by Jean Plaidy
And now Richard wanted to marry this mother of six. Well, let him. Richard was a fool and would soon realise that. It would do him good; it would show him that he was not always so much wiser than his brother – which Henry was beginning to suspect he really thought.
‘It is your affair, brother,’ he said. ‘If you asked my advice, I would say it is folly but if you wish to act so, pray do so. She is rich and handsome you tell me, and Marshal’s sister, and he already has our sister for a wife. One thing, it should assure Marshal’s loyalty to us and that has at times been something I have been led to doubt.’
‘It will indeed,’ agreed Richard. ‘In fact, brother, it is an alliance which will do us much good.’
‘And you are looking for the good it will do you. Go then and marry your widow.’
Richard was pleased, although had Henry been against the match he would have made it all the same.
He went at once to William Marshal, who delightedly agreed to ride with him down to Tewkesbury.
Isabella was in a state of excitement as she welcomed them and Richard lost no time in coming to the point. William left them together and Richard immediately asked her to marry him.
It was an unusual situation. How many women in her position had ever received a proposal of marriage? It was the general rule that she should be told by her family that she was to make such and such a marriage and she would be obliged to fall in with their wishes. This was most romantic, but she wished she were younger, at least a little nearer to his age.
Richard told her that he had fallen in love with her the first time he had met her. Then of course she had had a husband and he could not declare himself, but now that obstacle had been removed there was no impediment to their happiness.
She attempted to protest. ‘I am so much older than you.’
‘You do not look so. Nor would I want a young and foolish girl. You are to my fancy – and what more could I ask than that?’
Still she hesitated. ‘I am the mother of six …’
‘Another of your virtues. You have been so generous to de Clare, you will be so to me. We will have a nursery full of boys.’
Still she shook her head. ‘Now perhaps you feel it will be good. But in a few years’ time the difference in our ages will be more apparent.’
He kissed her and immediately she was ready to throw aside all her objections. Even if in time he grew tired of her, why should she not be happy for a while?
They were married in April – a beautiful month, thought Isabella, with the trees full of buds and the joyous birdsong in the air.
Young Eleanor, her sister-in-law, Richard’s sister, was with her and the two were very happy together.
Eleanor was sixteen years old and certainly not in love with her elderly husband, but she was aware of the happiness which Isabella was experiencing and perhaps a little wistful. To choose one’s husband! That must be wonderful and Richard was such an attractive adoring lover that it was an experience to watch them together.
‘I wonder,’ said Eleanor, ‘if it will ever be like that for me.’ Then she realised that for it to be so, William would have to die, and she was ashamed to have spoken. But all her shame could not stop the thoughts in her mind. It was unfair to William who had been a kind husband and happy to be married to her – though largely she was knowledgeable enough to realise it was because she was the King’s sister.
Isabella prepared for her wedding, discussing with her young sister-in-law the clothes she would wear. The gold mesh snoods, the wimples of silk, the embroidered gowns, they were all a delight to see. Isabella was like a young girl and even her own children scarcely recognised their mother in this gay bride.
It was wonderful, thought Eleanor, that while the bride and groom were so happy in each other, everyone said what a good match it was; and nobody could have been more pleased than William.
The marriage was celebrated. William gave away the bride; and Richard and Isabella were left together while Eleanor with William rode back to Marlborough.
William was somewhat exhausted by the journey, and she was glad when it was all over. He went straight to his bed for he said he felt very tired.
Like the good wife she had been taught to be Eleanor looked to his comfort. She herself prepared the possets. She sat by his bed and he told her how delighted he was by this marriage, for it bound the families even closer together. Eleanor said yes indeed, and if Henry failed to have children, Richard would be King and the son he might have by Isabella would follow him to the throne.
William smiled at her. ‘That is so, little wife,’ he said. ‘My father would be pleased by this match.’
‘It is a rare match,’ said Eleanor, ‘for not only is everyone pleased but the husband and wife also.’
William looked at her a little sadly. She was such a dainty child – and beautiful too. All the daughters of Isabella of Angoulême had had some beauty – though none could compare with their mother. When he rose from his sick bed they must give themselves to the matter of having children.
She herself had always seemed to him such a child that his efforts in that direction had not been many. He had promised himself that there was time.
He was mistaken, for a few days later he died, and sixteen-year-old Eleanor was a widow.
Chapter XIV
PERSECUTION
The relationship between Hubert de Burgh and the King had never regained its old footing since that unfortunate episode at Portsmouth. It continued to rankle with Henry who had displayed a violence in his nature which he had been ashamed of, and he could not forget that Hubert had proved him to be in the wrong when the expedition failed. Instead of being grateful to a wise man who had been frank with him, so unsure of himself was he that it irritated him to contemplate he had been less than wise himself; and he imagined that Hubert was remembering it too.
Hubert’s enemies were aware of what was happening and they sent a message to his old enemy Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, to the effect that it was time he returned to England.
Meanwhile trouble flared up between the Archbishop of Canterbury and Hubert over the town and Castle of Tonbridge which Hubert had been holding for the young Earl of Gloucester, since he had been put into his charge. The Archbishop declared that they did not belong to the Earl but should be held by the See of Canterbury. The Archbishop, Richard Grant, took the matter to the King who gave the ruling that they were held through the crown and that the See of Canterbury had no claim on them.
Incensed at this verdict Richard Grant set out for Rome to set his case out before the Pope, and as the Archbishop was one of Hubert’s greatest enemies he decided to make the most of the occasion by bringing more complaints against the Justiciar.
Hubert de Burgh, he told the Pope, governed the country and tried to set the King above Rome. This was obvious because he had encroached upon the rights of Canterbury. Moreover he had married the daughter of the King of Scotland who was too closely related to his previous wife, Hadwisa, who had been the first wife of King John, and repudiated by him in order that he could marry Isabella of Angoulême. Hubert was a much married man, pointed out the Archbishop. He chose wives from that quarter which could bring him most good. His first had been Joan, daughter of the Earl of Devon and widow of William Brewer, his second Beatrice, daughter of William of Warenne and widow of Lord Bardulf; his third Hadwisa, divorced by John. So it would be seen that he had had a fondness for those who had been previously married providing they were also wealthy. Then he had turned his attention to the daughter of the King of Scotland, whose royalty doubtless made up for her lack of a previous husband. But His Holiness would see that this was a man who seized every opportunity. The closeness of the ties of Hadwisa and Margaret of Scotland therefore made his last marriage invalid.
The Pope listened to Richard and the King was obliged to send his proctors to Rome to defend his cause. The Pope, nevertheless, sided with the Archbishop which was upsetting for Henry. He disliked being at
enmity with the Church.
Having made his point the Archbishop decided to return to England, there to engage in argument with the King and his Justiciar, but on the way passing through Italy he fell ill in Umbria where he had paused to rest for a night at the convent of the Friars Minor.
Within a few days of arriving at the convent he died.
He was buried in his Archbishop’s robes wearing jewels and after his burial thieves came in the night to rifle his tomb. It must have been a grisly scene, but unabashed the robbers proceeded to strip the corpse; but when they tried to remove the ring from his finger they could not do so although it appeared to be quite loose. Convinced that this was a sign of divine displeasure they took fright and ran away, leaving the opened tomb and the jewels they had taken from the dead man scattered around him.
The next day he was buried again and news was sent to King Henry of his death.
It was not long before people were saying that the Archbishop had been poisoned. And who was the most likely man to be responsible for that dark deed? Why, Hubert de Burgh, the Justiciar, of course – acknowledged to be his enemy. It mattered not that Hubert was in England and nowhere near the Archbishop when he died. Had he been near the Earl of Salisbury when he had died? No, but old Longsword had died soon after he had quarrelled with Hubert de Burgh and such a man would have his spies and servants everywhere.
Peter des Roches was entertaining the King at Winchester and never had Henry been so lavishly treated. The Bishop who, when Henry had been but a young boy, had been inclined to lecture him and to adopt a tutorial manner which secretly had made him turn away from Peter to Hubert, now behaved as though Henry were the fount of wisdom.
Henry enjoyed that.
It was Christmas time and the Bishop had determined that this should be a festivity which the King would never forget. The gifts he lavished on the King won the admiration of all. He had brought home jewels from the Holy Land and silks and wines from abroad, and he implored the King to take his choice of these.
Peter had changed. He had ceased to be the stern priest and was an amusing companion. Of course he had had many adventures which he described vividly and wittily so that Henry could believe himself on the spot. He had met the French King and his mother as he had passed through France and had succeeded in making a peace treaty between England and France which was to last for three years.
He had shown himself to be a good servant of the King. Moreover he had won the approval of the Pope and came to England with his blessing to show the King of England how he had been led astray by guilty advisers.
It was not difficult to realise to whom he referred. During those Christmas festivities he had the King’s ear, it was said. Into it he poured his venom and it was all about the misdeeds of Hubert the Justiciar.
His treasury was always empty, complained the King.
But of course it was, replied Peter. As fast as his subjects filled it with their taxes, Hubert directed it into his own coffers. Had the King noticed how all his friends and relations had wormed their way into the important positions in the land? Hubert had had the temerity to marry into the royal house of Scotland. Did the King know that he had seduced poor Margaret of Scotland – and in such a manner which some might call rape – so that the poor girl could do nothing but implore her brother to allow her to marry the man who had made it impossible for her to marry anyone else?
This was startling. The King had not known. But he did know that his treasury never seemed to contain what he thought it should.
He began to think that it would be well to be rid of Hubert. Whenever any controversy arose between them, he fancied he could see in Hubert’s eyes that he was recalling that disastrous expedition to France.
As soon as Christmas was over Henry dismissed Hubert from his office and told him that he would not have it back until he had produced an account of all the payments he had made from the treasury during his reign and that of his father.
This was an impossible task. Henry knew it and so did Hubert. It was tantamount to telling him that he was out of favour and there was no longer work for him to do in his old post.
Peter des Roches was delighted. He came to the King and congratulated him on his wisdom.
‘But, my lord,’ he said, ‘you will see at once that this is not enough. There are certain charges which all righteous men wish to see brought against Hubert de Burgh for it is only just that he should answer them.’
‘What charges?’ demanded Henry.
‘It was he who prevented an alliance between you and Margaret of Austria.’
Henry looked bewildered and Peter went on: ‘Your expedition to France would have been successful but for him. It was he who delayed preparations so that there were not enough ships to take your men to France. And later, so I hear, when you were there, he had friends in France, who saw that the expedition did not succeed because he had said it would not – and it suited his friends, the French enemies of England, that it should not. He is supported in this by the treasurer Ranulf Brito – a man chosen by him. Dismiss him from the post and appoint Peter of Rievaulx in his place.’
The King promised to consider this and quickly agreed to the replacement, turning his mind from the fact that Peter of Rievaulx was the nephew of Peter des Roches.
When Hubert heard of this he knew that the battle had begun in earnest. He was immediately called upon to relinquish Dover Castle and other properties and at the same time he was told that the wardship of the young Earl of Gloucester, whose estates had been the cause of the controversy with Archbishop Richard, was to pass to Peter des Roches.
The Londoners had never forgiven Hubert for the death of Constantine FitzAthulf and were ready to give their support to any move against him.
Peter des Roches came gleefully to the King and told him that now he himself had acknowledged the villainies of Hubert de Burgh others were joining with him and there was a demand throughout the country that he be brought to trial.
Henry was unsure but had no wish to appear so. He had only wanted to dismiss Hubert and had had no intention that matters should go so far. But it was difficult to hold back now that Peter des Roches had set the case against Hubert in motion, so he agreed that a date should be fixed when Hubert be brought to trial to answer charges against him.
Hubert could not believe what was happening. So often he had been aware of enemies but he had so far managed to get the better of them.
His wife was very anxious and he tried to soothe her.
‘Why,’ he told her, ‘I knew that as soon as the Bishop of Winchester returned to the country there would be trouble. It is he who is making an effort to destroy me.’
‘He is more powerful since his return,’ replied Margaret. ‘And now he is ever with the King.’
‘Henry will tire of him.’
‘I hope so, before it is too late.’
‘I should never have advised him against going to France,’ said Hubert sadly. ‘I should have flattered him and told him his judgment was wise. He blames me for the failure of that expedition. How can one deal with a man who is headstrong, acts unwisely and then blames those who tried to advise him against such conduct?’
‘He blames himself in secret, Hubert,’ said Margaret, ‘but refuses to see it. He is angry with you for knowing this.’
‘He has not yet grown up.’
‘It is time he did. He is of an age now to govern and how can he govern a kingdom if he cannot govern himself?’
‘What we have to consider is your position. Dismissed from your post, your lands and castles taken from you, these ridiculous charges … What will the outcome be?’
It was while they were talking that his friend Ranulf de Brito came to him in great haste to warn him that he was going to be brought to trial and preparations were going ahead to take him prisoner.
‘You know what the verdict will be,’ said Ranulf.
‘It is already decided that I am guilty,’ answered Hubert.
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��God knows what they will do. Hubert, they will brand you traitor.’
‘I cannot believe the King will allow it.’
‘The King sways this way and that. He is so anxious that none shall believe he is unsure of himself. I would not put my trust in the King.’
‘You must go from here,’ said Margaret. ‘You must not be here when they come to take you.’
‘Where?’ said Hubert. ‘I have begun to think that there is no way out.’
‘There must be a way out,’ said Margaret. ‘Think of the dangers you have faced throughout your life – and you have always defeated your enemies.’
‘Yes,’ said Hubert. He thought then of how he had defied King John over Prince Arthur. Then it would have been understandable if John had destroyed him; but he had come through that dangerous situation. But now he was fighting a different battle. He had done nothing but serve his King, and his enemies were calling for his blood while the young King who had stood amicably beside him had suddenly changed sides.
Margaret said: ‘You must not stay here. They will be here soon to take you.’
‘There is nowhere else to go, lest it was sanctuary.’
‘Sanctuary! That is the answer,’ cried Margaret. ‘You must go into sanctuary. None would dare harm you there and in time the King will come to his senses and see that the traitors are those who now call for your blood.’
‘It is the answer, my lord,’ agreed Ranulf. ‘You must leave at once. Any delay could be dangerous.’
‘I see that you are right,’ said Hubert.
‘Merton Priory is the nearest,’ added Margaret. ‘You must go there.’
Within half an hour Hubert was on his way.
When the King was told that Hubert was taking refuge in Merton Priory he was angry. He had heard then that he was about to be arrested and was either guilty or he did not trust the King’s justice – Henry preferred to believe that he was guilty.