The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean (книги без регистрации полные версии .txt) 📗

Edith looked at him sadly. He was very good, of course; he had always been that; and now he was even more good because he was going on this Holy enterprise; and when people were dedicated to the service of God they did not seem to care very much for the troubles of human beings.

‘Uncle Edgar.’ she went on, ‘I cannot , marry this man. Please, I beg of you, tell me what I can do.’

With what seemed like a mighty effort he forced his mind from the contemplation of Jerusalem. He took her chin in his hands and turned her face up to his.

‘If the King of England consents to your marriage there is only one thing that could prevent it.’

‘What is that, Uncle?’

‘You could take the veil.’

She lowered her eyes; she wanted to give way to despair. There was no way out, wherever she looked those two unhappy alternatives confronted her.

Edgar left on his glorious adventure and Edith went back to her fears.

The Miraculous Escape

It was with reluctance that Rufus received his archbishop. As he had said to Ranulf, he had little love for any churchman. It was his belief that a king had no need of the fellows and it was a well-known fact that they fancied themselves as the rulers of the realm. They liked to put their kings in leading strings.

‘That’s something I’ll not endure.’ he told his favourite. ‘My father was a religious man—he had far more respect for the church than I ever could have. He gave Lanfranc much licence. We were all brought up to reverence Lanfranc. But Lanfranc is dead and now we have this man Anselm. I forced him to office but I could take the crozier from him with as much vehemence as I made him take it.’

‘They’d say you would have to have an archbishop.’ said Ranulf.

‘Ay, that they would. Lanfranc fancied himself as a statesman and he was. My father made good use of him. He sent him to Rome when he was excommunicated for marrying my mother and Lanfranc served him well. It would seem that this Anselm would wish me to serve him.’

‘He calls it serving God.’ said Ranulf.

They laughed together.

Rufus went on: ‘Why to expect us two to pull together is like putting an untamed bull and a feeble old sheep in the same plough.’

‘Well, what are we going to do with our feeble old sheep?’

‘Let him know who’s master. He’ll be here soon.’

'I'll enjoy the encounter between the bull and the sheep. Will the bull savage the creature?’

‘Nay, my friend. But I’ll have some sport with him.’

They laughed together and in due course Anselm arrived to see the King.

He was brought into the chamber and was clearly not pleased to see the insolent Ranulf present.

‘I would have speech with my lord alone.’ he said.

The arrogance of these priests, thought Rufus cocking an eye at Ranulf. They understood each other well and it was not always necessary to speak their thoughts. Ranulf raised his eyebrows in a manner which suggested he agreed.

‘You need feel no shyness in the presence of my good friend here.’ said Rufus.

Ranulf smiled insolently at the Archbishop.

‘What I have to say to you, my lord...’

‘Can be said in the presence of Ranulf. Pray proceed.’

‘There is disquiet in the country because you, my lord, have not kept the promises you made to the people when the taxes were collected to pay the Duke of Normandy.’

‘Promises!’ said Rufus. ‘What should they care for promises when their King now holds Normandy? My brother Robert is going to find it somewhat difficult to regain the Duchy.’

‘They only wish, my lord, that those promises which were made to them should be kept.’

Dreary old Anselm! His place was in a monastery. They should never have brought him from Bee to try to play politics. Rufus for all his flippant manner was well aware of the conflicts which could arise between the Church and the State. It was like a measure they danced, each jostling for the better position. The Church of England would have to learn it could not usurp the power of the King. For all his religious feeling the Conqueror had never allowed that. He had respected Lanfranc; he had listened to Lanfranc and kept on good terms with him; all the same there had never been any doubt who was the ruler of England. Nor should there be now. William II’s rule should be as absolute as that of William I.

‘Tell me the true reason for your coming here.’ said Rufus.

‘You know, my lord, the conditions of my accepting the See of Canterbury.’

‘Ha! Here we have a monk of a little Norman monastery making terms with a king.’

‘An Archbishop of Canterbury, my lord. And as such I ask that the lands of die See which were taken when Lanfranc died be restored.’

‘You would be a rich man, Anselm.’

‘I have no wish for riches. But there is much I would do for the poor—spiritually and temporally.’

‘Churchmen, I am of the opinion, enjoy rich living as much as do their kings and masters.’

Anselm ignored the gibe which certainly could not apply to him.

‘I asked that in all matters spiritual you should take my counsel.’

‘There is little in which I would seek your counsel then, for I am not a spiritual man. I like well the pleasures of the flesh and I need no man’s counsel to tell me how to obtain them.’

Ranulf ostentatiously suppressed his laughter.

‘There is the matter of my pallium.’

‘Ah,’ said Rufus. ‘Did you know, Ranulf, that an archbishop cannot perform his duties without his vestments? Now a king is by no means so handicapped. I can go about my business garbed as I will and do it none the worse.’

‘Without my pallium I cannot consecrate a bishop nor yet hold a council.’

‘We have a surfeit of bishops,’ growled Rufus.

Anselm said: ‘It is necessary that I go to Rome to receive my pallium from the Pope.’

‘From the man who calls himself Pope,’ said Rufus narrowing his eyes.

‘From Urban II.’

‘Ah, the man whom you call Pope.’

‘He is widely recognized as Pope.’

‘He is not so in England and you are in England now, my Archbishop.’

Anselm was embarrassed. There were two popes at this time. One was Urban II who represented the reforming party and Clement III who was supported by the imperialists. As Abbot of Bee, Anselm had sworn allegiance to Urban, but the King of England had done no such thing.

‘If I am to carry out my duties I must go to Rome and collect my pallium, and if I am to succeed in office the lands of my See must be returned to me.’

‘How can you go to Rome and take this pallium from a man

who, in England, is not accepted as the true Pope?’

‘My lord King, there are few countries who do not accept him.’

‘I have told you I do not accept him. Am I or am I not the King of this realm? My father swore that no Pope should be acknowledged in this country without the consent of the King. I agree with him and I have not acknowledged Urban.’ His temper was rising and as usual on such occasions his face had grown scarlet with fury. He pointed to Anselm: ‘If you do, you defy my authority. You serve the Pope not the King. You are a traitor to your King, Sir Anselm, and what you are trying to do is tear the crown from my head.’

Anselm was pale and calm in contrast to the red fury of the King.

‘If you will grant me permission to retire, my lord, I will do so. But I must tell you that it will be necessary for me to call together a council.’

‘Your departure will please me, but before you go let me tell you this, Sir Anselm. I begin to wish I had never set eyes on you. I hated you yesterday. I hate you today and I shall hate you more the longer I live.’

‘Then it was an ill moment when you thrust the crozier onto me.’

‘Ill, indeed.’

Tor now,’ Anselm reminded him, ‘you cannot dismiss me without the permission of the Pope—and that will be the Pope accepted by the world if not by you, my lord.’