by Jean Plaidy
But she was taking no chances. She was at her son’s bedside for several days and nights and not until he had lost his fever did she sleep a little.
Then she gave thanks at the altar of the newly dedicated church for her son’s recovery and with great joy she rode back to the castle, though she insisted that her son be carried part of the way in a litter. Edward protested loudly at the idea of being carried. He was able to ride, he cried. He was the best rider of all the boys. People would laugh at him for being carried.
Very well, she said, he should ride awhile but if she saw the least hint of fatigue he should go into a litter.
She was so happy to have him beside her, the healthy colour back in his cheeks, his flaxen hair glinting in the sunlight while he chattered about his new horses and falcons.
The effect of Henry’s weak rule was beginning to be felt throughout the country. It had always been so. In the days of the Conqueror, England had been made safe for travellers simply because the Conqueror severely punished any man or woman who was caught stealing. No one thought a purse of gold worth the loss of ears, nose or eyes – or a foot or a hand. The punishment instigated by the Conqueror might have been harsh but it was effective. He had determined to make England safe for travellers and he had done so. In the reign of Rufus law and order disappeared but it was brought back by Henry I. Weak Stephen allowed it to lapse again and the robber barons sprang up. Travellers were waylaid, taken to the residences of the robber barons and held to ransom, robbed of everything they had, tortured for the barons’ amusement and that of their guests and lawlessness prevailed. Henry II was another such as Henry I and the Conqueror. He wanted a prosperous land which could only flourish within the law. The disaster of John’s rule had been felt far and wide but under the wise direction of William the Marshal and Hubert de Burgh the law had once more been enforced. Now it was lagging again and the signs of disruption were beginning to be seen throughout the land.
The country needed a strong King supported by strong men; and since Henry’s marriage, his one idea seemed to have been to bring his wife’s friends and relations into the country and lavish every favour upon them.
So bad were the roads becoming that when the King and Queen were travelling in Hampshire with a small retinue they were set upon by a band of robbers; much of their baggage was stolen and their lives were in danger. They were saved by the realisation of who they were for even robbers must be afraid of what could result if they murdered the King and Queen.
An example of how the authority of the law was fast waning was given by one man who, when summoned to appear before the King’s Bench, forced the King’s officer, who delivered the royal warrant, to eat it.
There was growing anxiety and it was becoming obvious that many of the barons were meeting to discuss the state of affairs and they were setting themselves against the King and what they called his foreigners. The conflict would have come to a head before but for the marriage of Richard of Cornwall with the Queen’s sister, for since that time his wife had subtly brought him round to her way of thinking which was of course to support the Queen and her relations.
But with or without Richard’s support the barons were beginning to feel that something would have to be done.
The people of London were the most vociferous and rebellious. They had a personal grudge against the Queen because of memories of the Queenhithe and whenever the royal pair needed money – which seemed to be all the time – it was to rich London that they looked to supply it.
Henry and Eleanor began to dread going to Westminster, for there they were made more aware of their unpopularity than anywhere else.
News came from France of the death of Henry’s mother Isabella of Angoulême. Her turbulent life had ended in the Convent of Fontevrault and it was a relief to everyone.
Henry’s mind was taken off the troubles in his kingdom when rebellion broke out in Wales. There was no money with which to conduct a campaign and Henry would have attempted to raise it from the Londoners. Richard saw that the citizens of the capital were getting towards the end of their patience and he himself supplied the means for conducting the campaign by pawning his own jewels.
This campaign proved fruitless and after the destruction of Welsh crops which meant privation for the Welsh and by no means increased their friendship with the English, Henry left the field of action with nothing gained and the situation worse than it had been in the beginning.
‘The King is another such as his father,’ was the grumble throughout the land. Because he was a good father, a loving husband and a religious man did not mean that he was a good King, and every serious-minded man in the country knew that what England needed more than anything was a wise ruler.
In the midst of these troubles Eleanor gave birth to another son. He was called Richard after his uncle the Earl of Cornwall and his great uncle Coeur de Lion. Alas, the child was sickly at his birth and he died within a few months.
Eleanor was very melancholy, and Henry gave himself up to comforting her. They spent a good deal of their time in their nurseries. They had four healthy children – two boys and two girls, he kept telling her, but it was difficult to console Eleanor for the loss of her baby. She watched over Edward even more assiduously than before and any minor ailment could throw her into a frenzy of anxiety.
A year after her panic at Beaulieu the same fever attacked Edward again and this time he was really in danger. Eleanor was frantic. So was Henry. They sat by the boy’s bed day and night; they neither slept nor ate. They remained on their knees throughout the long hours pleading with Heaven to spare this boy who was the delight of their lives.
In every monastery and church prayers were offered up for his return to health. Promises were made to Heaven. What monasteries should be built, what churches dedicated. God had only to name his price.
And it seemed God answered for one night the fever passed and the doctors declared Edward would live.
Henry and Eleanor clung together in their relief. Their darling lived. There was nothing else at that moment that they wanted in life. They were completely happy.
Moreover in a few weeks Edward emerged as bright and energetic as ever, as though he was some superhuman being who could throw off a fever as others did a common cold.
Every morning for a month the Queen went to his chamber as soon as she arose just to assure herself that her beloved child was really there.
Edward, forceful by nature, a little arrogant in his youth, had naturally come to the conclusion that he was a very important person indeed.
He was clever as well as able to excel at sport. He spoke French and Latin fluently and had a fine command of the English language. For some reason he had developed a slight stammer but even this the Queen found enchanting. He was very fond of the outdoor life – far more so than he was of learning, although his tutors said he could have been a scholar with application. But Edward liked better to joust, to outride his companions, to excel at ball sports and in his training for knighthood. He could always be seen among his companions because he was so much taller than they were and his bright flaxen hair was readily recognisable. His parents called him affectionately, Edward Longshanks, and they marvelled at his healthy good looks while they were terrified of that childhood fever which had been the bogy to haunt their lives. When a whole year passed without a return of it they were gleeful. Robert Burnell was right. It was a childhood complaint and he would grow out of it.
The Queen’s mother, the widowed Countess of Provence, paid another visit to England.
It was a great joy for Sanchia and Eleanor to be reunited with their mother and to hear from her all the excitement there had been over Beatrice’s marriage. They laughed to think how cleverly everything had worked out. Beatrice had married the brother of Marguerite’s husband and Sanchia the brother of Eleanor’s.
Such a closely knit family could not but rejoice in an arrangement like that.
Eleanor wanted her mother to be fêted as lavishly as
she had been when she had come over for Sanchia’s wedding and the Countess seemed to take everything that was done for her as her due. And of course Henry must please Eleanor, who had now won Sanchia to her side and Sanchia did her best to persuade Richard that her family were the responsibility of the English crown.
Eleanor had come to England, had given the King great happiness, had provided the people with Edward the heir who, however unpopular his parents might be, was cheered wherever he went. Therefore the House of Provence should be rewarded.
There was a further obligation. In the death of Isabella of Angoulême her children decided to pay a visit to their half-brother. News had come to them that the Queen’s family were doing very well in England and they did not see why some of the pickings should not come to their family – after all they shared the King’s mother.
Within a year of Isabella’s death there arrived Henry’s half-brothers Guy de Lusignan, William of Valence – who became known as such after the death of Eleanor’s uncle – and Aymer de Valence. Not only did they come but they brought their sister Alicia with them. She needed a rich husband and the young men needed wives who could bring them lands.
Henry was delighted to discover his family and he welcomed them warmly. However not only did they add to his financial burden but in their train they brought their friends and attendants, all hungry for what they could find from what seemed to them the King’s inexhaustible coffers.
In desperation he found a husband for Alicia in the Earl of Warrenne who was rich and by no means averse to allying himself with the royal family. The great asset of the Lusignans was that they were the King’s half-brothers.
Henry immediately arranged for William to marry Joan de Munchensi the only surviving child of a wealthy baron; the girl’s mother had been the fifth daughter of the first William Marshal and had brought to her husband her share of the very rich Marshal inheritance. Henry promised that there should be equally good opportunities for the others and as Aymer was in Holy Orders his advantages could come through the church.
All this which was so gratifying to the recipients was sullenly watched by the natives of England who saw the country’s riches being frittered away to foreigners.
The troubles of the country were multiplying. Robbery and violence had increased still more on the high roads. Simon de Montfort, who had undertaken, at the King’s request, the government of Gascony, one of the few remaining English possessions in France, was continually asking for help to pay his men and keep order there. His pleas were constantly ignored. It began to dawn on the English that if this state of affairs continued Gascony would be added to the list of lost possessions.
But Henry seemed to be intent only on playing the fairy godfather to his wife’s friends and relations, his half-brothers and sisters and their friends.
There were constant demands for money and Henry simply did not know where to look for it. He could only think of the Jews and there began a persecution of the members of this unfortunate race as yet unprecedented in England.
They were the easiest people to mulct as they did not attempt to form mobs and march against the King as the London merchants were inclined to do. They were aware of being aliens and they knew that their plight received little sympathy. Moreover they continued to prosper even though they were so unfairly taxed. The richest of the Jews, a certain Aaron, paid three thousand marks of silver and two hundred marks of gold in the course of a few years. The people were turning more and more against the King. And because of his appearance made unusual by his drooping eyelid he was recognised wherever he went and the Londoners nicknamed him ‘The Lynx with eyes that pierced all things.’
Only the barons knew how unpopular the King was becoming – and the Queen was more so. They were biding their time.
Henry in desperate straits sought about for means of getting money in addition to taxation and he hit upon the particularly unpleasant habit of asking for presents from everyone who came for an audience, and this was even more to be deplored when if the gifts were not costly enough he complained and asked for them to be exchanged.
It was a greater act of charity to give money and goods to their King, he told the people, than to beggars who waited for them at church doors with their begging cups.
During this time Eleanor was pregnant again and gave birth to another son, christened John – an unfortunate name and so it proved, because it was not long before little John followed his brother Richard to the tomb.
Two little boys and both dead! The Queen was very depressed and needed costly presents to raise her spirits. These must be provided by any means and as she was inordinately fond of fine garments and rich jewels these were procured for her.
Richard remonstrated with his brother but not as firmly as he had once done. He was to a certain extent under the influence of his wife who herself was persuaded in the way she should think by the Queen. Eleanor and Sanchia were constantly together and as their mother was also at Court with many of her friends there was a Provençal coterie at the head of which was the Queen.
The barons were watchful. Their moment would come as it had in the last reign and when it did they would be ready.
Richard at length did persuade the King that his extravagance to foreigners was becoming an issue of complaint with many of the leading barons and that he should curb his expenditure. Henry decided to cut short the allowances for the royal servants and not to eat in his royal castles and palaces but in the homes of his friends. He would travel from castle to castle with the Queen and often Edward and many of his foreign friends, and there expect to be feasted in royal manner at the expense of others.
The King’s attempt at economy was regarded as a joke by all those who were not obliged to feel the force of it. What was becoming clearer and clearer was that with each day the King and Queen – particularly the Queen – added to their list of enemies.
‘It was a bad day for the royal house,’ said Henry, ‘when father allowed them to force him to sign Magna Carta.’
Magna Carta! It was talked of constantly. People in the streets of London spoke of it without knowing exactly what it set out. All they knew was that it was the Charter to preserve the liberty of the people and curb the power of Kings.
There was great excitement in the royal apartments when news came that a fire had broken out in the Pope’s palace and destroyed the contents of one of the rooms, for in this room was the original of Magna Carta.
‘Praise be to God,’ said Eleanor, ‘that infamous document is destroyed. Now we have done with it.’
The King immediately levied a tax on the Londoners for harbouring, as he said, a man whom he had sent into exile.
Richard came with all haste to Westminster.
‘This must be stopped,’ he said. ‘The people are all quoting Magna Carta.’
‘But Magna Carta has been burned,’ cried Eleanor. ‘It no longer exists. I see the hand of God in this.’
‘You are mistaken,’ explained Richard. ‘The principal document has been destroyed. But there are copies and these are safe in England. Once a King has signed away his rights it is unlikely that they will ever be regained. The fact of the fire has no bearing on this. The Charter remains.’
‘It is time the people were taught a lesson,’ said Eleanor.
Richard frowned. Once he would have been firmly on the side of the barons. He realised with a sudden horror that there might come a time when it would be necessary to take sides.
‘Henry,’ begged Richard, ‘I pray you explain to the Queen. I have never seen the people in such a mood as they are now. It is unwise … unhealthy … and unsafe for us all.’
The Queen listened and shrugged her shoulders. The people of England, she declared, were so ungrateful. They had a King who would be good to them if they would but mend their ways. They had a Queen who had given them the finest family of children ever seen.
‘They should rejoice in Edward,’ she said. ‘He grows every day. He is taller than all his com
panions, our dear, dear Longshanks. Do you know Burnell is constantly reminding me of how he always said Edward would outgrow his childish ailments. He is saying I told you so to me. But I like him for it. He is a good man. He loves Edward as his son.’
Richard said: ‘I pray you go carefully that there may be a kingdom for Edward to rule when his time comes … which I trust will be many years yet.’
‘You are in a serious mood today, brother,’ said the Queen.
‘Some of us must be serious at some time,’ replied Richard.
And he began to ask himself whether he would always be able to stand beside the King.
Chapter XI
THE SAD LITTLE BRIDE
There were several boys in the royal nursery, but Edward was the leading spirit and always had been. He was eleven years old, very tall for his age and, although his hair had darkened a little it was still very fair. His cousin, Henry, although four years older was of a more gentle nature. Henry was also handsome, but less so than Edward as he was less tall. Henry was a good friend and cousin and they shared most things.
In the royal nurseries were also the de Montfort cousins. Their father, Simon de Montfort, and their mother, Edward’s Aunt Eleanor, were in Gascony where Simon had undertaken the government at the King’s request. After Henry’s outburst about Simon’s seduction of his sister he had been ashamed of himself for so blatantly lying and in giving him the governorship of Gascony (a turbulent province which he had been unable to manage) he was getting rid of him and at the same time offering him the olive branch. So with their parents away the de Montfort children were the wards of the King.
The de Montfort boys – Henry who was a year older than Edward, Simon who was two years younger and Guy four years younger – were a wild element in the establishment, always urging their cousins on to disobedience. The eldest of the group, Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, was a restraining influence and as he was the senior by three years (Henry de Montfort being next in seniority) his influence was great.
