The Devil is Loose

by The Devil is Loose (retail) (epub)

  Earning their weary admiration, Fitz Renier continued, ‘There are various ways in which we might raise the money. Or at least part of it. Both Geoffrey FitzRoy and Walter of Coutances have promised to squeeze the Church. Others of us will contribute all we can, and we will borrow a further sum from the city states of Italy. The King of Spain might help us; after all, Queen Berengaria hails from Navarre. And then there’s—’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Marshal intruded, ‘but I may have—’ His thoughts outstripped his words, and it was a while before he appended ‘—a solution, or as you say, a part of it.

  ‘Among us all here, who are the greatest landowners on this side of the Channel? I’d suggest Lady Isabel and myself. With Pembroke, Striguil, the five or six counties of Leinster, those and the fifty smaller holdings scattered throughout England. And how did King Richard raise the money for his Crusade? Yes, you see it, don’t you?

  ‘There are those who cannot be enticed to part with a penny, if it’s for love or loyalty. But if it is for land? And, dare I say, if it is offered by Earl Marshal and Lady Isabel de Clare?’

  He summoned the first smile of the night – now of the day – when he told them that he, himself, would rush to buy from such a distinguished couple.

  They were too sensible and too exhausted to remonstrate with him. It was a brilliant solution, for Marshal could ask a high price for even indifferent fiefs. And the profit from those, together with donations from the Church and loans from abroad, might just tip the scales at thirty tons of silver.

  Anyway, it was better than drowning the country in blood.

  * * *

  Three hundred German-speaking scouts were dispatched to find Richard. Their efforts were crystallized in a troubadour named Blondel, who, it was said, rode from castle to castle, singing a ditty composed by the Lionheart. Eventually, after many months and adventures, his song was heard by the captive king, who responded with the next refrain. It taxed the credulity, but it was a pretty tale, and England was sorely in need of a legend.

  By the time they had discovered his whereabouts, Queen Eleanor and her party had raised more than half the ransom. But they also learned that John and Philip had already matched the gigantic sum, and were offering it to Henry of Germany – on condition that Henry kept Richard a prisoner for life.

  * * *

  The castle of Durrenstein was like most of the others in which he had been lodged during the past twelve months; too ornate for his taste, and too cold for comfort. But he was thankful that the game of hide-and-seek was over, and that England knew his address.

  On a personal level, he was particularly glad to be rid of the gibbering Leopold. The weeks of captivity in Austria had been intolerable. Every day, Duke Leopold would summon him into the Great Hall, then scream new threats, or prowl around him, gloating over his trophy.

  ‘One hundred and fifty thousand silver marks,’ he’d chant. ‘Your kingdom will be drained!

  ‘Or perhaps they will not want you back, had you thought? Three years you have been their king, but how much time have you spent with them in England? Three months? Not more. Why should they pay for a stranger, a man who insults those better than himself? No, I do not think they will reclaim you, Lowenherz. I think you will stay here and regret how you treated our flag.’

  But he had been proved wrong. Emperor Henry had taken charge of the prisoner, moved him from Austria to Bavaria to Carinthia, and finally incarcerated him in the Gothic castle at Durrenstein. Richard’s chambers overlooked a narrow, rock-strewn river, but not even the Lowenherz was prepared to make a rope from clothes and belts and curtains, then risk the eighty-foot descent.

  Henry visited his prisoner in March and June and again in August. They were traditional enemies, the Hohenstaufen and the Plantagenet, yet each was pleasantly surprised by the other’s manner. Henry was twenty-eight years old, the same age to the month as Philip Augustus, but he was blond where the French king was dark, and took a larger size in clothes. On his third visit, the emperor invited Richard to accompany him on a bear hunt, and told him of John’s treacherous offer.

  ‘He’s hand in glove with the Frenchman, and Philip has made several inroads into your duchy of Normandy. I have met them both, of course, and personally I detest them. I’m sorry to speak so of your brother—’

  ‘Why not?’ Richard said equably. ‘Everybody else does.’

  They swung apart to avoid a twisted spruce tree, then brought their horses close again as they crossed open ground.

  ‘Will you accept their offer?’ Richard asked.

  The young emperor parried the question with a question. ‘Can you give me a good reason why I should not? From what I hear, your mother – a remarkable woman, we’re agreed on that – but even so, she is finding it difficult to raise the money. England is a market-place these days; everything is for sale.’

  ‘I’m surprised,’ Richard commented. ‘I thought I’d already sold it.’

  They had both lost interest in the hunt, and slowed their horses as Richard said, ‘Yes, I can give you a reason, my lord Henry. If you take money from Philip and John, England will immediately lose Normandy, Anjou, God knows what. Philip is far too clever for my brother. He’ll outwit him at every turn.’

  ‘I believe you,’ Henry nodded, ‘but that is your concern, not mine.’

  ‘Yes, it is. At present. But if Philip is not stopped, you may soon find that the kingdom of France extends from your western borders to the borders of Scotland. Philip knows John by now; he knows which tunes to play, and the steps John will dance. And, once the Frenchman has seized Normandy and our other possessions, he’ll invade England itself. God’s legs, you’re aware of all this; that’s why you hesitate to take their money.’

  He glanced across at Henry, but the emperor’s expression betrayed nothing. They skirted more trees and reached another clearing. The hunt was out of sight, somewhere to the left.

  ‘Is that it?’ Henry queried. ‘Is that why I should refuse them?’

  ‘I’m not finished.’ He glanced back, saw the eight armed riders who were there to prevent his escape, and raised his hand in mock salute. They did not find it amusing. They wanted to be up with the hunt, not playing watchdog to the giant.

  Completing his answer, he said. ‘Today, Germany is a great power. So is England, while France sits uncomfortably between us, shouldered by her neighbours. But if I’m kept locked away, Philip will swallow my kingdom, and then you, Hohenstaufen, you will feel jostled. You may detest Philip all you like, but he has more sense in his ear lobes than my brother has in his half-grown body. John believes he is cunning, as he believes he can manipulate me, but he’ll be quite lost in the hands of the ambitious Frenchman.’

  ‘You think your brother a complete fool, don’t you, my lord Richard?’

  ‘I know him for one.’ With a dismissive gesture he said, ‘John is a boy. He follows the jugglers wherever they go.’

  ‘David was a boy, in the story. But he brought down Goliath.’

  ‘He was a master of the slingshot, that’s why. John has mastered nothing, unless it’s to walk in raised boots.’ He returned to the problem again. ‘Money’s attractive; I’m the first to admit it. But if you take silver from Philip, he will destroy England, and you will have given birth to a monster. There will be your Goliath, wearing the crown of France.

  ‘You watch his progress in Normandy. He’s moving his left arm now, to nudge me. But imagine we are a year hence, and think of your own border territories. What if he moves his right arm, eh, my lord?’

  ‘Let’s start back,’ Henry said. ‘We’ve lost the hunt anyway.’

  * * *

  ‘Eighty-nine thousand,’ Malchat said, ‘and that’s where it’s stuck. Almost all of Marshal’s smaller fiefs have been sold off, and we cannot ask him to chip at Pembroke or Leinster.’

  Des Roches growled something about the next war being with Spain, then glanced quickly at Eleanor, to see if she had taken offence. But the dowager queen wa
s too much the realist to argue.

  ‘I’m as disheartened as you, messires, but I see it as Spain does. They owe Richard nothing. He had no wish to marry the Princess of Navarre, but only did it to please me, or stop me pestering him. And, since then, he has ignored Berengaria, as he ignored Alais. Small wonder the Spaniards refuse to help.’ She clicked her tongue and nodded over the sad, undeniable truth. ‘Every time we put Richard with a woman, England gains another enemy.’

  Malchat said, ‘There’s no hope of our raising the total sum this year. But we know that the emperor is worried by Philip’s advances in Normandy, and I think Henry can be persuaded. If we collect another eleven thousand marks, we’ll have a hundred thousand, two-thirds of the ransom. We’ll take that to him-under the heaviest guard the world has ever seen! – and pray that he accepts it. The balance to follow in six months or so. My lady?’

  ‘Yes, I’m for it. It will at least prove we have raised something, other than a wail of alarm. And that much silver spread out on the floor will look most impressive. Any man would be sorry to see it taken away again. Yes, arrange it, Malchat. We’ll buy my son piecemeal.’

  * * *

  Berengaria had been taken to Sicily, where she had been all but ignored by King Richard.

  She had accompanied him to Cyprus, though they had not travelled together.

  Richard had married her there, and she had watched him ride off within hours of the wedding.

  From Cyprus, they had continued eastward to Palestine, again in separate vessels.

  For eighteen months, she had remained in the Holy Land, following in his wake like a leper, who must keep her distance.

  And then she had been sent home, while he had made his way via Corfu and Dalmatia, into Leopold’s clutches…

  Berengaria was the Queen of England, but she had never reached her kingdom. Taken ill with fever on the journey, she had settled on Eleanor’s lands in Aquitaine. ‘It would be best for you to stay there,’ Eleanor had told her gently, ‘until Richard is released. You are not yet strong enough to deal with John and his rebels.’

  Berengaria took that to mean that Eleanor did not think her completely recovered from the fever and the elder woman did not disillusion her.

  * * *

  Back in France again, John cheered the king’s incursions into Normandy. In fact, Philip had gained very little, for he faced strong Norman resistance, and his own warlords were loath to take part in such a treacherous attack. It was not the act of a chevalier, raised in the ideals of honour and heroism. Besides, if Richard Coeur-de-Lion was released, there’d be Hell to pay.

  The prince stayed clear of the battlefields, though he soon knew the layout of every court in France. His derisive humour appealed to the more indolent courtiers, and he introduced a number of English fashions, particularly that of dining after dark. Before long he had been elevated to the head of the table, the charming foreigner who knew more anecdotes than a troubadour.

  ‘Listen to this,’ he told them. ‘It’s a true story. I read it in a translation of the Memoirs of the Arab prince, Usamah of Shaizar.’ He waited for them to register appropriate admiration, then went on, ‘Usamah wrote a great deal about us, that’s to say the early Crusaders, though he did not know what to make of them. Animals, that was his conclusion. The Crusaders were as courageous as lions, and as strong as oxen, but as mindless as animals. The Moslems have always thought themselves superior to us, with their medicines and writings and coloured fountains and delicate palaces. But they should have come here,’ John said, waving a hand at the ill-lit chamber and the courtiers, slouched around the table. ‘We could have taught them the true virtue of loyalty and obedience. Where was I?’

  Somebody said, ‘It’s a true story,’ and the prince nodded. ‘So it is, if Usamah’s to be believed.

  ‘He was at Nablus, a town we held in Palestine, and he became friendly with a Crusader who lived there. Anyway, the Crusader invited him home one day and, when they got back to the house, the knight went in and called to his wife. “I’m home, my sweet,” or something of the kind.

  ‘But she was not in the main room. The knight apologized to Usamah, went through to his bedchamber to change into one of those Arab robes they all wear out there, and—’ He raised a hand and waited for a servant to refill his glass. The courtiers were hunched forward, their faces expectant.

  ‘Yes. He went in, and there was his wife in bed. With another man.’

  His audience loved a good story, and became immediately involved in it. A few hands hovered over sword hilts. They were the knight. The wife was their wife. And if they found her in bed with someone—

  Mimicking the cuckold, John growled, ‘What’s this? Who are you?’

  And in a calmer voice, ‘A Crusader like yourself, sire.’

  ‘That may be, but why are you in my wife’s room?’

  ‘I was travelling through the town, and was overcome with weariness. The street door was open, so I came in.’

  ‘But why in here?’

  ‘I saw the bed. I could scarcely stand, I was so tired, so I lay down for a while. I must have fallen asleep.’

  ‘But my wife was in the bed! Look, she is beside you!’

  ‘Ah, that,’ John mimicked coolly. ‘Yes, well, you see, she was asleep when I arrived. And since the bed quite clearly belongs to her, I could not prevent her from using it, could I? As an honourable man, I could not turn her out.’

  They were silent for an instant, and then the room reverberated with laughter. ‘What—?’ they gasped, ‘what did he do, the husband, what did he do?’

  ‘As Usamah tells it, he said, “If this happens again, fellow Crusader, you and I will fall out.”’

  ‘He said that? Didn’t he— Oh, my God! “You and I will fall out!”’ They hugged themselves with delight and crashed together, shoulder against shoulder. The remark would be a by-word with them for months to come. Any small rift would be healed with the magic words ‘You and I will fall out!’ They were still convulsed when a messenger sidled past the table and handed John a letter. He thought it odd that the parchment was almost entirely encased in wax, as though to give it the greatest possible protection.

  It was difficult to open, and he gouged at it irritably with his dagger. The cold wax flaked off, and he found the edge of the sheet.

  ‘You must have other stories like that, prince. By God, I’m going to read this Ushmer.’

  ‘Usamah,’ John said absently, sawing with his knife blade.

  The letter opened like the petals of a dark, waxy orchid, and he read the ten words written on it.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  He shook his head, as though rejecting an unreasonable petition, and again said, ‘No.’ He pressed the heels of his hands against the table top to stop them trembling. This time his denial was louder, the tone of his voice rising, and his companions fell silent.

  ‘No, it’s not possible. It is not possible. It is not!’ And then he was on his feet, still saying no to the truth.

  The message was perfect in its simplicity. It was untitled and unsigned, but it could only have come from Philip, and could only be meant for John.

  It read, De prendre garde à soi, car le diable étoit déchaîné. Look to yourself, for the devil is loose.

  Chapter Seven

  The Devil is Loose

  February-May 1194

  Philip was not one to be stirred by pity. Men made their decisions and acted on them and took the consequences. But, yes, he supposed that if he found a dog with a broken leg he would move it out of the gutter, or put it out of its misery with a sharp knife.

  But one could not very well kill a prince merely because he quaked and mumbled and gave offensive proof of his terror. Indeed, one could not do very much with him at all, except to keep him out of harm’s way.

  ‘You are in no immediate danger, can you not understand? Richard has gone to England—’

  ‘He’ll be back. Rely on it, he’ll be back.’

  �
��Doubtless he will,’ Philip snapped, ‘to retake those few Norman castles I captured. I, my shivering friend, not you. Given the choice, which of the two of us do you think he would prefer to hang? You force me to say this, John, but your safety lies in your incompetence!’

  ‘I tried,’ John retorted. ‘I had any number of supporters in England.’

  ‘Almost all of whom have been arrested and disinherited. You were as successful there as you have been here, which is the long way of saying you failed.’ He moved to the head of the palace steps, reminding himself that he had come to hearten John, not destroy him. He would try again.

  ‘Look, confrere, what I am saying is this: Richard will be carrying a list of those who turned against him when he was in prison. We will both be on that list, but your name will be buried at the foot of the sheet. You haven’t achieved anything, don’t you see? You’ve been like a worrisome rat, scuttling behind the walls—’

  ‘Please,’ John protested bitterly, ‘no more praise!’

  ‘You have made a few noises and gnawed a few holes, but you have scarcely endangered the building. You stay here, where you’re safe. I’ll get word to you if Richard returns.’ He started down the steps of the Louvre, the Parisian palace on which he had lavished so much care and money, then turned again to tell John, ‘Even so, it might be as well if you rehearsed your story. He will demand some explanation for the rat-holes.’

  John watched him go, clamped a hand to his head and muttered to himself under his breath. The mannerisms were back.

  * * *

  The people felt justified in taking a holiday to mark Richard’s return. They’d paid enough for him, after all, and they were determined to see him for themselves. So the journey from the coast to the capital became a long, leisurely parade, exactly what Richard enjoyed.