The Revolt of the Eaglets Page 15

  ‘You have, my lord.’

  ‘Many a king would have put her to death.’

  The Cardinal coughed slightly. ‘I am sure, my lord, you would never be guilty of such folly. The Queen is the Duchess of Aquitaine. I believe the people of that land would have risen in revolt if she had been harmed in any way.’

  ‘I keep her under restraint,’ said the King, ‘but she lives like a queen. She suffers no hardship except that she may not travel abroad, and when she leaves the castle she is with an armed escort. In view of what she has done and tried to do, I must keep her under restraint. It is tragic, my lord Cardinal, when a man is deprived of his natural rights.’

  ‘’Tis so, my lord.’

  ‘I have long thought that I would put the Queen from me.’

  ‘You mean divorce the Queen? That would not be possible.’

  ‘The Queen and I are closely related. We could be divorced on grounds of consanguinity.’

  The Cardinal sighed. The perpetual request. Grounds of consanguinity! It was possible if one searched long enough to find some blood connection between the nobility of England and all Europe. The trouble was that in granting the request of one side one offended the other.

  The Cardinal then swore that he would carry the King’s request back to the Pope and the King could assure himself that the Cardinal would do all in his power to make the Holy Father aware of the difficulties of the King of England.

  * * *

  Richard de Luci, the King’s Chief Justiciar, had always been a man whom the King could trust. Ever since Henry had taken the crown Richard de Luci had held a high position and never once had he failed to serve the King. There had been moments when he had angered the King, but Henry was wise enough to know that Richard de Luci clung to his opinions solely because he believed them to be for the good of England and the King. A shrewd ruler did not think the worse of a servant who opposed him for his own good.

  Richard de Luci was the King’s man, and because he now came to Henry in consternation, Henry was ready to listen to him.

  Richard after his manner came straight to the point.

  ‘The visit of the Cardinal Huguzon has not been brought about simply to solve the controversy between Canterbury and York, I know. My lord, you are contemplating divorcing the Queen.’

  ‘It is irksome to be bound to one who has shown herself an enemy.’

  Richard agreed that this was so.

  ‘My lord, what would happen to the Queen if you were to divorce her and re-marry?’

  ‘She would remain my prisoner. By God’s eyes, Richard, do you think I would allow that woman her freedom that she might go back to Aquitaine and plot against me?’

  ‘Nay, I do not think you would, my lord. But I beg you consider this matter with great care.’

  The King looked exasperated but Richard had more than once ignored the rising signs of temper.

  ‘Do you imagine I have not considered this matter with the utmost care!’ cried the King.

  ‘I know it has been your great concern for some time. But I beg of you, my lord, to consider afresh what this divorce would mean.’

  ‘It would rid me of a she-wolf who has plagued me and turned my sons against me.’

  ‘And more than that, my lord. It would rid you of Aquitaine.’

  ‘I should hold it.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘She is the Duchess and your son Richard has been proclaimed Duke.’

  ‘It is a vain title. Aquitaine is mine.’

  ‘You received the title when you married the Duchess but the people would never accept you. They have ever been loyal to the Queen and regard her as their true ruler. If you rid yourself of the Queen you will rid yourself of Aquitaine.’

  ‘By God’s eyes, Richard, you would keep me tied to a woman I hate.’

  ‘I could do nothing, my lord, if you wished it otherwise. My duty is to remind you of what this divorce would mean. She is a great heiress. Aquitaine would rise against you. What of Normandy?’

  ‘My sons have sworn not to take arms against me.’

  ‘My lord, we know what these oaths mean in cases of emergency.’

  ‘A curse on you, Richard. You disquiet me. I had made up my mind. But, my good friend, I know you say what you say out of love and loyalty to me.’

  ‘Then I have achieved my purpose.’

  ‘So you believe that there is no way of getting a divorce without strife that could well continue for the rest of my life?’

  ‘I do believe that, my lord.’

  ‘But I want to marry again.’

  ‘My lord, could you not content yourself with a mistress? You have long made this compromise.’

  ‘It is not so easy now. Tell me truthfully, Richard, have you heard rumours?’

  ‘I have, my lord.’

  ‘Then it has been spoken of.’

  ‘With discretion and only in certain quarters. We must see that it is not generally known.’

  ‘But what can I do, Richard?’

  ‘The lady has been removed from Court. She has been travelling to the North for her education. When she returns it would be well if you did not see her again.’

  ‘That is impossible.’

  ‘She should be married without delay.’

  The King hit his left hand with his right clenched fist. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I will never agree to it.’

  ‘If she were not the daughter of the King of France …’

  ‘It is because she is, that I could marry her.’

  ‘The affianced bride of your son!’

  ‘Such betrothals often come to naught.’

  ‘’Tis so. It is the matter of the divorce that must give us cause for thought. My lord, you must consider whether you will have marriage and the loss of your dominions, or keep your hold on them and remain married to the Queen.’

  ‘The Cardinal hints that a divorce would be possible.’

  ‘Indeed so, my lord. Would not his master like to see your power curtailed?’

  ‘You are determined to frustrate me.’

  ‘I am determined to serve you with my whole heart and strength and if I offend you in doing that, so be it.’

  The King slipped his arm through that of Richard de Luci.

  ‘My good friend,’ he said, ‘I see that I must go away and brood on this matter.’

  He could not sleep; he rode through the forest, he returned his sweating horse to his grooms; he lay on his bed and stared into the future.

  He pondered; he made up his mind and changed it.

  And all the time one thought kept hammering in his brain: Alice the one he loved and the loss of Aquitaine. Alice and conflict. And to keep Eleanor, the Queen he hated, or to lose his grip on his empire.

  He thought often of his great-grandfather the Conqueror and it seemed to him that the man visited him in his dreams. He saw the scorn and contempt on that stern face. For William the Conqueror there would have been no problem. He would never have been able to contemplate a woman’s being more important than power. In the same dreams he saw his grandfather Henry I. There was a man whose needs of women had been as great – if not greater – than those of his grandson. He too gravely shook his head. It was unthinkable that their descendant should contemplate possible disaster to the empire they had left him for the sake of ridding himself of one woman and taking another as his wife.

  It was a conflict between love and power. And Henry Plantagenet was a king and descended from William the Conqueror. There was really no need to consider the matter. He knew what he would have to do.

  * * *

  In the Bower at Woodstock Alice’s time grew near.

  Rosamund tended her with care and grew quite fond of the girl. They were alike in a way which was perhaps the reason why they had both attracted the King.

  Rosamund would sit by the Princess’s bed while she stitched at her needlework and Alice would ask her about the trials of childbirth.

  They would pray for an easy labour, said Rosamund. Sh
e doubted there would be one. The girl was young and perhaps not yet ready for childbirth. Rosamund trembled, thinking of the King’s wrath if anything should go amiss with Alice.

  She dedicated herself to caring for the girl. It was the last service she would perform for him. She had definitely made up her mind that as soon as Alice’s child was born and the girl was recovered she would go into her convent. She had chosen the one at Godstow and had already made gifts to it; and she knew that when the time came she would be welcomed.

  In the meantime there was Alice.

  The girl was beautiful and she believed the King to be all-powerful. She was innocent in a way and did not seem to guess at the King’s previous relationship with Rosamund. Perhaps that made it easier.

  Alice talked of the King for even she was aware that Rosamund would know he was the father of the child.

  He was a great good man, she told Rosamund, who was married to a wicked woman. The Queen was an advocate of the devil and the King was going to put her from him and marry Alice.

  ‘My dear,’ said Rosamund, ‘are you not betrothed to Prince Richard?’

  ‘I was, but it has no meaning now. The King says so and the King knows.’

  So young Alice thought that she would soon be Queen of England. Once he had promised her the same. He had long hated the Queen. How often he had discussed getting rid of her! Divorce would not be difficult, he had said, for there were certain to be blood ties. He had then promised to make Rosamund his Queen.

  And now it was Alice and here was Alice about to bear his child tended by her, Rosamund, the discarded mistress.

  The months passed. They walked in the gardens; they talked; they stitched baby’s clothes and Rosamund brought out those which her own children had worn – half-brothers to this little one who was about to be born. Alice’s child should wear them. Why not, since there would be a strong tie between them?

  ‘The King is good to all his children,’ said Rosamund.

  ‘Is it not wicked of his sons to turn against him?’ cried Alice. ‘They have been ruined by their mother. But soon she will be put away from him. She has not long to bear the title of Queen of England.’

  Rosamund was older and wiser; she had heard promises which had now been forgotten. There was no point in hinting to Alice that the King might not find it easy to gain his divorce.

  In due course Alice was brought to bed and delivered of a girl-child who died a few hours after its birth.

  Alice was heartbroken. When the King came to visit her he pretended to be also, but he could not help thinking to himself that perhaps it was all for the best.

  ‘When you are recovered, my love,’ he said, ‘you must return to the Court. And if you should appear a little wan, we will say that it was an exhausting journey to the North and the climate up there did not agree with you.’

  * * *

  Rosamund said quietly: ‘I have a mind to go into a convent.’

  He answered: ‘I fancy it has been your wish for some time.’

  ‘I feel the need for solitude and meditation. I think the time has come for me to seek forgiveness of my sins.’

  ‘Rosamund, my rose of the world, you are a good woman. God will forgive your transgressions.’

  ‘All would not agree with you. I have heard that in some circles they speak of me as Rosa-immundi, the rose of unchastity.’

  ‘There will always be those to cast stones at others.’

  ‘Yet I feel my guilt heavily upon me and would spend my last years in repentance.’

  ‘Where would you go?’

  ‘To Godstow. I have already made arrangements. They are prepared to receive me.’

  ‘When they do I shall bestow gifts on them. They shall not lose when they take you in.’

  She said: ‘You are as ever good to me.’ But she saw the relief in his face. It was what he wanted her to do. He would make gifts to Godstow because the convent offered sanctuary to his mistress. He no longer needed her, but he had loved her enough to wish to see her settled.

  So with sadness in her heart Rosamund retired to the convent and Alice returned to the palace.

  The King knew that he could not hope to divorce Eleanor, but at the same time he was determined not to give up Alice.

  Chapter VIII

  THE QUEEN COMES TO COURT

  The young King Henry was restive. It was too much to be borne. He could scarcely move without his father’s being aware of it. He was weary of being told he must do this and that and there was only one way to govern and that was the manner in which his father did.

  He heard accounts of how men such as Philip of Flanders passed their time. Philip was a glorious knight, skilled in the joust and his fame was spreading throughout Europe. Soon he was to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Philip was rich, most sumptuously clad; his horses were richly caparisoned and men looked up to him.

  As for Henry he had so little. The only way he could live in any comfort was to incur debts. That was not difficult to do since he was the son of the King and indeed himself a king. That was what rankled. He was a king and no king. The title was a word, nothing more.

  Men feared his father so they had little respect for his son; and when he rode beside that square figure with the garments which were worn for use rather than ornament and looked at those hands often roughened by weather, he wanted to scream out his frustration.

  His friend William the Marshall no longer pleased him as he once had. Oh, William was an excellent knight, a faithful friend, but he was not like Philip of Flanders. Indeed, sometimes Henry thought that William believed it was good for him to be so guided by his father.

  Thinking of Philip of Flanders he wondered whether he too might go on some sort of pilgrimage. Anything to escape from his father.

  He remembered the stories his mother had told him of how her father, desirous of getting a male heir, had decided to take the road to Compostella and ask help at the shrine of St James. The road was rough, the conditions terrible and the Duke had fallen sick of a virulent fever. He had known his end was near but had been carried in his litter and was buried before the main altar in the Church of St James at Compostella.

  What more natural than that his grandson feel the need to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of St James and the grave of his maternal grandfather?

  He told his father what he wished to do.

  ‘Why so?’ asked the King.

  ‘I have committed the great sin of taking up arms against my father.’

  ‘Your father has forgiven you so God will.’

  ‘It weighs heavily on my conscience.’

  ‘Then,’ said the King, ‘I rejoice, for so it should and you can best expiate that sin by working hard and learning quickly all that I would teach you.’

  ‘I feel the need to go to Compostella.’

  ‘And I, my son, feel the need to keep you here, and I can assure you that my need is greater than yours.’

  ‘I am treated as a child,’ said Henry sullenly.

  ‘Behave then like a man and earn the right to be treated as such.’

  ‘Others make such pilgrimages.’

  ‘Mayhap, they do not have kingdoms which they must learn to govern.’

  ‘Philip of Flanders plans to go to Jerusalem.’

  ‘Let him. It will keep him out of mischief.’

  ‘He will thereby earn remission of his sins.’

  ‘Doubtless it is necessary, for I believe he has committed many. Now I will hear no more. You cannot go to Compostella. You are to stay close to me that I may make you ready for the crown when it comes your way.’

  ‘But, Father …’

  ‘I have spoken,’ roared the King; and when the angry lights sprang into his eyes it was no time to continue the argument.

  * * *

  The King was disturbed as he always must be when he heard news of Richard.

  His son was coming to England as he was alarmed by the risings in Aquitaine and he wished to consult his father.

/>   It was almost certain that he would demand that his bride come to him and that was something the King would not allow to happen. He was frequently with Alice now and his passion for her did not abate. He loved the girl and as she grew a little older the deeper was his devotion. He was determined not to part with her, yet could he go on saying that she and Richard were too young?

  If Richard came to England Alice would have to go away. He could have sent her to the Bower again, but Rosamund was not there now. He could not bring her out of Godstow to care for his mistress. Still he could send Alice to the Bower and those good attendants who had served Rosamund well and whom he, with some foresight, had kept there, could take care of Alice. Of one thing he was certain: Richard and Alice must not meet.

  He would be pleased to see his son, for he had some admiration for him. The boy was proving a valiant commander, an excellent fighter and one who had genius for battle. He was different from young Henry and Geoffrey who thought only of pleasure and of getting power the easy way.

  And now Richard was due to arrive in England with his brother Geoffrey and the King decided that he would show his subjects in what amity he lived with his sons. The feast of Easter was approaching, and they should spend it all together, and where better than at his castle of Winchester? However, young Henry wished that he might leave for Normandy and as the need arose for some member of the family to show himself there, the King said he might go. Young Henry was overjoyed at the prospect of escape from his father and made immediate preparations to depart.

  The winds, though, were against him and as Easter was upon them the King commanded him to join the festivities at Winchester so that the original intention of all being together could be carried out.

  Thus the King had his four sons with him which pleased him well. He had advice to give Richard and Geoffrey, and he looked forward to having young John with him – the only one of Eleanor’s sons in whom he could hope to breed affection. He had come to the conclusion that he must allow young Henry a certain freedom or the young man would break out and rebel. It was for this reason that he had agreed to send him to Normandy, but while he was there a stern watch should be kept on him that he did not get into any mischief.