William Marshal Guardian of England- The Complete Series

by Richard Woodman

‘And the command of a King should be obeyed, should it not? Or are you of the same opinion as my son that my rule is invalid?’

  William suppressed a shudder, recalling that Godfery FitzHugh had subjected him to such a scrutiny. He loosed his belt, drew off his curtle and then his shirt and under garment. The King motioned for him to turn his back towards him. William’s heart beat furiously, for this was like trial by fire, at the caprice of no just agent, but of corruptible opinion. Would this unpredictable King confirm the judgement of the weak and vacillating Stephen? There was a long silence then he heard Henry chuckle.

  ‘Turn about, FitzMarshal and draw on your clothes.’ As William did so the King went on: ‘I would not say the credulous could not see something resembling what we are told might be a devil of sorts, but I incline to the view that a lion rampant is a more fitting description.’

  William could scarcely disguise his relief. ‘I am obliged to you, Sire.’

  ‘Aye, FitzMarshal, you are,’ the King said pointedly. ‘Now go and tell my son that he shall not leave today, but that he shall ride north tomorrow in my company and we shall together go a-hawking on the way.’

  ‘Whither are we bound, Sire?’

  ‘Chinon,’ said the Old King with a wicked gleam in his eye. ‘Now you may go…’

  William made his bow, gathered up his belt and made his way to the chamber door. He was lifting the latch when Henry called him back.

  ‘You wear my son’s device, do you not?’

  ‘Aye, my Lord; as I am of his mesnie.’

  ‘When it comes the time to adopt your own you should take the red lion, rampant; the ground to be of your own choosing.’

  William’s met the King’s eyes as he was dismissed with a nod. When he reached the yard below be sought out the Young Henry’s Steward, William Blund, and passed on the Old King’s order. Blund said nothing but shook his head then nodded over William’s shoulder. William turned to see the Young King entering the yard, leading the Queen Marguerite to a litter before leaping into the saddle with a show of bravado.

  ‘My Lord King,’ called William, ‘I am directed to advise you that the King your father would accompany you northwards, that he would make of it a hawking party and that we should not leave until the morrow.’

  ‘You had conference with my Father?’ the Young King asked incredulously.

  ‘Aye, my Lord King.’ William lowered his voice. ‘He summoned me and asked me if I had any part in fomenting a rupture between your Lordship and His Grace. I told him that I had not.’

  ‘And that is all?’

  ‘No, my Lord. I told him that you were of your own mind and that my only duty was to school you in military matters, that I had no knowledge of affairs of state. Yours or his.’

  Henry grunted and looked sideways at William. ‘And there was nothing else?’

  ‘Nothing of moment.’

  ‘What mean you by that?’ Henry’s tone was sharp.

  ‘The King your father was curious to see the mark upon my back and ruled it resembled a lion. He ordered me that, when the time comes I should adopt a lion rampant as mine own device.’

  ‘That time has not yet come, Marshal…’

  ‘As you say, my Liege,’ William responded.

  ‘And you take orders from my father now, do you?’

  ‘No, Sire, I merely tell you what His Grace told me to tell you…’

  The Young Henry bit his lip so that the blood flowed and looked about him. ‘I do not see him,’ Henry said, blood flecking his spittle.

  ‘But he no doubt watches you and expects you to obey.’

  The Young Henry stared up at the surrounding walls again then turned and studied the Queen’s litter. The curtains had just been dropped and he appeared to sink into a moment’s deep thought.

  ‘Hawking, d’you say?’

  ‘Hawking, en route to Chinon.’

  ‘By God, he would rub my face in the shit!’ Henry snarled at the mention of the contentious castle.

  ‘Sire…’

  ‘Very well, give the order to dismount and postpone matters until tomorrow.’ William did not like the tone of sudden acquiescence, nor did he catch Henry’s remark that matters might wait until they arrived at Chinon as he turned away and rounded-to alongside the Queen’s litter. A moment later he led Marguerite back into the castle leaving William to order Blund to unload the pack animals and the rest of the mesnie to dismount and return their horses to the stables.

  *

  The large cavalcade rode north next morning with every appearance of forced amity. Hawks and falcons were flown at prey, but on the second day, as their route followed the Vienne, a more purposeful pace was set by the King’s household with which the Young King’s was obliged to keep up. Among the stages they made they stopped at Poitiers and Mirebeau before arriving at Chinon. Here, as if confirming the Young Henry’s worst fears, the Old King announced they would rest and feast, but after retiring that night William was shaken awake by Adam d’Yquebeuf

  ‘What the devil…?’ In the light of the guttering candle D’Yquebeuf bore, William could see he wore mail beneath his surtout. Behind D’Yquebeuf, wiping the sleep out of his eyes stood William’s body squire. The young man named Odo who had assumed the office after the death of Rolf, had been rudely awakened from his palliasse laid across the door to William’s chamber.

  ‘On what authority do you…?’

  ‘Young Henry rides out from here this night,’ D’Yquebeuf responded shortly. You, my Lord Marshal, are commanded to follow him, armed for war.’

  ‘Since when did I take orders from you, D’Yquebeuf?’

  ‘You know well that I command tonight’s guard. The command is the Kings, not mine. Go now and ready horses for the mesnie privée.’

  ‘No more?’

  ‘No. Carry only what is necessary. FitzStephen wakes the rest of the mesnie privée. I go to order Blund to load up and to bestir Barre.’

  ‘Is this rebellion?’ William asked shortly. ‘If so what part am I to play…?’

  ‘Whatever part you choose…’

  ‘You, it seems, have decided.’

  D’Yquebeuf shrugged, staring at William through the gloom. ‘The Old King was warned by the Count of Toulouse that Richard and Geoffrey intend it and Eleanor stands by… Now, for God’s sake, I have no time to debate the issue.’

  ‘God in Heaven! ‘What you say implies treason D’Yquebeuf.’ William was already out of bed and dressing quickly.

  ‘You are with us?’ D’Yquebeuf asked.

  William said nothing but with a few words he directed Odo to do his bidding. Hearing this, the suddenly hesitant D’Yquebeuf left the chamber.

  Half an hour later, at the head of no more than thirty lances and a small pack-train, and after a brief argument with the sergeant of the guard at the gate which was quickly quelled by the arrival of D’Yquebeuf, the heavily cloaked Young King and his closest followers had ridden out of Chinon and taken the road north.

  It was far from an orderly escape. Once aware of the small size of the cavalcade Richard Barre rode alongside the Young King and demanded to know if he intended defying his father. When assured that he did, Barre turned back and disappeared into the night carrying the Young King’s Seal and taking the King’s baggage with him. Despite William’s protest, Henry let them go. During the night others thought better of their precipitate action and turned aside. The Young King did nothing to stop them.

  William would never forget that night. His feelings were deeply divided. He was well aware that Queen Eleanor’s estrangement from her husband was as much about his politics as about his mistresses. Moreover, the flaunting insincerity of, in particular, the Lord Richard, amply demonstrated the Old King’s hold on his French lands was feebler than the Limoges conference might have persuaded him. Now William’s protests of innocence to the Old King would ring hollow; his only defence was his sworn allegiance to the Young Henry, but the Old King could set that side at a stroke. Towards dawn, as t
he horses tired, Young Henry eased the pace and called William to ride with him.

  ‘You think me a fool, Marshal,’ he began.

  ‘I think nothing, my Lord, beyond astonishment, not least that we have left Queen Marguerite behind.’

  ‘That is a matter soon to be remedied. My father will not trouble himself over her. It is of the others that I would have conference with you.’

  ‘The others, Sire?’

  ‘You are too dull a fellow to notice and have not had Robert de Salignac at your elbow to apprise you, but my brother Richard is about to rise in open rebellion and will be followed by Geoffrey. Raymond of Toulouse paid homage to both my father and myself which ends one squabble but opens another with Richard who has my mother at his back. I had audience of Count Raymond; he will favour me against my father. Meanwhile my father cannot believe that my mother would stand against him with Richard and Geoffrey. They have worked too hard together for him to consider her capable of any perfidy that would weaken his realm. That is why he left her with them at Poitiers and hoped to confine me by the silken threads of filial obligation.’ Henry chuckled. ‘I slipped the leash, you know, even though the old fool insisted I slept in the same chamber.’

  ‘How many of your mesnie knew of it?’

  ‘All but you, and of the household, Barre and Blund.’

  ‘Would that you had left me asleep…’

  ‘Pah! You do not mean that.’

  ‘Do I not? This is not your rightful claiming of your rights, Sire.’

  ‘Is it not? Then pray, what is it?’

  ‘ ’Tis a conspiracy and you are not the fire of it, only the fuel.’

  ‘Why say you that? You witnessed my defiance of the King…’

  ‘Would that I had not that too. No, this is a plot laid by King Louis, ignited by Bertram de Born and Adam d’Yquebeuf. I had long marked the former and the presence of the latter in my chamber this night spoke all better than words.’

  ‘Damn you, Marshal,’ snarled the Young King, spurring his horse onwards and leaving an embittered and entrapped William in his wake.

  *

  Before daylight they had changed horses outside Fontevrault, clear evidence that the escape had been carefully planned. Although the Young King would not admit it, D’Yquebeuf confided that they rode for Paris but would not turn east towards Louis’ domains until across the Norman border at Alençon. William now threw out pickets, both ahead and behind them, ordering the loose formation of the much reduced mesnie into a warlike formation in expectation of trouble.

  In the event they avoided it. Although the Old King was after them before daylight, he was given the slip and on a windy March morning the Young King clattered into Paris and the open arms of Louis VII.

  Here the mesnie kneeled to reaffirm their fealty to the Young King in the presence of King Louis and when the Old King, held at the French border, sent a deputation of hurriedly summoned bishops to demand the return of his son and heir, the wily Louis enquired who sent the message.

  ‘Why the King of England, Your Grace,’ was the response as the worthy prelates invoked the Old King’s highest power.

  ‘How can that be,’ responded Louis, disingenuously inspecting his long fingers and their equally long nails, ‘the King of England is here, under my roof.’

  Louis rose and stepped down among the bishops who scattered, bending low as Louis added: ‘All the world knows the man who was King of England relinquished his throne to his son. Tell that man that he is no more than one who owes me his fealty for Anjou and the rest, and that if he would defy me he should look to the defence of his castles and the security of his person.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT: WAR 1173 - 1174

  ‘By the Rood but Paris stinks!’

  ‘Robert!’ William rose to welcome Robert de Salignac as he strode into the chamber where William sat at his muster sheets with a clerk. ‘I am glad to see you and, as regards Paris, hope we shall not tarry here long as the summer heats grow daily.’

  ‘I should have been here some time since had I not been summoned by Queen Eleanor who charged me with a message to you.’

  ‘To me?’ William’s astonishment was unfeigned, De Salignac noted.

  ‘Aye, you have earned her goodwill by your loyalty to her son. She bad me give you every encouragement to stand by Young Henry and to inform you that both the Lord Richard and his brother Geoffrey will join you here shortly.’

  ‘So the rumours are true, she would secure Aquitaine for Richard beyond peradventure.’

  ‘And in her own behalf, of course. No-one trusts Henry Curtmantle now, not after so open a dispossession of his heir. The whole of his lands are inflamed with rebellion and seek to make a better accommodation with the Young King…’

  ‘For the betterment of their own fiefdoms, I’ll warrant,’ laughed William, relief flooding through him.

  ‘Yes, but few of them think of the consequences of the embroilment of Louis. If the Young King emerges uppermost in this summer’s campaigning, the King of France will extract a payment for his assistance and reduce the King of England’s French domain.’

  William nodded. ‘Louis has already called in Guillaume De Tancarville and the Counts of Flanders and Boulogne,’ he remarked, mentioning his former opponents at Neufchâtel-en-Bray.

  ‘The city is full of their devices,’ De Salignac remarked easing himself onto a stool and accepting the goblet of wine brought him by a page.

  ‘They do not come unencumbered. Phillipe of Flanders is to have the Earldom and revenues of Kent and the holding of Rochester and Dover castles. Matthieu of Boulogne will receive the county of Mortain…’

  ‘But what of yourself, William, you cannot have found the matter easy to decide.’

  ‘Upon my soul, I had little choice. I was awoken by D’Yquebeuf and told to mount. He either had the Young King in his pocket or the King had him…’

  ‘Eleanor has them both,’ interrupted De Salignac, ‘it is she that lies behind all this, but pray continue.’

  William frowned. So the rumours were correct; Eleanor had flouted church rule and every convention, turning her sons against their father. He looked at De Salignac.

  ‘You are shocked?’

  ‘I am stunned.’

  De Salignac shrugged. ‘But yourself?’ he pressed.

  ‘Oh, as to that, at Evreux Henry had us all renew our oaths of fealty. I was already Henry’s liegeman and I have no lands, Robert,’ William resumed, his tone rueful. ‘What should I have done? Henry Curtmantle has been close to death once and it was my duty both to him and to his mother to attend the Young King. I am bound by loyalty.’

  De Salignac nodded. ‘Curtmantle is a strange man. I heard that though the Young King’s baggage train turned back after the flight from Chinon, he yet turned it about and sent it after his son.’

  ‘Indeed he did, and with it a message that Young Henry was yet a King and would require the trappings of kingship. What does one make of such conduct? But like father, like son; the Young Henry let William Blund return to Chinon on his refusal to swear fealty at Evreux! Now, with equal contrariness, he requires that I gird and dub him knight, ruling that the girding had by his father’s hand is as meaningless as his first coronation!’

  ‘Well, it could not come from a better man,’ said Robert de Salignac rising and clapping William on the shoulder. ‘I had better look to my people. Is it true he left his Queen behind too?’ he asked with an inquisitive chuckle.

  ‘Marguerite? Oh, yes. Henry has kept her under his own eye, to the fury of her husband!’

  Both men were laughing, not at Marquerite’s plight, but at the Young King’s discomfiture.

  ‘The old lion outwits him with ease. God knows, but he may even fuck her for his further revenge, it would not surprise me and she is comely enough,’ Robert de Salignac remarked as he quitted William’s lodgings.

  William watched him go. He found the thought of the Old King seducing Queen Marguerite uncomfortably disturbing. It see
med a long time since he had enjoyed a woman. His distraction was broken by a cough. He looked up at the expectant clerk who sat with his wet quill poised above its pot of oak-gall. ‘Ah, Master Thomas, where were we?’

  ‘The pack animals, my Lord Marshal…’

  ‘Ah, yes, the supply-train… Do you make a note as to bow-staves, I would consider those presently…’

  ‘And there is the matter of my Lord Matthieu of Boulogne’s siege train. There is no sign of it.’

  And William sank again into the details of his duties of Marshal to the Young King Henry. He was almost grateful.

  *

  ‘I need none of your counsel here, Marshal!’ cried the Young King gleefully as he wheeled his destrier and brought it alongside that of William’s.

  ‘I should think I had failed if you did, Sire,’ William responded. ‘No King goes to war with his tutor.’

  ‘Ha!’ The Young Henry appreciated the jest then turned and looked along the line of dancing pennons and shining mail, delighted where the June sunshine sparkled off helm and lance-point, picking out the coloured devices of those who had shown their faith in him as the future of the Angevin Empire.

  ‘We shall drive him into England, shall we not, my Marshal,’ he said, leaning across his saddle-bow and speaking in a low tone. ‘And then cross the Channel and hammer him from the south whilst King William of Scotland crushes him from the north, eh?’

  The young man was in high spirits, for he had taken Aumale on the Bresle, and crossed into Normandy at the head of a large army which, besides his own muster, comprised that of his brothers Richard and Geoffrey, the three Counts, De Meulan, Boulogne and Flanders and the Chamberlain De Tancarville, who alone brought one hundred lances to the war-host. Meanwhile, far to the south, King Louis rode at the head of a second army intent on battering its way into Normandy through the gates of Verneuil, midway between Evreux and Alençon.

  ‘It is a grand strategy, Sire.’ William said noncommittally.

  That evening the army encamped on the road to Neufchâtel-en-Bray. William was attending to his duties, walking the horse-lines and bivouacs of the men-at-arms and common soldiers, the bowmen and lesser retainers as was his wont. It was already growing dark, the early summer night hastened by an overcast sky, as he tramped among the smoke of the cooking fires where the smell and sizzle of meat turning on makeshift spits sharpened his own appetite.