The Prince of Darkness (34 page)

‘My lord, I think I must tell you, there has long been discontent among the Norman barons.’

‘Treason!’ cried John.

‘I’d scarcely call it that, my lord. They say that you were disinclined to protect them. They have seen many captured by the French and held prisoner, their lands and castles taken. They say that if you are not prepared to stand by them then they must perforce seek another master.’

‘Philip?’ snarled John.

‘’Tis so, my lord. Philip sends his spies among them. It is hinted that if they wish to live in peace they should swear allegiance to him and accept him as their suzerain which he is by rights … so says he. For you, the Duke, are his vassal for Normandy and they being your vassals are in truth his. He is offering them exemption from conquest if they will come over to him.’

‘They cannot do that, Marshal. They would be traitors to Normandy if they did.’

‘They say Normandy has not cared for them and they will offer themselves to France.’

‘My God,’ said John, ‘has it come to that then?’

‘It has, my lord. The commander of Gaillard has
communicated to Philip that if you do not come to his rescue within the month he will surrender, for he can no longer hold out.’

‘What then?’ asked John.

‘My lord, we are in no condition to go to their aid, and all the castles from Bayeux to Anet have pledged Philip that once he is master of Rouen they will surrender to him.’

‘If Gaillard falls …’

‘Then Rouen would be lost and with Rouen Normandy.’

‘We will regain everything … everything,’ cried John. He raised his face, his eyes suddenly alight with excitement. ‘I will go to England. I will talk to my barons there. I will raise a great army. And I will come and take from Philip everything he has taken from me … aye, and more also.’

William Marshal regarded him sadly.

‘So,’ went on John, ‘I shall leave for England but soon I shall return.’

When William Marshal had gone John went to Isabella and told her that they were going to England without delay.

‘I am weary of this place, surrounded as I am by traitors. We are going back to England. There we shall have peace.’

‘And what will become of Normandy?’ she asked.

‘Philip will take it for a while … but only for a while.’

She did not answer and he said suddenly: ‘Why do you look like that? You are like everyone else. You think it is my fault.’

Still she did not answer and he shook her. ‘Speak,’ he cried. ‘Speak.’

She looked at him fearlessly. ‘Mayhap if you had been more of a soldier …’

‘It was your fault. You kept me chained to your bed.’

That made her laugh.

‘Where are the chains?’ she asked.

‘You are a witch. You bewitched me.’

‘Nay, ’twas your own appetites which chained you.’

‘You fed them well.’

‘As was my duty.’

They began to laugh and again she thought of Hugh who would have been so different.

‘We’ll go to England,’ said John. ‘We’ll have a family. That will please them. It’s about time you gave me sons.’

‘I am ready.’

‘Away from this cursed place. I’ve had enough of it. I long for Westminster.’

‘When do we go?’

‘I have already sent on the baggage. We’ll slip away in the early morning before they arise.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because they will reproach me. Old Marshal thinks I should stay here and fight. I’ll swear he’s telling himself that that is what Richard would have done.’

‘I shall be glad to be gone,’ she said.

‘It is well that we are away. When Gaillard goes, Rouen will soon follow, depend upon it.’

‘And we do not wish to be here when that happens?’

‘You speak truth there. So … very soon we’ll be in England.’

The castle retainers woke one morning to find the King and Queen had gone. William Marshal explained that the King had returned to England to arouse the barons there to action and to acquaint them with the need to raise an army to save Normandy.

But no one believed the King would do that; and they
thought that since he had taken his Queen with him he did not intend to return soon.

Shortly afterwards Château Gaillard fell to the French, and it was clear that Normandy would soon be lost.

Queen Eleanor in the Abbey of Fontevraud knew that her end was near. She was eighty-two years old – a great age. Few had lived so long. She had lived life to the full and had borne many children. She often thought back over the years and dreamed that she was young again. She could not complain, she supposed; it had been an exciting life.

She could not cut herself off from the outside world as the nuns did. She had her family, she reasoned with herself; she cared for them still and she must know what they were doing that she might pray for them.

She still mourned Richard. It was but five years since his death and she had loved him so dearly – best of them all. He had been born to be king – with all the kingly virtues, save one. It was a pity that he had so little love for women and had disappointed her and his people by not begetting a son. Then she thought of poor Berengaria whose life had been so different from her own and she wondered what she was doing. Did she still think of the time when she and Joanna were in the Holy Land? If she did she would be mourning Joanna’s death.

Death, thought Eleanor, is constantly with us – and now it is my turn.

One of her messengers came to the abbey, for she often sent them out on errands since she must know what was happening in the outside world.

She could not believe it. It was not possible. The messenger assured her that it was.

Château Gaillard fallen to the French!

Richard’s beloved castle. She remembered when he had built it. How he had called it his darling daughter and he had loved it as he could never have loved a child. It was the perfect castle, the impregnable fortress, the gateway to Rouen. And it had surrended to the French!

Oh, Richard, she thought, I could almost be glad that you had not lived to see this day.

What other news? The King had gone to England. Rouen was ready to fall and so was the whole of Normandy. In a short time it would all be in Philip’s greedy hands.

Oh, my son John, she thought. That it has come to this. It should never have been. Arthur perhaps. But no. He was but a child and the English would not have him. Would they not? How did they like John? And where was Arthur? He had disappeared mysteriously. He had been in Rouen and John had gone to Rouen. Could John tell them where Arthur was?

If he had escaped by jumping out of a window, as some believed, where was he now?

She was old and she was tired. And Normandy was all but in the hands of the French. And what could she do? Richard was not here to comfort her. If you had lived, my Lion Heart, this would never have happened. You would never have let sly Philip triumph. But all that is left is John …

Oh, John my son, what will become of Normandy, of England, with you at the helm?

How times had changed. In the old days she would have ridden to Poitou. She would have declared her intention of
holding it for John, of raising an army, of going into battle for Normandy.

But she was too old now and there was nothing to do but turn her face to the wall.

And so in her eighty-third year she died in Fontevraud and they buried her by the side of the husband she had loved and hated; and they made a statue of her which they laid on her tomb. Serenely the stone figure looked on the world – the strong features clearly marked, wearing the gorget, wimple and coverchief over which was the royal diadem. In the hands had been carved a book and there this statue remained to remind the world that Eleanor of Aquitaine had once lived her turbulent life.

And so John lost not only Normandy but his mother.

Chapter XII

H
is mother was dead. At least she could not reproach him, and she would have done, comparing him with Richard much to his disadvantage. A plague on them all! Those Norman barons who had gone over to Philip, those English barons who were criticising him for losing his family’s inheritance!

‘I’ll get it back,’ he boasted to Isabella. ‘This is but the fortunes of war.’

He did not want to hear what was happening in Normandy, though he knew that castle after castle was falling to Philip.

‘Let them go,’ he shouted. ‘Knaves. Traitors. By God’s feet, when I regain my territories they shall suffer for it.’

He was playing chess when news was brought to him that Rouen had fallen. Rouen! Rollo’s Tower, the greatest of all Norman cities in the hands of the French! No duke of Normandy would have believed that could ever be possible.

The messenger came and stood beside him. He did not look; he merely nodded and continued to stare at the pieces on the board. Then very deliberately he moved his bishop.

‘They’d better make what terms they can and so preserve
their ancient privileges and customs,’ he muttered. Then he shouted to the baron with whom he was playing, ‘’Tis your move, man. What are you gaping at?’

His opponent moved with apparent carelessness which was, in fact, calculated. He knew it would not do for John to lose the game as well as Normandy.

John could not be indifferent to what was happening. People were saying: ‘So Normandy is falling. What of Anjou and Poitou? Is he going to lose every acre of his overseas territories?’

He would make a truce with Philip, he decided; but when Philip heard of this he laughed aloud. There would be no truce, he said, until John handed over Arthur; and he added ominously: ‘Alive or dead.’

So the spectre of his nephew was rising up to haunt John. It seemed that Philip suspected that Arthur was dead and if not directly murdered by John, on his orders. However, he knew very well that John was unlikely to produce the boy, nor would he confess his guilt; but Philip was determined to make the most of John’s discomfiture on the matter. Philip turned his attention to some of the notable barons, such as William Marshal and the Earl of Leicester, who held lands in Normandy. These barons naturally did not want to be dispossessed, nor did they wish to swear allegiance to the King of France. It was a delicate situation, for it could be that Normandy had only temporarily passed into Philip’s hands. Philip suggested therefore that they should pay the sum of five hundred marks each for the privilege of holding these lands for a year, and at the end of that time if John had not regained Normandy, they should swear allegiance to Philip and declare themselves vassals of France.

This seemed a fair enough arrangement and the barons agreed to enter into it.

Being the man he was, as soon as he arrived in England William Marshal had acquainted John with what he had done. John received the news mildly enough. ‘I understand well,’ he said. ‘You are loyal to me and this is the only way you can hold your lands. Depend upon it, before the year is up I shall be back in Normandy.’

William Marshal had not been sure of that, but he was greatly relieved at the King’s acceptance of what he had done.

A few weeks passed while every messenger from the Continent was awaited with breathless suspense, and suddenly John woke up one morning with a change of mood. All his slothfulness had dropped from him.