The Prince of Darkness (25 page)

‘How could I do so?’ she asked.

‘By pitying poor Hugh the Brown.’

‘What good would that do him?’ she answered.

‘None, my love. None at all.’

They stayed on at Caen through the autumn and John declared they would pass Christmas there.

This they did. There was much jollity, feasting, singing, dancing; and the King and the Queen, it was noticed and remarked on, did not leave their beds until dinner time.

Chapter IX

R
iding in the midst of John’s guards Arthur was quiet and sullen. He missed his mother; he wondered what was happening to Guy; if only his sister Eleanor were with him there would have been some comfort, but here he was alone with strangers, enemy strangers.

He kept going over the events which had led to this humiliating capture. If only they had taken his grandmother and left Mirebeau with her, victory would have been theirs. How could they have been so stupid as to delay? He had to admit it had been his wish and he had been so eager to have his way. He knew that the soldiers had wanted to stay and he had heard it said that when men were fighting they must not be driven too hard all the time. And after a battle must be given some sort of reward. It had been so wonderful taking Mirebeau with his grandmother looking on at the battle and, as he had believed, wishing she had given her support to her grandson Arthur instead of worthless John.

And then suddenly it had all changed. They were the losers and he had had to ride in that dreadful farm cart – a degradation he would never forget.

Before him lay the castle of Falaise – renowned because it was in this town that his great ancestor William the Conqueror had been born. Was that why John had sent him here, that he might be held a prisoner in the old home of that great ancestor?

William de Braose and his wife Matilda, who were waiting to receive him, came out to the courtyard and William held Arthur’s stirrup while he alighted.

‘I trust the journey was comfortable, my lord,’ he said in a soothing and respectful voice which was reassuring to Arthur.

‘I could scarcely be comforted in the circumstances,’ replied Arthur.

‘My wife and I will do all we can for you, my lord, while you are here.’

Matilda de Braose came forward then and curtsied to Arthur. She was a tall woman with strong features and a deep resonant voice.

She said she had had his apartments made ready for him, and had herself made sure that he should lack nothing for his comfort.

It was a better reception than he had hoped for after his treatment from his uncle.

He was taken into the castle and William de Braose led the way up a spiral staircase. Arthur followed and Matilda brought up the rear.

There was his bedchamber. The bars across the narrow window were the only indication that it was a prison.

William de Braose glanced at them apologetically. ‘Alas, my lord, we have to hold you under restraint and the King’s orders are that there must be guards outside your door and one must sleep in your room. It is with great regret that I must carry out these orders for I know how irksome this can be.’

‘We want you to understand,’ said Matilda, ‘that it is our desire to make your stay in Falaise as comfortable as is possible. If there is anything you need, pray ask for it, and if it is within our power to give it to you, that shall be done.’

Arthur thanked them, adding: ‘I had not expected such a gracious greeting. ’Tis different from what I have had hitherto from my uncle.’

‘There are those of us who regret the need for this, my lord,’ said William, ‘but it has come about and we must perforce obey orders.’

‘I shall remember your kindness to me,’ Arthur promised them.

Making sure of his comfort they left him. He threw himself down on the pallet and wondered what the future held.

He dreamed that he had escaped from Falaise and that he was marching at the head of his armies. His mother was with him and Eleanor was there too and they were saying: ‘I knew you would not remain a prisoner long. You will soon be free from prison, Arthur.’

Then he woke up and felt a little better. Of course he would not stay here long. The people of Brittany would never allow it. They were so loyal to their Duke. It was not in real battle that he had been beaten; it had just happened by ill luck. Had he left Mirebeau the night before, Europe would have been talking of his victory and he would be halfway to regaining all that was his by right. He supposed even the Conqueror had had uneasy periods like this one.

No, he must not despair. He was in the hands of good people who were not going to take advantage of his position. He liked William de Braose and his wife.

William and Matilda were discussing the prisoner.

‘He’s but a child,’ said Matilda.

‘Neverthless, John is afraid of him, and you know what John is like when he is afraid. He is capable of anything.’

‘You don’t think he’ll give you instructions to murder the child?’

‘I wouldn’t, Matilda, if he did. But between the two of us I would whisper that he is capable of giving such a command.’

‘The whole world would revile him.’

‘John doesn’t consider consequences when certain moods take possession of him.’

‘I would Richard had lived.’

‘Aye, there you speak for both of us.’

William was thoughtful. He was one of the most ambitious men of the day. His ancestors had been minor barons who had founded the family in the town of Braose in Normandy and had come over with the Conqueror and acquired lands in Sussex, Devon and Wales. He had proved himself a magnificent soldier on the Welsh border; he had earned Richard’s approbation and the two had become friends. William had been with Richard on the Continent when the latter had met his death at Chaluz.

William de Braose was a man who was determined to advance; his ambition was to be the foremost of the barons of England. He had considered carefully on Richard’s death which side he would be on and had chosen John, not because he liked John – he did not admire him as he had Richard – but because he believed that John had the stronger forces behind him; and when William Marshal had placed himself with John that was the signal for men such as William de Braose to do likewise. He agreed with the Marshal that Arthur would have
little chance in England. John had been by far the safer bet; and to have gone against him and failed would have been the end of all his dreams of riches. Matilda had been with him. A strong forceful woman, she was just the wife he needed.

John trusted him, for he had proved himself a good knight to Richard; and it was for this reason that he had put Arthur in his charge at Falaise.

It was an honour and yet William de Braose hoped that it would not continue too long. He did not want to spend his life as a jailer. He had other plans. But at this stage the fact that he had been appointed for the task showed John’s confidence in him, and he was gratified at that. With a man like John one could descend from favour to disgrace in a day. He must make sure that that did not happen to him.

At the same time, just in case John should be defeated he would treat Arthur with especial deference so that should the time come when Arthur was in a position to bestow honours he should not think too badly of William de Braose.

Thus it was that Arthur’s stay in Falaise was pleasant enough and his guards were the only outward sign that he was a prisoner.

William would play chess with him and Matilda mothered him in a rather domineering way which sometimes, when he felt young and lonely, he did not dislike.

While John was at Caen William des Roches presented himself.

John received him indifferently as though he did not care whether he saw him or not but William des Roches was a man who was well aware of his importance, even if John were not.

John was still puffed up with pride over his success at Mirebeau. He was going to bask in that glory for as long as he could. It was success, William conceded, but it was not one which affected John’s entire life and made his Continental possessions safe for ever. It was merely a successful skirmish. John, however, appeared to have sunk back into a life of voluptuousness on the strength of this one mild success.

Like William de Braose, William des Roches was an ambitious man. Both of them realised the importance of being on the winning side, but if the victor was not inclined to honour William des Roches then he would look about him for other means of using his talent.

William des Roches had been the leader of Arthur’s army when it had joined forces with Philip of France; but it was not long before des Roches was quarrelling with Philip, for Philip had destroyed one of the castles which had belonged to Arthur because rebels against him had sheltered there.

William des Roches had protested to Philip that the property of his young lord should not be wantonly destroyed, to which Philip had sharply retorted that what was and what was not to be destroyed was a matter for him to decide.

Clearly, des Roches had thought Philip was no ally for him.

In the heat of his temper he had gone to John and said that he would persuade Arthur and Constance to come to terms with him and give up their claim; but he would do this on one condition: that he, William des Roches, was to decide their actions.

John, rejoicing in the rift between William des Roches and Philip, had delightedly agreed, and peace was concluded between Arthur and John – an uneasy one it was true, for Constance had been highly suspicious of John’s intentions towards her son.

William des Roches had then worked closely with John. When he had heard that the young Duke was at Mirebeau it was William des Roches who had been one of those foremost in leading the attack.

‘If we capture Arthur,’ he had told John, ‘you will, my lord, remember your promises that I should have a say in the young Duke’s future?’

John had promised.

And now he had sent Arthur off to Falaise where his jailer would be William de Braose.

William des Roches was incensed when he presented himself to John, though he did his best to hide his mood.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it is good news, Arthur is your prisoner.’

John laughed. ‘You should have seen the boy’s face when I threatened to castrate him. He believed it, you know. ’Twould be amusing to take from him the opportunity of savouring that of which at this time he is ignorant, I believe. His mother kept him under close restraint, and I doubt he had any opportunity to try his talents.’