Виктория Холт - The Revolt of the Eaglets

Rosamund was older and wiser; she had heard promises which had now been forgotten. There was no point in hinting to Alice that the King might not find it easy to gain his divorce.

In due course Alice was brought to bed and delivered of a girl-child who died a few hours after its birth.

Alice was heartbroken. When the King came to visit her he pretended to be also, but he could not help thinking to himself that perhaps it was all for the best.

‘When you are recovered, my love,’ he said, ‘you must return to the Court. And if you should appear a little wan, we will say that it was an exhausting journey to the North and the climate up there did not agree with you.’

* * *

Rosamund said quietly: ‘I have a mind to go into a convent.’

He answered: ‘I fancy it has been your wish for some time.’

‘I feel the need for solitude and meditation. I think the time has come for me to seek forgiveness of my sins.’

‘Rosamund, my rose of the world, you are a good woman. God will forgive your transgressions.’

‘All would not agree with you. I have heard that in some circles they speak of me as Rosa-immundi, the rose of unchastity.’

‘There will always be those to cast stones at others.’

‘Yet I feel my guilt heavily upon me and would spend my last years in repentance.’

‘Where would you go?’

‘To Godstow. I have already made arrangements. They are prepared to receive me.’

‘When they do I shall bestow gifts on them. They shall not lose when they take you in.’

She said: ‘You are as ever good to me.’ But she saw the relief in his face. It was what he wanted her to do. He would make gifts to Godstow because the convent offered sanctuary to his mistress. He no longer needed her, but he had loved her enough to wish to see her settled.

So with sadness in her heart Rosamund retired to the convent and Alice returned to the palace.

The King knew that he could not hope to divorce Eleanor, but at the same time he was determined not to give up Alice.

The young King Henry was restive. It was too much to be borne. He could scarcely move without his father’s being aware of it. He was weary of being told he must do this and that and there was only one way to govern and that was the manner in which his father did.

He heard accounts of how men such as Philip of Flanders passed their time. Philip was a glorious knight, skilled in the joust and his fame was spreading throughout Europe. Soon he was to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Philip was rich, most sumptuously clad; his horses were richly caparisoned and men looked up to him.

As for Henry he had so little. The only way he could live in any comfort was to incur debts. That was not difficult to do since he was the son of the King and indeed himself a king. That was what rankled. He was a king and no king. The title was a word, nothing more.

Men feared his father so they had little respect for his son; and when he rode beside that square figure with the garments which were worn for use rather than ornament and looked at those hands often roughened by weather, he wanted to scream out his frustration.

His friend William the Marshall no longer pleased him as he once had. Oh, William was an excellent knight, a faithful friend, but he was not like Philip of Flanders. Indeed, sometimes Henry thought that William believed it was good for him to be so guided by his father.

Thinking of Philip of Flanders he wondered whether he too might go on some sort of pilgrimage. Anything to escape from his father.

He remembered the stories his mother had told him of how her father, desirous of getting a male heir, had decided to take the road to Compostella and ask help at the shrine of St James. The road was rough, the conditions terrible and the Duke had fallen sick of a virulent fever. He had known his end was near but had been carried in his litter and was buried before the main altar in the Church of St James at Compostella.

What more natural than that his grandson feel the need to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of St James and the grave of his maternal grandfather?

He told his father what he wished to do.

‘Why so?’ asked the King.

‘I have committed the great sin of taking up arms against my father.’

‘Your father has forgiven you so God will.’

‘It weighs heavily on my conscience.’

‘Then,’ said the King, ‘I rejoice, for so it should and you can best expiate that sin by working hard and learning quickly all that I would teach you.’

‘I feel the need to go to Compostella.’

‘And I, my son, feel the need to keep you here, and I can assure you that my need is greater than yours.’

‘I am treated as a child,’ said Henry sullenly.

‘Behave then like a man and earn the right to be treated as such.’

‘Others make such pilgrimages.’

‘Mayhap, they do not have kingdoms which they must learn to govern.’

‘Philip of Flanders plans to go to Jerusalem.’

‘Let him. It will keep him out of mischief.’

‘He will thereby earn remission of his sins.’

‘Doubtless it is necessary, for I believe he has committed many. Now I will hear no more. You cannot go to Compostella. You are to stay close to me that I may make you ready for the crown when it comes your way.’

‘But, Father …’

‘I have spoken,’ roared the King; and when the angry lights sprang into his eyes it was no time to continue the argument.

* * *

The King was disturbed as he always must be when he heard news of Richard.

His son was coming to England as he was alarmed by the risings in Aquitaine and he wished to consult his father.

It was almost certain that he would demand that his bride come to him and that was something the King would not allow to happen. He was frequently with Alice now and his passion for her did not abate. He loved the girl and as she grew a little older the deeper was his devotion. He was determined not to part with her, yet could he go on saying that she and Richard were too young?

If Richard came to England Alice would have to go away. He could have sent her to the Bower again, but Rosamund was not there now. He could not bring her out of Godstow to care for his mistress. Still he could send Alice to the Bower and those good attendants who had served Rosamund well and whom he, with some foresight, had kept there, could take care of Alice. Of one thing he was certain: Richard and Alice must not meet.

He would be pleased to see his son, for he had some admiration for him. The boy was proving a valiant commander, an excellent fighter and one who had genius for battle. He was different from young Henry and Geoffrey who thought only of pleasure and of getting power the easy way.

And now Richard was due to arrive in England with his brother Geoffrey and the King decided that he would show his subjects in what amity he lived with his sons. The feast of Easter was approaching, and they should spend it all together, and where better than at his castle of Winchester? However, young Henry wished that he might leave for Normandy and as the need arose for some member of the family to show himself there, the King said he might go. Young Henry was overjoyed at the prospect of escape from his father and made immediate preparations to depart.

The winds, though, were against him and as Easter was upon them the King commanded him to join the festivities at Winchester so that the original intention of all being together could be carried out.

Thus the King had his four sons with him which pleased him well. He had advice to give Richard and Geoffrey, and he looked forward to having young John with him – the only one of Eleanor’s sons in whom he could hope to breed affection. He had come to the conclusion that he must allow young Henry a certain freedom or the young man would break out and rebel. It was for this reason that he had agreed to send him to Normandy, but while he was there a stern watch should be kept on him that he did not get into any mischief.

What pleasure it would have given him to have discussed his affairs with them, with no reservations because there need be none. If they had been loyal sons that should have been the case. Now, although they feigned friendship, suspicion was there.

Richard was the most frank of them all. He said what he meant without subterfuge and what he wanted was help in Aquitaine. He was not as popular with the people as he would like to have been.

‘The fact that you and I are friends,’ he said bluntly, ‘turns them against me. They think that I am my mother’s enemy.’

‘They surely know that not to be the case.’

‘They reason that if I am your friend I cannot be hers. I have a request to make.’

Henry felt a fearful apprehension. Now he was going to ask to see Alice and demand when his marriage was to take place.

But he was wrong. What Richard said was: ‘I want to see my mother.’

‘Your mother is at Salisbury Castle.’

‘We are all gathered here. She should be with us.’

‘You forget that she has been a traitor to me.’

‘Could you not say that of your sons?’

‘I could – to my misfortune.’

‘Yet you have forgiven us. Why should you not forgive her?’

‘Because she it was who turned you from me. She fed you slander against me with her mother’s milk. But for her there would not have been these troubles. I should have been a father with good and loyal sons.’

‘She did not change our natures.’

‘What mean you by that?’

‘We rose against you because you gave us titles and then refused to make them meaningful. My mother had nothing to do with that.’

‘You may go to Salisbury to see your mother but you shall not be alone with her.’

‘Nay,’ said Richard. ‘She must come here. If you invite her here and she comes, then in Aquitaine they will know that it was I who demanded to see her and that I am her friend. Only then will they receive me.’

The King was thoughtful.

‘Let my mother return to Aquitaine with me,’ went on Richard.

‘Never,’ said the King.

‘I should go back with her and my bride.’

The King’s lips tightened. He said suddenly: ‘Your mother shall come here to Winchester. She shall stay for a few days and then be returned to Salisbury. The people of Aquitaine will then see that she has been brought here because you pleaded for her. They cannot then say that you are not her friend.’

Richard bowed his head.

‘There is the matter of my bride,’ he went on.

‘Subdue Aquitaine,’ said the King, ‘and then it will be time for you to think of marriage.’

‘I would see the Princess Alice. She will be of marriageable age now. My brother Henry tells me that the King of France is asking why the marriage has been so long delayed.’

‘The Princess is touring in the North. If she returns while you are here of a certainty you shall meet. Settle your affairs in Aquitaine and then we shall see whether there shall be a marriage. In the meantime I promise you this: You shall see your mother and it shall be here at Winchester.’

* * *

Eleanor laughed aloud when she heard that she was to travel to Winchester. What joy to see her beloved Richard! She would be pleased to see Henry and Geoffrey too, and perhaps young John. Best of all perhaps would be meeting her husband. Already vituperations were forming in her mind. She longed to tell him what she thought of him, to have one of those verbal battles which had always excited her.

She sent for her seamstresses. It was her good fortune that she lacked none of the amenities of life here in Salisbury; if she was a prisoner she was a queenly one. There was little to do in her prison and her attendants made gowns for her and as she had always been noted for her elegance she doubted anything at the King’s court could compare with garments of her designing.

In high spirits she set out on the journey from Salisbury to Winchester surrounded by the King’s guards. She was exultant when she saw the towers of the palace and as she rode forward she laughed aloud in her triumph.

The King received her and for a few moments they regarded each other appraisingly. She tilted her head and laughed.

‘So at last we meet, my lord,’ she said.

The King waved a hand to those who stood in his chamber. ‘Leave us,’ he commanded.