A Sister's Crusade

by Ann Turner

  First, it would be Arthur, the young Count of Brittany. He would have to be removed to prevent a revolt in his favour by those who saw Prince Geoffrey’s only son as the rightful heir. When he said removed, he did not mean removed permanently, just removed from the royal line of succession. Then, there would be the question of John providing an heir for the empire, a duty the new king intended to excel at. He announced that now he was king, he needed a fertile queen to produce sons capable of ruling after him.

  John was reminded that he already had a wife, Hadwisa of Gloucester, but he replied that she was not of royal blood and was therefore not suitable to mate with an anointed King of England after his coronation. They would divorce and he would, naturally, keep the wealth that had come in marrying her. He would look for a suitable consort. He loudly thanked God for making their union unfruitful.

  The men looking at their new king exchanged surreptitious glances. Hadwisa had been a meek, obedient woman, who had resented her marriage to Prince John. Their union had only been a thinly veiled excuse for the avaricious young man to get his hands on her vast wealth. The marriage had been consummated vigorously, as John was not a man to turn away from sexual activities. He had shocked her with his debauched behaviour and had enjoyed taunting her, demanding that as his wife she must perform particular duties in the marital bed. He would laugh at her reluctance, making her repeat the immoral activities just to see her revulsion, knowing she could not refuse the command of her lord and her master.

  The annulment of their marriage was set in action, with John claiming consanguinity. The Archbishop of Canterbury declared it null as they were second-half cousins, making their linage too close. The Pope reversed the decision and granted a dispensation. John was once again a bachelor and free to marry, as now he were king, marry he must.

  65

  The pleasing sight of the buildings that made up the manor house and estate of Romhill welcomed Simon home as the sun was setting, throwing long shadows across his path. The groom and the steward were already approaching him, to take his horse and to provide him with any information thought vital for his consideration. That, Simon thought, could wait for the morning. He dismounted and threw the reins at the groom, before walking in weary steps towards the house.

  These last months had been exhausting, with the turmoil of Richard’s death and the accession of his brother. The steward was hurrying by his side, ultra-efficient as always, and reeling off items considered too important to wait. Simon waved a hand at him to stop his yapping. He was tired; all he wanted to do was eat and sleep. He would be in his private chamber first thing tomorrow to concentrate on the business at hand, but not tonight.

  Looking towards the doorway, he saw his wife waiting for him. In her hands, she held a full cup of wine to welcome him home. All the years he had known her, through all that both he and she had endured, he had passionatly loved her with a compelling force. This sight lifted his heavy heart and he felt that usual stirring in his groin at the sight of her. He had missed her company and wanted to get inside the manor – and now, more urgently, inside her. She held out the cup of wine, smiling, welcoming him, delighted at his return, and Simon took a deep draught of the sweet liquid. It revived his senses completely. All the while, his eye did not leave her face, and the stirring deep inside him became more insistent. He wanted to take her now, not caring if any of the servants observed them. He would push her against the wall, hoist up her dress, kick her legs apart and satisfy his rousing lust.

  ‘God, I cannot wait,’ he announced, throwing the cup aside and spilling its contents across the floor. He completely gave into the animal instinct brimming inside his body and pushed Aubrette hard against the wall, covering her face, neck and shoulders with burning kisses, taking her by surprise. All the tensions and worries since that day his king had been the victim of the sniper with a saucepan, and subsequent death were all now released. She reacted as he knew she would and as she always did, responding to his strong sexual desire. She had missed his touch and had wanted to retire early to bed to satisfy her own desires. This unanticipated behaviour from her husband was intoxicating in its suddenness. Several servants conveniently turned aside, some watched awkwardly embarrassed, some curious. Sir Simon was their lord, so what he did and with whom was his business and right.

  It felt like the old days, when he and Aubrette met secretly – and that secrecy added a rush of excitement to their couplings. It was over quickly and Simon pulled away with a shout of triumph, panting with the exertion. Aubrette’s face was flushed with pleasure. He turned to the servant hovering close by, a young woman, who was clearly uncomfortable at what she had witnessed. ‘Bring food and drink to my chamber,’ he ordered. After permission to leave was given by the housekeeper, the girl bobbed a curtsey and hurried towards the kitchen, glad to be away from her master. Simon turned back to his wife. ‘We have much to discuss, come with me.’ He then strode in the direction of his chamber, and Aubrette hurried close behind.

  In the privacy of his chamber, Simon wandered over to the window and peered through it – past the walls that encircled the manor house to the small village, silhouetted in the final dying rays of the sun, and past the fertile fields where the serfs bent over the crops. His gaze then passed to the darkening Essex countryside beyond.

  Aubrette felt apprehensive at being in his private chamber, which was out of bounds to everyone except on invitation. This had been the same during the time of Oswyn, it had been a place of mystery to her and Rowena when they had been girls. She waited for her husband to speak.

  He drew a deep and thoughtful breath. ‘We live in a new world, Aubrette, the realm of King John. Our warrior king is dead – he died greedy for a lump of useless rock – and we now have that swellhead John. God help us all,’ he murmured, and turned to face his wife. ‘Yet he is my half-brother and I shall show him the loyalty I gave Richard – but not the love. I do not know who could love John, except John himself. He does not inspire affection into the hearts of his subjects as Richard did. I fear for the country with King John in control.’

  ‘Do not worry, my husband, we will survive. He will not come to this part of the country looking for vengeance. Let him ruin himself and then maybe our next king shall be worthy of the title.’

  Simon looked cross. ‘You talk of treason; speak not like this. If John ruins himself and the country, what shall become of us?’

  ‘Could we move to the continent and live in Normandy or one of the other dominions?’ suggested Aubrette.

  Simon came over to her and hugged her tightly with affection. Any sudden irritation he had felt for her evaporated and he kissed her hair. ‘Sweet little wife, for all your worldliness, you are such an innocent. That is one of the reasons why I have loved you for all these years. You are a calming, soothing balm for my worries,’ he crooned, rocking her to and fro. ‘I shall remain here. King John cannot chase me from the country of my birth. I shall serve him as any loyal subject serves his king. If he comes looking for trouble from his fellow Englishmen, then I shall stay and fight and even die here as the Englishman that I am.’Aubrette felt comforted by his nearness and his words. Her husband would protect her and their sons to his dying day. What wife could want more?

  66

  After a brief stay at Romhill, Simon rode to Westminster to attend the coronation of King John. He took a prominent position in the ceremony, which was followed by an extravagant banquet at Westminster. He took the role of one of the champions in full armour, who rode into the hall on a magnificent white charger. He took his horse up steps to the high table where King John and his newly appointed council sat, challenging anyone who said that he was not the rightful king. There was much entertainment and many beautiful women to amuse the men.

  Now that John was finally King of England, he soon began to realise how tedious the role of monarch actually was. He had imagined it as being a licence to eat, drink and whore
his way through his kingdom. He did not expect to have to sit through long, boring council meetings about the state of the country, how to bring more revenue into the royal coffers and disputes between barons and lords of manors. Even the rumble of discontent from the confounded barons about his lack of concern did not bother the new king. This was not what being a king was meant to be. When did Richard sit and listen to anyone other than his mother, when he had ruled as King of England? Would the barons have dared to speak to Richard as they spoke to him? John wanted the glory without any of the work.

  To take his mind off the serious task of kingship, he announced that it was his duty to marry and provide an heir. See, I am already doing more for my subjects of England than Richard ever did. They shall love me, as this is what they want to see, my son, England’s heir in the cradle, he thought, gleefully. But which pretty European princess should he choose? An obedient, docile girl – someone like Hadwisa, who he could dominate and terrorise; someone who would accept his depravity, his barbarous sexual prowess and advances – or a woman who matched his desires and would give good account in the marriage bed? The one who caught and held the heart of King John was not the European princess he had imagined.

  John was out riding with several of his most trusted companions. He had just ended another tedious council meeting and wanted to escape the cloying atmosphere. They were out for trouble and fun, for drinking too much and detaining maids. When the young women refused offers of sexual favours, John would pull back the hood he wore and announce that he was the King of England. He would demand that the young women must obey his command and surrender their virginity to him and his companions. Today, it was good to be king.

  A group of riders, which included a young woman surrounded by guards, was approaching from a distance. John was ready for more sport and told his friends that he would have his way with the young woman. She would be a challenge, as she was guarded so well and had to be a daughter from a wealthy family. As the train neared, it became obvious that the young woman on horseback was no more than a girl of twelve years. She would be a delicious fruit to pluck, even though his companions warned him she was too young to pursue. At first the king would not listen, as she would be small and taunt for his invasion, and that would bring about sensual delight as he forced his way into her tight, unsullied privy parts, but when he saw her, he was struck dumb at the beauty of the girl.

  The guards surrounding her closed in, protecting their charge, and John held up his hands in a sign of peace. ‘My lady, apologies for startling you. My company and I were out for a day’s hunting,’ he said, bowing in the saddle.

  The girl rode her horse through the guards, ignoring their warnings. She wanted a good view of this man. ‘Move aside and let me pass,’ she ordered, not taking her blue eyes from his face.

  John chuckled. ‘Why should I let you pass? It should be you moving aside for me,’ he answered, but facing such beauty, he could not be angry with her impudence. She glared at him, those sweet lips, a child’s lips drawn straight in insolent stubbornness. She was unmoved.

  ‘You are simple knights on a foolish day out. I am the daughter of the Count of Angouleme. Move aside for me.’

  She has spirit. I think I am in love, thought John. ‘No, daughter of Angouleme, it is you who should move aside for me, for I am John Plantagenet, King of England.’ There, it was said. He was revealed.

  She raised a fine eyebrow. It did not faze her who he was.

  ‘I shall move aside for you if you permit me to kiss your pretty hand,’ continued John. ‘Tell me your name and your business.’

  ‘My name is Isabella and I am on my way to my betrothed, Hugh de Lusigan, Count of La Marche. I shall live in his home, and when I am a suitable age, Hugh and I shall marry and I shall be his countess,’ she answered, tilting her head proudly.

  Against explicit orders from the captain of her guard, Isabella rode her horse forward until she was positioned at John’s side. He thought he could smell a sweet fragrance on her. Isabella extended her hand, to which he gently held it to his lips. Smiling, John turned his horse off the road and looking at his companions, encouraging them to do likewise.

  ‘The road is clear for you, milady, so continue to your betrothed. Perhaps we shall meet again soon,’ he said. Without a further word, or glancing back at him, and with a gentle kick of her heels in the flank of her horse, Isabella passed him and the group carried on their way. John, still astride his horse, blew a kiss towards her back and watched the party disappear along the road until they were gone from his sight. ‘I shall marry her,’ he said, firmly. ‘She will give me sons.’

  ‘Sire, she is betrothed to another and she is no more than a child,’ warned one of his companions.

  Instantly, with the fearsome Angevin temper coming to the fore, John’s face turned red and he struck out at the unfortunate man with his hunting crop.

  ‘Am I not King of England?’ he shouted. ‘What I want, I get. Isabella of Angouleme shall be mine. I shall make her queen and she shall give me sons.’

  The crop came thwacking down again on the man’s back while the others looked on in silence. John stopped both the verbal and physical assault, and his lips curled into a wicked smile as he licked his lips. His eyes turned to the direction Isabella had so recently taken. ‘Though she is still very young and no doubt innocent of worldly ways, it would be amusing to teach her the art of pleasing a husband in a hundred ways. It would be…’ John paused and a visible tremor of pure pleasure ran through his body, ‘exquisite.’

  67

  Aubrette was pregnant again, and this time she suffered throughout the early months with nausea and aching bones. This was most unusual for her, as she had successfully carried her three sons with no maladies. She spent most of the months in bed, feeling too ill to eat or drink much. Her mother was her constant companion, insisting she prepared all her food for her, which caused the cook in the kitchen much provocation. Simon had to step in to discuss the situation. Gradually, the cook agreed that Esma fed her daughter until the new baby was born, and not a day longer. She was not to try to misplace him in the kitchen, to which Esma promised. Simon felt pleased with himself in avoiding a possible domestic situation, which his wife otherwise would have dealt with. He would not admit to it, but he was worried for Aubrette. She was usually so strong, and able to withstand the trauma of pregnancy and childbirth. He was afraid of the future if she did not survive childbirth. He could not imagine his life without her.

  With Esma caring for her daughter, Aubrette passed through the long months of the pregnancy. Simon was called to Chinon to deal with a revolt by minor landowners, which he dealt with. He returned to King John with a report and treasure was paid by all of the families involved, who sent the ransom as a pledge of loyalty to their king.

  John saw in his half-brother a loyal and honest man, realising how fortunate he was to have him by his side to deal with tedious disputes. The only thing that displeased John was that Simon looked very much like their late brother, it was commented on frequently, even in John’s presence that infuriated him, though it was this similarity that possibly made quelling trouble easier, as those who spoke or acted against their king, saw the late King Richard in Simon Fitzroy, and knowing his reputation on the battlefield, quickly ceded and bargained for peace, and the end to their petty disputes.

  With William Marshal to advice him, and Simon to act on his behalf, King John saw a long and glorious future stretching out before him. He would be the king future generations would remember, these other two men would be mentioned once or twice, but the real glory would be laid at John’s feet, and John’s alone.

  Once he had been given permission from John to retire from court, Simon hurried back to Romhill to be with his wife. Aubrette lay in her bed, pale, with the swelling of her belly prominent under the counterpane. She attempted to be happy at seeing her husband, but, still feeling unwell
, it was difficult for her to express her emotions. Esma was guarding her daughter as a lioness and lingered around as Simon sat on the bed. Aubrette’s small hand found its way into his as he talked of the latest news from court. King John had married the young Isabella of Angouleme, stealing her from Hugh de Lusigan, Count of La Marche, who had been her promised husband. John had explained this by saying that Isabella would have been a mere countess if she had married Hugh. By taking her for himself, he was raising her to the position of queen – and there was no woman in the empire who was higher than this, except perhaps for his mother, Eleanor, who appeared to be living forever.

  His description of the wedding ceremony was brief and concise, his excuse was that being a man, what the bride wore, who attended, what music the guests danced to was of little importance to him. To all, the king was ecstatically happy with his new wife and queen, not able to keep his hands off of her during the banquet, and forgetting tradition and ceremony, hurried his young bride away, impatient to consummate the marriage.

  Eleanor had retired to the Abbey of Fontevraud, for though her mind was sharp, her body was becoming weak and she succumbed to frequent illness. She kept a circle of informants, who would return to her with news from the vast empire that her second husband, Henry, had built. Still she ensured there was nothing she did not know that was occurring.

  Simon went on to explain to Aubrette how Hugh de Lusigan had appealed to King Philip in France, arguing that the English King had been wrong to steal his betrothed, who was just a child of no older than twelve years. Philip agreed that John’s actions had been abominable and it gave him the perfect excuse to declare war on the Plantagenet king in an effort to win his territories back. Simon feared that John was a good soldier, but he was not Richard and he lacked many of the heroic qualities of his brother. He would have his armies fighting behind him, but many would be there for the rape and plunder that came with a good war, and not because of their loyalty to their king.