by Jean Plaidy
Henry’s feelings were incomprehensible even to himself. He was half pleased that Thomas had escaped. He could have arrested him in the council chamber. Why had he not done so? he asked himself many times. Because he did not want Thomas’s blood on his hands. The man exasperated him beyond endurance; he set the hot blood rushing to his head; and yet at the same time he could not entirely suppress a tenderness for him. Often memories of the old days would come crowding into his mind. What fun they had had! No one had ever amused him quite as much as Thomas. What a fool the man was! If only he had been ready to do what the King wished, their friendship would have gone on and on to enrich both their lives.
He sent his envoys to the court of France with gifts for Louis and congratulations, which Louis knew were false, on the birth of his son.
They had come, they said, to speak of the late Archbishop of Canterbury.
Louis with surprising spirit answered that he had not known that Thomas Becket was the late Archbishop of Canterbury. ‘I am a King even as the King of England is,’ he went on, ‘yet I have not the power to depose the least of my clerics.’
They realised then that Louis was not going to be helpful and that Thomas had indeed found a sanctuary with him.
They asked him if he would write to the Pope putting the King of England’s grievances to him. They reminded him that during the conflict between England and France the Archbishop had worked assiduously against France.
‘It was his duty,’ said Louis. ‘Had he been my subject he would have worked so for me.’
There was nothing Henry could do now to prevent the case of Thomas Becket being put before the Pope, and he made sure that his side of the case should be well represented; that old enemy of Thomas’s, Roger, Archbishop of York, was among his emissaries.
The friends Thomas could send, headed by Herbert, were humble in comparison; they had no rich gifts to bring to the Pope. The Pope in his Papal Court at Sens received them with affection however and was deeply moved when he heard of the suffering of Thomas Becket.
‘He is alive still,’ he said. ‘Then I rejoice. He can still, while in the flesh, claim the privilege of martyrdom.’
The next day the Pope called a meeting and the King’s embassy and those who came from Thomas were present.
Carefully the Pope listened to both sides of the story and later sent for Thomas.
When he was received by the Pope and his cardinals, Thomas showed them the constitutions he had brought from Clarendon. The Pope read them with horror and Thomas confessed his sin in that he had promised to obey the King and that only when he had been called to make the promise in public had he realised that the King had no intention of keeping his word. After that he had determined to stand out against Henry no matter what happened.
‘Your fault was great,’ said the Pope, ‘but you have done your best to atone for it. You have fallen from grace, but my son, you have risen stronger than you were before. I will not give you a penance. You have already expiated your sin in all that you have suffered.’
Thomas was determined that they should know the complete truth.
‘Much evil has fallen on the Church on my account,’ he said. ‘I was thrust into my post by the King’s favour, by the design of men, not God. I give into your hands, Holy Father, the burden which I no longer have the strength to bear.’
He tried to put the archiepiscopal ring into the Pope’s hands, but the Pope would not take it.
‘Your work for the Holy Church has atoned for all that has happened to you,’ he said. ‘You will receive the See of Canterbury fresh from my hands. Rest assured that we here shall maintain you in your cause because it is the Church’s cause. You should retire, my son, to some refuge where you can meditate and regain your strength. I will send you to a monastery where you must learn to subdue the flesh. You have lived in great comfort and luxury and I wish you to learn to live with privation and poverty.’
Thomas declared his burning desire to do so and it was arranged that he should for a while live at the Cistercian monastery of Pontigny which was in Burgundy.
Eleanor was once more pregnant and a few days after Christmas in the year 1166 another son was born to her. They called him John.
Soon after the birth of this son Eleanor began to wonder why the King’s visits to Woodstock always raised his spirits. There was a lilt in his voice when he mentioned the place.
What, she asked herself, was so special about Woodstock? A pleasant enough place it was true, but the King had many pleasant castles and palaces. She determined to find out.
When Henry was at Woodstock she joined him there and she noticed that he disappeared for long spells at a time, and that when she asked any of her servants where he might be, she could get no satisfactory answer.
She decided she would watch him very closely herself and all the time they were at Woodstock she did this. One afternoon she was rewarded for her diligence. Looking from her window she saw the King emerging from the palace, and hastening from her room she left by a door other than the one which he had used, and so before he had gone very far she came face to face with him.
‘A pleasant day,’ she said, ‘on which to take a walk.’
‘Oh yes, indeed,’ he answered somewhat shiftily she thought, and was about to say that she would accompany him when she noticed attached to his spur a ball of silk.
She was about to ask him how he had come by this when she changed her mind.
She said that she was going into the palace and would see him later. He seemed relieved and kissed her hand and as she passed him facing towards the palace she contrived to bend swiftly and pick up the ball of silk.
He passed on and she saw to her amazement that a piece of the silk was still caught in his spur and that the ball unravelled as he went.
She was very amused because if she could follow the King at some distance she would know exactly which turn he had taken in the maze of trees by following the thread.
It was an amusing incident and if he discovered her they would laugh about her shadowing him through the maze of trees.
Then it suddenly occurred to her. He had been visiting someone earlier. It must be a woman. From whom else should he have picked up a ball of silk.
A sudden anger filled her. Another light of love. He should not have them so near the royal palaces. She would tell him so if she discovered who his new mistress was.
He was deep in the thicket, and still he was going purposefully on. She realised suddenly that the end attached to his spur had come off and he was no longer leading her. Carefully she let the end of her silk fall to the ground and followed the trail it had left. There was no sign of Henry.
She would leave the silk where it lay and retrace her steps to the Palace. When the opportunity arose she would explore the maze and see if she could discover where Henry had gone.
She was very thoughtful when he returned to the palace for there was about him a look of contentment which she had noticed before.
The next day Henry was called away to Westminster and she declared her intention of staying behind at Woodstock for a while. Immediately she decided to explore the maze. This she did and found that the thread of silk was still there. She followed it through the paths so that she knew she was going the way the King had gone. Then the silk stopped but she could see that the trees were thinning.
It did not take her long to find the dwelling-house.
It was beautiful - a miniature palace. In the garden sat a woman; she was embroidering and in a little basket beside her lay balls of silk of the same size and colour as that which had attached itself to the King’s spur.
Two young boys were playing a ball game on the grass and every now and then the woman would look at them.
There was something about the appearance of those boys which made Eleanor tremble with anger.
The woman suddenly seemed to be aware that she was watched for she looked up and encountered the intent eyes of the Queen fixed on her. She rose to her fee
t. Her embroidery fell to the floor. The two boys stopped playing and watched.
Eleanor went to the woman and said:
‘Who are you?’
The woman answered: ‘Should I not ask that of you who come to my house?’
‘Ask if you will. I am the Queen.’
The woman turned pale. She stepped back a pace or two and glanced furtively to right and left as if looking for a way of escape.
Eleanor took her by the arm. ‘You had better tell me,’ she said.
‘I am Rosamund Clifford.’
The elder of the boys came up and said in a high-pitched voice: ‘Don’t hurt my mother, please.’
‘You are the King’s mistress,’ said Eleanor.
Rosamund answered, ‘Please … not before the children.’ Then she turned to the boys and said: ‘Go into the house.’
‘Mother, we cannot leave you with this woman.’
Eleanor burst out laughing. ‘I am your Queen. You must obey me. Go into the house. I have something to say to your mother.’
‘Yes, go,’ said Rosamund.
They went and the two women faced each other.
‘How long has it been going on?’ demanded Eleanor.
‘For … for some time.’
‘And both of those boys are his?’
Rosamund nodded.
‘I will kill him,’ said Eleanor. ‘I will kill you both. So it was to see you … and it has been going on for years, and that is why he comes so much to Woodstock.’ She took Rosamund by the shoulders and shook her. ‘You insignificant creature. What does he see in you? Is it simply that you do his bidding? You would never say no to him, never disagree, never be anything but what he wanted!’ She continued to shake Rosamund. ‘You little fool. How long do you think it will last …’
She stopped. It had lasted for years. There might be other women but he kept Rosamund. He would not have kept Eleanor if it had not been necessary for him to do so. She was jealous; she was furiously jealous of this pink and white beauty, mild as milk and sweet as honey.
‘Do not think that I shall allow this to go on,’ she said.
‘The King wills it,’ answered Rosamund with a show of spirit.
‘And I will that it should end.’
‘I have told him that it should never have been …’
‘And yet when he comes here you receive him warmly. You cannot wait to take him to your bed. I know your kind. Do not think you deceive me. And he has got two boys on you has he not! And promised you all kinds of honours for them I’ll swear! You shall say goodbye to him for you will not see him more, I promise you.’
‘You have spoken to the King?’
‘Not yet. He knows not that I have discovered you. He is careful to hide you here, is he not? Why? Because he is afraid his wife will discover you.’
‘He thought it wiser for me to remain in seclusion …’
‘I’ll warrant he did. But I found you. One of your silly little balls of silk led me here. But I have found you now … and this will be the end, I tell you. I’ll not allow it. And what will become, of you, think you, when the King has tired of you? ‘Twere better then that you had never been born. Why did you lose your virtue to such a man? You should have married as good women do and brought children to your lawful husband. Now what will become of you? The best thing you can do is throw yourself down from the tower of your house. Why don’t you do that?’
Rosamund stared at her in horror.
‘Yes. I wish to see you do it now.’
‘I could not.’
‘It is best for you. You are a harlot. It is better you were dead. I will bring you poison and you shall drink it. Or I will bring you a dagger and you can pierce your heart with it.’
Rosamund thought the Queen was mad. There was such a wildness in her eyes.
‘Wait … wait,’ begged Rosamund. ‘Wait until the King returns. If you killed me he would never forgive you.’
‘Do you think I want his forgiveness! He is a hard man. A selfish man. A man who will have his way. Go into your house. Think of your sins. I should repent if I were you, and the only way you can receive forgiveness is to go and sin no more. Tomorrow I will come again and by then you will have decided what you are going to do. Tonight say your prayers, ask forgiveness for your harlotry, and tomorrow be prepared to die.’
Eleanor threw Rosamund from her and ran back through the maze of trees. A madness was on her.
She hated him. Why should she care so fiercely that he had deceived her? Why did it matter so much? It mattered because this was the woman he wanted. She knew how gladly he would have set Eleanor aside for her.
Back at the palace she shut herself into her bedchamber. She lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
She hated Henry and she loved him.
I am ageing and she is young, she thought. Once he cared for me, but now he sees me as an old woman. Did they not shake their heads over us because I am nearly twelve years older than he is? When we were younger it did not seem to matter. I had so much to offer. Would he have wanted me if it were not for Aquitaine? Would he? As much as he now wanted Rosamund Clifford?
For all those years he had gone to her. She could tell the age of the liaison by the age of the boys. And he went to see them and was happy there - happier than he was in his royal palaces!
I will kill her, she thought. I will take to her a phial of poison and force her to drink it. When he comes to see her he will find a corpse.
She shall not live to mock me.
Fortunately for Rosamund Henry returned to Woodstock the next day. Eleanor came to him while he was preparing to leave, as she knew now, for that little house in which he had installed his mistress.
‘So you came back early. Were you so eager to make love to Rosamund Clifford?’
He stopped short to stare at her. Caught! she thought with grim satisfaction. She saw the redness come into his eyes. He was now going to fly into one of his notorious tempers because she had found him out.
‘What know you of Rosamund Clifford?’ he asked.
‘Oh, not as much as you, I admit. But I did discover the lady’s bower.’
‘Who took you there?’
‘You, my lord, with your little skein of silk.’
‘What nonsense is this!’
‘No nonsense. The pretty lady’s skein of silk was attached to your spur. I found it and trailed you there … or almost. Yesterday I paid a call on her. She did not welcome me as eagerly as she must welcome you.’
‘You went there!’
‘What a haven! And two fine boys too! Henry, what a man you are for getting boys on harlots! I declare your reputation will soon be that of your grandfather and mine.’
‘So you have discovered this.’
‘Yes, indeed. You are found out.’
‘Know this. I will do as I will.’
‘We all know that, my King. But while you may do as you will with low-born maidens, you may not with the Queen of England and Duchess of Aquitaine.’
Henry laughed but it was not pleasant laughter.
‘You should know me well enough by now to realise that I will not be told what I must do by those two.’
‘Neither of them will tolerate a mistress here in the palace even though she is hidden in a maze. You fool, Henry, did you think you could keep the woman’s existence a secret from me for ever?’
‘I did not and I care not.’
‘Yet you did not wish me to know.’
‘I thought it kinder to you not to know.’
‘Do you think I want your kindness ? Do you think I shall fret because you have a mistress or two?’
‘Nay, you are too wise. You know full well that if I want a woman I will have her.’
‘How long has this one been your mistress?’
‘Suffice it that she is.’
‘You have a special fondness for this one, eh?’
‘I have.’
‘She is as a wife to you, is she?’
&
nbsp; ‘She is.’
‘And you would to God she were.’
He looked at her steadily. ‘I would to God she were.’
She struck at him; he caught her hand and threw her from him.
‘You she-wolf,’ he said.
‘And you are the lion. Henry the Lion, King of the Forest. But forget not the she-wolf has her fangs.’
‘If she dares show them to me or mine they will be torn from her. Doubt that not. And know this. If you harm Rosamund Clifford I will kill you.’
‘All Aquitaine would revolt against you if you dared.’
‘Do I care for Aquitaine? I will subdue Aquitaine as I have all my territories. Do you forget that I am the King and master of you all … every one of you. Don’t be a fool, Eleanor. You are the Queen. Does that not suffice? You have borne my heirs. We have a nursery full of them. Four fine boys. Henry will be King to follow me - your son. Is that not enough?’
‘No. It is not enough. I will not have you sport with your mistress a stone’s throw from the palace. She must go. Get rid of her.’
‘I’d liefer get rid of you.’
‘If you go back to that woman I never want to share your bed again.’
‘So be it,’ he said. ‘You are no longer young. There are others who please me far more.’
She struck out at him as she had done before but he seized her and threw her on to the bed. In the old days there would have been a rising of sexual passion on such occasions. Not now. There was now hatred for her. It was clear to her that the two youngest children, Joanna and John, had come into being through custom or the need of a king to get as many children as he could to ensure the succession.
Suddenly she felt defeated. She was an ageing woman. She had lived an adventurous life; she had had her lovers, but that was over now.
She still had power though. She was still ruler of Aquitaine. In that fair land her troubadours still sang to her beauty.
She had a great desire then to be there.
‘I am going to Aquitaine,’ she said.
‘Your people are ever glad to have you with them,’ answered the King. ‘It is well that you should go. They grow restive when their Duchess is not among them.’
