by Jean Plaidy
‘Richard didn’t really want to marry me.’
‘His father prevented his doing so.’
‘There are stories of Richard.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Of the life he leads.’
‘With women?’ cried Eleanor. ‘Who should blame him, deprived of his bride as he has been? He is no boy. He is more than thirty years of age.’
‘And with my brother,’ said Alice boldly. ‘It has been said that he shared his bed when he was at Philip’s court.’
‘A custom when one monarch wishes to honour another.’
‘It is said that there is great love between them.’
‘It is said! Who has said this? Are you, the royal slut of a lecherous king, in a position to judge the conduct of others? Have a care, my little whore, or you could find yourself under restraint.’
‘My brother will not allow that.’
‘You are not in your brother’s court yet. You are in that of King Richard and until he comes to claim his kingdom, I am holding it for him.’
‘What do you intend to do with me?’
‘Keep you here for a while.’ Eleanor came near to Alice and gripped her by the arm. ‘While you were sporting with your lover, I, his true wife, was a prisoner here in this castle. There were guards outside my door. When I walked out they accompanied me.’
‘You took up arms against the King. You led his sons to revolt against him. It was just punishment.’
‘Just to imprison a wife! Think you so? All he suffered he deserved.’
‘And you too,’ said Alice boldly.
‘Have a care. You are in my power now, you know.’
‘Richard will treat me well.’
‘So you think he will have you now? You are mistaken, Alice. You will be sent back to your brother I doubt not. But no man will want you now.’
‘It is not true.’
‘Certainly not the King of England who can take his pick from the world. So a life of boredom awaits you, at the best. You will sit over your needlework in one of your brother’s castles and brood on the past and remember how Henry sported with you and that such adventures are behind you for ever more. In the meantime you will stay here. You will learn what it was like for me to live here as a prisoner. The same apartment which was allotted to me shall be allotted to you. The same guards shall be at your door. Yes, you shall learn what it was like to be a prisoner. The only difference will be that you will be my prisoner and I was that of your lover. Now come, my Princess. You have had enough easy living. You have sinned and must repent. You will have time to do so in your prison.’
The Queen summoned the guards whom she had had waiting.
‘Take the Princess Alice to her new apartments,’ she said.
She was wise enough to know that she could not linger in the castle merely to gloat over Alice’s fate. She knew too that it could not be of long duration. Philip would never allow it and it was not a matter of which she would wish to make a political issue. Still, she could not resist giving the girl a taste of the humiliation she had suffered.
She must prepare the country for Richard’s arrival and make the people ready to receive their new King, so she announced that she was going on a short tour of the country and she set out from Winchester having given orders that if any news of the King’s imminent arrival in England was received it must be brought to her without delay.
As she rode along she contemplated the fact that there was always danger when a king died. It could never be certain how the people would feel towards his successor. To the Conqueror’s descendants England had been an uneasy inheritance largely because the possession of lands overseas had demanded their presence abroad. The English naturally did not like to be neglected. Henry’s life had been spent between England and France and because his possessions in France had been so much more difficult to hold owing to the presence of the Franks on his very borders, he had been more often there than in England.
The people must accept Richard. She had few qualms that they would. If ever man had the appearance of a king that man was Richard. How different he was from his slovenly father who had thrown on his clothes in a disorderly way and looked like a peasant, who never wore riding gloves and because he was out in all weathers had skin like leather. Yet he had won the respect of his people. But how much more readily would they follow a man who looked like a king.
Riding into the cities she sent for the leading citizens. She knew that the greatest resentment which was held against the late King and his predecessors was due to the infliction of the old forest laws. The Norman kings had been fanatical about their hunting grounds. Henry Plantagenet had been equally fierce. So great was their passion for hunting that they had spared nothing nor anyone in the pursuit of it. On the whole Henry had been a popular king but in the forest areas he had been hated. He had set up officers in forest regions to act as custodians and no one living near was allowed to cut down trees or to keep dogs or bows and arrows. Anyone discovered disobeying these laws was punished in such a dreadful manner that death would have been preferable. Hands, feet, tongues, noses and ears were cut off and eyes put out. The punishment for performing any act which might detract in the smallest way from the King’s hunting pleasures was mutilation.
Yet Henry, shrewd as he was, eager to placate a people who must be left under a substitute ruler for long periods of time, knowing that these measures were the source of great unpopularity, would do nothing to repeal them. Hunting was one of the major passions of his life and like his forebears he intended to indulge it in ideal conditions.
Contemplating that passion now Eleanor reflected once more that although her late husband had been a man of great ability he had had many weaknesses.
‘The game laws,’ she announced, ‘are harsh and cruel. The new King will wish to change them. To begin with in his name I shall release all those who are awaiting punishment under those laws. There is one thing I ask of those who have regained their freedom and that is: Pray for his soul.’
Those who had been saved from a terrible fate, those who had been living as outlaws and could now return to their families were very ready to do as Eleanor asked.
‘It must be understood,’ she said, ‘that this clemency comes from King Richard and while he wishes those who have been condemned under unjust laws to go free, he cannot countenance the release of those who have committed crimes against other laws.’
A great cry of approval went up and Eleanor knew that the freeing of those who had offended against the game laws had been a wise move.
‘I command now,’ she said, ‘that every freeman of the kingdom swear that he will bear faith to King Richard, son of King Henry and Queen Eleanor, for the preservation of life, limbs and terrene honour, as his liege lord, against all living; and that he will be obedient to his laws and assist him in the preservation of peace and justice.’
The new King was hailed with enthusiasm.
Eleanor had done her work well; and when news was brought to her that Richard had arrived in England she hastened back to Winchester to be ready to receive him.
She had assembled all the nobility in Winchester. Perhaps the most important was Ranulph de Glanville who had been her custodian in the castle during the years of her imprisonment. She bore him no ill will; he had always treated her with due respect and the fact that he had guarded against her escape meant that he was obeying his master. As the chief Justiciar of England and a man of immense talents Eleanor believed that his support would be of help to the new King.
Each day people were thronging into Winchester as Richard’s arrival grew imminent. Eleanor was not sure whether her son John would come with his brother. They had been in Normandy together but it was possible that they might take different routes home. This proved to be the case.
What a wonderful moment it was for the Queen when she beheld her beloved son riding at the head of his entourage, a magnificent sight, enough to delight any mother’s eyes.
The meeting was an emotional one and when Richard embraced her she knew that this was one of the happiest moments of her life. She was free after more than sixteen years of captivity; her son – the best loved of her children – was King of England and his first thoughts on coming to the crown were for her. She loved dearly and was loved with equal fervour.
‘Mother!’ he cried.
‘My son, my King,’ she answered, her voice shaken with emotion.
There could be no doubt of his kingliness. He excelled in all manly pastimes. It had been so since the days of his boyhood. He was very tall, having the long arms and legs of his Norman ancestors as well as their blonde good looks; his hair was auburn, his eyes deep blue and he had more than mere good looks; his grace of carriage, his kingly air were unsurpassed, and in any company of men he would have been selected as the King.
She was weak with pride – she who was usually so strong and rarely a prey for her emotions! This was the son whom she had reared and she had recognised his superior qualities from his babyhood; they had been the allies and had stood together against his father and the bastard Geoffrey who had been brought into the royal nursery. He had been her boy from the day he was born and the bond, she fervently prayed, would be severed only by death.
‘How my heart rejoices to see you here,’ she said.
‘There was much to be done across the sea before I could come.’
‘Your subjects have been prepared to welcome you.’
‘Mother, I know you have done good work for me.’
‘I trust I shall never do aught but good work for you, my son.’
He scowled when Ranulph de Glanville approached to pay the homage, which he received coldly. Eleanor smiled realising that Richard was thinking of this man as his mother’s jailer. She must make him understand the importance of Glanville. He must not make an enemy of such a man. There would be much of which she must warn him, and she hoped he loved her enough to let her guide him.
‘Let us make our way to the castle,’ she said. ‘There shall be such feasting and revelry as is becoming to the arrival of the King.’
‘There is much we must talk of.’
‘Much indeed.’
‘How it rejoices me that you are here beside me. It will lighten my lot. You will care for matters here while I am away.’
Her happiness was tinged with apprehension. When he was away? But of course he would have to be away. His dominions were widely spread. That must be what he meant.
She dismissed her fears and gave herself up to the pleasure of seeing homage done to him as he entered the castle. How nobly he accepted it! She noticed how people looked at him.
There never could have been a man who looked so much a king.
To be alone with him, to talk to him of secret matters, to share his confidences, that was a great joy to her.
‘Your coronation must take place immediately,’ she advised. ‘Once a king is crowned he is in truth a king; before that . . .’ She lifted her shoulders.
‘I have decided it shall be on the third day of September.’
‘Isn’t that an unlucky day?’
He laughed aloud. ‘Mother, I take no heed of these superstitions.’
‘Others may.’
‘Then let them. I shall pass into London on the first day of the month, and there I shall be crowned King.’
‘So be it,’ she said. ‘The important point is that the ceremony takes place without delay. Richard, I must speak to you of Alice. She is here.’
‘In this castle?’
‘Under restraint. I thought that as I had suffered it so long it would do her no harm to have a little taste of it.’
He nodded but he was frowning. ‘What must be done with her? I’ll not have her.’
‘We must not forget that her brother is the King of France.’
A shadow passed across his face. How did he feel about Philip now? There was no doubt that they had once been very close friends. Was that due to love or expediency on Richard’s part? He had once needed the friendship of the King of France when his own father was his enemy. Now that he was King of England – and all Kings of England must be wary of Kings of France – had his feelings changed? The one time friend . . . lover . . . was he now a deadly rival?
‘I care not who her brother is,’ said Richard, ‘I’ll have none of my father’s cast-offs.’
‘Your father never cast her off. He was faithful to the end they say . . . faithful in his way that was. No doubt he sported merrily when she was far away but, as with Rosamund Clifford, he visited her in great amity over many years.’
‘My father is dead now, Mother; let us forget his habits. The fact remains that I’ll have none of Alice.’
‘She will have to go back to France. She will not like it. She has been in England for twenty-two years.’
‘Nevertheless she must go.’
‘Yet you will marry. It will be expected of you.’
‘I have a bride in mind. Berengaria, daughter of the King of Navarre, he whom they call Sancho the Wise. We know each other, for I met her when I was taken to her father’s court by her brother who is known as Sancho the Strong to distinguish him from his father. We have even talked of marriage but Alice of course stood in my way.’
‘That girl and your father have a lot to answer for. Though I doubt we should blame Alice; she is a feather in the wind blown this way and that.’
‘Then, by God’s mercy, let us blow her back to France.’
‘What will Philip say when he finds his sister sent back to him?’
‘What can he say of a sister who lived with the man who was to be her father-in-law and bore him a child?’ Richard clenched his fists and cried: ‘My God, when I think of his taking her from me, using her as he did and all the time deceiving me . . .’
‘It is done with. As you remind me, he is dead. He can do you no more harm. You are the King now, Richard. You can go with a good conscience to Berengaria.’
‘If there is to be a marriage this is the one I want. I feel firm friendship with Sancho. Remember it was he who pleaded with my father concerning you when I requested him to. It was due to him that your imprisonment was less rigorous than it might have been.’
‘Yes, I remember well the good he did me.’
‘For this reason and because I could trust no other with such a task I want you to go to the Court of Navarre and to bring Berengaria – not to me . . . for I cannot ask for her hand until I am seen to be free from Alice. But I wish her to be taken where she can wait until I am free.’
‘It shall be so,’ said Eleanor. ‘But first there must be your coronation. What of your brother John?’
‘I left him in Normandy. He was to sail from Barfleur. He hoped to land at Dover.’
Eleanor nodded. ‘It will be well for him to be here.’ She looked steadily at Richard. ‘It is unfortunate that your father should have made so much of him. I could never understand why he did that.’
‘It was to spite me,’ retorted Richard vehemently. ‘You know how he hated me.’
‘I could never understand that in him either. You . . . all that a king should be, surely a son of whom any father should be proud . . .’ She laughed. ‘You always took my side against him, Richard. Even in those early nursery days. Perhaps you forfeited his goodwill in so doing.’
‘It seems so, but I have no qualms about John. He knows I have first claim to the crown. I shall give him honours, treat him with dignity and respect. He must understand that he can never be King except in the event of my failing to get an heir.’
‘Yes, we must make him realise that. It would seem to me that he finds greater interest in his dissolute companions than he would in governing a kingdom.’
‘’Tis better to keep him so. What of Ranulph de Glanville?’
‘I doubt not that he will serve you as he served your father.’
‘I like not one who was your jailer.’
‘A task which was forced on him. He could not disob
ey your father, you know.’
‘Yet a man who has humiliated you, my mother !’
She smiled at him tenderly.
‘We must not allow such matters to cloud our judgements, my son. He has been in charge of the treasure vaults at Winchester. It would not be well that he should withhold any secrets of those vaults from you.’
Richard narrowed his eyes. ‘I shall find it difficult to give my friendship to a man who acted so to you.’
‘I can forgive him. I shall not think of any past wrongs I have suffered, but only what good may come to you. You must take him into your service. You need good servants.’
‘More than most,’ he admitted, ‘for I shall need to leave the country in good hands. I have pledged myself to take part in the Holy War as you know . . .’
‘But now that you are King will that be possible?’
‘I could never come to terms with my conscience if I broke my vow.’
‘You have a kingdom to rule now, Richard. Does not your duty lie with that?’
‘Philip and I must go to the Holy Land together.’
‘So . . . that friendship still stands.’
‘We shall see,’ said Richard. ‘In all events I intend to honour my obligations to my father’s son Geoffrey.’
‘The bastard!’ cried Eleanor.
‘He was with my father at the end.’
‘For what he could get.’
‘Nay, Mother, I think not. Geoffrey served him well and was with him when all others had deserted him. John had left him. They say that broke his heart and that when he heard that John’s name was at the head of the list of those lords who had turned against him he had no will to live. It was his last wish that Geoffrey should not suffer for his fidelity. Nor shall he.’
‘Nay, Richard, he would take your throne from you if he had a chance.’
‘You do not know him, Mother. You hated him because he was living evidence of my father’s infidelity to you, but that is no fault of Geoffrey’s. He was loyal to my father to the end when there was nothing to gain and everything to lose from it. As was William the Marshal. I shall always honour such men.’