Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

‘Better that,’ agreed William Marshal, ‘than to become the defeated enemy of the King of France.’

So there followed the ceremony of removing the crown from John’s head which was symbolic of his submission to the Pope and then immediately replacing it to indicate that the Pope had graciously bestowed it on him once more. He was still King of England but he held the crown as the Pope’s vassal which was a matter for rejoicing, said John, for it meant that Holy Rome was the protector of King and country.

John was exultant. He had come well out of his troubles. It was true he had had to accept Stephen Langton but he would make sure that the Archbishop’s claws were clipped when he came to England, and he was no more ready to allow the Church to interfere with the State than any of his predecessors had been, but for a while he could sigh with relief, smile sardonically to think of the army Philip had accumulated with which to invade England, and congratulate himself that he had emerged in triumph from a very alarming situation.

It was time for rejoicing, he told his people. The Interdict was over and the church bells would ring again. There was friendship between England and Rome; there was more than that; there was a great alliance and the Holy See had thrown its protective wings across the country. Let pavilions be erected in the Kentish countryside; let there be singing and dancing in the streets of Dover. Instead of war there was feasting. Instead of a foreign invader their own King was there to rule over them. All was well with England.

The people were always ready for merrymaking. They listened to the church bells ringing and that seemed a very melodious sound; they spoke lovingly of King John who had so adroitly saved them from the French invaders; they danced and sang and there were bonfires on the hills of Kent.

Those who had proclaimed their faith in Peter of Pontefract assured themselves that his prophecy had come true. John had lost his crown by Ascension Day but what Peter had not seen was that he had regained it. Some pointed out that the prophecy had been that John would lose his crown and someone more in God’s favour would wear it. Well, they could even make that fit. The John who had regained the crown was a vassal of the Pope and therefore a changed man. In God’s eyes one under the protection of the Holy Father would be more in God’s favour.

So everyone could be happy and it was easy to be deluded into forgetting the high taxation, the rages of the King which could spell disaster in so many ways to any who displeased him. Just for a day they would give way to merriment and a blind faith in the future.

John was not inclined to forget Peter of Pontefract. The man had caused him a great deal of uneasiness. He had been infuriated by the manner in which he had stood before him with that fanatical look in his eyes as though he were a messenger from God.

And what would people be saying now? They would twist his prophecy to make it the truth. John had hated the man when he had stood there before him and blatantly stated that his place would be taken by someone more worthy in God’s eyes.

A king should not allow men to talk to him in that way. Peter of Pontefract must not be allowed to live and make more such prophecies. For that was what the man would do, he was sure. And he would carry a certain amount of opinion with him. Such uneasy men should be removed.

He gave orders that Peter should be taken from his dungeon in Corfe, and hanged. But first, as a warning to others who might feel they had the gift of prophecy and through this believed they could plot against the King, he was to be tied to a horse’s tail and dragged to the place of execution where he should be hanged high on a gibbet that all might see the fate in store for any who acted in a similar manner.

The King’s orders were carried out and so fickle were the people that those who had supported Peter and declared that he in truth was a great prophet and a man of God, fearing to offend the King, now reviled him.

On the other side of the Channel Pandulph was in consultation with Philip of France.

‘You must disband your fleet and your armies,’ he told Philip. ‘Invasion of England is now quite out of the question. England is now a papal fief and to attack England is to attack Rome.’

Philip was furious. He had seen England ripe for invasion, a weak king, dissatisfied barons who at his first success would be ready to desert John for him; and now by this adroit action of John’s in surrendering his crown to the Pope and receiving it back as a vassal, his weak enemy had become a powerful one.

‘It has cost me a great deal of money and months of preparation,’ cried Philip. ‘Was it all of no avail?’

‘You could not hope for success if Rome was against you,’ was the answer.

There was a certain amount of truth in that. Philip saw his dream evaporating. It was maddening. All his life he had longed to achieve the glory of a Charlemagne. He had yearned to go down in history as the man who had made France great as it had once been; and if he could have brought to it the crown of England he would have surpassed all others. And it had been within his grasp. He was sure of it.

But he was a realist and he saw at once that it was a dream which would have to be shelved – but perhaps not for long. He would keep his fleet in readiness; he would add to his armies. He would not abandon his dream of conquering England. It was only a postponement.

Pandulph departed feeling it was safe to return to Rome and report to the Pope that his mission had been satisfactorily carried out.

When he had gone Philip brooded over the situation in which he found himself. His soldiers were restive. They had been promised conquest and conquest always meant spoils. They knew that when the Conqueror had gone to England, men who had been quite humble in Normandy had become landowners, rich and powerful. This was what they had hoped from an invasion of England. And now it was not to take place, how would they feel?

Philip must assure not only himself, but them, that it was but a postponement.

In the meantime they must not be idle. Every general knew that an idle army was a danger to its commander. Mutiny, rebellion, all had their seeds in idleness and the greater it was the more they flourished.

He called his generals to him and told them that although the invasion of England had had to be postponed, it was not abandoned. They would while they were waiting turn their attentions to that old enemy of France – Flanders – who had shown itself very uncooperative in this last venture.

The generals understood. It was necessary to keep the army occupied.

So, leaving the fleet of ships lying at anchor, the army left and in a short time were marching on Ghent.

Philip’s decision threw luck into John’s path. It seemed as though Fate had decided to cherish him. First he had made his peace with Rome at precisely the right moment so that he had not only made it unwise for the French to attack him but it had also been a warning to the barons too, for in rebelling against him they would be rebelling against the Pope.

The Flemings, as Philip’s enemies, must be John’s friends; and when they realised that French fury was to be turned against them they appealed to John for help.

John considered this appeal very carefully with the Marshal and others whom he trusted. It seemed an opportunity to weaken the French and William Marshal felt that as John had assembled an army to ward off the French invaders it would be a good idea to send it to the aid of the Flemings.

The English set out and here their good fortune continued, for on arriving at the spot where the French fleet lay, they found a vast number of vessels all equipped for the invasion of England, filled with the food and weapons which would be needed; there was armour and fine garments – everything conceivable that would enable the invaders to succeed both before and after conquest.

That there should be but a few people left to guard them made the English laugh with derision while they decided to make the most of their good fortune. Forgotten was the expedition to Flanders. Here was a far more profitable one.

They quickly overpowered the defenders, loaded their own ships with the treasures the French had brought with them and then set fire to Philip’s fleet.

It was a great moment for John. He laughed aloud. His luck had changed. It was now his turn to snap his fingers at Philip.

Having crippled the French fleet so that an invasion of England would be completely out of the question, even if Philip decided to defy the Pope and attempt it, John decided to go to the rescue of the Flemings. Alas, the spasm of luck was over, for Philip, hearing of the disaster to his ships, hurried to the coast and intercepted John’s army, inflicting defeat on it so that it was necessary to make a hasty retreat back to the coast.

There they hastily embarked and sailed back to England. But the adventure could be called highly successful since it had resulted in the near annihilation of the French fleet and had made invasion impossible for a very long time.

It was hot July when Stephen Langton arrived in England. John rode to meet him and the two retinues came face to face at Portchester.

The King, aglitter with jewels, his satin mantle decorated with pearls and rubies, his girdle of sapphires and diamonds, and his gloves adorned with pearls, looked magnificent on his charger. It was more important than ever that he look the part since he had resigned his independence. About him rode his courtiers, splendidly dressed but designedly less so than he was, for he would not have been pleased if they outshone him.

When the two retinues met, John dismounted from his magnificently caparisoned horse, and approaching Stephen Langton, knelt before him; then he stood up and exchanged kisses with him.

‘Welcome, Father,’ he said.

Stephen Langton was not a vindictive man and he was delighted that at last John was ready to receive him. He was eager that the past should be forgotten and he looked forward to working in harmony with the King.

They rode side by side into Winchester, cheered by the people as they passed along the road.

Peace between Church and State! It was what the people longed for. The Interdict was lifted. Their King was no longer excommunicated – although the ban had to be lifted formally – and everyone could return to the normal way of life.

Into the city of Winchester they came, and there in the chapter house of the Cathedral, the Archbishop of Canterbury absolved John and celebrated Mass in his presence.

When it was over, for all to see, the Archbishop and the King gave each other the kiss of peace.

John, the irreligious sceptic, the lecher, the King who had defied the Church as none of his predecessors had before him, was now the dear friend of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the protégé of the Pope.

There was an irony about such a state of affairs and men such as the Marshal solemnly shook their heads and wondered how long this amity could last.

Isabella was in love. He was young and handsome. Often she would compare him with John and marvel at the differences between them. He reminded her of Hugh the Brown and after he had left she would lie in bed and think: This is how it would have been with Hugh.

At first in her thoughts she called him Hugh; and later she told him this. ‘It suits you. You will be Hugh to me,’ and ever after she called him by that name.

She had been afraid for him, although when she had first taken lovers she had liked to test their courage by telling them that their punishment would be terrible if the King ever discovered. Sometimes when they were with her she sensed their fear; at first it gave a zest to her desire.

She took a delight in hiding her adventures from John but sometimes it occurred to her that he knew and that he was waiting to trap her. Outwitting him in itself was a pleasant exercise. She hated him. Perhaps she always had although she had revelled in the early years of their relationship. It had been flattering that he should neglect his State duties because he could not leave their bed and to know that the stories circulated round the world that he was losing his kingdom under the bed quilt.