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

His chances were good. Ranulf was right there. He was in in the superior position but he had very little stomach for battle against his own brother.

He had just returned from a holy war in which he had distinguished himself. He believed that he had been purged of his sins by his service to God; and now he was going to do battle against his brother. What if Henry should be killed? It seemed to him that all the honours he had won in heaven through his crusade would be lost to him.

Ranulf was looking uneasy. He drew his horse closer to Robert’s.

‘A goodly array,’ he said. ‘We shall be victorious. In a very short time now England will be where it belongs—in the hands of Robert of Normandy, King of England.’

‘That is in God’s hands,’ said Robert.

‘And in ours, my lord. We must take die city of Winchester.’

‘I say we shall not go to Winchester.’

‘It is the capital city of these parts, lord.’

‘It is the lying-in place of my sister-in-law.’

‘That cannot affect our plans.’

‘It can and it will.’ Robert’s quick temper showed in his heightened colour. He had always been quixotic. He it was who when he and Rufus were besieging Mont St. Michel when Henry was there with his adherents, had sent in wine for his brother’s table because they were dying of thirst. Rufus had cursed him for a fool just as Ranulf would be doing if he dared.

‘These are my men.’ he said. ‘I am their commander, and I say that we shall not ride into Winchester.’

* * * * *

Henry left Pevensey with a sinking heart. Robert would be marching on Winchester where Matilda was lying-in! He was afraid. What would become of her? He pictured her lying in her bed clutching the baby at her breast while Robert’s soldiers burst into the chamber.

It must never be. He must prevent that. He cursed the fleet which had betrayed him. He cursed himself for being at Pevensey when they had landed at Portsmouth.

A messenger came riding up.

‘My lord, the Normans are not riding to Winchester. They are going straight to London.’

He was astonished. Surely they should have gone to Winchester? It was the reasonable road to have taken and at Winchester was the Treasury, his wife, his new-born child.

Seeing his puzzlement the messenger continued: ‘On the Duke’s instructions, my lord. He would not go there as the Queen was lying-in.’

A slow smile touched Henry’s lips. How typical of Robert! Always chivalrous. He would lose a battle rather than act in an un-knightly manner. It was small wonder that his dukedom was a place of anarchy. Robert might be the most charming of men but he was one of the worst rulers any country could have. Rufus had been a good one compared with him. Odd, thought Henry, to think that we three were all fathered by one man and that man the great Conqueror!

But his spirits were lifted. He felt happier than he had since he knew that his fleet had deserted to his brother.

* * * * *

The two armies met at Alton. They drew up, their helmets glittering in the sun; and at the head of each army were the brothers.

Robert rode forward and Henry went to meet him.

‘Hail, brother!’ said Robert.

‘Hail!' said Henry.

‘This is a sorry state when brothers meet in conflict.’

‘A conflict of your making.’

‘I never had great heart for it.’

Henry’s own heart began to beat wildly with hope. He knew that he was outnumbered. He could not be sure how many of those who were behind him now were true followers, and who would have deserted to the enemy by nightfall.

Henry said: ‘Yet you come at the head of an army.’

‘They seem to have arranged it before I returned to Rouen.’

‘Freed of your sins, but not for long if you kill your brother in battle,’ said Henry. ‘Are we to fight then? Our mother would be grieved.’

It was a good allusion for Robert had always felt sentimental about his mother—and well he might as she had defied the Conqueror to support him.

‘It is not meet that brother should fight brother.’

‘Perhaps we could come to some agreement.’

‘Why brother, that would please me.’

An agreement! To sit down to a conference! Henry the lawyer would fare far better on such an occasion than the dreamer idealist.

‘We must arrange it.’

‘We will.’

Robert rode back to his men. He was smiling happily.

‘There is to be no battle,’ he announced. ‘My brother and I have agreed to settle this matter amicably by a treaty.’

Ranulf groaned. Did I almost kill myself for this? he asked himself. Did I arrange this excursion? Did I use my spies so that I knew what was happening in England, raise the money, manoeuvre the desertion of the fleet...all this for a fool? Had Robert not the advantage? He was crazy; he would never be anything but a foolish adventurer.

Ranulf had chosen unwisely. He should have served the wily lawyer, never the mad adventurer who could not call at Winchester because his sister-in-law was in childbed, who had every advantage, and who was prepared to have it all stripped from him at the conference table.

* * * * *

Each of the brothers had chosen twelve knights to sit with them at that conference table that they might work out the details of the treaty. Henry was in his element. He listened to Robert and whenever his brother made a point which was not quite sound he would seize on it so that all attention was focused on it. Robert did not understand this lawyer’s trick and he was quickly out of his depth.

‘The people of England,’ Henry explained, ‘want an English King as the people of Normandy want a Norman Duke. Our father was aware of this. If he were here now he would say that your place was in Normandy, brother, mine in England.’

Robert saw the point of this.

‘But as the elder I have the claim, Henry,’ he pointed out. ‘And Rufus and I had an understanding that if either of us died the other should inherit his possessions.’

‘You had pawned Normandy to Rufus.’

‘Ay, and redeemed it.’

‘From me,’ Henry reminded him with a smile as though that settled the matter. ‘You could not rule England and Normandy, brother. Admit my claim and it may well be that a pension can be arranged for you for so doing.’

The thought of ready money always attracted Robert. True, he lost it almost as soon as he acquired it but that did not prevent his always being fascinated by the prospect.

The agreement was drawn up. For a pension of 3,000 marks a year Robert should withdraw his claim to the English throne and at the same time Henry would renounce his claims on Normandy.

That seemed fair enough.

‘There is one other point,’ said Robert. ‘Many Normans who have estates in England came to my support. It must be part of the agreement that they do not suffer for this.’

Henry hesitated. Ranulf Flambard. Robert of Belleme. His brother who was looking at him earnestly said, ‘I could not agree without your promise. These men came to my aid. I could not desert them.’

‘And if I refused?’

‘They would insist on fighting this out in battle.’

Fighting it out in battle with superior forces and men of doubtful loyalty in his ranks! Henry was not really hesitating. He would give the promise but he might well find a way round it. He was not going to allow men like Robert of Belleme to flourish in his country. They were a menace to his plans for law and order. But the important fact now was to prevent a battle in which the enemy had superior forces.

He had come well out of this. Poor Robert! He would always fail.

So the treaty was concluded and even then Henry could scarcely believe his good fortune.

As soon as possible he rode to Winchester to tell Matilda about it.

* * * * *

So he had plucked peace out of what seemed like certain disaster. True he must pay Robert’s pension—for a year at least. Then he must find some pretext of discontinuing it.