The Heart of the Lion (48 page)

Did he want to? He had come immediately.

Now she wondered what was happening and after she had been ceremoniously received in London she travelled to Winchester and asked William de Longchamp and the Archbishop of Rouen to meet her there.

The Archbishop came. Where, she wanted to know, was Longchamp? She believed there had been some trouble between him and Prince John.

The Archbishop explained that there had indeed been great trouble, that Longchamp had been guilty of indiscretion in arresting the Archbishop of York and quarrelling with Prince John.

Eleanor was alarmed.

‘What was Prince John’s grievance?’

‘That Longchamp had asked the King of Scotland to support Prince Arthur as heir to the throne, for news had reached us that the King had made an agreement with Tancred and had given Prince Arthur to Tancred’s daughter.

There was a great deal of news which Eleanor had yet to learn. She asked the Archbishop to let her know at once all that had happened while she was making the journey home.

What she heard gave her no comfort. She saw that her worse fears had some foundation. John was too mischievous not to try to make trouble during his brother’s absence. Oh yes, indeed it had been a mistake to allow him to come back to England. Her only consolation was that had he not come he would have attempted to make trouble in Normandy.

When she heard that the King of France had invited John to visit him she realised how deep was the danger.

‘My lord Archbishop,’ she said, ‘my son John must not go to France.’

‘I agree, my lady,’ was the answer, ‘but how can we prevent him?’

Eleanor’s eyes flashed. The old vitality was still with her.

‘Know this,’ she said, ‘that my youngest son would wrest the crown from his brother. It seems to him a heaven-sent opportunity with Richard away. There is only one king of this country while Richard lives and that is Richard. We must take firm action.’

‘He is due to embark next week,’ said the Archbishop. ‘I have made myself aware of his movements.’

‘It would seem,’ said Eleanor, ‘that I have come home just in time.’

‘What do you propose to do, my lady?’

‘We will travel with all speed to Southampton. Let us take with us William the Marshal and Hugh of Lincoln. These men and ourselves will convey to the Prince that he must take note of what we say. I myself will speak to him and let him know that if he attempts to make terms with the King of France he will lose everything he possesses in England.’

‘Can you make him accept this, my lady?’

‘You will see,’ she answered.

As he came into Southampton John was surprised to be met by members of his mother’s household.

The Queen wished to see him, he was told, and would he go to her with all speed.

John grumbled that he was on the point of departure but he could not, of course, refuse to see his mother.

When he came into her apartments she greeted him with affection.

‘It is good to be in England with my son,’ she said, her eyes watchful.

‘Indeed yes, Mother. It has been an anxious time. I dared not think how you might be faring on the seas.’

‘Travel is perilous,’ she said. ‘I fear for the King.’

She could not fail to see the cunning lights in John’s eyes. He was hopeful, she thought ruefully. It was indeed fortunate that she had come home in time.

‘He has conquered Acre,’ said John. ‘Doubtless by this time he is setting the Christian flag over Jerusalem.’

‘I pray God that he has done that and is on the way home. The kingdom misses him.’

‘’Tis true,’ said John smiling wryly.

‘There are always those who would take advantage of a sovereign’s absence. It is good fortune indeed that I am here to watch over Richard’s rights.’

John nodded.

‘Never forget, John, that Richard is strong. It would go hard with any who sought to take advantage of his absence.’

‘He would be a brave man who dared do that,’ said John blithely.

‘Nay, only a foolish one.’

‘How so?’

‘Because when Richard returned he would have to answer to him.’

‘What if Richard did not return?’

‘That is a matter I will not consider.’

‘Then you should, my lady, for the chances are that he never will.’

‘Is that why you plan to see the King of France?’

‘What mean you?’

‘Philip has invited you, I believe.’

‘We are his vassals for Normandy.’

‘
We
. The King holds Normandy under the King of France it is true but he stands his equal as King of England. Philip has made propositions to you, has he? He has promised you great glory if you will be his tool. That is so. He will give you Normandy? Make you its Duke? Is that what he has promised? Let me tell you this, John, he has no power to do that. The dukes of Normandy are the rightful heirs of Normandy and there is already a Duke. He is Richard your King and your brother.’

‘Who cares more for fighting the Saracen than holding his throne.’

‘Because he has made a holy vow, because he is a soldier of the Cross, that does not mean he is not a great King.’

‘Of a country he has scarcely seen?’

‘What have you in your mind, John? To take it from him? Is that why you go to France? He has made you rich here, given you great lands; he has allowed you to marry into Gloucester although there is consanguinity there. He has given you a great deal and you would play the traitor to him. You will not go to France.’

John’s temper was rising.

‘Madam, I am merely waiting on the wind.’

‘Very well, go to France. Play traitor to your brother with the man who once was his friend. See how he will treat you. Remember this, though, as soon as you set sail for France all your lands in England will be confiscated and held under the crown.’

‘Who would dare do this?’

‘I would dare, John. I am your mother and during the King’s absence I rule this land. If you wish to hold what you have in this country then stay here, and keep what you have intact, for with God’s help I will strip you of every possession you have if you dare conspire with your brother’s enemies against him.’

She left him then. John bit his lips and foamed with anger. He would show her who was master. He had men to follow him. He was going to set sail for France. He was going to see Philip, work with Philip, and together they would rob Richard of his crown.

But to lose everything in England! She meant it, and she could do it. Suppose he lost everything in England – and Normandy not in his grasp! Could he trust the King of France who had been so friendly with Richard but recently?

His schemes were crumbling. How could he take the risk?

He gave way to temper. He tore at his clothes; he lay on the floor and kicked. He gnawed the rushes as his father used to do in his outburst of fury.

No one dared approach him.

John and his mother were on uneasy terms. She had shown so clearly whose side she was on; and responsible men of the country ranged themselves beside her.

Several months passed and there came news that the King was sailing for home. John was angry and frustrated. Richard had not after all captured Jerusalem; this crusade had achieved the capture of Acre and three years’ truce – not much for all the expense that had been incurred, pointed out John; but few listened to him. The King was coming home. It was not the time to range themselves about his young brother. John might talk of the perilousness of journeys, but no one listened.

Christmas came. Some pilgrims arrived in the country, with the news that they had seen the King’s ship at Brindisi but that Richard was not there.

Speculation was rife. Where was the King? What would the next news be? John’s hopes were high. It was time the King returned. If the pilgrims were in England so should he be.

‘He has met some disaster,’ he said to Hugh Nunant. ‘Depend upon it.’

‘Alas, we must depend on nothing,’ answered Hugh. ‘We must walk very carefully now that your mother is here.’

‘Richard was always her favourite,’ said John sulkily. But he was full of hope. He was sure Richard was dead.

Messengers came to him from the King of France. The news they brought was startling. Philip enclosed the copy of a letter he had received from the Emperor of Germany. King Richard of England was his prisoner, ran the letter; he was to be held for ransom. The whereabouts of his prison was unknown but it was somewhere in the Emperor’s territory.

It was impossible to keep such news to himself. Moreover travellers coming into England reported that they had heard of the King’s capture.

Eleanor was in despair. She conferred with the Archbishop of Rouen. She raved against the injustice done to the man who had done more for Christendom than any other living at the time. He had sacrificed a great deal, he had placed his kingdom in jeopardy for the sake of the Holy War, and what had happened to him, he was imprisoned, not by a Saracen, which would have been understandable, but by those who should have been his friends.

She was desperate. She prayed that God might overlook the wickedness of her youth and not visit her sins on her innocent sons. She spent hours on her knees calling to the virgin. ‘Mother of Mercies, help a miserable mother.’ But she was not of a nature to rely on prayer alone.

First she considered going in search of him; then the possibility of what might happen in her absence if she did deterred her from this action. She must stay here. When he was released there must be a kingdom for him to govern.

But what could she do? Would the Pope help? He could demand Richard’s release immediately if he wished. But why should he go against the wishes of powerful Henry?

She was desperate and uncertain and as she passed one of the rooms she heard the mournful strumming of a lute.

She looked inside to see who was there and saw Blondel de Nesle, one of Richard’s favourite minstrels. He was seated on a stool and as he played a sorrowful dirge the tears ran down his cheeks.

‘What ails you?’ asked Eleanor.

‘My lord’s absence, my lady.’

‘I believe you were a favourite of his. He loved you dearly.’

‘’Twas so, my lady. I would have fain stayed with him and begged to do so, but he wouldn’t have it and sent me here.’

‘Do not weep, pretty boy. He will return.’

When she had left him Blondel continued to weep.

He must return, he said to himself, or I shall die.

Chapter XVII