The Revolt of the Eaglets Read online

  ‘It was before I learned to know you.’

  ‘Aye, and I also had bitter lessons to learn. If you had not been such a lecher we might have worked together.’

  ‘You, Madam, are scarce in a position to criticise others for that fault. Before our marriage you took strange bedfellows.’

  ‘Never such a tyrant as my second husband.’

  ‘We waste time, and I have none to spare. I sent for you to tell you that you are to be taken to Salisbury Castle and there you will remain until it pleases me to change your residence. But think not that you will go free. You have offended me too much. You have proved yourself to be a traitor, and though you are my wife shall be treated as such.’

  It occurred to him that he might bargain with her for a divorce. Would that be wise? To have her free to communicate with his sons? No. This was not the time to speak of divorce when he was currying favour with Heaven by doing penance for his part in Becket’s murder.

  He must be quiet about that matter for a while. Moreover what if he procured a divorce? Could he marry Alice? And what of Rosamund? Clearly it was better at this time to say nothing of divorce – not to think of divorce. His mind must be free to consider Becket’s murder and the fact that he deplored it and repented for any part he might have had in bringing it about.

  He watched his wife through narrowed eyes. Traitor! Any king was justified in imprisoning a traitor who threatened his realm … even though that traitor should prove to be his own wife.

  ‘I will say farewell,’ he said. ‘The audience is over.’

  ‘I will not be dismissed in this way. There is much I have to say to you.’

  ‘You will be dismissed when I dismiss you and I have no interest in what you may wish to say to me. Say it to the walls of your prison.’ He summoned men-at-arms. ‘Take the Queen away,’ he said. ‘Let her go to Salisbury and there be placed under confinement.’

  Eleanor protested vehemently. But it was useless. Her arms were seized by the men-at-arms and she was taken from the King’s presence.

  Chapter V

  THE KING’S PENANCE

  The King rode on to Canterbury. As he came in sight of the Cathedral the bells rang out and he dismounted from his horse, and there, on the road, he took off his kingly garments: and wrapped himself in a coarse woollen gown. He took off his shoes and walked barefoot into the city.

  Into the streets the people came to see their King for once in his life dressed as a humble pilgrim and behaving as one. Looking sad, solemn and truly penitent as he came to the Cathedral. There he was received by the Bishop of London, Gilbert Foliot. Foliot was feeling very uneasy for he had always been jealous of Becket and had been one of his greatest enemies. However, the King did not remind him of this, so intent was he on his own act of penitence. The King’s feet were bleeding from the rough stones of the road and the people looked on in astonishment to see him behave so humbly.

  ‘Take me to the spot where he was struck down,’ said Henry and when he was conducted there he knelt, and laying his head on the stones wept that his tears might be on the very place where Thomas’s blood had been shed.

  The Bishop of London then mounted the pulpit and spoke to all present explaining to them the meaning of this strange spectacle.

  ‘All you here present know that Henry, King of England, invoking, for the salvation of his soul, God and the Holy Martyr, protests before you that he neither ordered, wished nor wilfully caused nor desired in his heart the death of the martyr. But as it is possible that the murderers availed themselves of some words imprudently escaping him, he declares that he seeks penitential chastisement of the bishops here assembled and consents to submit his bare back to the discipline of the rod.’

  The King then rose and addressed the assembly.

  ‘What the Bishop has said is indeed what I have commanded. I trust my humble penance will be acceptable to God and the late Archbishop. This day I have restored to Canterbury the dignities and rights of the Church; and I have ordered that lights shall be kept burning at the tomb of Thomas à Becket. A hospital shall be built at Southwark and this shall be erected in honour of God and the Blessed Martyr Saint Thomas.’

  The Bishop hastened to add that he would associate himself with the building of this hospital and would grant special indulgences to any who contributed to it.

  He was fully aware that he should be sharing the King’s penitence for had he not said, after the murder of Thomas à Becket, that his body should either be thrown on a dunghill or hung on a gibbet? This was a very uneasy day for the Bishop of London.

  The King now indicated that he was ready for the act of penance and in the midst of bishops, abbots and the priests of the chapter of Canterbury, he went into the crypt where the tomb was situated.

  There he removed his clothes and knelt exposing his bare back while each bishop took a whip and struck the King three or four blows.

  ‘As thy Redeemer was scourged for the sins of men,’ said each bishop as he administered the whip, ‘so be thou scourged for thine own sin.’ The bishops having whipped the King, the priests took the whips and did likewise.

  When this was over Henry continued to pray for Thomas. He toured the Cathedral stopping at the shrines to say his prayers and ask forgiveness of his sins, there he remained through the rest of the day and for the night.

  The next day he heard Mass and drank holy water which contained a drop of Thomas’s blood.

  He then left Canterbury.

  His anxieties and the effort of the last hours had affected him deeply. He was suffering from a low fever, but he wished to travel to Westminster and insisted on doing this and when he reached London took to his bed for a day.

  It was in London that news was brought to him that the King of Scotland had been taken prisoner.

  The King leaped from his bed. Great exultation was in his heart. This was a sign. A sign from Thomas!

  ‘Thomas à Becket,’ he cried. ‘So you and I are friends once more. Now you will work with me. I shall be invincible. Thomas, you will guard my kingdom for me.’

  It seemed as if this were indeed the case for within a few weeks of the King’s penance rebellion was quelled throughout England.

  Henry was certain that it was as he had believed. Heaven . .. and Thomas … were pleased with him.

  * * *

  He went to see Rosamund who was installed in his palace now that no secret was made of their relationship. He was still thinking in terms of divorce but he did not want to go too closely into that as yet. Eleanor was safely confined at Salisbury Castle. Let her stay there until his dominions were safe and he could devote his thoughts to some way of getting rid of her. It was not a situation which demanded an immediate solution. Rosamund was as always tenderly waiting to perform her wifely duties; what greater pleasure could he get from their relationship if he married her? But of course he could not marry Rosamund. He had no intention of doing so. If he obtained the divorce it would be for the sake of his dear little Alice.

  And now with Rosamund and Alice to appease his sexual hungers and Saint Thomas and Heaven working for him on the battlefield he had much in which to rejoice.

  Rosamund’s sons were doing well. He would find places for them that would delight their mother.

  ‘I think God cannot be displeased with me,’ he told Rosamund, ‘for the sons I have out of wedlock are good boys. There is Geoffrey, son of the whore Hikenia, who is more faithful to me than my sons in wedlock. And there are our two boys.’

  ‘Sometimes I tremble for them,’ said Rosamund.

  ‘Why should you? They have their father to look to their future.’

  ‘But bastards, my lord.’

  ‘A king’s bastards! Remember that.’

  Rosamund sighed.

  She bathed the wounds on his back made by the whips of the priests and wept over them.

  ‘My lord, that they should have dared do this to you!’

  ‘They dared not do aught else. It was at my command, re
member.’

  Her touch was gentle; her ointments soothing. Dear Rosamund! He thought then that if she had been his Queen he would have been a faithful husband … well, a more faithful one. But even while she tended to his wounds and later when they made love, he was thinking of Alice.

  ‘Now I am at peace with Heaven, Rosamund,’ he told her. ‘Thomas and I are as we were long ago when he was my Chancellor. We are good friends. He will guard my kingdom for me when I am away. He will intercede with me in Heaven. I have done my penance. My tears have touched the spot where his blood was shed. It is a wonderful feeling, Rosamund, to have admitted a sin and to have gained remission.’

  ‘I think of it often,’ she answered.

  She was a little mournful, which made him impatient. Soon she would be talking of going into a convent. He wanted none of that. He came here to be amused and it pleased him that she should be content with the lot to which he had lifted her.

  ‘My sins sit heavily upon me,’ she said. ‘Methinks that I am in need of forgiveness.’

  ‘You, Rosamund! What have you ever done that was not gentle and loving?’

  ‘I have lived in sin and borne bastards.’

  ‘You have eased the lot of your King and obeyed him. That is your duty, my dear.’

  She sighed and did not answer.

  Later he thought her penitent mood was not such a bad thing. If he ever divorced Eleanor he would want to marry Alice. Then nothing could suit him better than that Rosamund should go into a convent to expiate her sins and leave him with a free conscience to marry Alice.

  So he would not entirely dismiss this matter of the convent. It was as well to encourage her sinful feelings in case they could be of use later.

  He smiled tenderly. He could always trust his Rosamund to please him.

  * * *

  From Woodstock to Westminster to see his little Alice. He was delighted with her.

  ‘You have grown, my little love. Why you are almost a woman.’

  ‘Does that please you, my lord?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘You could never do anything but please me.’

  How delightful she was! She was developing passion. There was no need to coax her to the act now.

  ‘You have missed me, little one?’ he wanted to know.

  She assured him that she thought constantly of him and spent many hours at the turret window watching for him to come.

  ‘Never tell anyone of what is between us.’

  She would not, she assured him.

  But he wondered whether some of the household suspected. It was never easy for a king to keep the secrets of his private life.

  How different she was from Rosamund! She had no sense of guilt, only a desire to please him. He was the King and therefore whatever he did must be right.

  He told her that he had seen her father.

  ‘Did you tell him that we were going to marry?’

  He stroked her arm gently. ‘Nay, little one. That I cannot do until I rid myself of the wicked Eleanor.’

  ‘Is she very wicked?’

  ‘More wicked than you can understand. She has turned my children against me and would go into battle and kill me if it were possible. Oh, do not fear, she is my prisoner now. No harm can come to me through her. I shall divorce her and then … you will see.’

  ‘There is talk,’ she said, ‘of you and Rosamund Clifford.’

  He laughed heartily.

  ‘You must not be jealous, sweetheart. She was once my mistress.’

  ‘Am I your mistress?’

  ‘Nay, you are my wife-to-be.’

  ‘So I shall truly be the Queen.’

  ‘You shall be so, when I have rid myself of that old she-wolf.’

  ‘Did you love her once?’

  ‘Nay never. I loved her lands of Aquitaine.’

  ‘What will you love me for?’

  ‘For your beauty, your innocence and because you love me.’

  That satisfied her. Children were easily pleased. She never doubted that he would marry her.

  So would he if this were possible. Was she not the daughter of the King of France?

  And he laughed exultantly, wondering what old Louis would say if he could see his daughter lying naked in his bed.

  And Richard? It might well be that she would have to go to him one day. She was his betrothed, and if there was no way of ridding himself of Eleanor … Richard was growing up. Very soon now he would be demanding his bride and old Louis would be shaking his fist and asking what the King of England meant by holding his daughter in one of his castles.

  He seemed to have conveyed something of his thoughts to her for she said: ‘My lord, what of Richard? Have you seen him?’

  ‘Nay,’ he answered. ‘He is my enemy. He fights with his brothers against me.’

  ‘Not against you!’

  ‘It is hard to believe that a son can so wrong his father.’ A sly smile played about his mouth at the irony of the situation. Richard wronged him in the battlefield and he wronged Richard in the bedchamber. Serve the young cub right. He wondered what he should say if it so happened that one day Henry would be obliged to relinquish Alice to him and he knew she had been his father’s mistress.

  But he would not give her up. She was too delightful. Moreover she was the daughter of the King of France.

  What an important figure in his life was that King of France. There could not be two men more unlike. Louis the monk, Henry the lecher – and both had been husbands of Eleanor.

  He would come to some arrangement. Louis would surely prefer to see young Alice Queen of England rather than Duchess of Aquitaine.

  ‘I can never like Richard,’ she was saying, ‘because he has not been good to you.’

  He covered her flower-like skin with kisses.

  ‘My little Alice,’ he whispered. ‘Do not think of Richard. He is not for you nor you for him. How could that be when I have decided that no one but myself shall ever use you in this way?’

  He was content. The future could be good with Thomas watching over him from on high; he would rid himself of Eleanor; Rosamund could be by subtle hints jostled into a nunnery and this adorable Alice, daughter of the King of France, could be his Queen.

  * * *

  Confident that he had made his peace with Heaven and that St Thomas à Becket was guarding his realm for him, Henry set about safeguarding his overseas dominions. He could not really believe that his sons were fighting against him, and there came to him a great desire to be loved by them. If they had been good obedient boys what help they would have rendered him! That they should have banded together with his enemy the King of France against him was the basest ingratitude. Of course it was all due to the insinuations of their wicked mother. During their childhood she had done everything she could to turn them from him. What a viper! He gloated on the fact that she was in his power now. Never while he lived should she go free.

  Was it some misplaced sense of chivalry which was forcing his sons into battle now? Had they some scheme for rescuing their mother? He wanted to meet them, to talk to them like a father, to make them understand. He loved the boys, particularly Henry. How proud he had been of his eldest son when he was growing up. That charm of manner, those good looks. He had wanted to tutor him into becoming a great king, for only a great king could hold these dominions together. Surely they knew what had happened under Stephen.

  He must put an end to this conflict. He must win back his sons. He could not have them ranging themselves with his enemies. One thing he was determined on. Young John should never feel the pernicious influence of his mother.

  Now he would be invincible for since he had made his peace with Heaven, there was a feeling of confidence throughout his army. God was no longer against him. He, the greatest and most powerful of kings, had humbled himself at the shrine of St Thomas à Becket and had actually ordered his priests to chastise him.

  What greater penitence could he have shown than that, what greater love for Thomas?
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  ‘Thomas, guard my realm while I go forth to battle for my sons.’

  Chapter VI

  THE REBELLIOUS CUBS

  Young Henry laughed aloud when he heard of his father’s penance at the shrine of Canterbury.

  ‘How could he so humiliate himself?’ he cried. His good friend, William the Marshall, pointed out that he thought it was a clever move on the King’s part. It might well be that he was truly penitent in which case his conscience would be clear. On the other hand if it were a gesture it was a clever one for now it would seem that the King had escaped from the shadow of guilt which must hang over him until he confessed his part in the murder.

  ‘I believe,’ said Henry suspiciously, ‘that you have a fondness for my father.’

  ‘Who can help but admire him?’

  ‘Those who are his friends cannot be mine,’ said Henry meaningfully.

  William the Marshall was sad. For so long they had been close companions, but since his coronation an arrogance had settled on the young King; he seemed to believe that the act of crowning gave him strength which he had not possessed before. The more experienced and logical William was fully aware that his father had given young Henry a title only and he believed he would be wise to accept this fact.

  But Henry, being young and unsure of himself, turned rather to those who would flatter him than to those who would tell him the truth. Thus as the bonds of friendship between himself and William slackened he became more and more bound to that flamboyant knight, Philip of Flanders.

  Philip it was who had sent his Flemings to England in the hope of wresting the country from the elder Henry. That was a forlorn hope as had been proved and the old King’s superior generalship had soon routed the foreigners and put an end to their hopes of an easy capture of England.

  Now Philip was young Henry’s constant companion. He assured him that he was ill-treated by his father. He pointed out that he, a king, lived in a much poorer state than the sons of mere knights. Philip was flamboyant, gay, one of the best knights in France, noted for his chivalry and skill in jousting. Henry had had little experience of this sport which was becoming more and more popular and under Philip’s influence became very enthusiastic about it.