Never had the castle of Chinon looked so beautiful as it did on that April morning. Never had John felt so pleased with life.

Now would come the first test. What if the custodian of the treasure refused to hand it to him? But there was no question of how he should act. He would run the fellow through and take it by force.

Into the castle he rode. There was no resistance. He thrilled with delight. They recognised him as Duke and King.

The treasure was his.

There was a message from his mother who had already given orders that the treasure was to be handed to him. She was at Fontevraud where the funeral was taking place. John, now Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou and King of England, was to come to Fontevraud to pay his last respects to his brother.

John hesitated. None should give orders to him. Then he saw the folly of resisting. His mother knew the procedure and she was on his side, a fact which should make him exult. Any resistance Arthur and the Bretons might put up would be quickly overcome. His mother carried great influence and he must be humble for a while. That was the part to play and he always enjoyed playing those parts which deceived people. To play the sorrowing brother now, a little weighed down by the realisation of his heavy responsibilities, was a part he could do well and find a great enjoyment in playing it.

Being in possession of the Angevin treasure, he prepared to ride to Fontevraud. But first, on his mother’s advice, he sent for Bishop Hugh of Lincoln, the most respected of English bishops, whose presence, as Eleanor said, would impress the people.

John realised this and was amused to think of himself in the company of such a man, for in the past he had been guilty of great levity towards such, and Hugh had a most saintly reputation.

However, for the time being he must curb his high spirits and show a serious mien to the people.

Hugh arrived and gave him his blessing. John noted with some asperity that the Bishop was not inclined to treat him with great respect even though he acknowledged him as King. These churchmen seemed to look on everyone else as their children. He would not endure his preaching for long and the fellow would have to take care how he treated his new sovereign. Richard had not allowed them to bully him although he had taken notice of the old hermit in the woods who had upbraided him for the life he led. Ah, but not until he was laid low and on the point of death!

As everyone knows, thought John laughing, death-beds are the place for repentance; before reaching them one should make sure of committing enough sins to make the grovelling for mercy worthwhile.

‘God’s blessing on you, my lord,’ said Hugh, embracing him.

John thanked him and suggested that they return to England with all speed.

He was longing for the ceremony in Westminster Abbey and he wouldn’t feel completely happy until the crown was on his head. A king was not considered to be a king until after that all-important ceremony had been performed. And with Arthur in the shadows it couldn’t be done too quickly for him.

Hugh began by refusing to go to England. That was impossible for him at this time. What he would do would be to accompany the King to Fontevraud for it was well that John should visit his brother’s grave.

Here we go, thought John. The Church dictating to the Crown already. Very well, my old prelate. Just for a while … until I am firmly in the saddle – and then you’ll have to get out of my way before I trample you underfoot.

It was not long before they reached Fontevraud, there to pay homage to the graves of Henry II and Richard.

John knelt by the grave of his father and thought of those last days of the old man’s life when he had deserted him because it was to his advantage to be with Richard at that time. He couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy in such a solemn place; he could clearly remember his father’s eyes as they had followed him and he had called him the only one of his sons whom he could trust. John had laughed inwardly at the time, and congratulated himself on his fine play-acting, telling himself what a clever fellow he was. But here in the solemn atmosphere of the abbey he felt a twinge of something which might have been conscience but was more likely to be fear of what reprisals the dead might take. Then there was Richard, freshly laid in his tomb – Richard, for whose death he had prayed a hundred times and more. Could it be that the dead did not leave this earth when they died, that they stayed to haunt those who had wronged them? Morbid thoughts. It was that old ghoul of a bishop standing over him so disapprovingly, determined to maintain the war between Church and State.

It was all fancy. Those two were dead … finished … no more earthly glory for them; and their departure meant that John had what he had always longed for.

He rose from his knees, and going towards the choir door, knocked. From behind a grille a nun appeared. The Abbess was away, she said, and the rule was that none must be admitted in her absence.

Thank heaven for that, thought John. He was weary of these pious pilgrimages. He wanted to have done with them and get to England. Oh, the glory of his coronation! He remembered Richard’s which was not really so long ago and how envious he had felt that Richard was the one who would wear the crown and carry the orb and sceptre. My turn now, he thought exultantly. He was thankful to the old Abbess for being away.

He turned to Hugh and said: ‘Tell them that I promise benefactions to their house. I pledge this in my name. Perhaps in return they will pray for me.’

Hugh looked at him sceptically. He did not trust the new piety in one of whom he was well aware rumour had not lied. ‘I could promise nothing in your name until I was sure that the promises would be met. You know full well how I detest falsehood, and promise given and not fulfilled is that.’

‘I swear,’ cried John, ‘that what I promise shall come to pass.’

‘Then I will give the sisters your message, but if you should break your word, forget not that you are offending God.’

John bowed his head in assumed piety.

As they left the church the Bishop began a lecture on the need to govern well. The new King would have to bring a seriousness to his task; God had entrusted him with a great mission. It was to his advantage to carry it out to the best of his ability.

‘I shall maintain the crown,’ boasted John. He brought out an ornament on a gold chain from under his cloak and showed it to the Bishop.

‘You see this amulet? It was given to one of my ancestors and passed down to me. My father gave it to me. That was when he wished that I should follow him on the throne. The legend is that while this stone is in the possession of our family we shall never lose our dominions.’

‘You would do well, my lord,’ answered the Bishop tersely, ‘to trust in the Chief Corner Stone.’

John turned away with a grimace.

They stood for a moment in the porch on the walls of which had been sculptured a scene of the Last Judgement. God sat on his throne and on one side were depicted the torments which awaited the sinners and on the other side the angels on their way to heavenly bliss.

‘I beg of you, my lord,’ said the Bishop, ‘take good heed of this. See what awaits those who offend against the laws of God.’

‘Look not at them, good Bishop,’ retorted John. ‘See rather those on the other side. The angels are taking them to Heaven. That is the path I have decided is for me.’

The Bishop regarded him uneasily. This virtue had descended too suddenly to be plausible.


They travelled on to Beaufort where Queen Eleanor with the sorrowing widow Berengaria and John’s sister Joanna were waiting to receive him.

His mother embraced him warmly.

‘This is a sad day for us all,’ she said. ‘Your brother, our great King, struck down in his prime by this madman’s arrow.’

‘Alas, alas,’ replied John. ‘He who survived the Holy Land and cruel incarceration in an enemy castle to come to this!’

He was studying Berengaria intently. What if after all she were pregnant? The thought was too horrible for contemplation. She would have to be disposed of before she brought another rival on to the scene. It was bad enough for Arthur to be there.

He turned to Joanna, clearly pregnant.

‘My dearest sister. This is a sad occasion. I trust it has done no harm to the child you carry.’

Joanna turned away to hide her tears. ‘He was so wonderful,’ she said.

‘We share our grief,’ murmured John, forcing his voice to tremble. ‘And my dear sister-in-law … how sad for you.’

He took Berengaria’s hands and looked into her face. Don’t dare to be pregnant! he was thinking. No, you are not. Richard never wanted you to be. He had no wish for a son.

‘Come to my private apartments,’ said his mother. He had to admire her. She had retired to seclusion, they had thought, but events like this would always bring her out to fight for the family; he thanked his good fortune that she had decided that he was to inherit the throne. What if she had let her choice rest on Arthur? No, with her, a son came before a grandson.

When they were alone together he could see at once that she was uneasy. She was bitterly mourning for Richard. ‘This has been such a sad blow to me,’ she said. ‘I had never thought it possible that he would go and leave me here. I used to worry about him when he was in the Holy Land and during that terrible time when we did not know where he was. But when he came back – as strong and as brave as ever – I never thought he could go before I did and leave me lonely.’

Fighting his resentment John took her hand and kissed it.

‘You still have one son, Mother,’ he reminded her.

‘You, John … the youngest of them all. And you have become the King.’

‘It is a great responsibility.’

‘I’m glad you realise it.’ She looked at him shrewdly. ‘It will not be easy. You know that. You will have more conflict to face than Richard ever did.’

‘Yes,’ he said, his mouth tightening. ‘There is Arthur.’

‘William Marshal believes that you come before Arthur.’

‘William Marshal!’ The joy showed briefly in John’s face. There was one of the most influential men in England, a man renowned for his integrity. Others would follow him.

‘I have sent him to England to prepare the people for your reception there and to urge them to accept you as the rightful King.’

‘You have always been the best of mothers.’

‘Marshal, with Hubert Walter, will convince the people that you are the true King.’

‘The Church must be involved, I dare say.’

‘Hubert is Archbishop of Canterbury. He will perform the coronation. His approval is essential.’

‘And you think he will give it?’

‘If he wavers, Marshal will persuade him. John, you will have to curb your levity.’

‘All that is past. I recognise the responsibilities I have for my crown.’

‘Then that is well. You must always be just. Think of your father. Oh, he had his faults, but taking everything into account he was a good and worthy ruler. The people accepted him because he was just. Try to follow his example.’

‘I shall not follow Richard’s example by leaving my country in the hands of men like Longchamp while I go off in search of glory.’

‘Richard had a mission. He had vowed to go on a crusade. He saw that as his first duty.’

John clasped his hands and raised his eyes piously to the ceiling. ‘Mine shall be to my country.’

Eleanor looked at him sharply. ‘John,’ she said, ‘this is the most important time of your life.’

‘I know it well.’

‘You will have to walk with the utmost care.’

‘I know that also.’

‘Philip will have to be watched. It may well be that he will try to put Arthur in your place.’

‘Think you that I shall allow it?’

‘We must see that it does not happen.’

He was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘Poor Berengaria. She looks fatigued.’

‘She has suffered much. His death was a great shock to her.’

‘I was wondering … is it possible … If it were so it would create an issue …’

Eleanor looked at him sharply. ‘You are afraid that she might be with Richard’s child.’

‘It is a possibility.’

Eleanor shook her head.

‘It is not so.’

‘But possible …’

‘Think you that this has not occurred to me? I have spoken with her. It is not possible.’