The Heart of the Lion Read online

  To the spectators who thronged about the abbey and crowded inside, it seemed that there could never have been a more handsome sovereign than King Richard. William Mandeville, the Earl of Albemarle, walked before him carrying, on a cushion, the golden crown beautifully ornamented with glittering jewels. Then came Richard himself, tall and stately, under the royal canopy which was poised on lances and held over his head by four barons.

  Into the abbey he walked, through the nave to the high altar, where Baldwin was waiting for him.

  They looked into each other’s eyes – the King arrogant, reminding the Archbishop that he was the master. The Archbishop like all of his kind, as Richard thought, striving to place the Church over the State. He should remember what happened to Thomas à Becket. An uneasy thought, for his father had not come too gracefully out of that affair; but it was Becket who had lost his life, though he had become a saint in doing it. Baldwin was certainly incensed because of John’s marriage, but he would have to keep quiet about that today.

  On the altar most of the abbey relics had been laid – the holy bones of saints, the phials containing what purported to be their blood; and on these Richard swore that he would honour God and the Holy Church, and that he would be just to his people and that he would abolish all evil laws.

  His attendants stepped forward to strip him of all his garments except his shirt and hose. He was then anointed with the consecrated oil on his head, arms and breast while Baldwin told him of the significance of this and that the application of the oil to these parts of his body implied that he was being endowed with glory, knowledge and fortitude. His tunic and dalmatic were then put on him by the waiting barons and the sword of justice handed to him. Golden spurs were tied to his heels and the royal mantle placed about his shoulders.

  Baldwin then asked him if he were indeed prepared to honour the oath he had just taken and, on Richard’s assuring him that he was, the barons took the crown from the altar and gave it to the Archbishop who placed it on Richard’s head; the sceptre was put in the King’s right hand and the rod in the left.

  After High Mass the procession back to the palace began and there the King was divested of his cumbersome crown which was replaced by a lighter one and in the great hall the feasting began.

  In order not to offend the citizens of Winchester the dignitaries of that town had the honour of acting as cooks, while, so that the citizens of London need not feel they had been slighted, their leading citizens were the butlers. The hall was filled with tables at the chief of which sat the King, and the guests were placed according to their rank at the top table.

  It was a merry and happy occasion and then sudden tragedy changed it from a day of rejoicing to one of bitter tragedy.

  Richard had forbidden any Jew to come to his coronation, not because he wished to persecute them, but because he believed that as they were not Christians their presence might not be acceptable to God. It may have been that this edict had not been sufficiently widely circulated or perhaps some, so eager to be present, decided to ignore it, but while the feast was in progress several Jews decided to call at the palace with rich gifts for the new King. No ruler could object to being given costly objects, for even if he was indifferent to them, as an expression of loyalty he must be impressed by their value.

  Among the richest Jews in the country who presented themselves at the palace was a man of particularly great wealth known as Benedict of York. They were immediately identified and protests were raised.

  The cry went up: ‘Jews! We’ll not have them here. The King has forbidden them. They have disobeyed his laws.’

  Benedict of York, who had brought with him a very valuable gift for the King, protested.

  ‘All I wish,’ he cried, ‘is to let the King know of our loyalty to him. I wish to give him this golden ornament.’

  It was no use.

  For so long the Jews had been hated. There were many people in the throng who had lived close to them and who had seen them prosper. They were hated because they worked hard and because no matter how humbly they started they always seemed to succeed.

  This was an opportunity.

  ‘The King has ordered that we drive them from our towns,’ went up the cry. ‘He has forbidden them to come to his coronation.’

  It did not take long to arouse the mob. Throughout London the cry went up. ‘We are robbing the Jews. We are burning their houses. Their goods are to be our goods. It is the King’s coronation gift to us.’ Soon the streets were filled with shouting, screaming people. They had thought the day might bring dancing and feasting and perhaps free wine. They had not counted on anything so exciting as riots.

  Outside the palace the mob set upon the Jews and the gifts they had brought were snatched from them.

  Benedict of York lay on the ground convinced that his last moments had come. He saw fanatical faces peering down at him. Hands were at his throat. He cried out: ‘You are killing me.’

  ‘Aye, Jew. ’Tis the King’s orders to kill all Jews.’

  Benedict cried desperately: ‘But I want to become a Christian. If you kill me you will have killed a Christian.’

  The men who had been bending over him fell back a little. Benedict went on shouting: ‘I am a Christian. I am going to become a Christian.’

  The law was fierce. What happened to men who took life? The King’s father had been determined to set down violence. Was the new King the same? Mutilation had often been the punishment for murder. Men had lost their ears, their noses, and their tongues; they had been blinded with hot irons because of it. It was necessary to be cautious and here was this man calling out that he wanted to become a Christian. What if any one of them was named as the murderer of a Christian!

  ‘Let him be baptised without delay,’ cried a voice. ‘Then he will truly be a Christian.’

  This appealed to the mob.

  They carried Benedict to the nearest church where he was immediately baptised.

  Meanwhile no time had been lost in circulating the news throughout the country. In every city there were riots against the Jews. The mob was not going to lose an opportunity for violence and robbery; and because the Jews were notoriously rich they were a desirable target.

  The only city which did not take part in these riots was Winchester. The people there expressed the view that they thought it was not according to Christian doctrine to attack those who lived among them simply because they did not share their beliefs.

  As for Richard he was angry because a day which he had meant to be one of universal rejoicing should have turned out to be one of tragedy for so many of his subjects. Moreover it was an indication that the horrors of the reign of Stephen when men had felt themselves free to let loose their natural instincts could easily break out again. He would need stern laws to suppress these instincts and he was determined to keep order.

  When he heard of what had happened to Benedict of York he sent for the man and when Benedict arrived he found Richard surrounded by his prelates. Benedict had had time to ponder on what he had done and he was ashamed that in a moment of panic when a particularly cruel death had stared him in the face, he had abjured the faith in which he had been brought up and to which he would in secret cling throughout his life.

  As soon as he entered the hall his eyes went at once to the King. Richard from his chair of state commanded Benedict to come and stand before him. They took each other’s measure and there was a bond between them. Richard thought: This man denied his faith when faced with death. It was not a noble thing to do yet how can any of us judge him?

  ‘Benedict of York,’ he said, ‘yesterday you declared your intention of becoming a Christian.’

  ‘I did, my lord.’

  ‘That was when certain of my subjects were on the point of killing you. I gave no orders for these riots. I deplore them. Although I excluded members of your race and creed from my coronation I did not command my people to destroy you. You have been baptised. Are you a true Christian, Benedict of York, and wi
ll you continue in the faith in which you have so recently been baptised?’

  The clear cool eyes of the King which proclaimed his courage to the world inspired Benedict.

  He said: ‘My gracious Lord and King I cannot lie to you. Yesterday I was on the point of death and suffered ignoble fear. To save my life I protested that I wished to become a Christian and I underwent baptism. I am a Jew. I can never be a true Christian. The faith of my fathers must be mine and now that I am calm and have had time to think, I will tell you the truth even though I die for it.’

  ‘So you are more ready to die today than you were yesterday.’

  ‘I have overcome my fear, my lord.’

  ‘Then what happened yesterday was not in vain. I respect your honesty. Go from me now. Forget your baptism. Continue in the faith of your fathers and live in peace ... if you can.’

  Benedict fell on his knees and thanked the King.

  * * *

  Richard sent for Ranulph de Glanville.

  ‘Go through the country,’ he commanded. ‘Protect the Jews. Put an end to these riots. Let it be known that these disturbances were no wish of mine.’

  And Ranulph de Glanville having quelled the violence in London rode out to the provinces but it was some days before peace was brought to the country.

  Richard was indignant. ‘This matter has spoilt my coronation,’ he complained. ‘A fine beginning to my reign!’

  ‘You have conducted yourself with dignity,’ his mother told him. ‘The people will see that they have a strong king who is determined to govern them.’

  The King remained uneasy. His thoughts carried him far away from England.

  Chapter II

  ALICE AND BERENGARIA

  He had come home; he had been crowned King; now he would set in motion that plan which he had always intended to carry out. Eleanor was distressed; she tried to remonstrate with him.

  ‘I know you have taken an oath to go to the Holy Land,’ she said. ‘That was before you were King, but now you have a kingdom to govern.’

  He snapped his fingers and his eyes shone with a fanatical light. ‘I have one desire, Mother, and that is to fight the Infidel.’

  ‘There is so much for you to do here.’

  He shook his head. ‘I tell you this: I would sell London if I could find a purchaser. I need money ... money ... money to take me to the Holy Land.’

  ‘You are rich in worldly goods, Richard.’

  ‘I need so much more. Much of my riches is such that cannot be realised.’

  ‘I see you are determined to go,’ said Eleanor.

  He seized her hands. ‘While I am away you will guard this realm for me.’

  ‘I will with all my heart, but I am an old woman. What of John?’

  ‘You mean make him King during my absence?’

  ‘Indeed I do not. Once you did that he would never relinquish the power you gave him. Your father made one of the biggest mistakes of his life when he crowned your brother Henry King. Never make that mistake, Richard.’

  ‘Have no fear of it. I had no intention of giving John that power. He has his estates to look after. He has plenty to do, and I trust you to guard my realm. I have good servants.’

  ‘They are scarcely tried yet.’

  He turned to her. ‘Make no mistake of this, Mother. Nothing will turn me from my purpose.’

  ‘I know well your nature. I realise this urge in you. What of your marriage? That will be expected of you.’

  ‘I shall marry in due course. Forget not that I must free myself from Alice first.’

  ‘And claim Berengaria.’

  ‘You will do that for me, Mother. You will go to Navarre and take Berengaria from her father. Readily he will give her to you, and when I am free from my bond with Alice I will marry her.’

  ‘And your crusade to the Holy Land?’ asked the Queen.

  ‘I can marry her there as well as anywhere else.’

  ‘The people will expect ...’

  He laid his hand over hers. ‘This is my desire,’ he said quietly; and she knew that he was telling her that he was the King.

  * * *

  He was now thinking almost entirely of his crusade. His great desire was to raise money. He began by selling crown lands, which was legitimate enough, but when large sums of money were paid into the royal coffers for some post which should have gone to a more worthy applicant the practice was far from admirable. He began to think up wild schemes to raise money. It was not difficult to find men who were eager to accompany him; money was the great concern. But there were some who could not go; he would command them to join his party and then allow them to avoid the obligation by the payment of a huge fine. Nothing was too devious if it added to the funds; and the King who was honest enough in other matters grew more and more unscrupulous in his mad passion to raise enough money that there might be no more delay.

  John was delighted to see Richard’s determination and did his best to foster it. With Richard out of the way he would be a very important figure. He was the heir to the throne, although people had begun to talk of Arthur of Brittany, and some said that Arthur as the son of an elder brother had more claim than John who was only a younger son of the late King. But he did not think of Arthur as a serious threat. He was only a child and was far away in Brittany. If Richard were killed in his Holy War, John was the one the people would look to.

  So Richard must be persuaded to go on his crusade. Not that he needed persuading. John laughed at the thought.

  His mother was uneasy and well she might be.

  She talked to Richard about his marriage. At thirty-two and a crowned king he could delay no more. ‘You say,’ she said, ‘that you have a great fancy for Berengaria.’

  ‘All in good time,’ he said.

  She sighed. She did not think he would ever have a great fancy for any woman. He was more excited at the prospect of joining up with the King of France than his marriage.

  ‘Richard, you must marry soon.’

  ‘As soon as I am free from Alice.’

  ‘But what are you doing about freeing yourself from Alice? You have no need to consider her. She is dishonoured. No one could blame you for breaking your betrothal to her.’

  ‘Remember she is Philip’s sister.’

  ‘As if I could forget that! But Philip’s sister or not she has been your father’s mistress and kept from you for years that he might enjoy her. It’s a preposterous situation and one at which none would blame you for snapping your fingers.’

  ‘You speak truth, Mother. I have long loved Berengaria, that elegant girl. Go to Navarre and let her be put in your care. I shall start off on my crusade and as soon as I have rid myself of Alice I will send for Berengaria.’

  The prospect of making such a journey lifted Eleanor’s spirits. Although she was now an old woman the thought of the crusade excited her. She longed to be young again so that she could accompany her son into the Holy Land as she had once accompanied her husband Louis of France. What a time that had been! Her senses still tingled at the memory.

  She could not make such a journey again, but she would enjoy the visit to Navarre. It would be a mission for her; and once Berengaria was in her care Richard would be obliged to marry her. He had every excuse for declining Alice’s hand and Philip must be made to accept this.

  Well then, Richard would set out on his campaign; she, Eleanor, would go to Navarre; and Alice must be returned to her brother’s court, soiled – no longer marriageable to royalty. Perhaps Philip would find some nobleman ready to take her off his hands for the privilege of marrying the King’s sister.

  As for John, she believed he was not actively ambitious. He would like to be King no doubt, but he would not want to fight for a crown. He really preferred drinking, gaming and the company of women. He could occupy himself in Ireland and with his vast estates. John would have enough to keep him busy.

  So with the thought of a mission of her own Eleanor was less opposed to Richard’s departure.<
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  Meanwhile Richard chafed against delay. The sale of posts throughout the country had naturally displeased some people; but not many were ready to raise their voices against a campaign to the Holy Land. Superstition was rife and there was a fear that to attempt to oppose the King’s desire to free Christendom from the Infidel might offend God.

  People began to see or imagine they saw indications of Divine approval. At Dunstable it was said that a white banner appeared in the sky; someone else saw a crucifix there. Perhaps all that was needed was imagination and a certain cloud formation but people began assembling in market squares and announcing their intention to accompany the King on his crusade.

  This was gratifying to Richard but there were delays. He chafed against them but he was a king and there was his mother to remind him of this. First the harvest had been disappointing, so much so that in some areas there was a threat of famine. Baldwin was critical of the King and did not hesitate to say so. Richard’s half-brother Geoffrey joined Baldwin against him, much to the fury of Eleanor who could never forget that Geoffrey was her husband’s illegitimate son.

  Already there had arisen the recurring conflict between Church and State.

  ‘Sometimes,’ cried Richard, ‘I think they are determined to do all they can to stop my leaving. They never will.’

  But in spite of his determination it was necessary to remain and give time and thought to this trouble in the Church.

  The outcome was that he and Geoffrey patched up their quarrel and Geoffrey paid him three thousand pounds from his revenues to help finance the crusade, so it was not entirely wasted after all from Richard’s point of view.

  By December he was able to leave for Normandy on his way to see the King of France to make their final preparations.

  * * *

  It was January before the two Kings met at Gué St Rémi. It was an emotional meeting. Once there had been great amity between them. That had been at the time when Richard was at odds with his father and had been so angry and wounded because Henry had wanted to set him aside for the sake of John. Philip had been there to comfort him. He had sworn allegiance to Philip; he had been his constant companion; hunted with him, talked with him and shared his bed. There could be no greater intimacy and everyone had marvelled at the friendship between the King of France and the son of the King of England, none more than Henry the King of England who had been considerably discountenanced by it.