The Revolt of the Eaglets - Plaidy Jean (бесплатные полные книги TXT) 📗

The matter occupied him more than any other, for he made himself believe that his sons would be faithful to their promises. Richard was doing well in Aquitaine and was certainly a great fighter. Henry was too pleasure-loving and extravagant and Geoffrey took after him: But Marguerite was pregnant and if she gave him a grandson he would be satisfied with her.

The great problem was how to keep Alice.

It was a pity that she was growing up. She was not seventeen yet but of course they would say she should be married at that age. Richard was a laggard; he had shown no great desire for marriage, thank God.

If Alice were any but Louis’s daughter … oh, but he had to admit that had given a piquancy to the affair. He liked to think he was making love to the daughter of that old monk. She would make a worthy bride for him too if ever it was possible for them to marry.

While he was brooding on this a letter arrived from the Pope. He shut himself alone in his bedchamber and with some trepidation opened it. Glancing hastily through it he saw that Alice was the subject of it and his heart sank.

The Pope wrote that his dearest son in Christ, Louis illustrious King of the French, was complaining because his daughter, who had long ago been sent to England that she might be brought up in the country of her betrothed, had neither been married nor returned to her father. The King of France was insisting that either one of these courses must be adopted.

Henry threw the letter aside and stared ahead of him.

What could he do? If it were not for Eleanor he could marry her. As it was, what was the alternative?

He stood up and clenched his fist.

‘By the eyes, teeth and mouth of God,’ he cried, ‘I’ll not give up Alice.’

He went to see his children. He had news for them both.

He sat down on the window-seat and as they leaned against him he put an arm about them both; he could not help thinking what a charming picture they must make and he was resentful against Eleanor who had deprived him of the love his older children owed him. He was not a bad father. His illegitimate children were devoted to him. It was only Eleanor’s brood who were against him. But not these younger ones. They were going to be loyal and loving. They were going to make up to him for what he had lacked with the others.

John was naturally his favourite because he was a boy. The others were going to realise how much happier they would have been if they had loved him. They were going to see what he would do for a loving son. John might not be the King of England, Duke of Normandy or Aquitaine, but he should have the richest lands his father could give him. Never again was John to be known as John Lackland.

‘Now, Joanna, my daughter, what say you to this? How would you like to be a queen?’

Eleven-year-old Joanna opened her eyes wide. ‘A queen, my lord. Not a Queen of England?’

‘Nay, my love. How could you be that? Marguerite will be the Queen. If you would be one, you must have a husband to give you your crown. That is why I have chosen a husband for you. You are to be the Queen of Sicily, for the King of that country is asking your hand in marriage.’

‘I shall have to go away,’ said Joanna.

‘Of a truth you must go to your husband’s country and there be married. You will be a grand lady and that is what I wish you to be.’

She was a little puzzled and looked at John to see what his reactions were.

‘What of me?’ he asked. He was a year younger than his sister but he knew that as a boy he was of greater importance.

‘Your time will come, my son, and before long I doubt not. But you will not leave us. Your bride will come to you for brides it is who must go to their husbands.’

‘When is Alice going to her husband, Father?’ asked Joanna.

God’s eyes, he thought, are they talking of it in the nurseries!

‘All in good time, my love.’

‘She is an old lady,’ said John.

‘Well, hardly that, but older than you, shall we say. Now you are going to have a wonderful wedding dress, Joanna. It will be specially embroidered and set with many sparkling gems. You will like that, eh, my love?’

She clasped her hands and turned her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Oh, yes, my lord.’

He kissed her. Poor child, he thought, reconciled by a wedding dress.

He went to see Alice. What if he should be forced to give her up? He couldn’t. When he had found the perfect mistress he intended to keep her.

She was older now, of an age to understand, and he wanted to share the burden with her. He wanted to make her understand how much he cared for her since he would go to so much trouble to keep her.

‘Alice, my love,’ he said, ‘they are plaguing me to give you over to Richard.’

She clung to him. ‘I will not go. I will not! I shall stay with you. You won’t send me away.’

‘Dost think I would ever send you away, sweetheart, if it were possible to keep you?’

‘Then I am safe for it is only if you wish to be rid of me that I shall have to go.’

He stroked her hair. She trusted him. How could he allow her trust to be betrayed?

‘By God’s eyes, teeth and lips, Alice,’ he swore, ‘none shall take you from me.’

Then he took her into a fierce embrace and made urgent love to her.

Then he laughed aloud and whispered: ‘But we shall have to be crafty, Alice my love. We have to delude your father and Richard. Dost doubt I can do this?’

‘I know you can do it.’

‘And the Pope as well, Alice. He is on our track.’

‘We shall defy them all.’

‘Can you do that, Alice, think you?’

‘You can,’ she said. ‘You can do anything you wish.’

That was how a mistress should be – loving, docile and with complete faith.

He would keep Alice. He had nothing to fear. He would outwit the Pope and the Cardinals. They were afraid of him in any case. It was merely a matter of whom they feared most – him or Louis. Louis was a feeble old man and young Philip was a weakling; whereas he was called the lion for his strength.

He would hold her no matter who came against him.

Little Joanna had gone off to marry William of Sicily, taking with her the promised wedding dress which had cost over a hundred pounds. Poor child, she was delighted with the dress. Her father hoped she would be happy and not too homesick. She could travel through France at the head of a brilliant cavalcade to St Gilles where she would be met by the Bishop of Norwich, whom Henry had sent to Sicily some months before to negotiate the marriage. With him would be the dignitaries of Sicily waiting to conduct her to her future husband.

The King took comfort in the fact that William of Sicily was an old man and would therefore be kind to the child and Joanna herself was such a beautiful and engaging creature that he must be pleased with her.

It was no use being saddened by her departure. Her sisters had gone before her at a tender age: Matilda to the Duke of Saxony and Eleanor to the King of Castile.

And so one’s daughters pass from one’s care, and often do much good; but he believed that his elder daughters had been brought up on the same bitter milk as his sons, which was not surprising since they had fed at the breast of the same she-wolf.

No matter. He had his son John and John must love him. He could not be deserted by all his sons. To compensate John for the loss of his sister he bought him two palfreys which he himself chose and it gave him great pleasure to take the boy out to see them.

They had cost fifty-two pounds and were worth it. He told John this for he wanted the boy to grow up with an appreciation of money. Young Henry was extravagant in the extreme and so was Geoffrey. Richard too seemed to have little understanding of the value of money, even though he wanted it for the maintenance of his dominions, not to fritter it away as Henry and Geoffrey did.