Henry of the High Rock

by Juliet Dymoke

  Herluin stood still, looking intently into the disillusioned face. ‘There can be no better way and you could go with no finer man.’ He linked his arm with his brother’s. ‘Come and drink some wine with me while you are waiting for your new lord. This will be a fresh beginning for you.’

  ‘I think so,’ Simon’s voice was unusually quiet as they walked off together. ‘Perhaps the better the master the better the man.’

  Meanwhile King William was not regarding his visitor with the same approval. Helias walked up the long hall, tall, elegant, his dark hair cut neatly as usual, his fine face clean shaven, a white surcoat over his mail tunic. William who did not like to be outshone by anybody, looked on him not with favour but as a potential enemy and was not prepared, as Robert had been, to let Maine slip through his fingers.

  Helias halted by the step to the dais on which he sat. ‘My lord King, greetings. I have come to tell you that I have taken the cross and am determined to devote myself to God’s holy cause. I wish to join your brother and journey to Rome for the Pope’s blessing before crossing the sea to Palestine.’ He paused, looking at the men gathered about the ducal chair and saw Henry’s welcoming smile, but it did not need acute intelligence to realise that there were few other men so well disposed towards him. He went on, ‘There has been peace now for three years between Normandy and Maine and I would wish it to remain so while I am away. Will you give me your guarantee that my borders will be respected?’

  There was a short silence. Rufus sat staring at the Count, his flecked eyes betraying nothing as he quickly assessed the situation. Then he said in the harsh voice so reminiscent of his father’s. ‘You, my lord Count, can go to Jerusalem or Jericho or to hell if you please, but yield up the city of Le Mans to me and the whole county of Maine. It was my father’s and now that I sit in his place here it should and will be mine.’

  There was no doubt that Helias was utterly unprepared for such an answer, for he stiffened and stared at William. But he was not the man to be surprised into an impulsive retort. After a moment’s careful thought he answered. ‘Sire, you hold Normandy not as duke but as a pledge from your brother until his return. I hold Maine by right from my grandfather Count Herbert Wake-dog, owing allegiance to none but my over-lord, the Count of Anjou, and I tell you frankly I will not yield that right to any man. Should I rob my children of their inheritance?’

  ‘Your mother’s sister was betrothed to my brother Robert and when she died Maine came rightly to him,’ Rufus retorted stubbornly. ‘It should be Robert’s and therefore mine.’

  Helias was really angry now. ‘There is no law to uphold so thin a claim. Indeed I am so confident of my position that I will plead my cause before any council of kings and bishops that you care to name.’

  Rufus gave a cackle of laughter. He was sprawled in his chair, one foot thrust out, his red mantle trailing to the floor, jewels glinting on the brooch that fastened it. For all his finery he looked a man better suited to simple soldier’s clothes. ‘I’ll plead too – with swords and spears and arrows,’ he threw the words at the Count, ‘so get you home and prepare your defences.’

  This quarrel, flaring so suddenly, had brought complete silence, all men wondering what would happen next, whether the King would there and then seize the person of the Count of Maine. William of Breteuil looked frankly antagonistic, Bellême was regarding Helias with sardonic contempt, while Count Robert de Beaumont stood stiffly beside the King’s chair, equally unfriendly. Barons and knights moved up the hall to hear what was being said, most of them only too eager to take up the sword against their old enemies, the Manteaux, and delighted at the prospect of rich plunder. Only Henry held himself aloof, remembering his long friendship with Helias and the Count’s kindness when he was a penniless exile.

  He leaned over William’s chair. ‘Rufus, you cannot mean it. Helias is our friend. It is better to have peace on our borders than war.’

  Helias gave Henry a swift grateful glance. ‘My lord King, the Prince is right. I desire to fight the infidel not Normandy.’

  ‘Well, you will have to fight me first.’ Rufus said sharply, ‘for Maine I will have. However,’ his tone was caustic, ‘if your zeal is so great, sacrifice Maine to me and give your sword to God since you think He has more need of it.’

  Robert of Bellême laughed, and it sounded oddly in the silence.

  Helias drew himself upright and surveyed first the King and then the men gathered about him. ‘God Himself gave me my right to the land of my fathers and I will not abandon my people. If I must then I will fight for them first but know this, all of you – I will not give up the Cross that I have taken. As all pilgrims wear it, so shall I. It shall be on my shield and on my helm and all my arms, and those who fight me will fight a soldier of Christ.’

  There was a sudden hubbub in the hall and William of Breteuil, hardened soldier as he was, shouted, ‘High-flown words won’t bring down the curse of God on us. It is you who must yield what belongs to our master.’

  Bellême said: ‘Yield it or not, we will take your city.’ His eyes glittered as if he saw already the prospect of another storming, another place to be sacked and plundered and tortured.

  God help Helias, Henry thought, with Bellême loose in his land! Aloud he said, ‘There must be a better way to settle this. William, I beg you to let the Count go. If there must be differences settle them later.’

  The King rose. ‘What I have said, I mean. You may go where you choose, Count Helias. I am not willing to make war on a soldier of Christ, but now that I am in my father’s place, for whatever reason, I will take back the city he held at the day of his death. So if you will,’ he laughed again, mockingly, ‘take your high-minded principles to the holy places and leave me what is mine – or go back to Le Mans and mend your neglected walls for I swear to you I will be before the gates with all my army as soon as possible.’

  ‘God’s curse will be on you,’ Helias retorted furiously, ‘if you attack me. He will smite you down . . .’

  ‘As to that, He too may do what He chooses. Le Mans I will have and if its citizens resist me they will suffer for it and you had better tell them so.’

  ‘By God, if you come you will find them ready for you, but it will not be the welcome you expect.’ Flushed with a justified anger Helias flung back his answer. Then, he stepped back from the dais and lifted his sword, scabbard and all, holding it by the cross-piece. Turning, he looked slowly round the hall and raising his voice cried out, ‘I call all to witness that it is not of my doing that I cannot for the moment keep my vow to Almighty God. My duty to my people comes first and anathema be on him who has forced me into this position.’

  Henry left his place and came to stand close to William, touching his brother’s arm. ‘Rufus, for God’s sake, think. It is no light matter to swear a holy oath. Helias is the best of men and . . .’

  He had chosen his words unfortunately. Rufus shrugged off his hand. ‘The devil preserve me from good men. By the face of Lucca I have had my fill of them in England.’ He glanced up at his brother. ‘Well, Beauclerc, what is it to be? You’ll not move me so you had better decide now. Do you join Helias against me?’

  For one brief moment Henry paused. He liked Helias as well perhaps as any man he knew. Furthermore he thought him in the right and Rufus in the wrong, but only this morning he had tentatively broached once again the subject of his marriage and this time Rufus had listened. He had listened and commending his brother on his staunch help over the past year and more had gone so far as to promise to go to Romsey and see the girl when he was in England again and it proved convenient. This was more than he had expected and at last it seemed that there was hope for him and for Eadgyth. Always with him was the memory of those few moments with her – how then could he abandon her, abandon his desire for her?

  He looked round the hall, looked again at the indomitable figure of Helias, the cross on his white surcoat. Then he turned back to Rufus. ‘No,’ he said in a low voice, ‘I ca
nnot join the Count of Maine. I am your man, brother.’

  A faint smile flickered over the King’s face and with studied preoccupation he took a peregrine from its stand and sat smoothing its feathers. After a moment he glanced up at the silent figure before him. ‘What, my lord Count, are you still here? Have you not work to do in your city if you wish to withstand the might of Normandy?’

  Without another word Helias swung round and walked away down the length of the hall and out through the far door.

  ‘Well, my pretty,’ Rufus said to his peregrine, ‘Will you come a-warring with me? We have a good prey in sight.’ He laughed and Henry, stepping down from the dais, walked out of the hall.

  In the courtyard he caught Helias in the act of mounting, his foot already in the stirrup.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘one moment. Helias, I am sorry. You will think I repay you ill for all our years of friendship.’

  The count took his foot out of the iron and leaned against the saddle, one arm across it. ‘There are some things too strong for us, that strain friendship too far.’

  ‘Yet it must endure,’ Henry said in a low voice so that none might hear, he added, ‘I cannot break with Red William, not now for many reasons, but I swear I will not ride with him to Le Mans nor raise my sword against you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Helias said warmly. ‘I never thought this was our fight. I am only sorry there has to be a fight at all. Perhaps,’ his face saddened, ‘perhaps I am not worthy to go on so noble a venture, nor fit to set foot in the Holy Sepulchre.’

  ‘You!’ Henry exclaimed. He took him by the arm. ‘My friend, you could not act otherwise than you have. However things go now I make you one other promise – if ever I sit in my father’s place you will never again need to fear Normandy will raid your borders.’

  Helias held out his hand in silence. Then he said, glancing back towards the hall. ‘Your brother is a strange man. He could have let me ride after the Duke and then seized my land, or he could have taken me then and there – yet he lets me return to Maine and challenges me to fight.’

  ‘That is his way,’ Henry said. ‘He will lie and cheat and rob for money, but when it comes to war and a matter of knightly honour he will keep the code and expect others to do the same.’

  ‘Well!’ Helias smiled a little wanly. ‘I suppose I must go and make ready. William is right – I’ve had peace for so long that my defences have fallen into neglect. How did he know that, I wonder?’ He mounted and gathered up the reins. Heavy clouds had scudded up from the west and thundery rain began to fall, welcome in the heat. ‘I had thought to be riding east today, to Rome. Instead . . .’ his eyes filled with sudden tears. Abruptly he pulled his hood about his face and turning his horse’s head rode out of the gate followed by his troop, riding two by two in a long procession through the increasing rain.

  Henry stood watching them go and presently Herluin came to him, carrying a mantle which he set about his lord’s shoulders. ‘My brother is with Count Helias,’ he said. ‘Do we join the King to fight again him?’

  ‘No,’ Henry said. ‘We do not. We go back to Domfront. I will hold my cities against the men of Maine if they choose to attack me but I’ll not draw my sword on a man who wears the Cross.’

  ‘Nor I,’ Herluin agreed and they went back into the shelter of the hall to find Rufus already conferring with his captains.

  Alide had married again. She had known long ago when the rock of the Archangel fell that her royal lover would not return to her, and being a sensible woman, she had on her father’s death accepted the offer of a merchant. He dealt in wine and could carry on her father’s trade, moreover he was a kindly man and undemanding. He accepted her children without demur, treated Robert as his son, and when she bore him a boy of his own considered himself a most fortunate man.

  One afternoon in the summer of 1098 eight-year-old Robert was sitting by the window playing with knuckle-bones when he saw some men ride to the street door below and dismount. He called to his mother, saying that the visitor must be a very great man from the look of him and the size of his escort.

  Alide came hurrying, but she hardly needed to look out to know who was below. She had had no warning, yet she had known that one day there would be riders below, a familiar figure walking towards her up the stair, that the moment would come when she would have to let Robert go.

  ‘It is your father,’ she said and the boy stared at her in astonishment.

  ‘That man in the blue mantle?’

  ‘Yes, that is Prince Henry.’

  Round-eyed, Robert leaned out so far that she was afraid he would fall and caught hold of him. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘you must go with me to greet him.’

  He took her hand obediently and together they went down the outer stair. He was curious and excited and wondered why she must hold him so tightly.

  Alide was outwardly calm, but within there was turmoil. To see him again after so long reminded her of forgotten happiness, of a joy that nothing had replaced. She was married and glad of it, but in all her life she had loved only this man who came towards her now.

  ‘My lord,’ she made a little obeisance to him, ‘I wondered when you would come back to Caen. After Duke Robert went . . .’

  ‘I meant to come sooner,’ he said, ‘but there has been much to do.’ He took her hand and smiled at her. ‘Well, Alide, you look’ he searched for the right word, ‘content?’

  ‘I am wed,’ she said.

  ‘I am glad. To a good man, I hope?’ And then he turned to the silent boy at her side. ‘Holy Rood, he is the very spit of me when I was a lad. Hugh,’ he called out to the Earl of Chester who was standing by the horses, ‘Hugh, is this not my son and bone of my bone?’

  The Earl came over to them, a smile on his heavy features. ‘Aye, my lord, I remember you well enough at his age and you had the same look about you.’

  Henry laid a hand on Robert’s shoulder, ‘Well, boy, I am your father. Are you glad to see me?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Robert said and could hardly keep from jumping up and down. ‘My mother told me of you. I wish you had come sooner.’

  Henry laughed. ‘Now why do you wish that?’

  ‘Because my mother said you would give me a horse and teach me sword play and how to be a knight.’

  ‘That I will.’ He glanced at Alide, a swift, grateful glance that expressed all he would say to her yet did not wish to put into words. He lifted the boy and set him astride his great black Perchenoir. ‘There now, is he not a great horse? You can hardly get your legs over him. Shall I find you one you can ride?’

  ‘I would like that,’ Robert said and wriggled in the saddle, holding the reins and patting the strong neck.

  ‘And would you like to come with me, live in my castle and learn all the knightly exercises, and to read and write?’

  Robert considered this, his dark eyes so like his father’s fixed gravely on his mother standing silent by the stair. ‘I do not want to leave you, mother,’ he began, ‘but you always said when I became a man I would go to my father, and it is the time, is it not?’

  Henry lifted him down. ‘Oh aye, you are halfway to manhood, my son. Go and ask Earl Hugh there to show you his great sword.’

  He watched the boy run off and then went to Alide. Without speaking she led him to the upper chamber where so long ago on the night of the Conqueror’s burial he had eaten supper and she had brought him the greeting cup.

  When they were alone he said. ‘It has been a long time.’

  She poured wine and brought it to him as if she too was remembering. ‘A long time,’ she repeated. Oh, that night and the other nights that would never come again! She watched him as he drank, seeing him so changed from that untried youth. Now he would take Robert, as she had always known he would, as indeed she wanted him to for Robert’s own good, but despite her love for their little girl Matilda, who came running to her now, and the new babe who lay in his cradle, it was Robert her firstborn who occupied the largest part o
f her affections. But he must be given up and she forced herself to say, ‘You have come for the boy?’

  ‘I would have him with me, but,’ he took her hand and led her to a bench, sitting beside her, ‘he may return often. I don’t wish him to forget or cease to care for his mother.’ He took his daughter and set her on his knee. Matilda was more like her mother but as she turned to look solemnly at him she had a way of lifting her head that reminded him of his own dead mother, for whom she had been named.

  ‘Thank you,’ Alide said quietly. ‘Robert is dear to me, for his father’s sake as well as his own.’ And then the words came out in a rush. ‘My dear lord, it is so good to see you. You are well? And so great a man these days! I have thought of you so often.’