment of ten thousandmarks–agreatfortunewhichwas all he possessed. Whenthe Jew refused to pay Johnthemoney, theKing orderedthateachdayoneofhisteethshould be pulled out until hehad paid the sum. For sevendays the Jewheldoutbutbythe end of that time he

decided that he would partwith his fortune rather thanendurethebrutalextractions.

John was constantlythinking of new ways ofgettingmoney. If twopeopledisputedoverapieceof landwhich theydidoftenenough,the onewho gave the biggerpresenttotheKingwouldgetthe land. It was not onlymoney which was passed to

the King in this manner;cattle, jewellery, anything ofvaluecamehisway.

It was often necessary toget the King’s consent tomarriage if the bride was anheiress, and this proved avaluable source of income tothe King. Geoffrey deMandeville wanted to marryHadwisa, John’s first wifewhomhehaddiscarded; she,

stillarichwoman,wasaverygood catch and theprospective bridegroom gavethe King twenty thousandmarks for his permission.Often a little profitablebartering took place and inthecaseof thewidowofoneStephen Falconbridge,RicharddeLeegavetheKingeighty marks for hispermission tomarry the lady

which John accepted withalacrity. The widow,however,hadotherplansandoffered John one hundredpounds sterling if he wouldwithdraw his permission,which John on the receipt ofthe money obligingly did. Ifheheardthatacertainwidowhad no wish to marry hewould set about finding ahusband for her that she

might offer a sum of moneyto be excused frommatrimony. The Countess ofWarwick gave him athousand pounds and tenpalfreysthatshemightbeleftinpeace.

There was no excuse toowild which was not used toextract money. Cities wereexpected to give bribes thatthey might conduct their

businessinamannersuitedtothem. London itself gavefortymarks that itmight sellcloth at a certain length; andthe Bishop of Norwich who,asabribe,presentedtheKingwith an emerald ring, wasfined for delivering it at aninconvenient time whenotherswerepresent.

Anyone who possessedanythingwhich could benefit

the King found himselfrobbed of it and John took acynical pleasure in thinkingupmethodsofextraction.

It was not to be expectedthatthepeoplewouldmeeklyendure this state of affairs.The barons were growingrestive and more and morepeople were askingthemselves and each otherwhether they had been

unwiseinwelcomingJohnasKing when they might havehad young Arthur; and thatraised thequestion:Where isArthur? And there was agrowing conviction that Johnknewtheanswertothatriddleand had in fact taken andplayed a brutal part in theyoungDuke’sdisappearance.

John,whilenotunawareofthe resentment growing up

around him, yet maintainedan indifference to it. Hewasthe King. They mustremember it.Moreover, therewasa threat toEnglandfromoverseas and he neededmoney to prepare himself tomeet it. He refused to allowhimselftobeperturbedbytheresentments which weregrowinguparoundhim.

His arrogance was

becomingintolerabletomanyandthebaronstalkedtogetherinsecretofthestatetowhichhewas reducing the country.His bursts of energy weredisconcerting, followed astheywereby longperiodsofslothfulness. He wasunpredictable; he could bequite amusing and witty atone time but the violenttemper could suddenly

overtake him so that no onereallyfeltsafeforlonginhiscompany.

His licentiousness had notdecreasedwithhisyears,andin his new mood he did nothesitate to demandacquiescence wherever hisfancy rested. It might be aserving girl or it could aseasily be the wife of one ofthe high-ranking barons – it

madenodifferencetoJohn;ifhe desired a woman heexpectedalltorememberthathe was the King who mustnotbecrossed.

Thus itwaswhenhis eyesfell on thewife of theBarondeVesci.

Eustace de Vesci hadserved Richard well and hadfollowedhimonhiscrusade;

after Richard’s death he hadgiven his allegiance to Johnandwas becomingmore andmore horrified to discoverhowdifferenthewasfromhisbrotherandfather.

Vesci was one of thosebarons who had beencensorious of John’s rule insecret;buthewasaboldmanand did not intend to go onacceptingsuchconductonthe

partoftheKing.

He had a great deal ofinfluenceinScotlandbecausehis wife Margaret was theillegitimate daughter ofWilliam theLionandhehadoften acted as John’sambassador there, where inview of the marriageconnection he was wellreceived.

Now this same Margarethad caught John’s fancy andEustacewasfilledwithrage–thoughhedidnotshowthis–that John dared presume thathecouldmakefreewithothermen’s wives while theirhusbandsstoodmeeklyby.

But he was well aware oftheKing’sviolenttemperandat this time all his subjectswere at hismercy, a state of

affairs that Eustace, incompany with other barons,was determined should notcontinue.

He pretended to treat thematter as a joke, implyingthat the King could not beserious of such intentionsregarding his wife and thedaughter of the King ofScotland.

‘My lord is gracious inadmiring my wife,’ saidEustacecautiously.

‘She’s comely,’ repliedJohn. ‘She is a woman suchas I greatly admire. I havehadpleasurefrommanysuch.I know a woman’spotentialities when I seethem.Ihavehadagreatdealofpractice,Baron.’

‘I know it well,’ was thereply. ‘My wife will beleaving thisday foravisit toher father.’ Eustace wasimplying that Margaret wasnot only his wife but thedaughter of the King ofScotland.

‘She will not leave thisnight,’ said John, ‘for thisnight she and I will bedtogether.’

Eustace had to restrainhimselffromgivingtheKingsuch a blow as would havefelledhim.Butbeingaquick-thinkingmanherealisedwhattheresultofthatwouldbe.Ofwhat use would he be toMargaret,howsaveher fromthis lecher if he wereconfined to a dungeon, anddeprived of his hands orperhapshiseyes?

Hesaidslowly:‘Ismylordsosetonthat?’

‘Never was I more set onanything,’ replied John. Hesmiled slyly. He knewEustace – a man of rathernarrow tastes. The sort whowould have considered itsinful to amuse himselfoutsidethemarriagebed.AndMargaret was of like mind.She was afraid of him, he

knew. That was one of thereasons for her attraction forhim.Hedoubtedshehadeverknown any man but herhusband. He would find hermostdiverting.

‘’Tishardlytobeexpectedthatahusbandwouldlookonsuch a project with favour,’suggestedEustace.

John conceded this. ‘If it

were a baron who desiredyour wife you could object.Just as if he wanted a castlewhichwasyours.Youwouldfight for it with all youpossessed, my good Eustace.But if your King decided hewanted a castle which wasyours,youwouldbewise,asyouwell know, being awiseman,togiveittohim.Thusitiswithyourwife.’

Youareamonster,thoughtEustace. Do you think I willserve you? From this dayforth Iwillwork against youandIwillnotrestuntilIhavebroughtaboutyourdownfall.

But he did not show hisanger. John did understandsomething of his feelingsthough and it amused himthat this moral man had notthe courage to oppose him.

Hecaredfor thevirtueofhiswife but his freedomand hislimbs were of moreimportancetohim.

‘Why, Eustace,’ went onthe King, ‘I have decided tohonour you. After tomorrowyoumayboastthatyourwifeso pleased the King that hetook her to his bed. It mayeven be that I shall plant aroyal seed within her. How

would you like that, Baron?What if there should be alittle prince or princess inyournursery?’

Itwasdifficult forEustaceto restrain himself, but hemanaged it. To show hisdisgusted anger was not theway to deal with thissituation.Johnwasbecomingmore gross, even more of alibertine than he had been in

his youth; hewas capable ofany cruel act and the morecynicalthebetter.

Eustace bowed his headand asked leave to retire.Hecouldno longer endure tobeintheKing’scompany.

He went to his wife’schamber where she awaitedhim fearfully. She dismissedher women and when they

had gone she ran to him andthrewherselfintohisarms.

He stroked her hairthoughtfully.

‘You have been with theKing,’ she said. ‘When willhego?’

‘Notuntiltomorrow.’

Shebegantoshiver.

‘I am afraid of him,

Eustace,’shesaid.

‘With good reason,’answeredherhusbandgrimly.‘He has blatantly asked foryou.’

‘Askedforme!’

‘This night he willcommandyoutohisbed.’

‘Ican’tdoit,Eustace.’

‘You know him well. He

will force you. This castle issurrounded by his soldierswhowoulddohisbidding. Itwillnotdotorefusehim.Butlisten. An idea has occurredto me. Someone must go tohisbedtonightbutneeditbeyou?’

‘Whathaveyouinmind?’

‘There are several lightwomen in the castle. There

are some I doubt not whowould give a great deal forwhat they think of as thehonour of sharing theKing’sbed. Why should not one ofthemtakeyourplace?’

‘You think he wouldagree?’

‘No. But why should henot believe his bedfellow isyouwhenitissomeoneelse?’

‘Oh, Eustace, how cleveryouare!’

‘’Tis not done yet. Let usnot be hasty, but give muchthought to this matter. If wecouldselectthewoman,batheher, dress her hair, perfumeher body … is it possible,think you, that we coulddeceivehim?’

‘He has seen very little of

me,’ said Margaret, ‘and Ithinkthismaddesireispartlytodiscountenanceyouand toprove tomy father that evenhis daughter dare not refusehim. I am sure he could bedeceived.’

‘He must be deceived,’declared Eustace. ‘We willselect one of the whores,dress her up and send her tohim.Thereisnotimetolose.

Shewill need a little tuition.But I intend him to be sointoxicated with wine, soheavy with food that hispowersofobservationwillbenumbed; and in the morningearly, you must set out on ajourney. There must be nodelay about that. And youwillwait nearby until such atimeashe shallhave left thecastle.’

Theirveryneed seemed toendow them with specialskills. They found thesubstitute whom they chosebecause her hair was verysimilar toMargaret’s. It waswashed and perfumed andbound in the same way ashers.Thewomanwasbathedand dressed in a robe ofMargaret’s and well primedinherpart.

It amusedherandshewastoldthatifshesucceededshewould be well rewarded forthe night’s work so she wasdeterminedtoplayherparttotheverybestofherability.

That night John suppedwell and drank deeply.Margaret, on his right hand,Eustaceonhisleft,pliedhimwith wine. Hewas delightedwithMargaretandanticipated

the night’s adventure withexcitement. He looked fromone to the other withundisguisedpleasure.

As the night wore on,Margaret whispered that shewould go to his bedchamberand there await him. Henodded a little drowsily andturnedtosmileatEustace.

‘After tonight, my friend,’

he said, ‘youand Iwillhaveshared our experiences. Iknowtheladywillpleasemeasshehaspleasedyou.’

Eustaceledhimtothedoorof the bedchamber. ThereMargaret’s substitute awaitedhim. There was a littlemoonlight coming throughthe narrow slit of a window.Not enough to show him hiscompanion’sface.Hedidnot

doubt for a moment that itwas Margaret for she wasdressedexactlyasthebaron’swife had been and her hairwas worn in a similarmanner.

He kicked the door shutandfelluponher.

Had he been a little moresober he might have beensurprised at her response,

which was hardly what itwould have been had thewomanbeenEustace’swife.

He was amused andexultant.Thiswouldshowhisbarons that theymustbowtohimnomatterwhatheasked.

Atdawn,Margaret left thecastle and John’s nightcompanionslippedoutofhisbed, her duty done and all

that was necessary now wasto collect her rewards. It hadbeen a profitable night andsome day she would be ableto boast that she had sleptwiththeKing.

John awoke late in themorning.Heremembered theprevious night and laughedaloud.

Hewouldnot linger at the

castle.Hemustmoveon.

Hewasinagoodtemperasheresumedhisjourney.

W

ChapterXVI

THEPROPHECY

ith the passing ofeach week, John’sfortunes seemed

more dismal. The baronswere grumbling together

about him and askingthemselves howmuch longertheyweregoingtoenduretherule of a king who believedhecouldmakefreewiththeirwives and impose on themthe most ridiculous fineswhichwereinfactbribesandimpositions.

ThemembersoftheBraosefamilywouldneverforgetthefate of Matilda and her son.

To put a woman of her ageintoadungeonand leaveherto starve to death wasmonstrous, when her onlyfault had been to refuse themoney which was demandedofher familyand todefy theKinginthismatterofsendingmembers of her family ashostages. Veryunderstandable, was theverdict,whenoneconsidered

the fate of Arthur. And itseemed that everyone nowwas considering the fate ofArthur. Philip of France wasdemanding that the youngDuke be produced, knowingfull well that he never couldbe. Anything that could beusedtodiscreditJohnhewasgoingtouse.

Eustace de Vesci wasarousing the barons against

him; not that they neededmuch rousing. They wereonly too ready to accuse theKingandmanyofthemweremeetingtodiscusswhatcouldbedone.

There was one whoregretted the course eventswere taking and whodetermined to make yetanother effort to save themonarchy. ThiswasWilliam

Marshal and he came to seeJohn.

The King, who wasbeginning to realise howfriendless he was and thatsuch friendlessness couldmeanhewas inacutedangerof losing his kingdom,welcomed the Marshalwarmly.

‘Mylord,’saidWilliam,‘I

come to speak in astraightforward manner toyouwhich youmay not findverymuchtoyourliking.YetspeakImustforifsomethingis not donewith speed, I seedisaster overcoming thiscountry and your kinglyhouse.’

‘You may speak as youwish,’saidtheKing.

‘Then I will say that it isfolly to allow this state ofaffairs to drift as it is now.Thebaronsaredissatisfied.’

‘A plague on the barons!’mutteredJohn.

‘Youmaywishaplagueonthem,mylord,but forgetnotthat such would infect theentire country, as they arenow beginning to infect it

withtheirdissatisfaction.’

‘Who are they to showtheir displeasure?’ demandedJohn.‘AmItheirKingoramInot?’

‘At this timeyes,’ said theMarshal bluntly, ‘but whoshall say for how long ifmatters drift along in thedirectiontheyarenowset.’

‘You are over-bold,

Marshal, for it would seemyouarecriticalofme.’

‘Iwarned you Iwas over-bold.Ieverhavebeen,andifyou are not prepared for myboldnessitwouldbewellforusbothifIretired.’

‘Nay,’saidJohn,‘sayon.’

‘Think how we stand.Interdict! Excommunication!Inward turmoil, and perhaps

most serious of all Philipawaitinghisopportunity.’

‘By God’s ears, I wouldsettlehimifhedaredsetfootonthisland.’

‘Mylord,hehasthewholeof Normandy. There is littleleft to you overseas. For theloveofyourancestorsdonotlet England pass out of yourhands.’

Johnwasafraid.TherewasonemanwhomhecouldtrustandthatwastheMarshal.Hehadtolistentohim.Heknew.Hehadtotakehisadvice,forhe knew it would be soundandthatMarshalhadnothingbut the good of England atheart.

‘Troublegrewbigwiththequarrel with Rome,’ saidMarshal. ‘My lord, your first

stepistoendthatquarrel.’

‘Howso?’

‘AcceptStephenLangton.’

‘Ihaveswornnotto.’

‘Itmaybeso,but,mylord,acrownisatstake.IfyoudonotmakepeacewithRomeina short time a French kingwill take the crown ofEngland.Therearemanyhere

whowouldwelcomePhilip.’

‘Then surely they aretraitors.’

‘They are men who are atwarwiththemannerinwhichEnglandisbeingruled.Thereis so much they do not like.Be prepared for treason, mylord, where you least expectit.’

‘You,Marshal?’

‘I am here to save yourkingdomforyou,togiveyoumyhelpandsupportwhichisnot inconsiderable. Thosewho murmur against you,lovethiscountry.Theywouldserve it well. But theymurmur against unfairtaxation, the interdict andexcommunication and themanner in which you rule.Therefore they believe it

would be to the good of thecountrytotakePhilipastheirKing. This would restoreNormandy to the crown andwith all this and France,Philip would be the mostpowerfulrulerintheworld.’

‘And you ask me to gohumblytoInnocent?’

‘I am convinced that nowis the time to make peace

withRome.’

‘But this will meanbreaking my word. I havevowed that neverwill I haveStephenLangtonhere.’

‘There are times, my lord,when it is wise and mostexpedient to break one’sword.Thisisoneofthem.’

‘Whatwillpeople thinkofme?’

The Marshal’s lips curled.‘No worse,’ he said bluntly,‘thantheydoalready.’

‘Andyouwouldurgemetomake advances to the Pope,to admit my willingness tohaveLangtonhere?’

‘Iwouldwithallmyheart,’said the Marshal, ‘for I seeclearlythatifyoudonot,youwill not long remainKingof

England.’

Marshal half expected himto fly into a rage. The factthathedidnotsuggestedthathe was really frightened ofthe position in which hefoundhimself.

‘I will without delay sendan embassy to Innocent,’ hesaid. ‘I will even takeLangton.’

There was a great deal ofexcitement in Yorkshire atthis timebecauseanoldmanwho was known as Peter ofPontefract claimed to havehad a vision. Peter was ahermitwholivedinacaveatthe opening of which peopleleftfoodforhim;hewassaidto be a man of unusualpowers.

He had prophesied thatbefore Ascension Day KingJohn would have ceased toreign. In view of theconditionswhich existed thisdidnotseemanunreasonableprophecyand itwasrepeatedthroughout Yorkshire andbegan to filter into othercounties so persistently thatPeter of Pontefract was nowknown throughout the

country.

Beset by difficulties,ponderingonthewarningsofthe Marshal, John was filledwith superstitious dread, andduringhistravelsintheNorthhe demanded that Peter bebroughttohim.

The oldman gave no signthat he feared the King. Hestood before him without

respect or disrespect. Hemerelyshowedindifference.

John cried in a hectoringmanner: ‘What is this talkyou have circulated throughthecountryconcerningme?’

‘I have merely said whatcame into my mind,’answered Peter. ‘If folksrepeatit,’tisnaughttome.’

‘It is something to me,’

cried the King. ‘You say Iwill not be reigning afterAscensionDay.’

‘’Tweren’t I as said it.’Twerethevoices.’

‘Towhomdo these voicesbelong,thinkyou?’

‘ToGod,maybe, or to thepowers.’

‘And how shall I lose my

kingdom,pray?’askedJohn.

‘ThatIknownot,’wastheanswer. ‘Only as you shallsurelyloseit.’

‘Ibelieveyoutobelying.’

‘’Tisnotso,mylord.’

‘Doyouknowwhatisdonetoliars?’

Peter turnedhiseyesup toheaven and answered: ‘What

istobewillbeandwhatyoudo to me has not beenrevealed.’

‘You should tremble inyour shoes, Peter ofPontefract.’

‘Nay,my lord, Ibut speakas I must and the spirits tellme.Theysayyoushall reignnomoreafterAscensionDayandthatonemorepleasingto

God will be set on yourthrone.’

John lost his tempersuddenly. ‘Take this manaway,’ he shouted. ‘ThrowhimintoadungeonatCorfe.’

Peter was serene as theyledhimaway.

‘You will know your fateon Ascension Day,’ Johncalledafterhim.‘Youshould

start to pray for your soulnow,fellow.Foritwillgoillwithyouthen.’

Peter merely smiled andheld the palms of his handstogether as he was hustledaway.

Innocent had been madeaware of the situation inEngland. The barons were

readytorevoltandifEnglandwere allowed to go onmuchlonger under the Interdictwithanexcommunicatedkingthe wrath of Rome wouldappear to lose its power. Hecould not allow the situationto continue so he summonedStephenLangton, in his eyesArchbishop of Canterbury,and told him that he wishedhimtogoatoncetotheKing

ofFrance.

‘Johncannotanylongerbeallowed to reign inEngland,’he said. ‘I intend to deposehimandIamgoingtoasktheKingofFrancetohelpmetothisend.Iknowfullwellthathewillbeeagertodoso.’

Stephen Langton wassurprised,forhedidnotthinkInnocent wanted to add to

Philip’s power, but he sawthe Pope’s point of view.Johnwas insolently snappinghis fingers at Rome bycontinuing to accept theInterdict and hisexcommunication as thoughtheywereoflittleimportanceto him andmaking no efforttogetthemremoved.

TheArchbishopsetoutforParis and no sooner had he

left than John’s embassyarrived in Rome with urgentmessages from John to thePope, proclaiming that hewould accept StephenLangton. As a result of thisStephen was hastily recalledto Rome. The Pope nowdeclared his willingness towithdrawthethreattodeposeJohn if he ratified hispromises.

Philip, meanwhile, hadassembled an army with afleetofshipsreadytocarryitto England. He wasdetermined to invade andsince John was clearly unfittowear the crown, to take itfor himself. No Frenchmonarch had ever ruled overEngland.Hehad fulfilledhisambition of recapturingNormandy.Hehadhadother

successes, but to captureEngland would make himhonoured for ever as a hero,asWilliamtheConquerorhadbeen.

Itwasamazinghowpeoplerallied to John’s banner.Thosewhohadbeencharyofjoininghimtofightacrosstheseas felt very differentlyabout their own country. Ifthe French were waiting to

attack they would find theEnglishreadyforthem.Theywould never accept theFrench King as theirs. TheypreferredEnglishJohnforallhis faults. He was able toassemble a good fleet ofships. The Cinque Ports hadbeen true to their promises.The whole country wasrallyingtoJohn’sbannersandhe had not felt so confident

foralongtime.

Instead of the French thePope’s legate arrived atDover.HehadcomehotfromRomewithspecialdespatchesfortheKingofEngland.

The papal legate wasPandulph,aRoman,whohadbecomeaclerkof Innocent’sPapal Court and he wasaccompanied by a Knight of

St John named BrotherDurandus.Johnhadmetthemboth on a previous occasionwhen they had come on thePope’sbusinessandthistimehe received them with morewarmth than he hadpreviously.

John had discussed withtheMarshal the terms whichthePopemightbeexpectedtooffer and it was William’s

advice that it would be wiseto accept them even thoughthey might appear somewhatdrastic.

In the Marshal’s opinionthe barons could not betrustedandalthoughtheyhadralliedtoJohn’sbannerattheprospectofaFrenchinvasionthey were at heart weary ofJohn’s rule and if they feltthat it would be better under

Philip’s theymight decide tochangesides.Toseethearmygathered together, to see theships ready to fight againstthose of the French, was agoodlysight.ButtheMarshalknew the extent of John’sunpopularity and he did nottrust those who hadassembled to help him. Forthis reason, it seemed to himthat John must if possible

makepeacewiththePope.

Pandulph’s first wordsindicated to John howimportant it was for him tomakepeacewithRome.

‘On my way to you,’Pandulph told him, ‘I passedthroughFranceandsoughtanaudiencewithitsKing.Inthename of the Pope I forbadehimtoattempttheinvasionof

EnglanduntilafterIhadseenyou. Much will depend onyour attitude now. If youacceptthePope’stermstherewill be no French invasion,for the Holy See will notpermit it and the King ofFrance would not dareundertake such a hazardousoperation in which GodwouldbeagainsthimsincehehasbeenforbiddenbyRome.’

John said: ‘I would knowyourterms.’

TheMarshalhadbeenrightwhen he had said the termswould be harsh. There couldbenoneharsher,forthePopeinsisted that John surrenderhis crown to the Pope whowould then return it to himcreating him a fief of theHoly See. The King ofEngland would become the

Pope’svassal.

The Pope’s vassal! Howlow had he fallen. Whatwould great William theConqueror say if he waswatchingfromHeavenatthistime?The landwhichhehadwon and held at greatsacrifice tobepassedover toRomeand itsKingbecomeavassal!

Itwasabitterangerwhichpossessed John – not theviolent rage which he knewso well. In this anger wassadness – that this state ofaffairs should have come topass.

Thewholeworldisagainstme,hethought.

‘If you do not agree,’ saidPandulph, ‘His Holiness will

give Philip permission toinvade.Hehasamightyarmyassembled on the other sideof the water. The Pope willrender him the aid he needsand the King of France willhold the crown of EnglandunderRome.’

John was silent. He hadprepared himself to acceptStephen Langton which hemust do; hewould allow the

exiledclergytoreturn,andhewould compensate theChurch for the loss it hadsuffered when he hadconfiscatedmuchof its landsand goods. But he had notthought to make himself avassalofRome.

He talked to WilliamMarshal, a man who was assadat theprospectashewashimself. But the Marshal

believed–and sodid John–that to giveway to the Popewas the only way out of adangeroussituation.

‘Ifyoudoit,’saidWilliam,‘you will gain certainadvantages. Philip may notobey the Pope’s order towithdraw but if he shouldattempt invasion against thewishes of the Holy Fatherthere will be many who are

not eager to followhim.Thebaronsherewhoare ready torevolt against you will nothavethesupportofthePope.The Interdict will be liftedandthebenefitsoftheChurchwill return toEngland.Thinkof it. There will be seemlyburial and churching ofwomen and the church doorswill be opened oncemore tothe people. You must do it,

my lord. It is a sad state ofaffairsbutthisisthebestwayoutofourdifficulties.’

Johnsaid:‘IoftenthinkofthehermitinCorfeCastle.’

‘Ah, the prophecy. Whenwasittobefulfilled?’

‘OnAscensionDay.’

‘Which will soon be uponus.’

The two men looked ateachothergravely.ThenJohnspoke. ‘Iwill do it,’ he said.‘IwillbecomeavassalofthePope.’

‘Better that,’ agreedWilliam Marshal, ‘than tobecome the defeated enemyoftheKingofFrance.’

So there followed the

ceremony of removing thecrown from John’s headwhich was symbolic of hissubmission to the Pope andthen immediately replacing itto indicate that the Pope hadgraciouslybestoweditonhimoncemore.HewasstillKingof England but he held thecrown as the Pope’s vassalwhich was a matter forrejoicing, said John, for it

meant that Holy Rome wasthe protector of King andcountry.

Johnwas exultant.He hadcomewelloutofhistroubles.It was true he had had toaccept Stephen Langton buthe would make sure that theArchbishop’s claws wereclipped when he came toEngland,andhewasnomoreready to allow theChurch to

interfere with the State thanany of his predecessors hadbeen,butforawhilehecouldsigh with relief, smilesardonically to think of thearmyPhilip had accumulatedwith which to invadeEngland, and congratulatehimself that he had emergedin triumph from a veryalarmingsituation.

It was time for rejoicing,

he told his people. TheInterdict was over and thechurch bells would ringagain. There was friendshipbetween England and Rome;there was more than that;therewasagreatallianceandthe Holy See had thrown itsprotective wings across thecountry. Let pavilions beerected in the Kentishcountryside; let there be

singing and dancing in thestreets of Dover. Instead ofwar there was feasting.Instead of a foreign invadertheir own King was there torule over them.AllwaswellwithEngland.

The people were alwaysreadyformerrymaking.Theylistened to the church bellsringing and that seemed avery melodious sound; they

spoke lovingly of King Johnwho had so adroitly savedthem from the Frenchinvaders; they danced andsang and therewere bonfiresonthehillsofKent.

Thosewhohadproclaimedtheir faith in Peter ofPontefractassuredthemselvesthat his prophecy had cometrue. Johnhad lost his crownby Ascension Day but what

Peterhadnotseenwasthathehadregainedit.Somepointedout that the prophecy hadbeenthatJohnwouldlosehiscrown and someone more inGod’s favour would wear it.Well, they could even makethat fit. The John who hadregained the crown was avassal of the Pope andtherefore a changed man. InGod’s eyes one under the

protectionof theHolyFatherwould be more in God’sfavour.

So everyone could behappy and it was easy to bedeluded into forgetting thehightaxation,theragesoftheKing which could spelldisaster in so many ways toanywhodispleasedhim.Justfor a day they would givewaytomerrimentandablind

faithinthefuture.

John was not inclined toforget Peter of Pontefract.The man had caused him agreat deal of uneasiness. Hehad been infuriated by themannerinwhichhehadstoodbeforehimwiththatfanaticallookinhiseyesasthoughhewereamessengerfromGod.

Andwhatwouldpeoplebe

saying now? They wouldtwisthisprophecy tomake itthe truth. John had hated themanwhenhehadstoodtherebefore him and blatantlystatedthathisplacewouldbetaken by someone moreworthyinGod’seyes.

A king should not allowmen to talk to him in thatway.PeterofPontefractmustnot be allowed to live and

make more such prophecies.For that was what the manwould do, he was sure. Andhe would carry a certainamount of opinionwith him.Such uneasy men should beremoved.

He gave orders that Petershould be taken from hisdungeon in Corfe, andhanged. But first, as awarning to otherswhomight

feel they had the gift ofprophecy and through thisbelieved they could plotagainsttheKing,hewastobetied to a horse’s tail anddragged to the place ofexecutionwhereheshouldbehanged high on a gibbet thatallmightsee thefate instoreforanywhoactedinasimilarmanner.

The King’s orders were

carriedoutandsoficklewerethepeoplethatthosewhohadsupported Peter and declaredthat he in truth was a greatprophet and a man of God,fearing to offend the King,nowreviledhim.

O

ChapterXVII

THREATOFINVASION

n theothersideof theChannelPandulphwasin consultation with

PhilipofFrance.

‘You must disband yourfleetandyourarmies,’hetoldPhilip. ‘Invasion of Englandis now quite out of thequestion. England is now apapal fief and to attackEnglandistoattackRome.’

Philipwas furious.Hehadseen England ripe forinvasion, a weak king,dissatisfiedbaronswhoathisfirst success would be ready

to desert John for him; andnow by this adroit action ofJohn’s in surrendering hiscrown to the Pope andreceiving it back as a vassal,hisweak enemy had becomeapowerfulone.

‘Ithascostmeagreatdealof money and months ofpreparation,’ cried Philip.‘Wasitallofnoavail?’

‘You could not hope forsuccess if Rome was againstyou,’wastheanswer.

Therewasacertainamountoftruthinthat.Philipsawhisdream evaporating. It wasmaddening. All his life hehad longed to achieve theglory of a Charlemagne. Hehad yearned to go down inhistory as the man who hadmade France great as it had

once been; and if he couldhave brought to it the crownof England he would havesurpassed all others. And ithadbeenwithinhisgrasp.Hewassureofit.

Buthewasarealistandhesaw at once that it was adream which would have tobe shelved – but perhaps notfor long. He would keep hisfleet in readiness; he would

add to his armies. He wouldnot abandon his dream ofconquering England. It wasonlyapostponement.

Pandulph departed feelingitwassafe toreturntoRomeandreporttothePopethathismission had beensatisfactorilycarriedout.

When he had gone Philipbrooded over the situation in

which he found himself. Hissoldiers were restive. Theyhad been promised conquestand conquest always meantspoils. They knew thatwhenthe Conqueror had gone toEngland, men who had beenquite humble in Normandyhadbecome landowners, richandpowerful.Thiswaswhatthey had hoped from aninvasion of England. And

now itwasnot to takeplace,howwouldtheyfeel?

Philipmustassurenotonlyhimself,but them,that itwasbutapostponement.

In themeantime theymustnot be idle. Every generalknewthatanidlearmywasadanger to its commander.Mutiny, rebellion, all hadtheirseedsinidlenessandthe

greater it was the more theyflourished.

He called his generals tohim and told them thatalthough the invasion ofEngland had had to bepostponed, it was notabandoned. They wouldwhile theywerewaiting turntheir attentions to that oldenemyofFrance–Flanders–who had shown itself very

uncooperative in this lastventure.

Thegeneralsunderstood.Itwas necessary to keep thearmyoccupied.

So, leaving the fleet ofships lying at anchor, thearmy left and in a short timeweremarchingonGhent.

Philip’s decision threw luck

intoJohn’spath.Itseemedasthough Fate had decided tocherish him. First he hadmadehispeacewithRomeatpreciselytherightmomentsothat he had not onlymade itunwise for the French toattack him but it had alsobeenawarning to thebaronstoo, for in rebelling againsthim they would be rebellingagainstthePope.

The Flemings, as Philip’senemies, must be John’sfriends; and when theyrealised thatFrench furywastobeturnedagainstthemtheyappealedtoJohnforhelp.

Johnconsideredthisappealvery carefully with theMarshalandotherswhomhetrusted. It seemed anopportunity to weaken theFrench andWilliamMarshal

felt that as John hadassembled an army to wardoff the French invaders itwouldbeagoodideatosendittotheaidoftheFlemings.

The English set out andhere their good fortunecontinued, for on arriving atthe spot where the Frenchfleet lay, they found a vastnumber of vessels allequipped for the invasion of

England, filledwith the foodandweaponswhichwouldbeneeded;therewasarmourandfine garments – everythingconceivable that wouldenable the invaders tosucceedbothbeforeandafterconquest.

That there should be but afewpeoplelefttoguardthemmade the English laughwithderisionwhiletheydecidedto

make the most of their goodfortune. Forgotten was theexpedition to Flanders. Herewasafarmoreprofitableone.

They quickly overpoweredthe defenders, loaded theirown ships with the treasuresthe French had brought withthem and then set fire toPhilip’sfleet.

It was a greatmoment for

John. He laughed aloud. Hisluckhadchanged.Itwasnowhis turntosnaphisfingersatPhilip.

HavingcrippledtheFrenchfleet so that an invasion ofEnglandwouldbecompletelyout of the question, even ifPhilip decided to defy thePope and attempt it, JohndecidedtogototherescueoftheFlemings.Alas,thespasm

of luck was over, for Philip,hearing of the disaster to hisships,hurriedtothecoastandintercepted John’s army,inflicting defeat on it so thatit was necessary to make ahasty retreat back to thecoast.

There they hastilyembarked and sailed back toEngland. But the adventurecould be called highly

successful since it hadresulted in the nearannihilation of the Frenchfleet and had made invasionimpossible for a very longtime.

ItwashotJulywhenStephenLangton arrived in England.John rode to meet him andthetworetinuescamefacetofaceatPortchester.

The King, aglitter withjewels, his satin mantledecorated with pearls andrubies,hisgirdleofsapphiresanddiamonds,andhisglovesadorned with pearls, lookedmagnificentonhischarger.Itwasmoreimportantthaneverthathe look thepartsincehehad resigned hisindependence. About himrode his courtiers, splendidly

dressedbutdesignedlylesssothanhewas,forhewouldnothave been pleased if theyoutshonehim.

Whenthetworetinuesmet,John dismounted from hismagnificently caparisonedhorse, and approachingStephen Langton, kneltbeforehim; thenhe stoodupand exchanged kisses withhim.

‘Welcome, Father,’ hesaid.

StephenLangtonwasnotavindictive man and he wasdelightedthatatlastJohnwasreadytoreceivehim.Hewaseager that the past should beforgotten and he lookedforward to working inharmonywiththeKing.

Theyrodesidebysideinto

Winchester, cheered by thepeople as they passed alongtheroad.

PeacebetweenChurchandState! Itwaswhat thepeoplelonged for.The Interdictwaslifted. Their King was nolonger excommunicated –although the ban had to belifted formally – andeveryone could return to thenormalwayoflife.

IntothecityofWinchesterthey came, and there in thechapter house of theCathedral, theArchbishop ofCanterbury absolved Johnand celebrated Mass in hispresence.

Whenitwasover,foralltosee, the Archbishop and theKinggaveeachotherthekissofpeace.

John, the irreligioussceptic, the lecher, the KingwhohaddefiedtheChurchasnone of his predecessors hadbeforehim,wasnowthedearfriend of the Archbishop ofCanterburyandtheprotégéofthePope.

There was an irony aboutsuch a state of affairs andmen such as the Marshalsolemnly shook their heads

and wondered how long thisamitycouldlast.

I

ChapterXVIII

JOHN’SREVENGE

sabella was in love. Hewasyoungandhandsome.Often shewould compare

himwith John andmarvel atthedifferencesbetweenthem.

HeremindedherofHughtheBrown and after he had leftshe would lie in bed andthink: This is how it wouldhavebeenwithHugh.

Atfirstinherthoughtsshecalled him Hugh; and latershe told him this. ‘It suitsyou. You will be Hugh tome,’andeveraftershecalledhimbythatname.

She had been afraid forhim, although when she hadfirst taken lovers she hadliked to test their courage bytelling them that theirpunishmentwouldbe terribleif the King ever discovered.Sometimes when they werewithhershesensedtheirfear;at first it gave a zest to herdesire.

Shetookadelightinhiding

heradventuresfromJohnbutsometimes it occurred to herthatheknewandthathewaswaiting to trap her.Outwittinghiminitselfwasapleasant exercise. She hatedhim. Perhaps she always hadalthough she had revelled inthe early years of theirrelationship. It had beenflattering that he shouldneglect his State duties

because he could not leavetheirbedandtoknowthatthestories circulated round theworld that he was losing hiskingdomunderthebedquilt.

What a compliment to herpowersofattraction!Forlonghe had been a faithfulhusband which in itself wassomething of amiracle. Andshe hadmade this possible –shewithhergreatfascination.

She wondered if Hugh everthought of her now. Did hereproachhimselfforhisslothin not taking her when shewas there ready and willing,waiting for him before Johnhadcome?

At first it had been soexciting.TobeQueenandtobe so desired. But she hadbeenaqueen for a long timenow and desired by many.

And there were morehandsome men in the worldthanJohn.

Herthoughtswerenowforthehandsomeyoungman,theGoldenYouthshecalledhim,the Hugh-Shadow – Hughwouldnolongerbeyoung,asshewasnot,butwomensuchas herself were perenniallyattractiveandmensuchashewasretainedtheircharm.

Her lover was coming toher bedchamber morefrequently now. He was somuchinlovewithherthathegladly risked his life … orworse.Shehadtoldhimoftenof the terrible danger hewasfacing and he brushed thataside. It was worth while…anythingthatcouldhappentohimwasworthwhileforthis.

Hewasagoodlover.There

couldnothavebeenabetter.He was tender as John hadnever been, not even in thebeginning when she was achild. This adoration, thisidolising,was delightful. Sherevelled in it. She loved herGoldenYouth.

As they lay in her bed inthe early morning before thedawn – for hemust be gonebythensinceitwouldbefatal

tobeseenbythelightofday– she said to him as shetwirled a lock of his goldenhair throughher fingers, ‘Mylove, how long will youcontinuetocometome?’

He answered as she knewhewould:‘Forever.’

‘What if the King comeshere?’

‘ThenImustperforcewait

untilheisgone.’

‘Whatdoyouknowof theKing,Hugh?’

‘Allknowofhistempers.’

‘There never was suchtemper. They say it evenexceedsthatofhisfatherandgreatlydidmen fear that.Hemust never find out, Hugh,never.’

‘If he did, it would havebeenworthwhile.’

‘While his servants weredoing fearful things to youwouldyouthinkthat?’

‘Aye.’

‘Nay,mydearestlove,youthink so now. But what arethe feelings of a man, thinkyou, to be deprived of hismanhood,formethinksthatis

what John would do to anywhohadenjoyedme.’

‘Ihadratherdie.’

‘If John knew that, hewould not let you. Hisrevenge must suit his moodandhismoodsarediabolical.Perhaps he would put outyour eyes. He wanted to dothattoArthur,youknow.Hissinwasthathewasthesonof

John’selderbrotherandsomethoughthehadagreaterrighttothethrone.’

‘He cannot have suchthoughtsaboutme.’

‘Nay, but he would hateyoumore than he ever hatedArthur. Sometimes I trembleforyou.’

‘Then I rejoice, for itshowsyouloveme.’

‘Iwant you to knowwhatyou risk,myHugh.Thinkofthesethings.’

‘To be with you for onehour is worth a lifetime ofagony.’

‘Youthfulwordsspokenbythe young in the hour ofecstasy.Whatwouldyousayduringthelifetimeofmisery,thinkyou?’

‘It shall not be,’ he said,kissingher.

And while she loved hisrecklessness, shewantedhimtoknowwhatherisked.

He had been successful inreaching her. They haddevised several hiding placeswherehecouldbesecretedina hurry. She might lift thefloorboards and he could

cowerbeneath.Shehadmadesure of that and she barredher bedroom door when hewaswithher.

Shewouldgethimawayinsafety, she promised herself,ifhewereindangerofbeingsurprised.

But she had manyattendantsand theyknewhersecrets.

John came to the castle. Shewasdownatthegatestomeethim.

Assoonashelookedatherhe was as enamoured of herashehadeverbeen,realisingafresh that she had thatquality of sensuality strongerthananywomanheknew.

Hewasawarethatshehad

taken a lover. It was for thisreasonthathehadcomehere.At first he had thought hewould come down in secretand catch her in the act; buthehadabetteridea.

‘Why,youarebloomingasa flower does after rain,’ hesaid. ‘Is that due to mycoming?’

‘To what else could it be

due?’

‘You are a good wife …always waiting for herhusband.’

‘Always,’ she answered,‘though he comes less oftenthanheoncedid.’

‘MattersofState,mylove.’

‘Is it so then? Ihad feareditmightbemattersofanother

kind.’

‘Areyoujealousthen?’

‘Continuouslyso.’

‘There is no need. NomatterwithwhomIbeddedIwould always prefer andcomebacktoyou.’

‘’Tis small compensationwhen others are taking myplace.’

‘Doyousulk,wife?’

‘Nay,Iknowwellthewaysofmen.Noneisfaithful.’

‘’Tis the wives who mustbethat,’hesaidwithahintoffiercenessinhisvoice.

‘Poor wives! Why shouldthey not be given a little ofwhat the husbands take sofreely?’

‘You know full well. Andfor a queen unfaithfulness istreason. Treason, Isabella!Thinkof treasontotheKing.That could be punished withdeath.’

‘’Tisso,’shesaid.

‘And you brood on itoften.’

‘’Tiseverinmymind.’

‘And should you betempted, the thought of thatwouldsaveyou.’

‘You would not have mevirtuous because of fear, mylord,Iknow.Shoulditnotbeforlovealone?’

‘For love alone,’ heanswered.

Andhethought:Ishallseehimthisday.Heishandsome

I know. By God’s ears, hewill soon be wishing he hadneverbeenborn.

They supped together instateandshesangandplayedtohim,herhair falling abouther shoulders for she hadloosenedit,knowinghelikedit so. It reminded him of theearlydayswhentheyhadfirstmarriedandhecouldnottearhimself away from her even

foranhourorso.

He said: ‘Tomorrow weshallgotoGloucester.’

‘And I am to accompanyyou?’

‘I need you with me,’ hesaid.

She smiled; he was asenamoured of her as he hadeverbeen,shebelieved.

He looked about the halland found him. He wascertainly young andhandsome. He had been toldthathehadalookofHughdeLusignan.ByGod’sears,didshestillhankerfor thatman?He knew that she thought ofhim; he had seen the look inher eyes when she spoke ofhim. Had she all these yearsbeen regretting the loss of

Hugh? Hadn’t the crown ofEngland made up for that?Had she during thosemoments of passion beensubstituting Hugh for him?The thought maddened him.And thisyouthhada lookofHugh. It was a strongresemblance.And night afternighthehadbeeninherbed.He had risked everything forher.Well, he should pay the

price.

Isabella had a surprisecomingtoher.

Shesaidshewouldretiretoherbedchamber.He tookherhands and kissed her, firstlingeringly and then withpassion.Shewouldgo toherbedandwaitforhim.

Oh,Isabella,youaregoingto be very surprised, he

thought.

She went to herbedchamber. Her womencombed her hair and scentedit.Shewasasbeautifulasshehad ever been, she knew.Bearing three children hadnot changed that, for if therewasacertainfleshinessabouther it but added to herattractiveness.

She lay in bed waiting.Whathadhappened todetainhim?Shehadexpectedhimtobe here speedily, which waswhy she had urged herattendantstohurry.

Howstrange!Whatwashedoing? Had he found somewoman in the castlemore tohis taste than she was? Itseemed very strange forsurely his kisses had implied

that he would soon be withher.

Atlastshesleptanditwasdawn when she awoke. Thelight filtered into the room.As she opened her eyes sheremembered and spread herarms, feeling for him besideher.Therewasnoone.Sohehad not come. She sat up inbed. There was a darkshadowattheendofthebed.

She looked closely. Shestared in disbelieving horror,then put her hand to hermouth to stop the scream asshe fell back nauseated andfaintingonherbed.

Hanging from the top railof the tester as though on agallows was the naked,mutilatedbodyofherlover.

Shewasmute.Sherodealongbeside him on the way toGloucester, feigning to beunaware of him. She knewthat there was a malicioussmileonhis lips,buthe saidnothingofwhathehaddone.

Shewasthinking:Ihopeitwasquick.Ihopetheydidnotlinger over it. I would I hadnever seen him that I shouldhave brought him to this.

They say that John is theDevil himself and it is true.None but the Devil couldhavethoughtofsucha thing.Ishallneverforgethimashelookedhangingthere.Allmymemoriesofhimwillbethus.Why did I let him come tome?Imighthaveknown.

They had reachedGloucester Castle which hadbeen built in the time of the

Conqueror. In the great hallWilliam Rufus had feastedsurrounded by favourite menfriends. John’s father HenryII had held many a councilherewhenhewasengagedinhis forays into Wales. Therein the waters of the Severncould be found deliciouslampreys.ThefirstHenryhadbeenverypartial to a stewedlamprey and had died, they

said,ofasurfeitofthem.Andto this castle John hadbrought Isabella. For whatpurpose?shewondered.

That he had a purpose shehad no doubt. He had saidnothing to her yet but hemeant to, she knew, for thesecret smile continued tocurve his lips; he wasthinkingofthescenebetweenthemwhichwastocome.

They supped.Not that shecould eat, for the verythoughtoffoodsickenedher;shecouldnot shutoutofhermind the thought of herlover’sbody.Hadhewatchedwhile they did that to him?Sheguessed thathehad.Shecould hear the cruel wordscoming from that evencruellermouth.

I hate him! she thought.

HowIhatehim!

He said hewould lead herto her chamber. Now shewould know what was instore.

‘Behold your prison,’ hesaid.

‘What mean you?’ sheaskedalmostlistlessly.

‘You are under restraint,’

he said. ‘’Tis clear that youcannot be trusted. You areguilty of treason. My fatherkeptmymotheraprisonerforsixteenyears.ItmaybethatIshallkeepyoumineaslong.’

Sheshruggedhershouldersandthatmaddenedhim.

Hewanted her to storm athim, but she refused tothoughshesawtheredblood

inhiseyes.

‘So you care not?’ heshouted.

‘Whatwould be the use ifthisiswhatyouwish?’

‘Youseemnot tocare thatyou have lost your freedom.You witch! You sorceress!What thought you of yourfine lover when he came toyourbedlastnight?’

She turned away that hemight not see the horror shecouldnotrestrainasthevividpicture came back to hermind.

‘What a pretty sight. Hescreamed, you know. Hescreamed in horror. Youshouldhaveheard…’

‘Stopit!’shecried.

‘Ah,youaremovedatlast.

A pretty boy, I’ll grant you.Butattheenditwasn’tworthitforhim…evenforyou.’

‘You have not been themost faithful of husbands,’sheaccused.

‘Whatofthat?’

‘WhyshouldIbeafaithfulwife?’

‘BecauseIamtheKing.’

‘Forget not that I am theQueen.’

‘ByGod’s ears, if you trytofoisthisbastardonme…’

‘There will be no bastard.Itisyourprivilegetoproducethose.’

He came to her suddenlyand taking her by theshouldersshookherviolently.‘How was he?’ he asked.

‘Washegood?Didyouenjoyhim?’

She faced him boldly. ‘Hewas good,’ she answereddefiantly.

Hethrewherfromhiminaburstofrage.

‘I shall send his corpse toyou here to keep youcompanyinyourprison.’

‘Thatwillnothurthim.’

‘Therewillbenooneelse.Youmaystayhereand thinkof me … with others whopleasememorethanyoudo.’

‘Iwishyoujoyofthem.’

‘You are not old, Isabella,andyouarelusty.Didwenotknowthat?Whatwillyoudowithoutlovers,Isabella?’

‘If Idonothave toendureyouIshallbehappy.’

‘You will endure what Isay.’

‘Why do you not kill metoo? I know. I have friendsand family. The King ofFrance would say: He haskilledhiswifeashekilledhisnephew.’

‘Notawordofthat.’

‘He haunts you, does henot, John?PoorArthur.Howdid he die? So many wouldlike to know. You, hismurderer,couldtellthem.’

‘You are asking me to doyouaninjury.’

‘Whydoyounot?’

‘Because I have notfinishedwithyouyet.Iwouldnot hurt the body which has

muchtogivemeyet.’

‘Oh, so I am not to beexiled?’

‘Notfromme.Ishallthinkof you here waiting for me.We’ll have children yet. Wehave but three. I want morefromyou.Ifyouarecarryinga bastard, I’ll have himmurdered.Youtauntmewithmurder, well, know this, if

any offend me they shall beremoved. You too if youshouldbeinmyway.’

‘AndamInot?’

‘Assuredly not.When youare you will know it. I havemypleasurewhenIwillandIwant no other wife. I’ve gotmyheirs,andafinedaughter.I’llgetmoreonyouyet.Andyou will wait patiently here

formetocometoyouandifever you secrete a lover intoyour bedchamber again thatwhich happened to your fineyoung man will be mildcomparedwithwhatIwilldotothenext.’

She said: ‘I understand. Iamaprisonerhere.Ihavehadalover.Idonotdenyit.Youhave murdered him mostcruelly and you have

tormentedme somuch that Ishall ever be haunted bymemories of his bodyhanging there at my bed. Ihateyouforthis.’

‘Hate and love,’ he said.‘They are close. Isabella,thereisnoonebutyou.Knowyou this: I would not hurtyou. That was why I had todowhatIdidtohim.Ihadtomake sure that never again

should he take the placewhich is mine … mine.Others there have been, butnot one like you. Where isthereonelikeyou?’

His arms were round her;he lifted her and carried hertothebed.

How strange that thepassionshouldrisewithinherat such a time; but it was

therebetweenthem,asstrongasithadeverbeen.

In the morning he said toher: ‘If you should bear achild of his, that child shallnot live.Youknowthis.HadI the softest heart in theworld,which youmay doubtto be true as I do myself, itcould not live. Ah, myIsabella,youknow therewasnever sport such as we two

make together. It is onlymychildrenthatyoushallbear.Ishall behere again andwe’llgetusachild…butnotuntilweknowthatdanglingcorpseisnotafather.’

Sheshookherhead.‘Thereisnochild,’shesaid.‘Iknowit.’

Buthelaughedather.

And when he rode away

shewasaprisoner.

He came back later andthey were together for twodays and nights and hescarcely left her bed duringthat time. She knew that hethought constantly of herloverand that inhisperversewayhetooksomepleasureincontemplating that whichenragedhim.

When he left she waspregnant and in due courseshe gave birth to a daughter.She called her after herself,Isabella.

And she remained theKing’sprisoner.

W

ChapterXIX

ABRIDEFORHUGH

ith Philip’s fleet indisorder andagreatmany of his

weapons and battle

equipmentinEnglishhandsitseemed to John the time hadcome to attack France andattempt to regain hispossessions.Oneofhisspurtsofenergycametohimandhewas eager for action.He hadan army assembled but heneeded the support of thebarons so he issuedcommands throughout theland for them to bring their

followersandjoinhim.

Rebellion simmeredbeneath the surface. Thebarons had no confidence inJohn.TheBraosefamilywithRobert Fitz-Walter andEustace de Vesci had spreaddiscord throughout thecountry.Theyhadhintedthatsuch a tyrant could not beallowed to reign unless hereformed considerably, and

although John realised thatmany of the barons wererestive he did not know howdeeply rooted was thisdetermination to bringmatterstoahead.

The barons of the North,whowereinabetterpositionthan those in the South todefy the King, refused tosupply John with what heneeded. They said that John

had proved himself anineffectual commander;losses in France had beenhumiliating; true, they hadhad luck recently but onlybecause they had taken theFrenchfleetbysurprise.Theyhad no confidence in Johnand hismissions abroad; norwould they supply men andmoney to maintain them.They preferred to remain in

England and keep that safefrom an invader, for it wasnot inconceivable that whenPhiliphadhadtimetomusterhisforces,hewouldmakeanattack on the country. In anycase, they were not meetingJohn’swishes.

When John heard theirrefusal wild rage possessedhim.Hegaveventtoitintheusual way and when he was

exhausted by it he decidedthat he would go not toFrancebutuptotheNorthtoshow the barons how he feltabout his subjects whodisobeyedhim.

He knew that FitzWalterwith his friend Vesci haddone their utmost to fermenttrouble. Something told himthat FitzWalter was going todo everything he could to

take his crown from him inexchangeforhisdaughter.Hehad been foolish overFitzWalter; he should havekilled him when he had achance and now simplybecause his daughter hadbeenalittlefoolandhadheldout against her King’sadvances, her father washelping to stir up trouble. Inthe priory church of Little

Dunmow, to keep the storyalive,theFitzWaltershadhadastatueofMatildamadeandplaced it on her tomb. Nodoubt they made all sorts ofunholyvowsoverit.

By God’s eyes, Johnthought, if FitzWalter fallsintomyhandsthatwillbeanendtohim.

But meanwhile he needed

men to attack Philip and hisnorthernbaronswererefusingtohelphimandhewasgoingto show them who was themaster.Healwaysmaintaineda good army of mercenariesandwiththesehesetout,notfor France but for the Northwiththeintentionofteachingthebaronsalesson.

Thefact that theKingwason the march could not be

kept a secret and when thenew Archbishop ofCanterbury heard, hehastened forth with hisretinuetomeetJohn.

John was angry that theArchbishop should at thisearlystageshowhisintentionto meddle. He demanded toknow why he had thought itnecessarytomeethiminsuchaway.

‘My lord,’ the Archbishoppointedout,‘byattackingthenorthern barons you wouldcreate civil war in this landand you cannot haveforgotten so soon that youholdthecrownofEnglandasafiefofthePope.’

‘Iwillrulemyownlandinamannerwhichispleasingtome,’growledJohn.

‘If you displease ourmaster the Pope, youwill bebreakingyourvows.Itwouldbe necessary, if you forced acivil war on this country, tobringbacktheInterdictandtoexcommunicateyou.

Johnknewthiscouldcometopass.HissubmissiontothePopehadextricatedhimfromaveryuneasysituation,forifhe had not given way to

RomePhilipofFrancemightat this time be in possessionof his crown. A curse on allpopes and archbishops!Theyhad ever been thorns in thesideofkings.

He wanted to shout: Takethis man away. Murder himon the steps of his cathedralas my father’s loyal knightsmurdered Becket. I’ll not beruledbytheChurch.

Buthehad takenhisvowsto the Pope and swornallegiance; he had givenRome power in Englandgreaterthananymonarchhadevergivenbefore.

Luckwas against him. Hehad lost Normandy. He hadlostmostofhispossessionsinFrance. The easiest way toease his feelings was to flyintoatemper.

But he must controlhimselfonthisoccasion.

How did he ever get intothis mess? It was Isabella’sfault.Hehaddalliedwithherwhen he should have beenattending to State matters.When they had said he hadlost his kingdom under thebedquilttheywereright.

She was a witch. A

sorceress. And she tooklovers.

It soothed him a little tothink of the fate of the onewhohadbeendiscovered.

He must outwit the Pope.That was the only way. Thebaronsononeside,Philiponthe other and presiding overall Stephen Langton, thePope’smanwho, because of

that, had more power inEngland than the Kinghimself.

He talked in secret toStephen Langton. Thereshouldbenowar,but akingcould not rule with so muchrebellion in his ranks. Hewouldmarchnorth,showthebarons his strength and hisdispleasure. But there shouldbenobloodshed.

‘Remember, my lord,’warnedStephen,‘thatifthereis, His Holiness will takeaction.’

‘I will remember,’ Johnrepliedsullenly.

SothetriptotheNorthwasmerely a warning to thebarons; and having made itJohnreturned to theSouth inorder to make his

preparations to sail forFrance, without those whorefusedtoaccompanyhim.

When John arrived at LaRochelle he was acclaimedby the people.As thiswas agreat trading port and doinggood business with Englanditsinhabitantshadnowishtobe takenoverby theKingofFrance which would have

been detrimental to trade.Moreover, Aquitaine hadalways feared domination byPhilip. Thus, on John’scoming, he found himselfwithconsiderableallies.

His spirts were lifted andwhenhehadtakenacastleortwo he was excited by hissuccess and saw himselfregainingallthathehadlost.

Luck was on his side andagainst Philip on thisoccasion for the Flemings –perennial enemies of theFrench – took thisopportunity to attack him.Philip had no alternative butto turn to Flanders, leavinghissonLouistodealwiththeinvadingEnglish.

Excited,certainofsuccess,John realised that there was

onefamilywhichcouldspoilhis chances, a family whichborealmostasgreatagrudgeagainst him as theFitzWalters. This was the deLusignan family, and Hugh,from whom he had snatchedIsabella,wasattheheadofit.

It seemed to John that hislife was haunted by spectresof the past. Arthur, Vesci,FitzWalter and Lusignan.

Wouldnoneofthewrongshehad committed ever beforgotten?

Hewasgoing to try to laythe Lusignan ghost rightaway.Hemust if hewere toturn the wrath of thispowerfulfamilyfromhim.

An idea had occurred tohim which greatly amusedhim. Hugh de Lusignan, the

manofwhomhehadalwaysbeenjealousbecauseheknewthat Isabellahadrememberedhimallthroughtheyears,hadremained unmarried. Couldthis be because he had beensoenamouredofIsabellathathe could not contemplatetakinganotherbride?Itcouldwell be so. Hugh’s familywasanambitiousoneandifatastybaitweredangledbefore

them theywould not be ableto prevent themselves takingit. John was overcome withmirth.Hecouldhavehislittlejoke to good advantage, theLusignansshouldhelphimtorecover what he had lost inFrance.

He sent messengers toHugh de Lusignan offeringhimabride;thisbridewastobe John’s own legitimate

daughter – he had severalillegitimate ones – Joanna,daughter of Isabella whomHugh had loved and soreluctantlylost.

John couldnot restrain hislaughterwhenthemessengersreturned.

Isabella’s old lover Hughhad agreed to marry herdaughter.

What a brilliant stroke ofstrategy this was, was seenwhen Philip, hearing of theproposedalliancebetweentheKing of England and theLusignan family, offered oneof his sons as a bridegroomfor little Joanna. Surely abetterproposition!Thesonofthe King of France for theprincess of England – not amerebaron.

‘Not so, not so,’ criedJohn.Hepointedout that theKing of France had marriedhis niece and that had notsaved them conflict. ThemarriageofhisdaughterwiththeLusignansseemed tohiman ideal one. Moreover, hewas looking forward totellingIsabellathatHughwastohaveherdaughter.

He could now march

unmolestedthroughLusignanterritory and so pursue hisattackontheKingofFrance.In this he continued withsome success but he haduneasy allies. They werewatchingcarefullywhichwaythe battle was going and didnotintendtobecaughtonthelosingside.Facetofacewiththe French they decided thatit would be better to remain

neutral;andevenasthebattlewasabouttobegintheymadeuptheirmindstodesert.

John’s fury when he sawhis ranksdiminishingwas sogreat that he wept. Hescreamedandshoutedbutthiswas of no avail.TheFrench,being aware of what hadhappened, realised this wasthe time to attack, and Johnand his forces were soon

hastilyretreating.

Itwasthebeginningoftheend. The French were toostrong; John’s allies haddeserted him; and his men,who did not believe in hisability to achieve his ends,wanted to go home. Theyremembered what had beensaid of John – theKingwhohad lost the Frenchpossessions. They reminded

eachotherthattherehadbeena time when Philip hadthreatenedtoinvadeEngland.The only element which hadprevented that was theintervention of the Pope.What sort of king was this?He was no leader. At homethey were grumbling abouthim. The barons werethreatening to rise againsthim. What good could they

achievehereinFrance?Therewasnothing there but defeat.It was time they returned toEngland to protect theirpossessions there before theFrenchcametotakethem.

Angry, frustrated, Johnreturned to England.Something told him that itwould never be in his powerto regain the Frenchpossessions.

HisonlypleasureinreturninghomewastogotoGloucestertoseeIsabella.

She was pregnant oncemore, a fact which pleasedhim.Hefounditgratifyingtokeep her shut away and tosurround her with guards sothat he could be sure noloversvisitedherand then tocometoherathiswill.

Heallowedhertohavethechildren with her. YoungHenry now eight years old,Richard a year younger,Joanna the little bride-to-benearlyfive,andbabyIsabella.It was gratifying tocontemplate that therewouldsoonbeanother.

Heknewthatshewasgladtoseehimandsheno longerreferred tohis infidelitiesbut

accepted themas amatter ofcourse which seemed to himright and proper. Hewondered how often shethought of her lover hanginglifeless on the bed. Ah, hethought, he would no longerhavebeenanyusetoherhadhelived.

This always amused him;andhecouldsay thathewasas pleased with his marriage

as he had ever been andalthough he had been madwith rage when he haddiscovered her infidelity, shecouldalwaysexcitehimmorethananyotherwomanhehadeverknown.

Nowhecouldtaunther.

‘I have had adventuresoverseas,’hesaid.

‘And none, I believe, that

havebroughtyouadvantage.’

‘Oh, I shall cross the seasere longand then Iwill flouttheKingofFrance.’

‘Let us hope he will notflout you first. So you havelost everything across thesea?’

‘Nay. ’Tisbuta temporarysetback. I havemade a trucewithanoldfriendofyours.’

‘Whicholdfriendisthat?’

‘Hugh de Lusignan. Ibelieveyouthoughthighlyofhimonce.’

Shewasalertandwatchful.Whatdidthismean?

‘He is a brave and nobleman,’sheanswereddefiantly.

‘I am glad you think sobecause he is to become a

memberofourfamily.’

‘How so?’ she asked, andhewaspleasedtoseethatherheart had started to beat fastwith apprehension. Shethought he was going to tellher of some torture inflictedon Hugh. He would let herfear for him for a whilebefore enlightening her withthe information which hebelievedwouldshockher.

Heclearedhisthroat.‘Iamgoing to give him ourdaughter.’

‘Give … him … ourdaughter?’sheechoed.

‘I mean of course thatJoanna is to be betrothed toyour old lover, Hugh theBrown.’

‘But…sheisachild.’

‘Princesses are marriedwhen they are young, as youknow. How old were you?Twelve. If our Joanna isanything like hermother shewill giveHugh a very happytime.’

‘It is impossible,’ shesnapped. ‘The child is butfiveyearsold.’

‘In seven years’ time …

perhaps earlier, she will beready.Hewillbepreparedtowait.Heisgoodatthat.’

‘He … he will be an oldman.’

‘There have been olderbridegrooms.Hewas excitedat the prospect. And so wegot safe conduct through histerritory. It could have givenmeavictoriouscampaignbut

for the traitors. I thought:ThiswillpleaseIsabella.Shethought highly of the man.Verywell, shewillwelcomehim as a son!’ He began tolaugh.Shewantedtokillhim.Sheclaspedherhandstightlytogether to prevent theirtakingaction.

She hated him. He wasforty-eight years of age andlookedmore.Hewas too fat

and growing bald and it wasinevitable that the life ofdebauchery should begin toshowitself.

‘Come,’ he cried, holdingouthishands,‘showmeyourgratitude. I have arranged amatchforyourdaughterwithamanwhom,Ihavereasontothink, you regard veryhighly.’

Thenhecaughther tohimand she knew thatunderstanding that he haddisturbed her gave some zesttohisdesire.

Cruelty always gave himadditionalpleasure.

J

ChapterXX

RUNNYMEDE

ohn did not realise whattroublewasawaitinghim.While he had been in

France thosebaronswhohadrefused to accompany him

had been meeting to askthemselves howmuch longertheyweregoingtoenduretheruleofanineffectualtyrant.

Stephen Langton, whoowed his duty to the Pope,understood very well howmatters were going and wassure that some compromisewould have to be reached.Among the archives ofCanterburyhehaddiscovered

a copy of a document calledthe Charter of Henry I. ThissetoutcertainlibertieswhichonhiscoronationHenryIhadbeen forced to grant to thepeople. There were only afewcopiesofthisinexistencebecause Henry had been atgreatpains todestroy anyhecouldlayhishandson.

On discovering thisdocument in the month of

AugusttheArchbishopcalledtogether the barons at StPaul’swhereheproducedthedocuments, pointing out thatmany of the rights expressedtherein had been waived bysucceedingkings.

The struggle between theKingandhisbaronsmovedastage further after thatassembly at St Paul’s. Theynow determined to go into

action.

November20thwasa feastday and under the pretext ofcelebrating this the baronsagain met, this time at BuryStEdmunds.

Here they took a solemnoath before the high altar.They would insist that JohnrenewtheCharterofHenryI;and if he should refuse they

were determined to makewar.

ThetimechosentopresenttheirdemandtotheKingwasChristmas, which he wouldbe celebrating at Worcester.They decided, however, thatthe seasonofgoodwillmightnot be the best time so theychanged themeetingplace toLondonandsentadeputationto the King at Worcester

telling him that the baronswere assembled in Londonwhere they must parley withhimwithoutdelay.

Aware of the stormwhichwas gathering about him,John left Worcester andtravelled to London; andthere he found the baronsawaitinghim.

They were a formidable

assembly,fortheyhadarmedas though for war, and theirspokesmaninformedtheKingthat they insistedhekeep thepromises and laws set out intheCharterofHenryI.

John was at first inclinedarrogantly to accuse them ofinsubordination, butwhen hesaw how threatening wastheirmannerheknewhemusttreadcarefully.

‘Youareaskingmeagreatdeal,’ he said. ‘I cannot giveyou an immediate answer.You must give me a littletime to consider thesematters. Wait until Eastertime and I will have myanswerforyouthen.’

The barons murmuredtogetherbut finallyagreed toawaittheappointedtime.

John immediately sentenvoys to the Pope beggingfor his help against therecalcitrant barons, givingthem instructions to tell HisHoliness that he was hishumble servant and that heneeded his help against hisrebellious subjects. As hisfaithfulvassalheappealed tohimandtrustedthathewouldinstruct the rebels to submit,

through John, to HisHoliness.

The result of this was aletter from the Pope to thebaron leaders and StephenLangton, forbidding them topersist in theirpersecutionofthe King. But StephenLangton was a man of highprinciples and he had rangedhimself on the side of thebarons. The Pope did not

understand the true situationin England; accordingly atEaster timethebaronsmetatStamford inLincolnshire andthe Archbishop was withthem. With them came twothousand men, armed forbattle, to show the King themeasureoftheirseriousness.

John was at Oxford andwith him was WilliamMarshal. All John’s efforts

were spent in controlling hisfury. That his subjects whohad once been terrified andready to hide themselves atthe first sign of his temper,were now actually bringingarmed forces to intimidatehim,maddenedhim.

William Marshal wasfaithful as ever, but verygrave, being fully aware ofJohn’s unhappy position and

the justice of the barons’grievances.

‘I will go to them, mylord,’ he said, ‘and discoverthe nature of these demands.Then it is my opinion thatyou should examine themveryclosely.’

‘Waseverakinginsuchasadstate?’criedJohn.

‘Rarely,’ answered the

Marshalsomewhatcurtly.HeagreedthatJohn’sactionshadbrought him to this state anditwasonlyhisinherentbeliefthat the monarchy must beupheld at all costs whichmade him determined toserve John until the end, hebeing,inhisopinion,thetruesovereignoftherealm.

MarshalreturnedtoJohninthe company of Stephen

Langton with the writtendemandsofthebarons.

John flushed with fury ashe read them: ‘By God’shands and feet,’ he cried,‘whydotheynotdemandmykingdom?’

‘They are very insistent,mylord,’warnedMarshal.

John threw the documenttothefloorandstampedonit.

‘Iwouldnevergrant libertieswhich would make me aslave,’hedeclared.Headdedslyly: ‘Wewill ask the Popeto intervene in thismatter. Itis the concern of HisHoliness, for I hold thiskingdom under him. Go, tellthe barons they must appealtothePope.’

This thebaronsrefusedtodo

and the Pope sent Pandulph,who happened to be inEngland at the time,instructions toexcommunicate thebaronsastheywere,inrebellingagainsttheKingofEngland,defyingtheHolySee.

Stephen Langton sent forPandulphandtoldhimthathecould see the situation moreclearlythananoutsider,being

right at the heart of it. Thecountry could not exist anylonger under the tyranny ofitsKingand thebaronswereclaiming no more than theirrights in demandingadherencetotheCharter.

‘Instead ofexcommunicating thebarons,’hedeclared,‘itistheKing’s army of mercenarieswho should be

excommunicated. Withoutthem he would be powerlessagainstthepeople.’

John, deeply alarmed atthis observation, went to theTower of London that hemight take possession of hiscapitalcity.

Thisseemed tantamount toastateofwarand thebaronsdecidedtoelectamarshal.

Itwasironicalthatthemanthey chose was RobertFitzWalter,theKing’senemyandamanwhohadascoretosettlewiththemurdererofhisdaughter.

Allthosewhohadsufferedfrom the King’s unjusttaxation now rallied togetherand joined the barons. AnarmymarchedonLondonandthere was welcomed by the

people. The whole countrywas rising against the King,andJohnknewit.

He realised that there wasonlyonecourseopentohim.Hemustoffertocomplywiththe barons’ wishes. Theywould meet the King in aconference and this was totakeplaceonthe15thJuneataplacecalledRunnymede.

And so in the meadowbetweenStainesandWindsorthe parties met. John hadbroughtonlyafewattendantsbut the barons had felt itnecessary tomuster asmanysupporters as they could.Theyhadtheirarmedknightsandthepeople,knowingtheirpurpose, had joined theirranks as they marched toRunnymede so that it was a

multitude which reached thepleasantfield.

For twelve days theconference continued. Therewere adjustments to theclauses and continuousdiscussionwhile John lookedon and watched his powerdiminishing.

TheChurchwas tobefreeto have her rights and

liberties unhurt; so were theKing’s subjects; widowsshouldnotbeforcedtomarryagainst their will; goodscouldnotbeseizedfordebtifthedebtorcoulddischargethedebt; no scutage (a taxdemanded for the purpose ofsupplyingfundsforwar)wasto be imposed by the Kingunless it was agreed by acommoncouncil.

In fact no taxation was tobe levied without consent ofthe council. All ancientlibertiesandcustomsofcitieswere to be preserved. Therewere several clausespertaining to law. No personwastobekeptinprisonforalong termwithout an inquiryintohisguiltorinnocence.

These were but a few oftheclausestowhichJohnwas

forcedtoagreeandashereadthem he saw what he hadalwaysregardedashiskinglyprivileges being whittledaway.Therewouldbe anewfreedom in the land after thesigning of Magna Carta andmuch of the King’s powerwouldbelosttohim.

The barons with theirleader Robert FitzWalterwerenotgoingtoallowJohn

toescape.

Sohemustpenhisnametothe great charter ofRunnymede.

Isabella,havinggivenbirthtoanother daughter, whom shenamed Eleanor, heard of themomentous events whichwere shaking the veryfoundationsofthethrone.

It had been certain tohappen, she knew. John hadbroughtitonhimself.Hehadmade so many enemies.Arthur’sdisappearancewouldnever be forgotten; and therewere so many influentialfamilies whose members hehadwrongedinsomeway.

She often thought aboutMatilda FitzWalter withwhomhewassupposedtobe

so enamoured and shewondered why he had notforcedthegirl ifhehadbeenas eager as rumour wouldhaveithewas.Itwasstrangethat he should have had herpoisoned because she wouldnotsubmit.Butthereweresomanyodd twistsand turns inhis nature that one couldneverbeentirelysureofwhathewasthinking.

Hehadgivenher somanyshocks recently. First herlover’sbodyoverherbedandthen giving little Joanna toHugh. Then she fell towonderingwhyHughhadnotmarried and whether it hadanything to do with hisdevotion to herself. Howwouldhefeelaboutmarryingherdaughter?Butthatwasfaraway. Who could be sure

whatwouldhappenbythen?

John had not visited herlately. She supposed he wastoo preoccupied with thebaronsandtheirdemands.

Who would have believedat the beginning of his reignthatsomuchcouldhavebeenlost? Who but John wouldhavelostit?

Hewasnotingoodhealth.

She had been aware of thatfor some time. The anxietiesof the last years would havedonenothingtoalleviatethat,and she had alwaysmaintained that those fearfulrageswouldkillhimoneday.

So as she nursed her babysheaskedherselfwhatwouldhappentoherwhenJohnwasdead,forshehadanotionthatthatdaymightnotbefaroff.

After the signing of theCharterJohngavewaytohisrage, and those about himthought thathewould indeedkill himself. He was like amadman;hegnashedhisteethandtoreathisclothes;helayon the floor kicking atfurniture and any who camenear him; he picked uphandfuls of rushes, stuffed

them into his mouth andchewedthem,seemingtofindsome relief in this. Hemutteredtohimselfandthosewithin earshot listened to thebloodcurdling threats heuttered about what he woulddo to his enemies. His boutsof rage would subside andthenburstoutagain.Theonlyreliefhecouldget seemed tobethroughthem.

Chains they had put onhim, he cried out. Theseupstarts! Theywanted to killhim.Theywantedtotakehiskingdomfromhim.Theyhadbeen against him all his life.They would learn one daywhat happened to hisenemies. There would be nomercy…none…

When he grew calmer hedecided thathewouldappeal

oncemore to the Pope.Washe not the fief of the Pope?Had he not surrendered hiscrown to the Pope and hadnot the Pope returned it tohim?Momentarilyheseemedto hear the sighs of hisancestors.Thebittershameofit! But everyone was againstme! he cried. Not the HolyFather, though. He wouldsupport him. A quick smile

touchedJohn’slips.Itwassoironical to think of theChurch’s standing with him.InhismessagetothePopehementioned the fact that hewascontemplatinggoingonacrusade for of late since hehad turnedwholeheartedly tothe Church he felt his pastsinsweighheavilyuponhim.A mission to the Holy Landalone could rid him of this

burden and if he could bringpeace to his kingdom hewouldmakehisplans.

It was those barons whohadbrought him to this state– those wicked barons; theBraoseswhoweredeterminedtohavetheirrevengebecausethat virago of theirs hadmether just deserts; Vesci whohadmadesuchafussbecausehehadadmiredhiswife;and

FitzWalter whose sillydaughter had refused tosubmittoherKing.

Vesci had told him whenthe barons were assembledthat he was mistaken if hethought he had dishonouredhis wife. ‘You slept with acommon whore, my lord.Youweretoodrunktonoticeshewasnotmywife.’

‘Liar!’ he had cried andwanted to shout to someonetotakethemanawayandcutouthistongue.

Vesci was bold with themight of the barons behindhim.

‘Weoftenlaughatthewayinwhichyouwereduped,mylord,mywifeandI.’

Hemusthavebeencertain

that Johnwouldnever regainpower to have talked likethat.

He had tried to think backtothatnightbuthecouldnotremember very clearly andthepleasurehehadhadfromthatepisodecameafterwhenhe thought of the haughtyVesciwho,ashehadthought,hadhadtogiveuphiswife.

And they had duped him,for deep in his heart hebelieved this to be so –substituting a commonharlotfortheladyofthecastle;andthey had laughed at him.They had cheated him as allthe barons had assembled todo.

And strangest of all – hisfriendwasthePope.

He knew he was right inthinking that the Popewouldgivehimhissupport.WashenotafiefofthePope?hekepttellinghimself.Therefore,theHoly Father would have nowishtoseehimdefeated.

Innocent read thedespatches very gravely andcame to the conclusion thatthe barons were seeking todepose John. Why so?

Because he had madeEngland a vassal of Rome?The Pope did not wish theKingtolosehiscrown.WhatifEnglandwereplunged intocivilwar and a new king setup? What of England’sobligationstoRomethen?

The Pope sent orders toStephen Langton topronounce the sentence ofexcommunication on the

barons.

Langton’s reply was toinform the Pope that he wasnot fully acquaintedwith thetrue state of affairs inEngland. The King hadbehaved as a tyrant and thebarons were only asking forjustice and determined to getit. The case was verydifferent from the manner inwhichJohnhadpresentedit.

The Pope was angered bythis reply from theArchbishop whose electionhadcreatedsucha storm.Hecould not understand whatwas happening. It seemed tohimthatJohnhadbehavedina most seemly manner. HehadbecomereconciledtotheChurch;hehadreinstatedtheclergy;hewasplanningtogoonacrusade.Andthebarons

werebehavinginamannertosuggest they planneddeposing such a king. Theyshould be helping himprepare for the crusade.ChristianleaderswereneededintheHolyLand.Increatingsuch disturbances now thebarons were displeasing GodasmuchastheSaracensdid.

How explain to the PopethatJohnwasindeedatyrant,

thathewasaworthlessking,that he had lost hispossessionsoverseasandwason the verge of losingEngland? How explain thathe had no intention of goingonacrusade?

ThePope endedby sayingthat unless Stephen Langtoncarried out orders he wouldbedeprivedofhisoffice.

Johnrousedhimself fromhisrage and looked the situationstraight in the face. If he didnot act quicklyhewasgoingtolosehiskingdom.Hemustraise an army to fight thesebarons. He must show themthathewouldnotlightlypassoverhiscrown.

He rode out at dawn onemorning with a very fewfollowers and made his way

to Dover. He had alreadydespatchedoneofhisagents,Hubert de Boves, to theContinent to recruit an armyofmercenaries.Hewasgoingtolielowuntilthatarmywasready.

Very few people knewwherehewas and thosewhodid had been sworn tosecrecy. The barons werenonplussed and there was

nothing they could do butwait for news of the King’swhereabouts.

John smiled wryly,considering the speculationtherewouldbeabouthim.Atfirst there were rumours thathe had gone to France toparleywithPhilipandaskhishelp.Thatwouldhavebeenadangerous measure but Johnwas capable of such folly.

Otherssaidthathehadinfactgoneonthecrusadewhichhehad said hewould do but noone could really believe thateither. All those near himknewthathehadnointentionof going on the crusade andthatwhenhehad talkedof itithadbeenjokingly.Theideaof John’s crusading wasridiculous. One source saidthathewasdead, thathehad

been murdered by one ofthose who had a grudgeagainst him and there weremany to choose as suspects.Others said that he had tiredof his life as a king and hadbecome a fisherman in someremotepartofthecountry.

John laughed at therumours and gradually menbegan to arrive from theContinent.

He marched on Rochesterand laid siege to the castletherewhichwas in thehandsof the barons. In due coursethe castle was taken but notbefore the inmates had beenreduced to such starvationthat they had eaten theirhorses.

John, furious thatmercenaries should witnessthe defiance of his own

subjects, ordered that everyman in the castle should behanged, but before this orderwascarriedoutthecaptainofthe mercenaries managed topersuade him to rescind it.Theydidnotwishtogivetheenemy an excuse forreprisals, he said. Let theKing show his leniency andremember that these peoplewere his own subjects who

had perhaps been led astrayorcoercedintotakingastandagainsthim.

Elated by the victory Johnwas prepared to waive hisanger and the defenders ofRochesterCastledidnot losetheirlives.

When the envoys arrivedfromRomeforthepurposeof

excommunicating the barons,the latter realised thatpowerful forces were beingreleased against them. Itwasneverwisetobeatoddswiththe Church when there werebattles to be fought, forsoldiers could so easilypersuadethemselvesthatGodwasagainstthemandaccountthesmallestsetbacktoDivinedispleasure which would

underminefutureaction.

IfJohnhad thePopeasanally, they too must seek oneas powerful – or perhapsmore so; and the answer tothis was of course Philip ofFrance.

There was no doubt thatthat shrewd and wilymonarchwaswatchingeventsin England with the greatest

interest. He had utterlydefeated John on theContinent; he was nowwaiting for the barons to dosoinEngland.Hehimselfnotsolongagohadcastcovetouseyes on the crown and hadbeen turned fromhis attempttotakeitbyinterventionfromthe Pope. The fact that helpfor John was again comingfrom that quarter gave him

deepcauseforthought.Philipwas secretly amused that themost unholy of kings shouldhave found a friend in themost holy of Fathers. Popes,Philip said to himself, couldbe moved to act throughexpedience quite as often –more so in truth – thanthrough holiness; and sinceInnocent himself had takenJohn’scrownfromhim–and

graciouslybestoweditonhimbut as a vassal – he wouldnaturally be very inclined tosupporthispuppet.

Now came messengersfrom the barons of England.They had a proposition tomake. If Philip would helpthemdeposeJohntheywouldbe prepared to bestow thecrownonPhilip’ssonLouis.

Philip’s eyes sparkled. Sothe crown of England couldcometoFranceafterall!

He pretended to bedubious.

‘Howwould the people ofEnglandreconcilethemselvestoaFrenchking?’hewantedtoknow.

‘My lord, Louis has acertain claim to the throne

throughhiswife.’

Philip nodded. A claim ofsorts, though a flimsy one.Eleanor,daughterofHenryIIandEleanorofAquitaine,hadmarried Alfonso, King ofCastile. They had had adaughter, Blanche, who wasLouis’s wife. Therefore itcouldbesaidthatthechildrenLouis and Blanche wouldhave would be descended

from the English RoyalHouse.

A flimsy link, thoughtPhilip, but one worthconsidering. If itwentwronghecouldwashhishandsofitandimplythat itwasLouis’sconcern. Philip had nevergreatly cared for the act ofwar; he preferred to win hisbattles through strategy; hewould greatly enjoy sitting

back and watching whatLouismadeofit.Itwouldbea great achievement if thecrown of England came toFrance.

Hecouldofcourseseethatthe baronswere not so eageras they would seem to set aFrench king on their throne,but since the intervention ofthe Pope their need wasurgent. Johnwas amassing a

large army of mercenariesfrom the Continent and thisarmy would be mainlycomposed of the French –subjects of Philip. It mightwell be that the barons, asJohn’s army increased,believed they were beingforced into a desperatelyunfavourable position. Itwasa clever stroke of strategy tocallinthehelpofPhilip’sson

Louis.

While the French weredebatinghowtheyshouldact,the Pope threatened toexcommunicate StephenLangton who was notobeying the orders sent fromRome and was pleading thejustcauseofthebarons.

Langton realised that hisonly hope of convincing the

Pope was to go in person toRome and plead his causewithhim.

When John heard thatLangtonhadleftforRomehewas uneasy. Langton was aneloquent man; he could laythe casebefore Innocent in amannerwhichwouldbringnogoodtoJohn.Uptothispointhischanceshadseemedgood.His armywas increasing and

although they weremercenarieswhowould fightany battle providing therewardsweregood,theyweretrained soldiers, experiencedand well equipped in everyway for battle. The baronswere clearly not trainedsoldiers; they lacked leaders.Amanbent on revenge suchas Robert FitzWalter mightrouse people by the force of

hiseloquencebutthatdidnotmakehimagoodleader.

‘ByGod’s ears and teeth,’cried John, ‘I am going tosubdue these barons. I amgoingtomakethemwishtheyhad thought twice beforeraising their hands againstme.’

Then luck began to turnagainst him. The first stroke

came with the death ofInnocent, and although Johnimmediately put his case tohis successor, Honorius IIIwas not interested. Supportfrom Rome had crumbled.Then Louis had arrived inEngland and was given awelcomebythebarons.

‘SotheyhavecalledintheFrench!’ cried John. ‘I neverthought to see the like. No

goodhascome tome since IturnedtotheChurch.’

The faithful Marshal wasbesidehim,urginghimnottodespair. He had hismercenaries, trained soldiers,and it was well known thatthose who defended theirhomeshadanadvantageoverthe invaders. Some specialfighting spirit was given tothem; it was their

determination to fight to theend.

‘What of the Conqueror?’cried John. ‘He came andtooktheland.AretheFrenchgoingtodotomewhathedidtotheSaxons?’

‘Notifyouarestrong.’

‘Strong! Am I not strong?And what of these cursedbarons?’

The Marshal shook hishead sadly. It was not thetime to tell him that histyrannical acts had madebitter enemies of men whomight otherwise have beenhisfriends.

‘Thosewhoareloyaltothecrownwill fight to the deathtokeepitwhereitbelongs.’

‘And theyhavebrought in

the French, the accursedtraitors.’

‘Traitors indeed,’ agreedtheMarshal.

‘They have broughtforeignersintotheland.’

As he had, the Marshalthought sadly, with hismercenaries. Foreign soldiersto fight Englishmen in theirowncountry!

WilliamMarshalhadneverthoughtitwouldcometothis.The barons were demandingjustice; they had producedtheir Charter and John hadbeen forced to pen hissignature to it. That greatwise King Henry I hadgranted a Charter – notbecause he wished to reducehisownpowerbutbecausehewished to strengthen it. But

hehadbeenawiseking.

The summer was passing.It was an uneasy situationwith an enemy on Englishsoil. Even those who hadbroughtthemintothecountrynow felt qualms. Did theywanttobeavassalofFrance?Did theywantLouison theirthrone?

When Louis had arrived

themajorityofthebaronshadwelcomed him; now theywere not so sure.Manywhohad first supported him nowcame back to John. He didnot reproach them; he wasonlytoopleasedtoseethem.

He heard that Eustace deVesci had been killed at thesiegeofBarnard’sCastle.

Helaughedaloud,thinking

of the man who had stoodbefore him insolentlyrecountinghowhehaddupedtheKing.Hehadbeenoneofthemainleadersoftherebels,egged on by thoughts ofrevenge. And now it wasVesciwho lay stiff andcold,notJohn.

The King of Scotland hadcome to the aidof the rebelsand was harrying the North;

but the fact that so many ofthe barons were nowregretting the arrival of theFrenchputheartintoJohn.

He planned to drive hisforces between those of theScots in the North and thebarons in the South and thisbrought him to the town ofLynn–aloyaltown,atradingtown which, like the CinquePorts, enjoyed certain

privileges.

At Lynn he was wellreceived and he spent thetime there feasting, drinkingand listening to music whileheplannedhisnextmove.

Perhapshehadfeasted toowell inLynn;perhapshehaddrunktoofreelyoftheirwine,but he began to feel unwelland suffered from dysentery

which made travellingdifficult.

But he must move on andfrom Lynn he travelled toWisbech.Withhimhetookagreat many belongings,everythinghewouldneedforsojourn wherever theoccasion should arise, and asthe King must always besurroundedbyobjectsworthyofhis rank–andnevermore

so than when he was indanger of losing it – hisbaggage was considerable. Itcontained his jewellery ofwhich he had always beeninordinately fond and as hegrewolderandperhapsmorein need of adornments todisguise his mottledcomplexion and his ravagedface,helikedtoastonishwiththeir brilliance all those who

beheldhim.

Inadditiontohisjewelleryhehadbroughtotherpreciouspossessions including hisornamentalplate,flagonsandgobletsofgoldandsilver,theroyal regalia – everythingwhich it was necessary tokeepwith him for fear of itsbeingtakenbyanenemy.

He wished to get to the

north side of the Wash androde off with his army,leaving the wagonscontaining his possessions totake amoredirect route – astheirprogresswasnecessarilyslow – across the estuary.This journey had to be takenwhen the tide was out as itmeant crossing sand whichwould be treacherous, and itwas necessary to take guides

who by prodding the sandswith long poles could detectanysignofquicksand.

John left them to take thelongerroute,withinstructionsthat he would wait atSwinesheadonthenorthsideof theWash for the baggagetoarrive.

The cumbersomecavalcademadeitswaytothe

sands. The guidewas a littlelate and itwas impossible tostart without him. Thereforetheywould have tomake upspeed in the crossing. Themist descended and they setout. Before they werehalfwayacrosstheestuarythewheelsofthewagonsbecamestuck in the sand and it wasimpossible to move them.The tide started to come in

and in spite of the franticefforts of the drivers of thevehicles they remained stuckfast.

The waters washed overthe sands and the wagonswere sucked down with alltheircontents.

John waiting atSwinesheadrealisedwhathadhappened and let out a great

wailofanger.

Hefeltill,exhaustedbytherigours of the drive in hiscondition; and this seemedthelaststraw.

He soon learned that hehad lost his jewels, hisprecious plate, everythingthatconstitutedhiswealth.

Whatwastheretodo?Hefelt

ill and wretched. He wasdefeated.TheFrenchwereonEnglishsoil.Hisbaronswererising against him. The newPope was indifferent to hisplight.Thismustbetheend.

His angerwas intense, butquieterbecausehehadnotthephysical strength to give itplay.

Was this what he had

longed for in the days whenRichard was King?Was thiswhathehadmurderedArthurfor? There had been goodtimes of course. The firstdayswithIsabella.

Where was Isabella now?Whatwasshethinking?Howwould she feel when he wasdead?

He wanted revenge …

revenge!

On the way to the Abbeyof Swineshead they passed aconvent and stopped forrefreshment.Itwasbroughttothembyanunwhoseemedtohim in his fevered state tohave a look of Isabella. Tothink of Isabella in a nun’srobe was amusing. But that,hethought,ishowshewouldhave looked years ago had

theydressedherthus.

He spoke to the nun, whoshrank from him, and he feltthe stirrings of anger and adesire to force his will uponher. It was but a shadow ofthe feelingshehadknown inthe past. He mused as hedrankthealeshehadbroughtforthem.Afewyears,nolessthanthat,Iwouldhavemadesome plan to abduct her. I

would have had good sportwithher.

Buthewasinnomoodforsport. He thought of hisbeautiful jewels somewherein the quicksands of theWash. He thought of theFrench on his soil and hissubjects taking up armsagainst him. And a nagginganger possessed him, a futileanger because he was too

weaktogivevoicetoit.

They left the convent andwenton toSwineshead.Heretheywouldrestforthenight.

He sat at refectory.He ateanddrankand tried to regainhisyouthandspirits.Hetriedto forget what washappening; he wanted to beyoung again. The winenumbed his senses, soothed

the pains of his body andloosenedhistongue.

Hetalkedofthenunhehadseen. ‘By God’s ears,’ hesaid, ‘we’ll ride back thatway.I’lltakeher…byforceif necessary. She had a lookinhereyes…perhapsnotsoprim,eh?’

One of hismenwhisperedtohim:‘Ihaveheardthatthe

nunis thesisterof theAbbothere.’

Thatmade him laugh. ‘Somuchthebetter.Somuchthebetter. Oh, God’s eyes, whatis this country coming to?Disloyal subjects. I’ll starvethem to death. Perhaps theywon’tbesoeagertoshoutforthe Frenchman when I havetaught them what starvationmeans. I’llmake food scarce

… I’ll burn the granaries.They shall know hunger …andIshallknowtheAbbot’ssister.’

‘My lord,’ said one of themonks, ‘Ibelieveyouhaveafondnessforpeaches.’

‘’Tisso.’

‘We have some choicepeaches. Have I yourpermission to bring you

some?’

‘I give that permission,’criedJohn.

A little later the monkcamewiththreepeachesonaplatter. John ate themhungrily.Almostimmediatelyafterwardshewasseizedwithviolentpains.

All through the night he

suffered and in the morninghesetoutonhisjourney,butwhen he reached the BishopofLincoln’scastleatNewarkhecouldgonofarther.

‘I think I am dying,’ hesaid.

The Bishop brought theAbbot ofCroxton to him forhe was said to be skilled inthe art of healing; but there

wasnothing theAbbot coulddo.

John lay on his bedthinking of past events andbeggingtheAbbotofCroxtontohearhisconfession.

Where to begin? Thereweresomanyblacksins thathehadforgottenhalfofthem.Dominating them allwas thenight in the castle of Rouen

when he had killed Arthurand taken his body out,burdenedwithastone,thathemight sink in the waters oftheSeine.

‘Forgiveness,my lordGod…’hemurmured.

Butheknewhewasaskingagreatdeal.

He said: ‘What is thatnoise?’

‘’Tis thewind,my lord. Itisfiercethisnight.’

People said that the stormthat blew on that Octobernight of the year 1216 wasthat aroused by the gates ofHell openingwide to receivethePrinceofDarkness inhistruedomain.

He died in the early hoursof the eighteenth day of that

monthandas itwashiswishthathisbodyshouldbeburiedbefore the altar of StWulfstan in WorcesterCathedral, it was taken therein a funeral processionprotected by the mercenaryarmy he had brought over tofightforhim.

T

ChapterXXI

PEACE

he death of the Kinghad a great impact onfeeling throughout the

country.Noonewishedforaforeign ruler. All that had

been necessary was toremove the tyrant who wasKingJohn.Godhaddonethatforthemandnowthecountrywantedtobeatpeace.

Isabella, no longer aprisoner, acted promptly. Assoon as she heard that Johnwas dead she determined tohave her nine-year-old sonHenry crowned immediately.She need not have feared. A

partyoftheKing’ssupportersandthoseof thebaronscameimmediately to Winchester.There was no doubt in anyminds that Henry must becrowned at once as King ofEngland. The ceremony wasperformed by the Bishop ofWinchester.

NowthewholeofEnglandwas united to drive out theFrench. This was speedily

achievedandEnglandwasatpeace–thetyrantdeadandayoungkingonthethronewithministerstoguidehim.

Isabella, with amazingenergy at thirty-four years ofage, was still possessed ofgreatbeauty,andalthoughthemother of five children, shehadlostnoneofherappeal.

She decided to cross the

sea, taking with her herdaughter Joanna, who wasbetrothed to Hugh deLusignan, so that the customof bringing up a child in thehousehold of her betrothedmightbecarriedout.

The outcome astonishedmost people, but perhaps notIsabella, for no sooner hadHughseteyesonher thanheknew it was the mother he

wished to marry, not herdaughter.

So they were married andIsabella bore him manychildren while she continuedwithhertempestuouslife.

Meanwhile, her sonHenryIII sat on the throne ofEngland and the royal linewhich had begun with theConquerorcontinued.