The Bastard King (38 page)

‘Do not let him hear you say that,' begged Matilda. ‘He might even give it to Richard.'

‘Richard is to be King of England.'

‘Rufus, then.'

‘Rufus. That red-faced fool.'

Matilda said: ‘It ill-behoves you, my son, to jeer at his red face.'

‘But my short legs may become a jest.'

‘'Twas no jest, Robert. 'Twas in the first place a term of endearment. Now, I beg of you, try to make peace with your father.'

‘I make peace with him! Is he not the one who decides whether or not there shall be peace?'

‘You know how upset I am when I see discord between you.'

‘You think only of soothing him.'

‘You know I think of you, too. Oh, Robert, for my sake, try not to anger him.'

Robert's anger evaporated as he looked at his mother. She was his friend, he knew. Her loyalties were torn between them both. He wondered whose side she would be on if it were necessary at some time to take sides.

It might well be, for he had no intention of going on in this way.

On a balcony high up in the castle Rufus and Henry were playing a dice game.

Henry, though years younger than Rufus, was so clever that mentally they were almost of an age; because of this his family were apt to forget his youth.

Rufus looked down suddenly and saw his brother Robert in the courtyard surrounded by his companions. These were young men whom he had chosen to favour deliberately because he knew his father did not like them. They were inclined to be dissolute, cynical young men who, knowing they would never find favour with William, sought to curry it with Robert and with him looked forward to the day when William returned to England.

Rufus, mischievous and hot-tempered, had his own grievances. Robert was always complaining that his father delayed in passing the dukedom over to him. Richard was training to be King of England. But what of him . . . and Henry? What were they to have, with big brothers stepping in before them?

‘Look at old Curthose strutting down there,' he said to Henry. ‘He acts as though he is the Duke of Normandy, this his castle, and we his vassals.'

‘It is because of his short legs,' said Henry. ‘If they were longer he would not need to tell us that he is as good as . . . nay better than the rest of us.'

‘And those friends of his. They look at me as though I am of no account. I'd remind them that I am the son of a King and a Duke even though I am not the eldest. Come, let's have some fun with them, Henry.'

Standing on the terrace was a jar of water which had been there for some time and was stagnant.

Rufus picked it up and carrying it to the edge of the balcony, tilted it forward so that the group of young men, in the centre of which was Robert, were sprinkled with it.

Rufus drew back and the two boys were convulsed with laughter for they could hear the angry exclamations from below.

‘That,' said Rufus, ‘will teach them a lesson. This is dirty water, Henry. Look at the green slime. Their fine robes will be thoroughly spoilt.'

This seemed a tremendous joke to the boys and boldly
Rufus determined to repeat it. He perched the jar on the edge of the balustrade and tipped it over.

There was a cry from below.

‘Look up there,' said a voice.

‘By God,' cried Robert, ‘it's those devils of brothers. I'll teach them a lesson.'

‘Quick,' said Rufus. They ran into the chamber and drew the heavy bolt.

It was not long before there was a hammering on the door. ‘Come out, you young varlets.'

‘Go away and grow your legs, Curthose,' called Rufus.

‘I'll kill you, you insolent young devil,' was the answer.

‘Just try,' shouted Rufus.

Henry listened, applauding Rufus.

‘Open this door,' cried Robert, who had been joined by his friends.

‘Get out your battering ram,' shouted Rufus, and he and Henry were hysterical with laughter.

‘You are deliberately insulting me,' said Robert. ‘You did it purposely. You think you will have our father on your side if you insult me. I'll not have it. I shall run you through with my sword, William Rufus. We'll see if your blood is as red as your hair.'

They were hammering on the door. It was heavy and Rufus regarded it complacently. But he was thinking that he could not stay here for ever and when he came out Robert would be waiting for him. Robert was impulsive; he had a quick temper. Most of them had in the family and he meant – at least at the moment – what he said about running him through.

The door shook.

He looked at Henry. ‘They are battering it down.'

‘It's like a siege,' said Henry excitedly. ‘This is how it must be when your castle is being taken by the enemy.'

Rufus was really getting rather frightened. He looked about him. Could they escape by way of the balcony? The drop was too steep.

Henry was watching the door with a calm calculation which was typical of him.

‘If only I had a sword, I'd fight him,' said Rufus.

The door creaked on its hinges. Then gave a groan and moved inwards.

There stood Robert, the green slime of the dirty water on his coat, his eyes blazing with fury. Seeing Rufus he drew his sword from its sheath.

‘There you are, my brave Rufus. What say you now? Wait till I slit your throat with the point of this fine steel. Perhaps I will put out your eyes, how's that?'

‘Go away,' said Rufus, backing to the wall.

‘And Henry,' mocked Robert. ‘You are in this, you insolent young dog. Don't think you will escape me.'

Rufus ran for the door. He was on the balcony. Robert ignored Henry and went after him. Rufus was leaning against the balcony, his face more ruddy than usual, his red hair wild.

A thunderous voice from behind said: ‘What means this?'

Their father was standing in the doorway. Robert turned to him, his sword raised. In a second William's sword was in his hand. The two young boys looked on in relief. They were safe now. Their father had come to their rescue and Robert was the one who would be punished.

William stepped on to the balcony. Robert glowered at him. Their swords crossed for a few seconds while they looked into each other's faces. Robert had forgotten his anger with his brothers in his hatred for his father.

With a gesture of contempt William sent Robert's sword hurtling from his hand. He still stood holding his own.

‘So you would kill my sons, eh?' he said. ‘They are of a size to make you brave. Come, let us see you fight now.'

‘I . . . have no sword.'

‘And why not? Were you not holding it in good fighting spirit when I came in?'

Robert could say nothing. His humiliation before the grinning Rufus was intolerable.

‘Come,' said William. ‘Pick up your sword. If you must fight. Then we will.'

Robert picked up his sword but in an instant William had once more sent it swirling from his hand.

‘You have not yet learned to hold it. If I were you, I should learn how to handle a sword before I was so brave with it.'

With a cry of rage Robert sprang at his father's throat. With one hand William hurled him against the parapet. He approached him, sword in hand. Fortunately for Robert at that moment Matilda came running in.

‘For the love of God,' she cried, ‘what means this?'

William turned to her. ‘Your son has been trying to kill his brothers.'

‘They insulted me,' screamed Robert. ‘They tried to humiliate me and my friends.'

‘William,' said Matilda, ‘I beg of you put away your sword.'

‘I may need it,' said William, ‘to protect myself against this son of yours. He is in a bloodthirsty mood and threatening to slay me as well as his brothers. Mind you, he is in less fighting mood now than when I entered. I don't think he was counting on me as an opponent. He likes better to try his skill with a sword on unarmed children.'

‘William, please . . .'

Robert's face was dark with anger. He turned to Matilda. ‘Those boys insulted me. They threw dirty water on me and my friends. I merely meant to teach them a lesson.'

‘With a sword?' asked William.

‘I was . . . but frightening them.'

‘And were frightened in your turn, Master Curthose.'

What hatred blazed from the eyes of both! It alarmed Matilda.

‘It is a storm over nothing,' she said. ‘As for the boys they shall be punished. They must learn not to throw water on their elders. Now, Robin, my son, leave us.'

He was only too glad to get away from the scene of his humiliation. Matilda turned to the boys. ‘Go to your chamber,' she said. ‘You will be whipped soundly. You, Rufus, because you are the elder, and you, Henry, because you are old enough to know better.'

That left her with William.

‘I'll kill that boy one day,' he said.

‘He was very angry because his fine clothes have been spoilt. It's a just cause for anger.'

‘I believe he would have run Rufus through.'

‘Rufus is an irritating boy. He never thinks of others, only his own fun and pleasure.'

‘But he is his brother.'

‘And you are their father. What do you want from your children, William? Meekness?'

‘I expect good sense. Richard has it. Why not the others?'

‘Richard is a saint, it seems.'

‘I thank God he is my second boy that I may make him King of England. Robert would be useless. He would never rule well. He lets his emotions override his judgement and that is not good in a ruler. As for Rufus . . .'

‘Oh come, William. Rufus is young yet; and Robert is chafing because he is a man now and has no position of his own. Once he has that you will see a change in him.'

‘I want to see a change in him before I hasten to put power into his hands.'

Uneasy as she was, Matilda was thankful that she had arrived in time. Perhaps it was as well that William would soon go to England and Robert remain in Normandy.

If they were often together one would surely ere long do the other a mischief.

That day Robert left the castle taking with him his special friends.

He had no intention, he said, of staying under the same roof as his father. He was weary of being treated as though he were a child. He would like his father to know that he had
friends
. . . sympathetic friends.

There was something about that phrase which was ominous.

Matilda was in despair. There were two people only in the world whom she truly loved – William and Robert – and these two had chosen to hate each other.

She tried to reason with William.

‘He is your son, William. Try to understand. He is no longer a boy. Naturally he resents being set aside.'

‘He would have to show me that he is capable of rule before I give him the power he asks.'

‘He will. I promise you, William.'

‘Matilda, why are you so blind where he is concerned? I had always thought you were a discerning woman.'

‘I am, William. I know my own son and I know my own husband. They are so much alike that they must of necessity have their differences. If he came back would you talk with him?'

‘If he talked sense I would.'

‘He will talk sense.'

‘I like not his friends. Do you not see that he chooses them from the ranks of those whom I distrust?'

‘If you would but try to understand him it would make me happy. This discord between you alarms me. He is young and I fear your enemies will take advantage of his youth.'

‘And of his folly and his disloyalty, I doubt not.'

‘William, I am going to beg him to come back to talk to you. Will you promise me that you will see him and for my sake try to come to some understanding?'

At length he let her persuade him. Matilda then set about begging her son to come back and attempt a reconciliation.

Robert came, but in no humble mood. William, eager to please Matilda and realizing that a son – and his eldest at that – roaming through Normandy would collect adherents and the outcome of that could be trouble, wished to bring about some sort of reasonable understanding.

Robert sensed this and misunderstood. He believed that his father could be forced into granting his request. He did not know the Conqueror.

‘I have been promised Normandy,' he said. ‘I am no longer a boy and I am weary of being treated as one. I demand my inheritance.'

‘So you demand?' said William, dangerously quiet.

‘Ay. I demand my rights.'

‘And who has assigned these rights to you?'

‘I am your eldest son.'

‘A fact which has often seemed unfortunate to me.'

‘I know you prefer Richard and that Rufus is your favourite.
You would rather give Normandy even to Henry than to me. But you cannot. I am your first-born.'

‘Do you imagine that I cannot do what I wish? What should have given you such a notion?'

‘You have promised me . . .'

‘I have promised nothing. You have been listening to evil counsellors, Master Curthose, and they have sought to seduce you from your duty. Do you remember the fate of Absalom? I would consider that if I were you.'

‘I have not come here to listen to sermons,' retorted Robert. ‘I had enough of those from my tutors. I came here to ask for my rights. I want my inheritance without delay.'

‘Then know this,' cried William. ‘It is not my custom to strip before I go to bed. As long as I live I have no intention of giving up Normandy. Nor will I divide it, for it is written: “Every kingdom that is divided against itself shall become desolate.”'

‘You have become very pious,' sneered Robert, ‘in your efforts to explain your denial of my rights.'

‘Forget not that you depend for what you call your rights on me. I won England with my good sword. The vicars of Christ placed the diadem of ancient kings on my brow and the sceptre in my hands; and if all the world were to come against me they would not compel me to give up my power to another.'