476 English prison some months earlier; Llewelyn's cousin Hywel; his cousin Madog, Prince of upper Powys; Maelgwn's rebellious nephews Rhys leunac and Owainone by one they followed Maelgwn, acknowledged Llewelyn as their liege lord. Gwenwynwyn was the last to approach Llewelyn. High color had mottled his cheekbones, and his eyes were slits of resentful rage, but he too, knelt and did homage to the man who'd been his lifelong rival Llewelyn half turned, and for a moment his gaze met Joanna's, a moment in which they exchanged a very private message. "Do you know what this means, Davydd? The other Welsh Princes have just acknowledged Gwynedd's suzerainty, have just acknowledged Llewelyn as their liege lord . . . their Prince. He's too shrewd to lay formal claim to the title, knowing that would but alarm the English and stir up the jealousies of his allies. But from this day forth, your father is, in effect, Prince of Wales." Davydd did not fully comprehend the significance of what he'd just witnessed, but he responded to the echoes of pride and jubilation in his mother's voice. "I'm glad Papa wanted me here, glad he's to be Prince of all the Welsh. Mama . . . will I be Prince of Wales, too, one day?" Joanna did not answer at once, and as he glanced up at her, he saw that she was no longer watching Llewelyn. She was staring at the tall youth standing by Llewelyn's side, staring at his brother Gruffydd. "Yes, Davydd," she said softly. "If I have any say about it, you will, indeed, be Prince of Wales." GWENWYNWYN soon recanted, swayed by his jealousy of Llewelyn and the beguilements of the English King. A thirteenth-century Welsh chronicle set forth the denouement of this embittered rivalry: In that year Gwenwynwyn, lord of Powys, made peace with John, King of England, scorning the oath and pledge he had given. . . . And after Llewelyn ab lorwerth had learned that, he felt vexed; and he sent to him bishops and abbots and other men of great authority. . . . And when that had availed him naught, he gathered a host and called the Princes of Wales together to him, and made for Powys to war against Gwenwynwyn, and he drove him to flight into the county of Chester and gained possession of all his territory for himself.
4Q CORFE CASTLE, ENGLAND June 1216 Bv JjY spring, John's war seemed all but won. In three months he had brutally and effectively suppressed rebellion in the North and East of England. He was receiving formidable support from his brother Will, who'd led a punitive expedition into East Anglia, and the two most powerful lords in the realm, the Earls of Chester and Pembroke, were holding fast for the crown. The rebels still controlled London, but they were losing heart. By April, a number of them were seeking to make peace with John; even Eustace de Vesci was asking for terms. It was not the prospect of fighting for John's kingdom that had discouraged Louis Capet from joining the rebels; it was his father. While Louis was quite willing to risk excommunication for the English crown, Philip was not. It took Louis until Easter to coax a grudging consent from the French King, but on April 24, Philip summoned the papal legate Guala to a council at Melun. There the French monarch and his son contended that John was no rightful King, having been charged with treason by his brother Richard and having been condemned by a french court for the murder of his nephew Arthur. Guala was not impressed, and warned them that John was the Pope's vassal and England Part of the patrimony of the Holy Roman Church. But Louis was deaf to Y but the seductive sirens of kingship, and he declared his intent to a"n the crown that was his by right, his wife being niece to John and Goddaughter to Henry. John remained sanguine in the face of the impending French inva- I "'for he, more than any other English King, had appreciated an is- i kmgdom's need for naval supremacy and had spared no expense in 1 dlng England's first fleet. He felt confident that his ships would be
478 able to keep Louis bottled up within Calais harbor. There was one aspect of successful kingship, however, that John had always utterly lacked-^ luck. Fortune now delivered a stunning blow. On the night of May lg sudden storm raked the Kentish coast, and John's galleys were scattered, driven onto the rocks or out to sea. When coast watchers at Thanet reported sails on the horizon two days later, John allowed himself the indulgence of optimism, allowed himself to hope that some of his fleet had ridden out the squall. But the ships that sailed into Pegwell Bay flew the golden fleur de lys of France Pembroke and Chester advised against an immediate confrontationtoo many of John's mercenaries were French, and John owed them too much in back pay to trust them in an encounter with their liege lord's son. John agreed, unwilling to risk all upon a single battle, one that might be decided by treachery, and he withdrew toward the west. He'd hoped that the invasion of a foreign Prince would rally his subjects to his side. The opposite happened. Louis' presence upon English soil acted as a catalyst for the rebel cause. Men flocked to his banners, even men who'd so far been loyal. John's support began to bleed away. To stave off a lethal hemorrhage, the papal legate Guala invoked the moral authority of the Church on John's behalf, and on Whitsunday he publicly excommunicated Louis and his followers, placed London under Interdict. But that did not deter Londoners from giving Louis a joyous welcome just four days later. Stunned by the acclaim and acceptance the French Prince was encountering, John abandoned Winchester as Louis moved into Hampshire. On June 14, Louis took the ancient city of Winchester, set about besieging the royal castle. John retreated southward, reaching the security of Corfe Castle on June 23. That was the day he learned of the defections. The Earl of Arundel, the Count of Aumale, and John's own cousin, William de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, had gone to Winchester, where they had disavowed allegiance to John and acknowledged Louis as their King. CORFE Castle dominated the Dorsetshire peninsula known as Purbec Isle. Its history was a grim one, for it was often used as a royal prisonHere the ill-starred prophet Peter of Wakefield had passed the las months of his life. Here twenty-two knights taken captive after Jonn victory at Mirebeau had overpowered their gaolers, barricaded trie selves within the keep, and starved to death rather than surren Here, too, John held four of Maude de Braose's grandsons, children the son who'd died with her in a Windsor dungeon. But Corfe was a ^ favorite residence of the Angevin Kings. John had constructed
479 living quarters in the inner bailey, just east of the great keep, where Isabelle and their children awaited his coming ISABELLE stirred, reached sleepily toward John's side of the bed "John7 Why are y°u not abed7" John turned from the open window, from the summer dark "It has begun to Tain," he said "Go back to sleep " Instead she sat up, wrapped herself in the sheet "I've missed you so We've never been apart like this, not in all the years of our marriage Pour me some wine, love, and talk to me I just do not understand why this is happening, John It makes no sense Louis has no right to the English crown His claim is a a bad joke What is he, after all7 The husband of a daughter of one of your sisters'" John paused in the act of pouring her wine, slammed the cup down on the table "Did I tell you what lame arguments they offered Guala at Melun7 Whilst it's true Richard did charge me with treason, that was five full years ere he died1 All of Christendom knows that we reconciled, that Richard named me as his heir As for that out-and-out he about Arthur, no French court ever sat in judgment upon me Since when am I accountable to the French King7" "You're not, love," Isabelle said hastily "Of course you're not " "Do you know what the Pope said when he was informed of Philip's claim7 He said that Arthur was a traitor who'd invited whatever end he might have met And he did, in truth Whatever regrets I might have, Arthur is not amongst them " That was, she knew, as close as he'd ever come to a confession, to an admission that Arthur had died at his command But she did not care, Arthur's fate had never preyed upon her peace "John is it true that Rochester Castle has been lost7" He nodded "It held out against me for nigh on two months, but yielded to Louis without offering any resistance at all Which makes me wonder what will happen when Louis lays siege to Windsor Castle, to Dover Will they try to hold out7 Or will their castellans betray me, too7" He swung about, back toward the bed "Have I been such a bad *">§< Isabelle7" "John, no1" Wh why," he asked, very low, "have my subjects forsaken me7 ^,,are ^ey so wiling to support a foreign Prince7" th n' that's not so Many of your subjects a
re still loyal For certes, °vvnspeople are What king ever did as much to promote trade7 Or 5Ur ec" as many borough charters7 Let craven lords like Arundel and ev barter their honor to Louis The towns will still hold fast for you "
480 "As London did?" he asked bitterly, and she had no answer for him, could only entreat him to come back to bed. After a time, he did But he did not sleep. JOHN was seated before a table cluttered with parchment sheets, ink maps, books. He was surrounded by peopleseveral scribes, a mudspattered courier, Peter des Roches, Robert de Vieuxpontall competing for his attention. He scrawled a hasty signature for one of the scribes, reached for the courier's message as he said to de Vieuxpont, "I want you to go north again, Rob, am counting upon you to hold Cumbria and Westmorland for me." Seeing him so preoccupied, the boys hesitated, but Isabelle prodded them forward into the chamber. "John, can you spare some moments for your sons?" John had not seen his children for months. As he pushed back his chair, beckoned them to approach, he could not help noticing their shyness, their lack of ease. His baby daughters did not know him at all. Even to his sons, he was a stranger. Henry was eight, Richard seven, but he'd never been able to find much time for them, to make them part of his life as he had with the children now grown, born out of wedlock and before his kingship. Isabelle took her youngest from the nurse, held the baby out toward John. Nell was entering her seventh month, and John had seen her for the first time yesterday, upon his arrival at Corfe. All of Isabelle's three daughters had inherited some of their mother's beauty; Nell had dark blue eyes and hair like cornsilk. John smiled at the child, but she ducked her head, hid her face against Isabelle's shoulder. John was still holding the courier's letter. Breaking the seal, he rapidly scanned the contents, and at Peter des Roches's questioning look, he said, "It's from the Earl of Chester. Gwenwynwyn has died." Henry edged closer. "Who's that, Papa?" "A Welsh Prince, Henry, an ally of mine. But he's been living in exile in Cheshire since the spring, when Llewelynyour sister Joanna s husbanddrove him out of Powys." "But. . . but I thought Joanna was living in France, Papa." "Not France, Aquitaine. I expect you're too young to remembe your older sister. I lost two Joannas, lad, one to the de Lusignans, tn other to Llewelyn." A servant had followed Isabelle into the chamber. "My liege/ y° son, Lord Richard of Chilham, has just ridden in. Will you see him- "At once." John glanced toward de Vieuxpont and des Rochessent Savaric de Mauleon to Winchester with an offer for Louis, tna
481 rder the castle garrison to surrender if Louis would agree to spare their ves Richard was with him, will be bringing word " Richard had not waited for a servant's summons, he was already landing in the doorway One glance at his face, and John stiffened "What is it7" he said sharply "You might as well tell me straight out, I'm getting used to bad news " "It is bad, Papa, as bad as it could be I do not know how to teil you " Richard was not easily discountenanced John had never seen him so shaken It was with relief, then, that he heard Richard say haltingly, "At Winchester amongst those who've gone over to Louis "I know already, Richard, know that your Uncle Warenne has broken faith, has done homage to Louis But I do not want to talk about it, not now " "No no, you do not understand I'm not talking about my Uncle Warenne It's oh, God, Papa, it's John's mouth went dry "Not Chester7" "No, not Chester " Richard swallowed "It's your brother Papa, it's Will " "No," John said "No, you're lying Not Will " "Papa Papa, I saw him at Winchester with Louis I saw him1" Isabelle gave a choked cry, thrust her baby at the nurse John was on his feet He turned as Isabelle moved toward him His eyes were blind, focused upon her without recognition But she was too panicked to be able to respond to his pain, to be aware of anything except the ground giving way under her feet "Will would never betray you unless it was truly hopeless, unless he knew you could not win' What shall we do now7 What will happen to me7 John, I'm so frightened1 What if they besiege Corfe7 If you lose She'd caught his arm, was clinging as if he were her only anchor But her words struck John like stones He jerked free, shoved her away with such force that she stumbled backward, careened into the table "Mama1" But Henry did not move He stayed where he was, petrified The other children had begun to cry None of the men moved, either If you're so fearful for your future, why wait7 Why not go to Louis °W' strike your deal with him7 That's what you want to do, is it not7 et °ut, all of you1 I do not need Will, do not need any of you1 Go to Lou's and be damned'" v 'he servants had already fled, and the nurses now gathered up the P'ng children, hastened them from the chamber Peter des Roches k "is arm around Isabelle's shoulders, she had begun to sob, and of- no resistance as he led her toward the door Richard had gone very
482 white, but he stood his ground. "Papa, I'd not betray you. Nor would Isabelle. She loves" "Get outnow!" John's voice cracked. He spun around, fighting for control. When he turned back, Richard, too, had gone. There were two large clay flagons on the table. He reached for the closer one, pulled it toward him. It was filled with a strongly spiced red wine; he drank directly from the spout, until he choked and tears burned his eyes. Picking up the second flagon, he hurled it toward the door. It shattered against the wood, sprayed dark wine all over the wall, the floor. He drank again, cleared the table with a wild sweep of his arm. The rain had ended before dawn, and sunlight was pouring in from every window. He moved from one to the other, pausing to drink from the flagon as he jerked the shutters into place, as the room darkened. The floor was littered with debris, with books and documents and broken clay fragments. He stumbled over a brass candelabra, sank to his knees midst the wreckage of his morning's work. The flagon was half empty by now; his head was spinning. "Why, Will?" he whispered. "Name of God, why?" Johnny. He froze, the flagon halfway to his mouth. Thank God you've come, Johnny. Thank God. He could not see into the shadows. "Papa?" he said softly. "Papa?" Stay with me, Johnny. The pain is always worse at night. Stay with me. He grabbed for the flagon, drank deeply, spilling as much as he swallowed. "I did not understand, Papa." His voice echoed strangely in his own ears, sounded muffled, indistinct. "I was but one and twenty. At that age, we think we'll live forever ..." He set the flagon down, waited. But no one answered him. His voices were silent, his ghosts in retreat. He was never to know how long he knelt there on the floor of his bedchamber, alone in the dark. When at last he lurched to his feet, he moved unsteadily toward the windows, fumbled with the shutters until the room was once more awash in sunlight. A book lay open, almost at his feet. He reached down, picked it up He took an uncommon enjoyment in reading, always carried books w« him, even on campaigns. This was one of his favorites, a French trans a tion of the Welsh legend of King Arthur; but several pages were tornthe cover smeared with ink. He blotted the ink as best he could with sleeve, replaced the book upon the table. "Damn you, Will! I trusted you. More fool I, but I trulv trusted y°u'
483 You think I'm beaten. You think Louis has won. Well, not yet. As Christ is my witness, not yet." 41 CIRENCESTER, ENGLAND September 1216 "I L UNDERSTAND you will not be staying with us after all, Madame?" Isabelle did not enjoy the company of clerics. Too often she found them dour and disapproving, for if women were all daughters of Eve, born to lead men astray, a woman as worldly as Isabelle must be the very incarnation of Jezebel. But Alexander Neckam was no unlettered village priest. He was Abbot of the prosperous Augustinian abbey of St Mary, a man erudite and cultured, a man entitled to royal courtesy, and she found a smile for him. "No, I regret not. My lord husband the King has decided it is too dangerous for me to accompany him any farther, and my son and I will be returning to Corfe whilst he goes to raise the siege of Windsor Castle." "We heard the King spent part "of the summer along the Marches. Was he able to win over the Welsh?" "He did hire some Welsh men-at-arms, but he had no luck with the "elsh Princes, with Llewelyn or Maelgwn. Nor with Reginald de Braose." Neckam seemed to sense her preoccupation, for he made no at*jmpt to prolong their conversation, but murmured, instead, of duties sewhere. She was not long alone, however; Richard was coming up Pathway. Falling into step beside her, he followed her into the abbey gardens. . aome yards t
o their right, John was walking with his son. When ar" started toward them, Isabelle laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"No," she said. "Give them time to say their farewells. And wh'l still alone, tell me the truth. Can John win?" ' st We're "Had you asked me that in June, I'd have said no. Now not so sure. There are straws in the wind, a growing discontent °^'m French. Some of the rebel barons are belatedly beginning to r '^e realitythat should Louis prevail, they'll have a French King a p^nKe court. Already they're seeing what that would mean; each tim f^ has taken a castle, he's given it to one of his French followers L i*"5 know no man more dangerous to underestimate than my father " Isabelle nodded. "When I'm with John, I cannot but believe th will prevail against his enemies, that all will be well for us. But wh * we're apart, I... I lose faith. I think of what could happen to us sho IH evil befall John, and I become so frightened, Richard, so" "Mama!" Henry was running toward them. "Papa says he's eom to give me one of his falcons! Papa, you'll not forget?" John, following at a more sedate pace, smiled and shook his head "I'll give the order tonight, Henry. Richard . . . I've decided I do not want you to come with me. I'd rather you escort Isabelle and Henry back to Corfe, then return to Wallingford Castle, hold it for me till further notice." "If that is truly your wish, Papa." Turning, then, toward the child, John smiled again at his son "Henry, stay here and talk to your brother. I want a few words alone with your lady mother ere you depart." Taking Isabelle aside, John led her toward a trellised arbor As soon as they were within, Isabelle moved into his arms. The air was sunwarmed, fragrant with honeysuckle; she could almost convince herself that summer was not dying. "I'm so glad I had these ten days with you But. . . but when will we see each other again?" "I do not know," John admitted. "Louis has been besieging Dover Castle for some six weeks now, but to no avail. Windsor, Lincoln, and Barnard castles are also under siege. If they can hold out for me Isabelle shivered. "You must promise me, promise you'll take care John, I... I'd be lost without you!" Her fear was more than disheartening, it was contagious. Jo " tightened his arms around her, kissed her on the mouth, the throa . ^ clung to him, but without passion, and when he kissed her againtasted her tears. j |S. "Papa!" The voice was Henry's, high-pitched, excited. John an ^ abelle moved apart, moved back into the sun. Henry was sp ^ toward the arbor, gesturing. "A courier, Papa, with urgent ne the North!" One of the black-garbed Augustinian canons was standing
Here Be Dragons - 1 Page 60