by Jean Plaidy
‘What do you mean? You will throw me into a dungeon?’
‘What I intend to do you will know ere long.’
‘Do you think your sons will allow you to insult their mother?’
‘My sons will learn, as their mother will, who is the King and ruler of them all.’
She came towards him, her arm uplifted. He caught her in his strong grip and she cried out in pain. Their faces were close, hers distorted by hatred, his triumphant. He thought: My luck has changed. This is the greatest good fortune. She can make no more trouble for me. And when the world knows that she is my prisoner they will realise that Henry Plantagenet is still the man he was and even the wrath of Heaven does not dismay him.
He shouted to the guards at his door.
‘Take this woman,’ he said. ‘Keep her in close confinement. Guard her. It will go ill with any if she escapes.’
Eleanor looked over her shoulder at him as she was dragged away, but the venom in her expression only made him laugh.
Those were uneasy months which followed. Richard de Luci with Humphrey de Bohun, now Constable of England, had held back the Scottish invasion and had been able to establish a truce with William of Scotland. Henry had held at bay the rebellions which had sprung up over Normandy and Anjou with alarming frequency.
He was constantly afraid that Eleanor would get away. He was determined to take her to England and see that she was incarcerated in a prison there from which she could not escape.
He could not help feeling that some power was against him and it occurred to him that until he confessed his guilt in Thomas’s murder and asked forgiveness for this ill luck would be his.
There was a glimmer of brightness when the Earl of Leicester who had landed in England was completely routed by Henry’s supporters. The King was exultant. This would show young Henry that he could not defeat his father as easily as he believed. And what were his sons thinking now that he held their mother captive?
While he was congratulating himself that he was going to suppress all those who rose against him, urgent messengers arrived from England.
At first the King listened to their warnings but decided that his presence was needed in Normandy, but as they became more insistent he realised that it would be folly for him to stay in Normandy to protect his possessions there while he lost England.
He made up his mind that he would cross to England without delay taking with him his captive Queen for he imagined what havoc she could cause if left behind. She might prevail on someone to release her and if she were free he could expect trouble from her direction. The safest place for Eleanor was in the stronghold of some castle and her guardian should be someone whom he could trust.
He would also take with him Marguerite, young Henry’s wife, who by good fortune was in his custody, for her very relationship with his son would make her his enemy.
He had another matter very firmly in his mind. He must stop this chain of disaster. He would no longer pretend he was guiltless of Becket’s murder, for it seemed very likely that the events of the last year were due to what had happened in Canterbury Cathedral. It seemed to him that not until he obtained absolution could he hope for better fortune.
His kingdom, as well as his soul, was in peril.
He must save them both.
He was thoughtful as he rode to the coast. He fancied that what he was about to do would be smiled on by Heaven and once it was done – distasteful as it was – he would cease to be plagued by ill luck.
A gale was blowing and he could see the fear in his companions’ faces but he was determined to delay no longer. He was going to do what should have been done a year ago and only when it was completed would he be safe from his enemies.
‘My lord,’ said his advisers, ‘we cannot sail in this wind.’
‘We are putting to sea without delay,’ he told them.
They were dismayed but they dared not disobey and when they were ready to sail it seemed that the wind changed. It was behind them and blew them across the Channel. The King was pleased.
‘You see,’ he declared, ‘you may always trust my judgement.’
Exultantly he went to see the Queen.
‘So here you are!’ he said. ‘Far from your troubadours! You will not find your jailers so ready to sing to you.’
‘Think not,’ she answered, ‘that my sons will allow me to remain your prisoner.’
‘They must take care that they may not soon be in like case. By God’s eyes, I will teach all what it means to rebel against me.’
‘Take care that they do not teach you what happens to tyrants.’
‘You are too bold, Madam, for a woman who is in the hands of her enemy.’
‘Not for long.’
‘For as long as I shall live, my lady.’
‘It was an ill day for me when I first set eyes on you.’
‘Take pleasure, Madam, in knowing that that day is even more regretted by me.’
How strong he is, she thought, with grudging admiration. Every inch a king. And her mind went back to the days when she had determined to marry him and how she had longed for the time when they could be together.
‘I can assure you that your regret could not be greater than mine,’ she told him. ‘But you are a deceitful man for you led me to believe that once I was important to you.’
‘It was before I learned to know you.’
‘Aye, and I also had bitter lessons to learn. If you had not been such a lecher we might have worked together.’
‘You, Madam, are scarce in a position to criticise others for that fault. Before our marriage you took strange bedfellows.’
‘Never such a tyrant as my second husband.’
‘We waste time, and I have none to spare. I sent for you to tell you that you are to be taken to Salisbury Castle and there you will remain until it pleases me to change your residence. But think not that you will go free. You have offended me too much. You have proved yourself to be a traitor, and though you are my wife shall be treated as such.’
It occurred to him that he might bargain with her for a divorce. Would that be wise? To have her free to communicate with his sons? No. This was not the time to speak of divorce when he was currying favour with Heaven by doing penance for his part in Becket’s murder.
He must be quiet about that matter for a while. Moreover what if he procured a divorce? Could he marry Alice? And what of Rosamund? Clearly it was better at this time to say nothing of divorce – not to think of divorce. His mind must be free to consider Becket’s murder and the fact that he deplored it and repented for any part he might have had in bringing it about.
He watched his wife through narrowed eyes. Traitor! Any king was justified in imprisoning a traitor who threatened his realm … even though that traitor should prove to be his own wife.
‘I will say farewell,’ he said. ‘The audience is over.’
‘I will not be dismissed in this way. There is much I have to say to you.’
‘You will be dismissed when I dismiss you and I have no interest in what you may wish to say to me. Say it to the walls of your prison.’ He summoned men-at-arms. ‘Take the Queen away,’ he said. ‘Let her go to Salisbury and there be placed under confinement.’
Eleanor protested vehemently. But it was useless. Her arms were seized by the men-at-arms and she was taken from the King’s presence.
Chapter V
THE KING’S PENANCE
The King rode on to Canterbury. As he came in sight of the Cathedral the bells rang out and he dismounted from his horse, and there, on the road, he took off his kingly garments: and wrapped himself in a coarse woollen gown. He took off his shoes and walked barefoot into the city.
Into the streets the people came to see their King for once in his life dressed as a humble pilgrim and behaving as one. Looking sad, solemn and truly penitent as he came to the Cathedral. There he was received by the Bishop of London, Gilbert Foliot. Foliot was feeling very uneasy for he had always been jealo
us of Becket and had been one of his greatest enemies. However, the King did not remind him of this, so intent was he on his own act of penitence. The King’s feet were bleeding from the rough stones of the road and the people looked on in astonishment to see him behave so humbly.
‘Take me to the spot where he was struck down,’ said Henry and when he was conducted there he knelt, and laying his head on the stones wept that his tears might be on the very place where Thomas’s blood had been shed.
The Bishop of London then mounted the pulpit and spoke to all present explaining to them the meaning of this strange spectacle.
‘All you here present know that Henry, King of England, invoking, for the salvation of his soul, God and the Holy Martyr, protests before you that he neither ordered, wished nor wilfully caused nor desired in his heart the death of the martyr. But as it is possible that the murderers availed themselves of some words imprudently escaping him, he declares that he seeks penitential chastisement of the bishops here assembled and consents to submit his bare back to the discipline of the rod.’
The King then rose and addressed the assembly.
‘What the Bishop has said is indeed what I have commanded. I trust my humble penance will be acceptable to God and the late Archbishop. This day I have restored to Canterbury the dignities and rights of the Church; and I have ordered that lights shall be kept burning at the tomb of Thomas à Becket. A hospital shall be built at Southwark and this shall be erected in honour of God and the Blessed Martyr Saint Thomas.’
The Bishop hastened to add that he would associate himself with the building of this hospital and would grant special indulgences to any who contributed to it.
He was fully aware that he should be sharing the King’s penitence for had he not said, after the murder of Thomas à Becket, that his body should either be thrown on a dunghill or hung on a gibbet? This was a very uneasy day for the Bishop of London.
The King now indicated that he was ready for the act of penance and in the midst of bishops, abbots and the priests of the chapter of Canterbury, he went into the crypt where the tomb was situated.
There he removed his clothes and knelt exposing his bare back while each bishop took a whip and struck the King three or four blows.
‘As thy Redeemer was scourged for the sins of men,’ said each bishop as he administered the whip, ‘so be thou scourged for thine own sin.’ The bishops having whipped the King, the priests took the whips and did likewise.
When this was over Henry continued to pray for Thomas. He toured the Cathedral stopping at the shrines to say his prayers and ask forgiveness of his sins, there he remained through the rest of the day and for the night.
The next day he heard Mass and drank holy water which contained a drop of Thomas’s blood.
He then left Canterbury.
His anxieties and the effort of the last hours had affected him deeply. He was suffering from a low fever, but he wished to travel to Westminster and insisted on doing this and when he reached London took to his bed for a day.
It was in London that news was brought to him that the King of Scotland had been taken prisoner.
The King leaped from his bed. Great exultation was in his heart. This was a sign. A sign from Thomas!
‘Thomas à Becket,’ he cried. ‘So you and I are friends once more. Now you will work with me. I shall be invincible. Thomas, you will guard my kingdom for me.’
It seemed as if this were indeed the case for within a few weeks of the King’s penance rebellion was quelled throughout England.
Henry was certain that it was as he had believed. Heaven . .. and Thomas … were pleased with him.
He went to see Rosamund who was installed in his palace now that no secret was made of their relationship. He was still thinking in terms of divorce but he did not want to go too closely into that as yet. Eleanor was safely confined at Salisbury Castle. Let her stay there until his dominions were safe and he could devote his thoughts to some way of getting rid of her. It was not a situation which demanded an immediate solution. Rosamund was as always tenderly waiting to perform her wifely duties; what greater pleasure could he get from their relationship if he married her? But of course he could not marry Rosamund. He had no intention of doing so. If he obtained the divorce it would be for the sake of his dear little Alice.
And now with Rosamund and Alice to appease his sexual hungers and Saint Thomas and Heaven working for him on the battlefield he had much in which to rejoice.
Rosamund’s sons were doing well. He would find places for them that would delight their mother.
‘I think God cannot be displeased with me,’ he told Rosamund, ‘for the sons I have out of wedlock are good boys. There is Geoffrey, son of the whore Hikenia, who is more faithful to me than my sons in wedlock. And there are our two boys.’
‘Sometimes I tremble for them,’ said Rosamund.
‘Why should you? They have their father to look to their future.’
‘But bastards, my lord.’
‘A king’s bastards! Remember that.’
Rosamund sighed.
She bathed the wounds on his back made by the whips of the priests and wept over them.
‘My lord, that they should have dared do this to you!’
‘They dared not do aught else. It was at my command, remember.’
Her touch was gentle; her ointments soothing. Dear Rosamund! He thought then that if she had been his Queen he would have been a faithful husband … well, a more faithful one. But even while she tended to his wounds and later when they made love, he was thinking of Alice.
‘Now I am at peace with Heaven, Rosamund,’ he told her. ‘Thomas and I are as we were long ago when he was my Chancellor. We are good friends. He will guard my kingdom for me when I am away. He will intercede with me in Heaven. I have done my penance. My tears have touched the spot where his blood was shed. It is a wonderful feeling, Rosamund, to have admitted a sin and to have gained remission.’
‘I think of it often,’ she answered.
She was a little mournful, which made him impatient. Soon she would be talking of going into a convent. He wanted none of that. He came here to be amused and it pleased him that she should be content with the lot to which he had lifted her.
‘My sins sit heavily upon me,’ she said. ‘Methinks that I am in need of forgiveness.’
‘You, Rosamund! What have you ever done that was not gentle and loving?’
‘I have lived in sin and borne bastards.’
‘You have eased the lot of your King and obeyed him. That is your duty, my dear.’
She sighed and did not answer.
Later he thought her penitent mood was not such a bad thing. If he ever divorced Eleanor he would want to marry Alice. Then nothing could suit him better than that Rosamund should go into a convent to expiate her sins and leave him with a free conscience to marry Alice.
So he would not entirely dismiss this matter of the convent. It was as well to encourage her sinful feelings in case they could be of use later.
He smiled tenderly. He could always trust his Rosamund to please him.
From Woodstock to Westminster to see his little Alice. He was delighted with her.
‘You have grown, my little love. Why you are almost a woman.’
‘Does that please you, my lord?’ she asked anxiously.
‘You could never do anything but please me.’
How delightful she was! She was developing passion. There was no need to coax her to the act now.
‘You have missed me, little one?’ he wanted to know.
She assured him that she thought constantly of him and spent many hours at the turret window watching for him to come.
‘Never tell anyone of what is between us.’
She would not, she assured him.
But he wondered whether some of the household suspected. It was never easy for a king to keep the secrets of his private life.
How different she was from Rosamund! She had no sense of
guilt, only a desire to please him. He was the King and therefore whatever he did must be right.
He told her that he had seen her father.
‘Did you tell him that we were going to marry?’
He stroked her arm gently. ‘Nay, little one. That I cannot do until I rid myself of the wicked Eleanor.’
‘Is she very wicked?’
‘More wicked than you can understand. She has turned my children against me and would go into battle and kill me if it were possible. Oh, do not fear, she is my prisoner now. No harm can come to me through her. I shall divorce her and then … you will see.’
‘There is talk,’ she said, ‘of you and Rosamund Clifford.’
He laughed heartily.
‘You must not be jealous, sweetheart. She was once my mistress.’
‘Am I your mistress?’
‘Nay, you are my wife-to-be.’
‘So I shall truly be the Queen.’
‘You shall be so, when I have rid myself of that old she-wolf.’
‘Did you love her once?’
‘Nay never. I loved her lands of Aquitaine.’
‘What will you love me for?’
‘For your beauty, your innocence and because you love me.’
That satisfied her. Children were easily pleased. She never doubted that he would marry her.
So would he if this were possible. Was she not the daughter of the King of France?
And he laughed exultantly, wondering what old Louis would say if he could see his daughter lying naked in his bed.
And Richard? It might well be that she would have to go to him one day. She was his betrothed, and if there was no way of ridding himself of Eleanor … Richard was growing up. Very soon now he would be demanding his bride and old Louis would be shaking his fist and asking what the King of England meant by holding his daughter in one of his castles.
He seemed to have conveyed something of his thoughts to her for she said: ‘My lord, what of Richard? Have you seen him?’
‘Nay,’ he answered. ‘He is my enemy. He fights with his brothers against me.’
‘Not against you!’
