Henry of the High Rock

by Juliet Dymoke

  The Duke’s uncle Odo, whose motives were more obscure, knelt with him and pledged himself also to the enterprise. His practical mind went immediately beyond the zeal, the fervour, to the main need – money. Robert had none and it was agreed they should approach Rufus.

  The King, when he heard, gave a sharp laugh. ‘By Lucca’s face, the hounds of God have got their talons into brother Robert. Well, let him go on his crazy jaunt as long as I can profit by it.’

  ‘A mortgage, perhaps?’ Flambard suggested. ‘His duchy? And should he fall . . .’ he had no need to complete the sentence for Rufus’ sharp mind was for once ahead of his.

  ‘He shall pledge his duchy,’ Red William agreed gleefully. ‘See to it, Ranulf, arrange a meeting, sureties . . .’

  The sum was settled upon, ten thousand marks of silver, and during the summer Flambard set about extracting it from the English people.

  The news came to Henry below the walls of St. Ouen where he was besieging a garrison of Robert of Bellême’s men. The latter had seized a castle belonging to Robert Giroie and had imprisoned some three hundred men. Despite the offers of ransom Bellême refused to release his prisoners. ‘They shall keep a good Lent,’ he said and proceeded to starve them to death in his dungeons. He went each day himself, so it was said, to watch their sufferings, a cup of wine in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other which he ate in their sight.

  Disgusted at such bestial behaviour Henry spent the summer waging war by every possible means against the Count of Bellême. He laid ambushes, attacked smaller castles, drove the Count’s men from every vantage point and during the last hot days of August attacked a large troop of them, captured half and chased the rest back into La Roche Mabille. There was no taking this fortress and he was on his way back to Domfront when he received Rufus’s summons to attend him at Chaumont in the Vexin where the pledge between the King and the Duke was to be settled.

  Great men of both sides assembled to witness the contract, which was drawn up under the auspices of King Philip. Many bishops and prelates gathered there, though the rigid and holy Bishop Ivo of Chartres refused to come under the same roof as King Philip unless the latter agreed to renounce his adulterous marriage with Bertrade, the former wife of the Count of Anjou. Philip thumbed his nose at Ivo and the meeting went ahead without the Bishop of Chartres.

  The little town overflowed and many important barons set up tents in the surrounding meadows. Henry preferred this accommodation to the crowded castle and it was here in the open that the three brothers met, for the first time in four years, the contrast between them more marked for the time that had passed. Robert had a great paunch on him now and the top of his head was bald; his face still retained its soft colouring and amiable expression, but there were lines that had not been there before that witnessed to his lack of confidence in himself. Rufus also had put on some weight but his self-confidence had increased giving him a determined walk, an arrogant bearing, a manner of dealing with all men whatever their rank that was a mixture of absolute authority and soldierly camaraderie. And Henry knew himself to be no longer the youth to be dominated but a man on a level with both of them.

  Robert clasped him in his arms, a smile of spontaneous affection on his face. ‘Beauclerc! By heaven, you are a sturdy warrior these days. Come with me, fight for our Saviour on His own land.’

  Rufus disposed at once of this idea. ‘I need him here. If we are to keep order in your duchy we must be strong and,’ he added humorously, ‘if you take all the best fighting men with you that will leave Normandy to the churchmen, then we should have to reverse the procedure and conquer it back from Christ himself.’

  Robert looked shocked. ‘Brother, your jest is unseemly. But I suppose you are right about Beauclerc. He must stay.’

  Henry, who had no intention of going, merely inclined his head, and Robert said cheerfully: ‘At least there will be peace between us and all Normans. We will not be fighting each other but God’s enemies.’

  He turned and beckoned to a tall figure. ‘Come, Robert, and make your peace with the King and Count Henry. There must be an end to feuding.’

  Robert of Bellême came across the rough grass with his long stride. His dark head was bare, his thin brows strongly marked, his eyes almost black and at the moment bland but watchful.

  ‘My lord King,’ he said with cool assurance, ‘we have matched our forces well. I respect you as a soldier and in the Duke’s absence I take you for my overlord.’ He went down on one knee and set his hands, long and tapered, between the square rough hands of Rufus, but it was done lightly. Almost immediately be rose and turned to Henry. ‘My lord Count, you have taken much from me . . .’

  ‘You had overmuch and to spare,’ Henry said curtly, ‘and if we are to be at peace I require you to leave my land and my people free from your raiding. Your men observe neither the Truce of God nor the rules of war.’

  The Count shrugged, lifting his shoulders expressively. ‘War is not a game, my lord. A man, if he is a man, must take what his enemies can do to him, but if we are to join together, I will leave your borders in peace. It is a long time, is it not, since your uncle Odo shackled us both on the beach at St. Valery?’ He smiled showing small even white teeth, the thin cruel lips curved upwards in a disguising manner. ‘I have some new ideas for war machines that I will show you, instead of employing them against you.’

  He talked on glibly, exerting all his eloquence, but Henry was no longer deceived. The Count of Bellême had too much power for one man, he thought, but he too smiled and talked and kept his loathing to himself.

  Presently Bishop Odo of Bayeux came to join them, bringing with him the tall gangling figure of the Crane, Gilbert Bishop of Evreux. Odo was aging now, his dark hair turned an iron grey, but his eyes were as keen as ever and he greeted his youngest nephew coolly. Since their meeting at Dover and the subsequent affair of Bayeux tower there had been no sweetening of the relationship between them.

  Odo said now, ‘I do not hear, nephew, that you have vowed your sword in our holy cause.’

  ‘Nor will you,’ Henry told him plainly. ‘You have Robert to fight a way to heaven for all of us and that will have to suffice. I imagine,’ he added as an afterthought, ‘that as you cannot be going to wield your mace on this occasion, that it must be in the guise of a pilgrim.’

  The bishop, whose temper had not improved with the years, said severely, ‘And if I go in penance for my sins, it is a better thing than to disregard the Holy Father’s call and stay at home.’

  Rufus laughed outright. ‘Then you had best add the sin of pride to your list, uncle, for that remark smacked of it.’

  The Crane, stooping now with the weight of years, said reprovingly, ‘Young sirs, you do ill to joke over holy things.’

  Remembering the Bishop’s former kindness to him, Henry took him by the arm and led him aside. ‘My lord, you must forgive us. We are like all families – we cannot take each other seriously and we scrap as a litter of pups but I do not jest at the venture. I am not going because Rufus wants me here and because I believe my duty is to my people, just as Robert no doubt sincerely believes his is to go. But I do ask you to pray for me when you get to the Holy Sepulchre.’

  ‘If we get there,’ the Crane said, ‘and if God wills it, we shall.’

  Wandering in the meadows among the tents Herluin of La Barre was looking for his brother but not finding him caught hold of Ralph de Toeni by the arm and asked for him.

  ‘Simon?’ Ralph cocked an eyebrow. ‘Did you not know that the King has dismissed him from his service?’

  Herluin stood still in the hot sunlight. ‘No, I did not. What happened?’

  Ralph shrugged and looked embarrassed. He liked Herluin and did not want to offend him.

  Herluin said, ‘Tell me.’ His face was stern, his voice expressing nothing but that he wanted the truth.

  ‘Well,’ Ralph shifted his feet and looked out over the colourful field, to the bright tents and gonfanons, the gay
clothes of the ever moving crowd. He was sweating in the heat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘It seems the King no longer required so – so close an attendance from him and offered him a manor in Northumbria, a very small manor. Simon threw the deed on the floor and walked out. I thought Red William would shackle him for that, but he laughed and that was all. I’ve not seen Simon since.’

  Herluin said nothing. Then he nodded his thanks briefly and, too disturbed to continue the conversation, walked away through the busy crowds, silent and detached.

  The pledge was drawn up the next day, the terms agreed, King Philip, the Abbot of Dijon and other prelates acting as witnesses. Rufus handed over the ten thousand marks wrenched with so much pain and difficulty from the people of England and Robert returned to his duchy to pay the reckoning for the men and arms and equipment he had assembled.

  Rufus, commanding the attendance of the Counts of the Cotentin and of Bellême rode to Rouen to take over his position as ruler of the duchy. Robert de Beaumont was to be married to Isabelle, the daughter of Hugh of Crepi, King Philip’s brother, who was himself to go on the crusade and wished to see her bestowed before he went. It was a great occasion, the first gathering of all Normans since Robert and Rufus had begun their quarrel and the last before the crusaders left. The hall at the palace of Rouen was packed for the marriage feast. Old friends greeted each other warmly and old enemies eyed one another warily, but raised their cups together. William of Breteuil and his crony Robert of Bellême talked with Henry and Earl Hugh as if there had never been bad blood between them, while Ralph de Gael, newly arrived from Brittany, hailed the King for all as if he was his most loyal subject instead of one who had plotted to overthrow his father.

  Hamo and Raoul the Deer were fighting their way through the crowds at the lower tables to their places on a bench beside Gulfer who, with Fulcher, was engaged in pushing off a couple of Odo’s men-at-arms. There was a good humoured scuffle which ended in the Bishop’s men sprawling in the rushes while Henry’s seated themselves firmly, prepared to repel all comers.

  There was an abundance of rich dishes and wines so that every man could have his fill. The jester, Rollo, set the hall rocking with laughter at his clowning, dogs scrambled in the rushes for scraps and children ran wild, tripping up servers and ushers while at the high table the bridegroom, no longer young but still an impressive looking man sat beside his high born wife, who was not yet twenty and a russet-haired beauty.

  God save us,’ Hamo said, ‘did you ever see so many Normans swearing friendship with each other? Have you heard the latest tally of men to go, Raoul?’

  The deer shook his head. ‘As long as I’m not required to take my old bones and leave them in some foreign land I care not.’

  ‘It would be a holy end to die in Christ’s own country,’ Fulcher said gravely, but Raoul lifted his broad shoulders.

  ‘Maybe so, but who’s to say we’d ever get there? I tell you there will be so much quarrelling among the leaders it will be a miracle if they do.’

  Gulfer, stuffing his mouth with roast goose and sucking in the sauce, said, ‘Can you see the bride’s father arm in arm with Eustace of Boulogne, or the fat Count of Toulouse agreeing with Godfrey of Bouillon? As for our own men, Gerard of Gourney will quarrel with Geoffrey of Mortagne and Ivo and Alberic of Grandmesnil will quarrel with each other and everyone else.’

  Raoul leaned his arms on the table. ‘We should thank God fasting that our lord is not smitten with holy zeal.’

  Fulcher laid down his knife. ‘I cannot understand you, any of you. Can there be a higher task for a knight than to fight for the holy places?’

  Hamo grinned. ‘Oh, fighting is all right and once one was there it would be . . .’ for a moment a more serious look crossed his humorous face, but it was fleeting, as if he would not allow gravity to dominate him, ‘but think of getting there! As for the company, what with thieving Frenchmen and quarrelling Burgundians, and the rough fellows from the north who’re half pagan as well as Italians who’d as soon set a knife in your back as cross the road, I’ll wager there’ll be more blood shed among them than the infidels! ’

  ‘If all these great men are going and the Pope himself wishes it, it must be right,’ Fulcher put in obstinately, and Gulfer laughed.

  ‘Oh, we all know you think of nothing but earning your spurs, but I can tell you my wife would have my hide if I went.’

  With sudden resolution Fulcher said, ‘I shall go. I shall ask the Prince if I may take service with Stephen of Blois. He is husband to Henry’s own sister.’

  ‘I thought you never wished to leave our master?’ Hamo queried mockingly and Fulcher flushed.

  ‘Nor I do, but if God wills it, I will come back, and . . .’ he stopped, seeing the three of them looking at him in surprise and not being able to explain what emotions had seized him, urging him to take the cross, to go with the men who had done the same, to set foot in the holy places and at the end to kneel before the Sepulchre itself. It seemed to him the height of knightly endeavour and he sat, crimson and shy, wishing he had more confidence.

  Hamo set his arm across the lad’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. ‘Then go and God go with you. We’ll not tease you any more and I for one will give you a new saddle to ride with.’

  ‘Aye,’ Gulfer nodded, ‘and you shall have that sword I bought last week.’

  Raoul promised the gift of a helm and Fulcher sat between them, a heady excitement rising in him, an excitement that seemed to be paramount in this hall tonight so that men were cheering and drinking to the crusaders as well to the bride and groom.

  Henry gave his consent to the departure of Fulcher, adding a horse and a purse to the lad’s gifts and a few days later saw the great assemblage of men ride away through the streets of Rouen, blessed by the bishops and liberally sprinkled with holy water, their banners flying and a high ardour motivating the best of them.

  From all over Europe such contingents were departing and the Normans had not been gone more than two days when Helias de Beaugencie rode in and asked for an audience with the new ruler of Normandy.

  Crossing the outer courtyard of the palace and seeing the banner of the lord of Maine, his escort dismounting, stretching stiffened limbs, Herluin La Barre gave the Count’s men no more than a cursory glance until he noticed to his astonishment a familiar figure. ‘Simon! What in God’s name are you doing here?’

  His brother turned sharply. ‘I wondered if I should see you now that your lord is hand in glove with the King.’

  ‘Well?’ Herluin looked him up and down. Simon had changed, he thought. He looked older and wearied, lines running from nose to mouth that gave his handsome face a dejected look and his features had lost the delicate smoothness of youth.

  Simon took off his helm and set it on the pommel of his saddle, wiping his hot forehead before he met his brother’s look with one equally direct. ‘I have left King William’s service.’

  ‘So I heard, and I am glad of it. But you were a fool to anger him, to throw his gift back in his face.’

  Simon grimaced. ‘I thought such a piece of gossip could hardly fail to reach you.’ His face darkened at the memory of that particular scene. ‘It was an insult after the years I have attended him – an insignificant manor in Northumbria with barely enough hides to support one knight’s fee and about as far from the court as he could send me.’

  ‘Yet, it would have been better to take it than to…’

  Simon interrupted him sharply. ‘You think so? I thought you wanted me to return to Normandy.’

  ‘I want you to return to a better way of living,’ Herluin said plainly, ‘where does not matter. You could have taken a wife and settled in Northumbria.’

  Simon gave him an odd look. ‘How singularly imperceptive you are.’

  ‘Don’t mistake me – I am not as simple as you think. It might be done and to your profit, but I’ll not argue about that. Only I am surprised you did not land yourself in one of William’
s fortresses.’

  Simon looked beyond him to the grey stone palace, the high walls, the tower where more than one illustrious prisoner had been held. ‘You do not understand. William meant it to be an insult. It was one of his ill-timed jests. Things were not – as they had been between us.’

  Thankful enough that Simon was free of an attachment that to Herluin’s mind brought nothing but shame on his name, he did not comment on this. It was easy to see Simon was seared by experience, and his elder brother’s innate kindness did not allow him to pursue the matter.

  ‘Well, I am glad to see you back. Perhaps in Normandy you will find something better. What made you join the Count of Maine? Why did you not come to us?’

  ‘Would your master have welcomed me?’ There was a wry twist to Simon’s mouth. ‘I think not, he is too careful of his new friendship with Rufus.’ And when Herluin’s silence conceded the point he went on, ‘I must earn my bread somehow and it seemed to me that if I would do penance for past wrong I could do no better than seek service with the most Christian knight in Europe. And now that we go to the Holy Land perhaps there I can wipe out what has gone before.’