Plantagenet 1 - The Plantagenet Prelude

by Jean Plaidy

  In the evenings when it was too dark to read or study they would gather about the Archbishop’s table and there talk of matters temporal and spiritual. The Archbishop was deeply concerned with matters of State and as there had been continual strife in the country since the death of Henry I, politics were discussed at great length; and it was invariably the enormously tall dark-haired man whose comments impressed the company. It was clear to everyone that he was an unusual man. His very appearance set him apart. He was so tall that there was not a man in the palace who came within four inches of him. With his commanding presence he would dominate any scene. No one could have looked less like a man of the Church. His dark eyes inherited from his mother were keen and bright; his big nose was almost hawk-like. His frame was spare for he ate very little and consequently he felt the cold and had to wear many garments. His servant Richard who had come with him from his father’s house made sure that the little he ate was very nourishing, and he would cook beef and chicken for him. He feared Thomas might become ill, and since he ate so little he must derive the utmost goodness from what he did.

  This was Thomas Becket then, a man who could not fail to be noticed; a man, it was said, of comparatively humble origins whose manners surpassed those of the most nobly born; a man who was aesthetic and fastidious; a man who loved to ride and take part in the pleasures of hawking and yet spent long hours on his knees. He had never been known to cast lustful eyes on any member of the opposite or his own sex.

  There was no doubt that Thomas was a very extraordinary man. The Archbishop thought so and watching him closely marked him for promotion, although this would mean setting him above others who were more conventionally suitable.

  Among those who were studying with Thomas under the tuition of the Archbishop was a very clever young man named Roger de Pont l’Eveque. He had been the brightest of all Theobald’s pupils until Thomas had come. He was destined for the highest posts; he was an expert on canon law and before Thomas had eclipsed him had been a great favourite with the Archbishop.

  Roger was both arrogant and sensual, and he hated Thomas not only for his brilliance as a scholar but for the fact that he could not be lured into any adventure which could have discredited him in the eyes of Theobald.

  Roger himself had had a very narrow escape. His career as a churchman of high rank might have been irrevocably ruined. The story was that Roger had become enamoured of a very handsome boy whom he had forced to submit to his lust. The boy, Walter, had complained of this and Roger was brought to trial. Roger was a man of power with many influential friends and by means of bribery and threats had won his case against the boy who in his turn was accused of lying and attempting to bring into disrepute a highly respected member of the Church. The bribed judge found that the boy was guilty; his eyes were put out and he was hanged.

  Roger had escaped the consequences of his ill-doing and had managed to deceive many - including the Archbishop - into believing in his innocence, but among others he was suspect. He even admitted to a few - in secret - that he had brought disgrace and contempt on the Church.

  Roger was the chief of Thomas’s enemies, and he determined to get him removed from the Archbishop’s palace. But Thomas was fortunate in the fact that Theobald’s brother Walter, who was Archdeacon of Canterbury, had a faith in his ability which nothing could shake, and which was even greater than that which Theobald had for him.

  Roger, by reason of his undeniable brilliance, was at this time the leading scholar at Harrow and at the head of the line for promotion, which meant that he was closer to the Archbishop than any of the others. By cleverly pointing out the unusual traits in Thomas’s character he contrived to convince Theobald that, clever as Thomas might be, he was not of the kind to succeed in the Church.

  Theobald considered this and for a time banished Thomas from his palace. The Archbishop’s brother Walter, however, took Thomas into his home and kept him there for a while until he could persuade Theobald to take Thomas back. This was an indication of what a powerful enemy Thomas had in Roger, as he was banished on two occasions and was obliged to stay with Walter until the time when Theobald could be persuaded to ask him to return.

  When Walter became Bishop of Rochester, Roger received the appointment for which he was waiting and he became Archdeacon of Canterbury.

  With Roger in such a post this could have meant the end of Thomas’s ambitions, but by this time he was so firmly established in Theobald’s regard that nothing could dislodge him. He was then constantly in the company of the Archbishop. When Theobald was at odds with the Crown and was temporarily exiled, Thomas accompanied him to France.

  There came the time when King Stephen died and Henry Plantagenet ascended the throne. In the year 1154 Roger became Archbishop of York which meant that the post of Archdeacon of Canterbury was vacant. It seemed to Theobald then that no one could fit this post better than Thomas Becket.

  That Henry had the makings of a great king was obvious to all, but at the same time he was a man of such violent passion that Theobald felt disturbed. To hold in check such a man was going to be rather like taming a wild horse and it was clear that the King was of a temper to brook no restraint.

  It had in the past been almost a habit with kings to quarrel with the Church. Theobald who had now and then been in disagreement with Stephen realised that it would be a very different matter to resist the wishes of Henry.

  Theobald discussed the matter with Henry, Bishop of Winchester, brother of King Stephen, and one of the most powerful churchmen in the country.

  ‘The King,’ said Henry of Winchester, ‘needs to be held in check and in such a manner that he will not realise that the reins which control him are there. Only the right sort of Chancellor could manage this. We must find the right man. If we do not I see great trouble between the Church and State and we shall find that Henry Plantagenet is not the mild man my brother Stephen was.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Theobald. ‘What we need is a man who can be a friend to the King, who can persuade him subtly so that he will not know he is persuaded.’

  ‘Do you know such a man?’ asked Henry of Winchester.

  Theobald was thoughtful; then a slow smile spread across his face. ‘Yes, I think I do. There is my Archdeacon, Thomas Becket.’

  ‘Becket,’ mused the Bishop. ‘A man of humble origins.’

  ‘A man who has risen above his origins. You would not find a man in all England who could please the King better.’

  ‘I fancy the King is not over-fond of those of our profession.’

  ‘Becket is unlike the rest of us. I have often felt I should reprove him for his worldliness and yet I know he is the least worldly of men. He keeps a good table, yes, but that is for others; he himself eats most frugally. His clothes are elegance itself and he keeps hawks, dogs and horses; but he gives lavishly to the poor. He is the man. He could meet the King on his own level. He could make sport with him and hunt with him; and the King has moments when he likes good conversation; he would have his fill of that with Becket. Becket is the man. A man of the Church who is yet a man of the world.’

  The Bishop was inclined to be dubious but after he had spent a little time with Thomas he came to the view that the best thing for England and the Church would be to make Thomas Becket its Chancellor.

  Thus at the age of thirty-five Thomas was raised to this high office. He was delighted with his new status, not because of the honours it brought him but because there was so much in the country that he could put right.

  For some years now the civil war had been over but during it many men who had lost their castles or humbler homes had been driven to the forest where they became outlaws and robbers. The Chancellor was determined that these men should be hunted down and that the roads might be safe as they had been in the days of William the Conqueror and his son Henry I; he was anxious that the fields should be tilled as they had been before the beginning of the war. He wanted to bring back justice to the courts; he encouraged those
who considered themselves ill done by to bring their grievances to him.

  Any good man determined to bring justice to England could have done this, but there was something more Thomas could do. He could charm the King. Theobald had told him that it was because it was believed he had the power to do this that he had been chosen for this task. He could be amusing, witty and entertaining; and it was his duty to amuse the King. By becoming an intimate friend of the King he would understand his moods; he could guide him without the King’s knowing he was being guided. He was enough of a courtier to be perfectly at home in royal society; he had learned riding, hawking and chess at Pevensey Castle, so he was at ease in the King’s circle. None would know that he had not had the same upbringing as any of the King’s courtiers and the King himself for that matter. It was for this reason that he had been chosen.

  It was remarkably easy.

  ‘Bring this churchman to me,’ Henry had said, ‘that I may tell him I’ll not have any churchman preach to me.’

  But when he saw the man he was amazed. That strange quality which commanded the respect of all men was immediately apparent to the King. This tall elegant man who could be witty and amusing, who could ride beside him talking of frivolous court matters, who could with the same ease plunge into a serious conversation such as enthralled Henry, aroused his interest to such an extent that often when he was at a gathering he would look about him and say: ‘Where’s Becket? Where’s my Chancellor?’ And when Thomas was brought to him he would laugh at him and say, ‘Ha, Becket, I missed you. Let us escape and go off together where we can talk.’

  Theobald and Henry of Winchester watched the growing friendship of the two and congratulated themselves on the wisdom of that plan of theirs to set up Thomas Becket as Chancellor so that he might influence the King.

  Henry was delighted. One of Thomas’s first acts was to refurbish the King’s palace in the Tower of London.

  Henry liked the work that was done there. ‘Why, Becket,’ he said, ‘I should have thought as a churchman you would have thought of succouring the poor rather than pampering their King.’

  ‘A pampered king is more likely to pamper his poor subjects than one who is so ill housed that his temper is frayed,’ answered Thomas.

  ‘His temper frays, Becket, well housed or not.’

  ‘Since he admits this doubtless time and the help of God will improve it.’

  ‘That fellow makes me laugh,’ said Henry of his Chancellor and he saw more and more of Thomas. He showed clearly that he liked his company.

  Thomas had not been Chancellor a year when Henry declared: ‘I never thought to make a friend of a churchman, but I swear this man seems to me the best friend I ever had.’

  He would call on him without warning. He would shout: ‘Come out, Becket. I’d have speech with you.’

  Sometimes he sat and drank wine with him. It amused him that Becket with a sip or two could tell the quality of wine and talk of it, but rarely drank much himself.

  Henry liked to plague him while he admired him.

  ‘A churchman,’ he would say, ‘yet you live like a king.’

  ‘Rather say a king lives like a churchman.’

  Every day fresh rushes were strewn on his floors; he used green boughs in summer and hay in winter; but it must always be fresh.

  ‘Your cleanliness is greater than your godliness,’ pointed out the King.

  ‘Why should not the two go hand in hand, Sire?’ asked Becket.

  ‘Is it meet for a man of God to display fine gold and silver plate on his table?’

  ‘If he puts them there for love of his friends,’ answered Becket.

  The King would put an arm about the Chancellor’s shoulders. ‘One of these days I will show you for the coxcomb you are,’ he mocked. ‘Look at your table; look at your home! Should you not go out into the world with rod and scrip and preach religion?’

  ‘I go out with the rod of my office and preach of justice,’ replied Thomas.

  ‘Good Thomas, you amuse me and for that I would forgive you all your sins.’

  ‘Let us hope, sire, that that other King who alone can pardon our sins is as lenient with you.’

  And so they grew closer together and hardly a day passed when Becket was not in the company of the King.

  Chapter IX

  THE ABBESS BRIDE

  While Eleanor was awaiting the birth of her child in the palace and Rosamund was at Woodstock also awaiting the King’s child, Henry sent for Becket as he wished to discuss the proposed marriage between his son Henry and the little Princess of France.

  He was as usual delighted to see the Chancellor.

  ‘I know not how you will find the French King,’ said Henry. ‘As you know the Queen was his wife and she rid herself of him to marry me.’

  ‘I know it well,’ said Becket.

  ‘He was somewhat jealous I believe, and loath to let the Queen go, but the Queen was determined. She’s a determined woman as you know also, Chancellor.’

  ‘I had gathered so,’ answered Thomas.

  ‘Now this methinks is a situation which will appeal to your humour as it appeals to mine. My son and the Queen’s son Henry shall be the bridegroom of Louis’s daughter by his second marriage. Do you think that is not an amusing situation?’

  ‘I think it a very suitable one, my lord, since it will secure alliance with the King of France and little could be more beneficial to you at this time.’

  ‘So thought I,’ said the King. ‘It is years before the marriage can take place. My son is three years old. The Princess Marguerite is one. But that will be no impediment to the ceremony as it would be to the consummation. We shall not put the babies to bed together … yet.’

  ‘I should think not.’

  ‘Poor innocents! Still it is the lot of royal children. You should be thankful, Chancellor, that you were not a royal boy or they might have married you when you were in your cradle and that would not have been to your liking, would it?’

  ‘I have never had any fancy for the marriage bond.’

  ‘Nay, you’re a strange man, Becket. You care nothing for women which seems strange to a man like myself who cares very much for them. You know not what you miss. It is a taste which never wearies. It is only that one wishes now and then to change one’s partner in the game.’

  ‘The Queen would not wish to hear such sentiments expressed.’

  ‘You are right, Becket. My Queen is a woman of strong opinions. You will have to mind your step with her … as even I do.’

  ‘The Queen is one who is accustomed to being obeyed.’

  ‘Indeed you speak the truth. I have managed very well during our life together. I always contrive to see that she is either going to have a child or having one. It is a very good way of curbing her desire to rule.’

  ‘It is not one which can continue for ever.’

  ‘As the Queen tells me. She says when this one is born there must be a respite.’

  ‘It is better for her health that this should be so.’

  ‘I am expecting a child in another quarter, Becket.’

  ‘I grieve to hear it, Sire.’

  The King burst into loud laughter and slapped Becket on the back.

  ‘You know full well that a king who cannot get heirs is a curse to the nation.’

  ‘I know it is well for a king to get legitimate heirs.’

  ‘My grandfather used to say that it is well for a king to have children - inside and outside wedlock, for those who are of royal blood will be loyal to it.’

  ‘It is not an infallible recipe for loyalty, sire.’

  ‘Oh come, Becket, you are determined to reproach me. I won’t have it. Do you hear me?’

  ‘I hear very well, my lord.’

  ‘Then take heed for if you offend me I could turn you from your office.’

  ‘My lord must turn me from it if he will and I shall pray that he finds another to serve him as well as I should.’

  ‘I never would, Thomas
. I know it and for this I will stomach a little of your preaching. But not too much, man. Remember it.’

  ‘I will remember, my lord.’

  ‘You have seen my fair Rosamund, Becket. Is she not beautiful? More so in her present state than when I first saw her. It surprises me that my feeling for her does not pall. I love the girl, Becket. You are silent. Why do you stand there with that smug expression on your face? How dare you judge me, Thomas Becket! Are you my keeper?’

  ‘I am your Chancellor, my lord.’

  ‘Not for long … if I wish it. Remember that, Becket. And if you are going to tell me that I should give up Rosamund I am going to fall into a temper, and you know my tempers, Thomas.’

  ‘I know them well, Sire.’

  ‘They are not pleasant to behold, I believe.’

  ‘There you speak truth, my lord.’

  ‘Then it would be well for those around me not to provoke them. I have settled her at Woodstock and I am having a bower built there. A house in the forest … surrounded by a maze of which only I shall know the secret. What think you of that?’

  ‘That it is a plan worthy of you, my lord.’

  The King narrowed his eyes and laughed again.

  ‘You amuse me, Thomas,’ he said. ‘You stand in judgement. You reproach me. You disapprove of me, but you amuse me. For some reason I have chosen to make you my friend.’

  ‘I am also your Chancellor, Sire,’ said Becket. ‘Shall we discuss the mission to France?’

  For such a mission Thomas could display great magnificence without any feeling of shame. All the scarlet and gold trappings which he so much enjoyed could be brought into play without any feeling of guilt on his part because what he was doing now was for the glory of England. He could not go into France like a pauper. During his journey he must impress all who beheld him with the might and splendour of England.