Виктория Холт - The Heart of the Lion

The best method seemed to be to disguise himself as a woman; and this he did. A woman pedlar would attract little attention and the fact that she had goods to sell would be a reason for her travelling.

He set out with two of his faithful servants and counted himself fortunate to reach Dover without mishap. Afraid to go near any town or hamlet they slept under trees and by great good fortune when they reached Dover they found that a ship would shortly be sailing for France.

Longchamp, burying his face in his cape and cowering beneath the skirts and petticoats was congratulating himself that he would soon be able to discard them when a group of fishermen came by.

One among them cried: ‘But see what a fair wench this is! What is she doing sitting here alone? I would fain share her company.’

‘You will go away,’ said Longchamp in a muffled voice.

The fisherman nudged one of his companions. ‘What airs she gives herself, this saucy wench, and what sort of wench is she that travels the country so ... selling her wares? What wares? Tell me that, wench. Pray don’t play the coy virgin with me for I’ll have none of it.’ He seized the hood and tried to pull it off. Longchamp clung to it in terror. But they were too many for him, for the three companions of the fisherman had joined with him. ‘Such a coy creature must be immediately relieved of her coyness.’ They would every one of them be her tutors.

They were tearing at his clothes. Any moment now and he would be revealed. He could have wept with dismay. Desperately he fought back, but they were too much for him.

‘Why ’tis no maiden then!’ cried the first fisherman. ‘Look you here, what we have. A man ... in disguise!’

They had made such a noise that others had gathered to look and one of them cried: ‘I know that face. It cannot be!’

‘He has the look of a monkey.’

‘’Tis Longchamp the Norman.’

So the secret was out.

They set three men to guard him while someone went to the castle.

Within an hour he was taken there, a prisoner.

* * *

When John heard the story of the amorous fishermen he roared with laughter.

Poor Longchamp! In danger of being raped. And to have got so far and then to be discovered ... and by a fisherman!

It was the height of indignity. He could picture the ungainly little man.

‘His just deserts,’ he declared. ‘Let him go to France. We have no further use for him here.’

And so at the end of October of that year 1191 Longchamp left England for France.

Meanwhile Philip had returned to France. He had done the wise thing in coming back, he was well aware, but it was necessary to justify himself and he lost no time in doing so.

He smiled cynically as he ruminated on the new state of affairs. How fickle were human relationships, particularly it seemed such as those which had existed between himself and Richard! He had loved Richard passionately when they were young and Richard had been his hostage; now all sorts of emotions had mingled to change that love into hatred. His feeling for Richard was as strong as it had ever been and always would be. Richard obsessed him. He kept going over in his mind how Richard had allied himself with Tancred. How he had been bemused – as Philip expressed it – by Saladin. Wherever Richard was there was drama and excitement and when he was absent life became less colourful. There was an aura about the King of England which attracted not only the King of France but everyone who came into contact with him. It seemed one must either hate him or love him.

How could the King of France love the King of England? It had been different when Richard had been a Prince; they had not met on the same footing then and Philip, less handsome, less spectacular had been in the superior position. Now they were equals in power.

Philip had realised the state of his feelings when he had had an audience with the Pope on his way home. He had had to make excuses for his defection and he had been surprised by the vituperative storms of abuse which flowed from him.

Pope Celestine had been somewhat taken aback.

‘Holy Father,’ Philip had said, ‘it was imperative that I return. If I had not I should have died. I was so beset by fever that my hair fell out and my nails flaked off. I was delirious and a burden to my men. I could not lead them.’

‘I believe, my son,’ the Pope had replied, ‘that the King of England was similarly afflicted.’

‘His was a recurrent fever. It comes and passes. It was different with him.’

‘And you wished to return to the comforts of your court?’

‘I had my duties to my crown. My son is but a child. There could have been civil war in France had I died.’

‘The King of England is without an heir.’

This harping on the King of England had maddened Philip. Wherever he went there was no escape from Richard. Was he going to be haunted by him for the rest of his days?

He had cried out: ‘It is partly because of Richard that I found it necessary to go. His arrogance was causing strife throughout the armies. Leopold of Austria will bear me out and so will the Duke of Burgundy. Even the men were disgusted by his recklessness and extravagance. His severity to the men was without parallel.’

Philip had stopped suddenly. Celestine was looking at him with astonishment. Philip muttered: ‘I had to return because I have sworn an oath to protect my kingdom.’

‘Let us not forget,’ replied the Pope, ‘that this recklessness of the King of England may have been one of the reasons why Acre is now in the hands of the Christians and that we are a step nearer towards the Holy City.’

Philip bowed his head. He was glad when the audience was over. He knew he had not made a very good impression on the Pope. Richard seemed to cast his spell over everyone.

And he had returned home, brooding.

There was no need to justify his return in France. His ministers made it clear that he had acted wisely in coming back; and as some of them pointed out it was not a bad thing for the King of France to be in his dominions when the King of England was far from his.

He was warmly welcomed in Paris. Not that he had come back covered in glory. It would have been wonderful if he could have returned as the man who had brought Jerusalem back to Christians. Instead of that he must be content with the conquest of Acre, which he had achieved with Richard, who was certain to get the greater share of the glory.

The Cardinal of Champagne who had been regent in his absence assured him when they were alone that it was time he came back. He had shown his piety by going to the Holy Land; now France claimed his attention. Little Prince Louis was so young and with the King far from home there were certain to be those ambitious men who would seek to govern a child and rule a country.

Even to the Cardinal Philip must make his excuses.

‘I was close to death,’ he said, ‘and Richard was not to be trusted.’

His conscience smote him then. Richard might be arrogant, reckless, cruel ... but untrustworthy, never. Hadn’t he teased him about his forthrightness, his lack of cunning?

‘An uneasy situation,’ agreed the Cardinal. ‘The King of France can never be on terms of real amity with the kings of England while they hold Normandy.’

‘He arranged the murder of Montferrat hoping that his man Guy de Lusignan might be King of Palestine, and then let it be rumoured that the Old Man of the Mountains was responsible.’

‘But Henry of Champagne now holds that post.’

‘’Tis so, for Richard was able to give his favourite Cyprus. He has a great fancy for this Guy,’ he added bitterly.

‘Suffice it, Sire, that you are back in France and with the King of England far away opportunities might arise.’

‘By God,’ cried Philip, ‘I would seize those opportunities.’

‘They are at hand, my lord.’

‘Is that so?’

‘We learn that John has his eyes on the throne.’

‘John! I was led to believe that his thoughts were all for extravagance and sporting with women.’

‘He still has time to dream of a crown. There is conflict between him and Longchamp.’

‘He’s a clever fellow, this Longchamp. I hear he rose from very humble beginnings to be virtually King of England.’

‘’Tis so, but his birth goes against him. He is not accepted by the people. He is ill-favoured – short of stature and malformed. Not a figure to win the acclaim of the people. Moreover he is a Norman and they prefer to be ruled by an Englishman. John is making much of the situation and particularly so since Richard made his compact with Tancred.

Philip’s face darkened. He remembered well his jealousy of Tancred and Richard. Richard had spent some time in Tancred’s castle and there they had made plans together.

‘Richard has offered Prince Arthur of Brittany to Tancred’s daughter and that means Arthur is heir to the throne of England – if Richard dies without issue, that is.’

‘Which is likely,’ said Philip smiling slowly. ‘He scarcely lived with Berengaria.’

‘Being most of the time with his army, I’ll swear.’

‘There were times when he could have had her with him, but he did not. He is not over fond of the company of women.’

‘He must realise it is necessary for him to get an heir.’

‘’Tis my belief that the matter is distasteful to him and therefore he consoles himself with the fact that Arthur can follow him. There is also John.’

‘It seems strange for a King to name another man’s son as heir when he is of the age to beget sons himself.’

‘But in a position to meet sudden death.’

‘All the more reason why he should spend much time with his wife.’

‘Ah, Richard is no ordinary man. What of this conflict between Longchamp and John?’

‘John wants Longchamp out of the country. It’s easy to see what he is after. He wants the throne. It would be good for France if he were to take it. He is weak; he is no soldier; I hear that his rages are terrible. With such a King on the throne of England ... who knows what good could come to France?’

‘You are suggesting that I should form an alliance with John ... against Richard?’

‘It would be the greatest good fortune for France. You could send for John. Offer him help in securing the crown. Why, Sire, trouble in England ... in Normandy ... is that not exactly what we have been praying for?’

Oh Richard, thought Philip, my love, my friend, I hate you now. John will take your kingdom from you. You will do your noble deeds in the Holy Land or perhaps meet your end. And it may be that one day you will come to me supplicating, humble, as it was when you were a hostage Prince and you and I were together as we have never been since.

‘There is your sister the Princess Alice,’ said the Cardinal.

‘Richard has treated her shamefully,’ cried Philip.

‘She is no longer young. It is an insult that Richard should put her aside that he might marry Berengaria although he had been betrothed to her in his youth.’

‘We came to an agreement that this should be,’ said Philip.

‘It does not alter the fact that a Princess of France was slighted. Why should she not even now be the Queen of England?’

‘How could she be that?’

‘If John were King and she married him.’

‘John is already married to Hadwisa of Gloucester.’

‘There is a blood tie. The Pope has never given them a dispensation. To set her aside would present no difficulty.’

Philip clasped his hands together. ‘It is a project which gives me great amusement.’

‘’Twould give more than that, Sire, were it to bear fruit. Richard deposed by John! We could do anything with John. In due course we could bring Normandy back to the French crown. Who knows we might even make England a vassal of France.’

‘I can scarcely wait. I shall send messengers to John without delay.’

Philip was excited. Richard could still dominate his life even when they were far apart.

* * *

John, in his castle of Lancaster, received the messengers from the King of France. When he heard what they had to say he was amazed and delighted.

The King of France was offering to be his ally. Glittering prospects stretched out ahead of him.

He sent at once for Hugh Nunant, the Bishop of Coventry, who, having received no favours from Richard, was eager to see John on the throne. Hugh looked for great advancement should this event come about and he was as excited as John.