The Revolt of the Eaglets

by Виктория Холт

  Then the brothers with Marguerite left England.

  Chapter IX

  THE YOUNG KING

  There was a difference of opinion between the brothers. Richard wished to return to Aquitaine as quickly as possible for the prospect of battle always excited him. But Henry was in no such hurry. He was free of his father, or so he believed, and he wanted to make the most of his good fortune.

  Marguerite expressed her wish to see her own father and Henry said that before accompanying Richard to Aquitaine they would call on the King of France.

  Louis received them with pleasure and as usual treated Henry as his own son. He loved all his children dearly and he always took great pleasure in the company of any of them. When he heard that Marguerite had been to Canterbury to pray at St Thomas’s Shrine, he applauded what she had done.

  ‘A saint whose death was one of the great tragedies of Christendom,’ he commented. ‘I shall never forget the day I heard of his murder. I am sure your prayers will be heard and answered.’

  He himself gave special services for the couple and they were convinced that soon their great wish would be granted.

  Young Henry took pleasure in the knowledge that if his father knew he had come to the King of France he would be furious. Although recently he had feigned affection for his father and had perhaps sometimes felt a little, now that he was no longer with him, all his resentment was aroused, and the hatred, revived, was as strong as ever.

  He told Louis that they had seen their mother. Louis could never be quite indifferent to Eleanor and wanted to hear how she was faring under her imprisonment.

  ‘There is little change in her,’ Henry told the King.

  ‘She would come through any adventures unscathed,’ said Louis admiringly.

  Henry then brought up the matter which his mother had suggested he bring to the notice of the King of France.

  ‘Richard envies us our married happiness,’ said Henry. ‘He is wondering when his bride will be given to him.’

  ‘I wonder that also,’ said Louis, frowning. ‘I do not understand why there should be this delay. Alice is now sixteen years of age. Surely that is an age for marriage.’

  ‘And Richard is almost twenty. It is only right that he should have his bride.’

  ‘Why should there be this delay?’ demanded Louis.

  ‘It is some devilment of my father’s,’ answered Henry. ‘Depend upon it.’

  ‘It makes no sense,’ said Louis. ‘The King of England wishes this marriage and so do I. Yet the Princess is kept at the Court of England and is neither returned to her father nor given to her husband.’

  ‘What do you intend to do about it?’ asked Henry.

  ‘It would seem that the King of England has some intentions which are not clear to us. I will send a messenger to the Pope and ask his help in the matter.’

  * * *

  Young Henry left the King of France and travelled to Poitiers, that beautiful capital city of Aquitaine set on a hill. It seemed to the young King that to go into battle was a foolish thing to do. There was so much which was more entertaining. Aquitaine, so called because of the abundance of springs, streams and rivers, was a beautiful land. In such well-watered territory there were many vineyards and the vegetation was lush indeed.

  It was a land made for song and pleasure and to give oneself to fighting and discomfort was not young Henry’s idea of enjoyment. What was the use of being a king if one must continually be on the march and live in discomfort like a common soldier?

  The fair city of Poitiers suited him and he would have liked to linger there, but Richard pointed out that they had not come to Aquitaine to pass the days in idleness. There was trouble in Angoulême and to Angoulême they must go.

  Richard set out and Henry followed him, but he regretted leaving the city where he had had such a pleasant time; and as he was riding into Angoulême, he received a message from his old friend, Philip of Flanders.

  Philip had, some time previously, sworn that he would go on a crusade to the Holy Land and Henry was surprised that he had not already embarked upon it. Philip wrote that he had a reason for remaining in Flanders which he would explain when they met. In the meantime he wanted Henry to join him and take advantage of a round of pleasure for he was staging a series of tournaments and he knew how Henry enjoyed such entertainments.

  Henry wavered. He should, of course, stay with Richard, for his help would be needed and this was what his father had commanded. But Richard was capable of fighting his own battles as he was such a renowned warrior and why should he, crowned King of England, always have to consider what his father wanted? He soon convinced himself that he had every right to go where he wished and shortly after he received Philip’s message, he set out for Flanders.

  Philip was delighted to see him and Henry enjoyed enumerating all the wrongs he had received at his father’s hands and declaring that he would never fall into them again.

  He had been a puppet, nothing more.

  Philip commiserated. It was monstrous that one who was a crowned King of England should be so treated.

  ‘My father greatly regrets he ever allowed the crown to be placed on my head.’

  ‘Then if he regrets such important acts which were performed at his bidding does it not show he is unfit to govern?’

  The friends were in agreement.

  * * *

  Those were days of immense pleasure.

  ‘This is the life,’ cried Henry.

  Tournaments were mock battles. They provided the utmost pleasure without the discomfort of war. Excitement and the ability to cut a fine figure were stressed. What could be more stimulating?

  Philip of Flanders was greatly experienced in these affairs, and because he was such a skilled performer everyone watched him with awe and admiration. Henry longed to win such glories.

  The arrival of Henry must be celebrated with a grand tournament, said Philip, and he sent heralds throughout the land to let all the knights know that they were invited to test their skill.

  Then there was the pleasure of selecting the judges, and lofty towers and scaffolding of wood were erected. Counts and their Countesses, Dukes and their Duchesses, knights and their ladies were seated in accordance with their rank; and it was the custom for each man to wear a favour from his wife or mistress. Often the tournaments continued for days and there were various kinds of engagements – sometimes several knights were involved in an action, at others there were examples of single combats.

  At the end of the day the judges gave their verdict and the ladies led the victors into the hall where they were divested of their armour and clad in beautiful robes. The minstrels played and verses were recited and songs sung praising the glories of jousting.

  To indulge in this pastime was clearly a costly matter and although the King of England might supply his son with certain monies necessary for the conducting of war against his enemies, he would not do so that it might be squandered in tournaments.

  But Philip of Flanders was a good friend and he assured Henry that he must not think of the expense. Such a small matter must not deter him from enjoying the occasion. Philip would provide the fine garments, the horses, the lances and spears.

  Henry accepted the gifts and swore to Philip that he should one day be repaid with estates in England. He would never forget his very good friend.

  He admired Philip, and as his skill at the joust improved he was very content.

  Philip began to have a great influence on him. A ruler must be strong, said Philip. He must take his pleasures where he would and must allow none to condemn him.

  Philip showed Henry how he dealt with those who betrayed him, when he told him why he had not gone on the proposed crusade after all. It concerned his wife.

  Philip was married to the beautiful Isabel of Vermandois who was related to young Henry, for her mother was the sister of Queen Eleanor. Eleanor’s sister Petronelle had become enamoured of the Count of Vermandois soon after Eleanor’s marr
iage to the King of France. The Count had been something of a philanderer and had first cast his eyes on Queen Eleanor herself. He had made his feelings clear by sitting at her feet and sighing while he sang of love. At that time Eleanor, newly married to the King of France and hoping for an heir, had not indulged in active infidelity and the impatient amorous Count had turned his attentions to her sister Petronelle. Not having the same reasons for preserving her chastity, Petronelle allowed herself to be seduced. She was, however, the sister of the Queen of France and marriage was considered necessary. Therefore the Count divorced his wife on the well-worn consanguinity excuse and he and Petronelle were married. Two daughters were the result of their union and of these Isabel was the younger.

  Isabel had inherited the nature of her parents and although Philip was a virile husband she could not prevent her attention straying.

  The young King listened to an account of the troubles between Philip and his wife. Both of them were related to Henry, for while Isabel was his cousin, Philip was descended from Fulk of Anjou; Philip’s grandmother, Sibyl, daughter of Fulk, was the sister of Henry’s grandfather, Geoffrey of Anjou. Hence the relationship.

  At this time young Henry admired his kinsman Philip more than anyone he knew and he applauded everything he did with such an uncritical devotion that Philip could not help regarding him with great affection.

  ‘You have heard of Walter of Les Fontaines?’ he asked.

  ‘I heard he was dead. Was he not a knight of some fame?’

  ‘He was said to be a kind of Sir Lancelot and the name fits him well if you consider me as Arthur and Isabel as Guinevere.’

  ‘You are not telling me that Walter is Isabel’s lover?’

  ‘Was, cousin! Was! You do not think I would allow my wife to be unfaithful to me, do you?’

  ‘I believe you have not always been faithful to her.’

  ‘That is a different matter.’

  ‘Tell me of this Walter. I have heard there was a kind of legend about him.’

  ‘He was very handsome, very skilled. Few could stand against him at the tournament.’

  ‘You could, Philip.’

  ‘Few besides. Imagine my rage when I heard that Isabel had a fancy for him.’

  ‘She could not possibly have preferred him to you.’

  ‘She wanted us both, it seemed. I suspected that when I was away he became her lover.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I taunted him with it. He denied it. But then he would consider it would be the knightly thing to do.’

  ‘Did you torture him?’

  ‘No. I asked him, merely. I said I trusted his word as a knight.’

  ‘But if he were protecting a lady …’

  ‘Exactly so. I forbade him to enter my castle and made a plan. Oh, a simple one which I doubt not many a suspicious husband has used before. I made a great noise about going away for some days. I went and returned by stealth.’

  ‘And you discovered them …’

  ‘I caught him in her bedchamber. Now I had proved what I suspected and no one could blame me if I took action against him.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I asked him why he was there when my express command had been that he was not to enter the castle. I knew she had invited him but he would not betray her. I had him beaten until he was nothing but a mass of bleeding flesh but still he was determined to protect her. He was a knight until the end. He was elegant, you know. His linen was scented and he was most careful in his person. I believe it was that which she found so appealing. It seemed a good revenge therefore to hang him over a cesspool and this I did. He stayed there until he died.’

  Henry’s eyes gleamed. ‘So I would act towards a lover of Marguerite’s if I should so discover him.’

  ‘And none could blame you. None blamed me. A betrayed husband has his rights.’

  ‘And Isabel? What was her punishment? You could have put her from you.’

  ‘What! With the rich lands of Vermandois at stake? I did not want trouble there. She is a beautiful woman and it was a warning to her.’

  Henry nodded and admired his friend more than ever.

  ‘All this has delayed my departure for the crusade,’ went on Philip. ‘That is why I have not gone. I must remain a while because of it. But I shall go in due course. It will be an even greater excitement than the tournament and I have a few sins to ask pardon for.’

  ‘When you go, Philip,’ declared Henry, ‘I shall accompany you.’

  * * *

  As the influence of Philip of Flanders grew stronger over young Henry that of old friends like William the Marshall and his Vice-Chancellor, Adam of Churchdown, waned. William, for all that he was a knight who loved to take part in tournaments and did in fact shine in them, was of a serious nature and he was disturbed to see Henry becoming rather dissolute and more arrogant than ever.

  He tried to remonstrate with him, pointing out that his father had commanded him to assist Richard and would be most displeased when he heard that he spent his time in extravagant pleasure.

  ‘By God, William,’ cried Henry, ‘it would seem that you are a greater friend to my father than to me.’

  ‘I serve you both with all my heart,’ answered William.

  ‘The time is coming when it will not be possible to serve us both. Then you will have to make a choice.’

  ‘I pray that time will never come,’ answered William.

  ‘I pray it will come very soon. I have been in leading strings too long. Am I the King of England or am I not?’

  ‘You are King in truth for your father has had the crown put on your head, but it behoves us all to remember that he is the master of us all.’

  ‘God damn him, William. I’ll not be his slave.’

  ‘It is not his slave he would make you. He wants you to learn kingship from him and then when the time comes, to take over from him. It is a fatherly concern.’

  ‘To the devil with his fatherly concern. He is a miser, and you know it, William.’

  ‘Hush, my lord, do not say that which could be construed as treason.’

  ‘Faint-hearted William!’ taunted Henry.

  ‘Nay, my lord. Strong-hearted and strong in the arm I trust when it comes to protecting you.’

  * * *

  Marguerite was pregnant.

  ‘St Thomas has interceded for me,’ she declared. ‘Oh, how happy I am! I shall pray for a son.’

  ‘That son,’ said Henry proudly, ‘will one day be King of England.’

  ‘I trust he will never try to take the crown from his father as you have from yours.’

  Henry was angry. ‘Dost think that I would deserve such treatment? Besides,’ he added shrewdly, ‘he will never be crowned King while I live.’

  He was delighted. It was gratifying to become a father.

  Messages must be sent to the Kings of England and France to inform them that they would become grandparents.

  He thought of Richard, battling away in Aquitaine. He had always been a little jealous of Richard because their mother had doted on him so much. He wondered why, for Richard was not in the least like her. Richard was a throw-back to their Norman ancestors. Old Rollo must have looked a little like him.

  Richard was succeeding in subduing Aquitaine because he was such a brilliant fighter but it was said that he would never be acceptable to the people, for he was alien to everything they were. He was so essentially of the North; he could be hard and cruel; and although he had some talents as a musician and poet he was very different from their mother’s languorous people. And if they did not accept Richard might they not accept someone who was more like themselves, someone who was content to enjoy life and did not want to be continually going into battle, someone who was easy going, who would enjoy the comfortable and easy life?

  Why not?

  This was a good life but inactivity was becoming boring. Intrigue was exciting and nothing could be more exciting than intrigue against the one whom he mos
t wanted to defeat: his own father. One of his most glorious dreams was that his father, subdued and penitent, came to him to beg his pardon and ask that there might be an end to the strife between them. He could never completely shut out the memory of that humiliating scene when he had gone to his father, knelt before him and begged to be allowed to pay him homage. And the aftermath, that public statement of his humility! He would never forgive his father for that.

  Suppose he stirred up a revolt – in Normandy perhaps? There were always people ready to revolt. On the other hand suppose he put out feelers to Aquitaine? Would the people there rather have him than Richard?

  There were several possibilities.

  William the Marshall guessed what dangerous thoughts were going on in the young King’s mind.

  He wondered whether he could speak to Marguerite about his anxieties. The young Queen, since she had become pregnant, had become serene and more mature. She loved her husband. There was a great deal to love in Henry. He could be very charming when he wished and his appearance was very much in his favour. When he entered a room people would have known him for a prince if they had been completely unaware of his identity. He was said to be the handsomest prince in Christendom and if now and then he wore an expression of discontent this was not always the case.

  William, who had known him from a child, when he had been knight-at-arms to the royal children, had until recently been closer to Henry than to his friends; he was much older and infinitely wiser, and he deplored the way in which the young King’s character was developing; and most of all he regretted his attitude to his father.

  He went to Marguerite who was taking a little exercise in the gardens, as she had been advised to do, in order to ensure an easy confinement. When he joined her the two ladies who were accompanying her dropped behind and William walked side by side with the young Queen.

  After inquiring about her health he brought up the subject of her husband and told her that he believed Henry was getting restive.