Plantagenet 1 - The Plantagenet Prelude (39 page)

‘And what will be said of that?’

‘That the King of England is an honourable man. Since the King of France takes sides with Raymond of Toulouse, and as Duke of Normandy Henry Plantagenet has sworn allegiance to him, he abandons what would appear to be certain victory for the sake of his honour.’

Henry looked at his Chancellor, narrowed his eyes and burst into his loud laughter.

‘You have it, Thomas. You have it, friend. Did I not always know that you would provide me with the right and righteous answer.’

There was a certain amount of puzzlement regarding the King’s action. Why had he gathered together an army only to take it to the walls of Toulouse, and then lead it away?

Was Henry Plantagenet afraid of the combined forces of Toulouse and France? It was strange, for the advantage was all his.

Speculation as to his inability to succeed was dispersed almost immediately for Louis’s brother Robert, hungry for power, had seized the opportunity to attack Normandy.

Henry had no scruples here. He went straight into the fight and so trounced Robert that he was soon suing for peace.

Thus Henry’s reputation as a man of honour was enhanced with no loss to that as a commander of armies.

It had not been such an unprofitable affair after all. Only Eleanor was frustrated and angry. She had been furious to discover that she was once more pregnant and secretly upbraided herself for allowing this to happen, but she concentrated her reproaches on Henry’s failure to take Toulouse.

‘It is mine,’ she declared. ‘It came to me with my grandfather. You who took England, who took Normandy, could have taken Toulouse.’

Henry shrugged his shoulders. ‘I will take what I want and when I want it,’ he told her.

‘But not Toulouse! You are afraid of the King of France. Afraid of my meek monk Louis!’

‘Rant all you wish,’ said the King. ‘I shall heed you not.’

‘Mayhap,’ retaliated Eleanor, ‘one of these days my sons will be old enough to fight for their mother.’

‘A fine thing to say when you may well be carrying one of them now.’

‘Do not goad me too far, Henry,’ retorted Eleanor, ‘or you will regret it.’

‘You may apply the same to me,’ he retorted.

Her frustration was intolerable. It was unfair that it should always be the woman’s lot to bear the children.

This shall be the last, she promised herself. But had she not said that when Geoffrey was born?

In due course she gave birth to her child in the town of Domfront.

She named her Eleanor after herself.

Archbishop Theobald was writing frequently to Thomas.

‘You are still Archdeacon of Canterbury yet we never see you here. What of the affairs of the Church? Do you forget them in your secular duties?’

Thomas told the King of the Archbishop’s requests for his return.

‘Tell the old man I need you with me,’ replied the King.

‘I should doubtless resign my post of Archdeacon.’

‘Nay. ‘Tis better for you to remain in the Church.’

‘It is long since I was in Canterbury. I should return, for my old friend and patron grows old. In his last letter he calls himself my spiritual father and prophesies that he has not long for this world. He wishes me to go back to Canterbury before he dies.’

‘You cannot go, Thomas. I need you here. Write to the Archbishop and tell him your King needs his Chancellor. Who brought your name before me when I needed a Chancellor? Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury. So he cannot complain now that I took the man he chose for me, and now I expect him to hold his post.’

So Thomas wrote to Theobald and explained to him that he would return as soon as he could leave the King.

Henry smiled secretly. He was determined that Thomas should not have that opportunity. In fact he was wondering how he could bind Thomas more closely to him, for he was enjoying his company more and more. He looked for honours to heap upon him and he decided that he would put his son Henry, the young bridegroom, into his charge.

Already several noblemen had sent their sons into the household of Thomas Becket, where the boys would learn not only book lore but how to behave in a chivalrous and knightly manner. They would learn elegance and courtliness with such a man as Thomas Becket.

‘I shall give my boy Henry into your keeping,’ the King told Thomas. ‘You will bring him up to be honourable, righteous, and at the same time to behave like a king. You will teach him to love the good things of life and at the same time keep his peace with God. A rare combination, my friend. Sometimes methinks only you know the secret.’

‘I shall do all in my power to bring up your son as a good Christian prince,’ replied Becket.

‘Take him to England. Let it be arranged that all the barons and bishops do homage to him. Let England recognise him as their future king.’

Before Thomas reached England Theobald was dead and Thomas regretted that he had not disobeyed the King’s orders and gone back to say a last farewell to his old friend.

In fairness to himself he could suppress his conscience. He was the King’s Chancellor and in this important post had his duties to perform. Theobald would have understood that. Thomas wondered whether at the end Theobald had regretted getting the Chancellorship for him.

He now devoted himself to the task of carrying out the King’s orders regarding young Henry. The boy soon became devoted to him and the task was pleasant, but it was not long before there came a message from the King.

Thomas was to join him in Normandy.

The See of Canterbury had been vacant for some months, and the country was without its chief archbishop. Henry was in no great hurry to fill the post for while it was vacant the vast revenues fell into his coffers.

The winter had been bad and Thomas suffered great discomfort from the cold, and as a result became ill and was forced to rest at St Gervase in Rouen while the royal party went on to Falaise.

One day when he was well enough to sit up he wrapped himself in a loose robe and was playing a game of chess with one of his knights when the Prior of Leicester called to see him.

The Prior expressed astonishment to see him in such unclerical garb. ‘Why, my lord,’ he said, ‘you look more like a falconer than an archdeacon. Yet churchman you are. Your titles even now are formidable. Archdeacon of Canterbury, Dean of Hastings, Provost of Beverley and Canon of Rouen. Nor is that all.’

‘What mean you by “nor is that all”?’ asked Thomas.

‘I speak only of the rumours and what is said to be in the King’s mind concerning the Archbishopric of Canterbury.’

‘And what is this then?’

‘That he has it in his mind to make you his Archbishop.’

Thomas rose unsteadily to his feet.

‘Nay, you have heard amiss.’

‘This is what is said in court circles. Those who are intimate with the King are saying that he has mentioned your name in this connection.’

‘It must not be. I know three priests in England whom I would rather see promoted to the Archbishopric than myself.’

‘Are you not an ambitious man then, Chancellor?’

‘My ambition is to do my duty.’

‘Then could you not please God doubly as head of his Church in England?’

‘The King has been my good friend. I know him intimately. I know it would not be good for me to be his Archbishop. I am his Chancellor. As such I can serve him well. It would please me to go on as I am.’

‘The King holds you in such esteem that he would wish to see you head of the Church.’

‘If I became Archbishop of Canterbury I should not hold his favour.’

‘Why should you not?’

‘Because the King likes not those who do not agree with him.’

‘He likes his Chancellor.’

‘We can disagree in secular matters yes, and do. And in these I should be forced to give way to the King. If I were Archbishop I might be called upon to set aside my duty to God in order to please the King.’

‘You’re a strange man, Thomas Becket.’

‘I know myself,’ answered Thomas, ‘and I know the King. I shall decline his offer of the Archbishopric.’

It was difficult to continue with that game of chess. Uneasy thoughts had settled in Thomas’s mind and come to stay.

The King sent for him at his castle of Falaise.

‘Hey, Thomas,’ he cried. I trust I see you well. Why, you look thin and wan, man. Be of good cheer. Soon we shall set sail for England. I’ll warrant our green fields will make you well again.’

The King’s eyes were glazed with sentiment. He was thinking of Rosamund in her bower waiting to see him. It would in truth be good to be home again.

He turned to Thomas and there was deep affection in his eyes.

‘I wanted to talk with you, Thomas, about a certain matter. It’s months since old Theobald died.’

‘Almost a year,’ said Thomas.

‘And the See of Canterbury has been vacant all this time. Not that I will complain about that. But it seems we must have an Archbishop there and my thoughts have alighted on the man best suited to fill the part.’

‘I know of several priests who would fit the role admirably, my lord.’

‘I know of only one and that makes the selection easy.’ Henry took a step towards Thomas and laid his hands on his shoulders. ‘My good friend, it gives me pleasure to reward you for all your services to me. I have decided that you shall be my Archbishop of Canterbury.’

‘You are gracious, Sire, but I refuse the honour. It is not for me.’

‘Not for you! What in God’s name do you mean? Not for you! It
is
for you. I say it’s for you.’

‘My lord, it would not be wise.’

‘What’s this? You and I together. Do we not rule this land, eh? Do I not listen to you and take your advice?’

‘When it pleases you to do so,’ said Thomas.

The King laughed aloud and slapped Thomas on the shoulder.

‘True enough, my good friend. The Church has ever been a thorn in the side of our kings. I have often thought to myself, I will never suffer that thorn. And how shall I avoid it? By putting my good friend Thomas at the head of the Church. Have we not been good friends through your Chancellorship?’

‘The best,’ said Thomas.

‘I like our friendship, Thomas. That’s why I like you with me. I like to go hawking with you. I like to sup at your table. You are as my brother. There, is that not an honour to you? The grandson of great Henry and the great-grandson of greater William chooses you, the son of a merchant, as the best friend he ever had.’