Henry of the High Rock

by Juliet Dymoke

  ‘A messenger came yesterday. Our brother was crowned a week since, Lanfranc saw to that. It seems the people have accepted him as their lord and the country is quiet.’

  Henry shrugged. ‘What rival did he have? There’s no Saxon left but Edgar Atheling, and for all he’s old Edmund Ironside’s grandson his arrow was shot long ago.’

  ‘True, though there are some who think…’ Robert encountered a sharp glance from his uncle and broke off immediately. ‘Well, we’ll leave Rufus to deal with that part of our father’s legacy and enjoy ourselves here, eh?’

  He poured more wine for Henry and watched the tumblers performing in the open space between his high table and the great log fire in the centre of the hall. They somersaulted, walked on their hands, climbed on each other’s shoulders, fell in heaps on the floor to spring up again and send the hall into shouts of laughter at their antics until, exhausted, they bowed before the Duke and he threw them a shower of coins. Then a minstrel sang a plaintive love song and he too received more than his due.

  Rollo, the court jester, leapt before the Duke, shaking his bauble and giving a comical grimace when it made no sound.

  ‘By Our Lady, it is empty – as empty as your grace’s treasury will be if you throw so much money to us poor fools. Will you give me the price of a few dried peas for my bauble, lord of Normandy, or . . .’ his wicked eye glanced at the dignified figure of the bishop, ‘or will your noble uncle reprove you? “Fie, nephew,” he will say, “I’ve not yet set my own fingers dabbling in your treasure.”’

  There was a roar of laughter at this, though the Bishop’s face was dark with anger and he aimed a blow at the jester who ducked and crossed to Henry’s side.

  ‘Why, here’s our little clerk who’s too clever for most of us. Will your wit protect me, brother Henry, for I’ve none myself.’

  ‘You are rightly called fool,’ Henry said good-humouredly, and from his own purse took a coin for the impudent fellow. It struck him at once how the atmosphere of the court had changed even in this short time from the decorous formality of the Conqueror’s table. At one point there was a quarrel, a scuffle and some blood-letting at one of the lower trestles which William would never have tolerated. He said as much to his sister when she sat by the fire afterwards with Robert de Beaumont and her ladies.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Adeliza said. ‘When Robert ceases to give away his patrimony with such speed it will be better for everyone.’ She glanced across at her eldest brother who was surrounded now by a crowd of eager young men. ‘To give too much too quickly is to set men at odds with each other.’

  Henry saw a swift frown cross Count de Meulan’s face. ‘Does that apply to you, Robert? I hear that the Duke has given your holding of Ivry to William of Breteuil. Are you at odds then with him?’

  De Beaumont shrugged, an unwilling smile crossing his face. ‘Your brother has given me Brionne in exchange, so I am at odds with naught tonight except a venison pasty that sits too heavily on my stomach.’

  Henry laughed, but after a moment he pursued his first thought. ‘Our father would never have suffered such disorder in the hall.’

  ‘I think,’ Adeliza said, ‘it was because he was husband and father and had a greater sense of his responsibilities.’

  Her brother sat down astride a stool and bent down to caress the head of a great dog who slept at her feet, nose to the warmth of the fire. ‘We’re a strange family,’ he said. ‘Eight of us our lord begat and yet we’ve done little about the next generation. I suppose Robert has been in no position to attract a high-born wife and Rufus has no desire to – as for me I’ve time yet, but there’s Constance in Brittany, childless, Agatha dead because she would wed none but Earl Harold and he spurned her. Cecily has taken holy vows and only Adela in Blois has borne children to her lord.’ He glanced at Adeliza. She was the most beautiful of his sisters, her complexion without flaw, her figure perfect, her movements graceful. ‘What of you?’ he asked. ‘Robert will be looking for a noble husband for you.’

  She shook her head, smiling. ‘I do not want to marry, but neither do I want to be a nun like Cecily, so I am going to live as a guest at the convent at St. Leger de Preaux.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘What does Robert say to that? You could make an advantageous match for him.’

  ‘He has given his permission.’

  He can refuse no one anything, Henry thought with sudden scorn, and wondered at his brother’s lack of foresight.

  ‘What will you do then?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I shall care for the poor and the sick. Did you hear that Earl Harold’s sister Gunhilde died a few weeks ago in Bruges? She had lived thus for many years, caring for others.’

  Henry put up a hand to touch her cheek. She had long plaits, their fairness inherited from her mother, and he let his hand slide down one.

  ‘What a pity to waste so much beauty.’

  De Beaumont said, ‘She will gain a greater beauty in the eyes of God for what she is doing.’

  ‘I shall be under the guardianship of the Count here,’ Adeliza explained, ‘and I promise you, brother, I shall be safe and happy. Come and see me sometimes.’

  He promised readily and the next day saw her ride away. If he had been Duke, he thought, he would have found her a man who would have turned her thoughts another way, to pleasures she had not dreamed of, and filled her lap with a brood of beautiful children.

  He found a small house in the town for Alide to lodge in and stayed a month with Robert at the court. They hunted together in the royal forest of Roumaire, and in the saddle Robert was a different man from the plump, lazy, easy-going head of the royal table. He was a brilliant horseman, swift and energetic, and he could hold the wildest horse in the stables; even Henry, fifteen years his junior, found it hard to keep up with him. But once the hunt was over it was Bishop Odo who claimed Robert’s attention. They were often closeted together, now and again calling important barons to them, and Henry grew certain that they plotted something. He had one or two clashes with his uncle and at length, tired of Odo’s interference, begged Robert’s permission to accept Richard de Redvers’ invitation to visit Vernon.

  With Alide, Herluin and the rest of his men in attendance, he left the court and spent the whole of November in the homely wooden castle on the banks of the Seine. He and Richard hawked and hunted each day; he found a palfrey for Alide and a gentle merlin to sit on her wrist instead of the fierce falcon that clung to his own gloved hand. After the long days out in the woods they lay together at night, their joy in each other growing with the knowledge of what gave pleasure to the other.

  Men who sought a night’s hospitality or a chapman travelling with his wares brought desultory news to Vernon. Odo, they said, had been reinstated as Earl of Kent and had gone to England with Robert of Bellême – to try to get Rufus under his sway, Henry thought – and the new Duke continued to dispense lavish hospitality and to give to any baron whatever be chose to ask.

  Then, a few weeks before Christmas, a young knight of Eu came with a message from the Duke for his brother. Henry listened with growing amusement for Robert it seemed had temporarily exhausted his father’s vast hoard and asked his brother for a loan from the silver that had been his inheritance.

  With a grim smile on his face he surveyed the envoy. ‘Am I a Jew to lend money? My brother offers no security – tell him my answer is no.’

  The young man looked acutely embarrassed and departed, but a week later he was back.

  ‘My lord, his grace bids me say he will offer you land in exchange for the money.’

  He saw the sudden gleam in the Prince’s eye and went on, ‘If you will come to Rouen an agreement can be drawn up – he suggests a part of the Cotentin.’

  Henry listened to this speech in silence, without any outward sign of the sudden intense attention it raised. Presently he sent the envoy back to Robert and ran up the spiral stair to the tower room he shared with Alide.

  She was seated by the fire, a piece o
f embroidery in her hand and he knelt beside her, freeing her fingers from the silks and holding them in his own.

  ‘At last,’ he said and was surprised to find his voice less steady than usual, ‘at last I am to have something of my own.’

  ‘My love,’ she touched his cheek, looking down into his eager face, ‘you have always had something that is your own.’

  ‘Why, what have I had?’ he asked in surprise.

  ‘What it was that made me leave my father’s house, that made Herluin give you his sword, and Richard his friendship.’

  ‘You are talking in riddles.’ He kissed her fleetingly. ‘I cannot stop to play at guessing now, so pack your chests, my heart. We go back to Rouen.’

  ‘You drive a close bargain,’ Robert Curthose said ruefully the next evening. ‘It seems my little brother has a hard head on his shoulders.’

  They stood facing each other in the Duke’s solar, alone except for a clerk who waited, quill in hand, to set down the arrangement on the blank parchment before him. Henry had a sudden memory of this room as it had been in his father’s day and he had been summoned here to answer for some misdemeanour.

  ‘Three thousand pounds is a great deal of money,’ he said plainly, ‘and if you want it you must give me what I want – all the Cotentin, the castles of Avranches and Coutances and Mont St. Michel.’ It was almost a third of the duchy but he saw it as a chance not to be missed and watched his brother pacing up and down, uncertain, torn between possessiveness and the need caused by his extravagances.

  At last after a few more grumbles the Duke said, ‘So be it,’ and told the clerk to write.

  So Henry set his hands between his brother’s, paying him homage for the land, and then took his little company westward; de Redvers came with them and Ralph de Toeni whose father was in England, and they spent the Christmas feast at Avranches in the fine stone castle built by Hugh the Wolf, Earl of Chester, in whose lordship it was.

  And for the first time, as Count of the Cotentin, the Prince sat in the high seat at the centre of his own board, dispensing his own hospitality to his friends. In the weeks that followed he rode from one end to the other of his new property, holding courts and listening patiently to men’s complaints giving justice as impartially as he could and favouring none. He began to love this western part of Normandy, from the thick northern forests of Valognes where bears and wild boars flourished, to the wild sea coast, the sand dunes and pines, and the rocky island of Mont St. Michel, the rock of the Archangel, crowned by its great church and monastery. He rode over the causeway and stayed two nights there making sure it was in a defensible state.

  Wherever he rode now Herluin La Barre rode beside him, seeing that everything was prepared for him, acting as his lord’s steward, and their friendship grew, an odd friendship for in many ways Herluin was the reverse of his master – reserved, inclined to gravity, more devout than most in that he lingered in church after Mass, when Henry was on his feet and away to hunt or ride to some part of his county before the last blessing was pronounced. Imperceptibly Herluin became the first among Henry’s knights and was seldom far from his side.

  The elder Herluin, a busy little man, came from Barre le Heron to pay his respects to the new Count and was delighted at the favour shown his son – he had a large family to provide for and Herluin, he thought, might help one or other to progress in the world, but he soon learned that Herluin would ask no douceur from the Prince, and he returned home, grumbling to his second wife, Herluin’s stepmother, that his son’s head had been thoroughly turned, even though he knew it was not true.

  One afternoon in April, listening to the Prince dealing with a vavassour who had a complaint against his neighbour, De Redvers said to Ralph, ‘Already he is getting a name for fair dealing. Did you think six months ago when the old King died that we would be sitting here thus?’

  ‘Not I,’ Ralph agreed. He was astride a bench at the far end of the hall where they were out of earshot of the little court. ‘But will the Duke stick to his bargain? I hear he regrets already the revenue he has lost, for he has nearly spent the money Henry paid him.’

  ‘Holy Cross, what does he do with it? He is shiftless we all know, but I did not think him dishonest.’

  ‘He will do what Odo says,’ Ralph remarked, ‘so I suppose we should thank God the Bishop is in England.’

  Richard laughed. ‘I doubt if King William shares your view. The latest news is that many of the great Norman lords, Montgomery and his sons, Grandmesnil, and Odo himself, refused to attend the King’s Easter feast.’

  Ralph sat up straight. ‘Oh? That is near treason.’

  ‘I know. It seems that rebellion is brewing in England.’

  ‘God’s teeth, what are they after?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Richard was frowning now. ‘But I thought, didn’t you, that Odo was planning something with the Duke in the autumn before he left. Perhaps they want to unseat Rufus and give the crown to Robert.’

  Ralph stirred uneasily. ‘My father is in England. If it is a question of taking sides which one will he take? But I don’t like it – brother against brother. It is not right.’

  ‘Maybe not, but did you not see it was inevitable from the moment the old King died?’

  ‘No,’ Ralph answered honestly. ‘Perhaps I’ve a dull wit but . . .’

  'Of course you have,’ Richard told him drily. ‘Rufus wants Normandy as well, and Robert wants England. Neither will be satisfied with things as they are.’

  ‘And Henry?’

  De Redvers glanced down the hall to where, in his high seat beneath an arras of crimson cloth, the Prince sat talking earnestly to the two men whose quarrel he must settle, ‘Henry, if he is wise, will bide his time.’

  But the kind of wisdom Richard of Redvers wanted for him was not the wisdom of nineteen.

  After Easter news came that rebellion had broken out, that half the great lords in England had come out openly in favour of Robert Curthose and awaited impatiently his arrival on English soil. He did indeed send troops to Odo’s town of Dover but continued to lounge in his hall at Rouen, promising to come when his uncles had done their work.

  ‘What a fool he is,’ Henry said derisively. ‘At least if I had put my hand to such an enterprise I’d not have left it to others to carry through.’

  To everyone’s surprise the English rallied round their King. For all he was a Norman he was their anointed King and when he called them to his banner, proclaiming that any man who did not come would go by the odious name of ‘nithing’, men flocked to fight for him, seeing in him one who would support them against the Norman overlords they hated. In an astonishingly short time he had reduced the rebellion to two small outposts. The saintly old Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester had quelled the rising in the west and in the east Odo had been forced to surrender Rochester. Taken to Robert of Mortain’s stronghold at Pevensey he had begged to be allowed to go into the castle in order to persuade his brother to surrender, but once there broke his word, rejoined the rebels and refused to come out. And there he and they were still, besieged by Rufus and his English soldiers, with no hope of victory.

  ‘I am for England,’ Henry said gleefully when he heard this news. ‘I would see Odo brought low, the lying treacherous dog. By God, my father had his measure after all! ’

  He left his garrisons secure, said farewell to Richard and to Ralph at Falaise and turned north to Caen with Alide. She was pregnant now and he thought she would be better in her father’s house during his absence. That night he lay with her in the little guest chamber where they had first become lovers. She was calm outwardly but he sensed an underlying tenseness.

  ‘You need not fear for me,’ he said softly. ‘I am not going to embroil myself in this quarrel. Let my brothers fight it out between them – only Robert is too lazy to raise his own standard. But I want Rufus to see I have not taken sides – and as I want my mother’s lands in England this seems a good time to ask for them. Then I shall begin to have a f
air inheritance.’

  ‘You are ambitious, my lord.’ It was dark in the bed with the curtains drawn and she wished she could see his face. ‘And I think your ambition will take you from me.’

  He kissed her hair lightly. ‘Now why should it do so when,’ he laid his hand on her swollen body, ‘when you are to bear me a son, please God? We knew, did we not, from the beginning how it would be with us?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said very low. ‘I had no designs to be other than your mistress. I know that one day you must marry – a politic marriage – but I shall not mind if my womanhood has been crowned by bearing you a son.’

  He folded her in his arms. ‘I am not thinking of marriage yet, and all I want is to lie by your side at night and find peace in your arms.’

  ‘Then that is what I want,’ she said.

  But when she slept, he lay awake and pondered on the truth of her words. He knew he had become the heart and centre of her life, but for himself his horizons were growing daily wider like those of the sea he would cross tomorrow if the wind was favourable.