The Heart of the Lion - Plaidy Jean (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений txt) 📗

He took her hand and kissed it. Although he would go his own way, he was telling her he would listen to her; but if he did not agree with her advice he would not take it.

In her heart she would not have had him otherwise.

‘We must now give our thoughts to your coronation,’ she said. ‘There must be no delay in that. John will soon be with us.’

‘He must be at my coronation. I want him to know that if he is a loyal brother to me then the future lies bright before him.’

‘He will be with us soon,’ said Eleanor. ‘I long to see my youngest son. Rest assured, dear Richard, that I will impress on him the need to serve you well.’

‘I know it,’ said Richard; and in spite of the fact that she deeply resented his showing favour to her husband’s bastard Geoffrey, there was complete accord between them.

John had watched his brother embark at Barfleur. ‘It would be well for us to travel separately,’ Richard had said.

The meaning of those words was evident. They were the two remaining sons of the dead King. If they were both to become victims of the sea – which they could well do if they travelled in the same ship – the next heir would be a boy, no more than a baby, the son of their dead brother, Geoffrey of Brittany. Little Arthur was of no age to govern.

A dark mood seized John as he watched his brother’s ship sail away. This was not what his father had intended. He, John, had been promised England. He longed to be a king . . . and King of England.

He would never forget that when he had been born his father had nicknamed him John Lackland – Jean sans Terre. That was because his elder brothers had prior claims to his father’s possessions and even a great king with overseas dominions could not comfortably provide for so many sons. His brother William had died before he was born, but that had still left Henry, Richard and Geoffrey. Henry and Geoffrey were now dead. So only the two of them remained – Richard and himself.

How secretly he had exulted over the bad blood between his father and Richard! That had seemed to make the way clear for him; and his father had talked to him often of his inheritance. Now this elder powerful brother, known throughout Europe as one of the greatest fighters of his time, claimed the throne. Their mother stood for him and so did the people. What could he do to prevent Richard’s becoming King?

The maddening part about it was that Richard would now marry and if he did and there was a child that would be the end of John’s hopes.

Once he had been promised a crown as King of Ireland. How delighted he had been then, but when his father had sent him to Ireland there had been trouble. He and his young followers had ridiculed the Irish whose manners seemed so odd compared with their own; the girls were pretty though and being young and full of high spirits they had made good sport with them; but the Irish had resented the rape of their land and their women and John had been recalled. His father had been lenient with him, doting on him until the end. He had sent for a crown of peacock feathers set in gold from the Pope with his consent to make John King of Ireland. What ill fortune had been his! Trouble in Normandy (when was there not trouble in Normandy?) had intervened to prevent the ceremony and he had never received the crown.

He cursed the ill fortune which had made him a younger son, but he had had the foresight to know when to leave his father. In fact he had never cared a jot for the old man; he had deceived him all along, and he had gone over to Richard before his father died; and for this reason Richard was now accepting him as his good brother and ally.

He laughed slyly, thinking of his elder brother. Richard Yea and Nay. That was good. He was predictable. There was little guile in Richard. To Richard an enemy was an enemy, a friend a friend. Richard said No and meant No. He was frank and open. But he could be ruthless and when his anger was aroused against an enemy none could be more cruel. But he had what he called a sense of honour and this would not permit him to dissemble, which made it easy for such as John to know how to act towards him.

Now John must pay homage to the new King; he must make his brother believe that he would be loyal to him; and so must he be – until the opportunity arose to be otherwise.

He was young yet – twenty-two years of age; Richard was ten years older. There had been rumours about certain debaucheries in which Richard had indulged. Sometimes women were concerned in them; but did Richard really care for women? John was unsure. There had been rumours about Philip when Richard was in France; but then a man could spare the time from those he loved to get a child, particularly when that man was king and the child could be the next King of England. It was amusing that Richard’s betrothed was the Princess Alice who had been their father’s mistress. He could hardly marry her; and the fact that he was betrothed to her would naturally mean some delay before he could marry anyone else. Delay was to be welcomed; for who knew, in the life of such a fighter, when an arrow or some such weapon might not put a speedy end to that life.

And then the way would be open for John.

So he must return to England; he must kneel at the feet of his handsome brother; he must swear to serve him with his life while he waited patiently for his death.

He reached Dover and went straight to Winchester.

There his mother received him warmly. She was fond of him, although of course none of her children could be to her what Richard was. He was delighted when, after he had been formally received by his brother, she took them both to her private chamber and he was allowed to talk with them.

Richard said that there must be no more conflict in the family. It had been his father’s downfall and had brought no good to any of them. Let them have done with it and work together.

‘Aye, aye,’ said John fervently.

His mother eyed him with approval.

‘I know that you were once with our father against me,’ said Richard. ‘I know that he offered bribes to you . . . even this kingdom. That must be forgotten.’

‘It is forgotten,’ John assured him seriously.

Richard grasped his hand and John forced tears into his eyes.

‘It is well that you understand each other,’ said their mother.

‘Our father, I know, granted you the County of Mortain, but did not live long enough to give you possession of it. That shall now be yours.’

‘You are generous to me, Richard.’

‘And intend to be more so. You have been granted certain lands in England and there is a revenue I believe of some four thousand Angevin pounds which comes from them.’

John’s eyes glistened. He would indeed be rich. If the Gloucester lands were his he believed he would be the richest man in England – next to the King.

He said: ‘There is one other matter. It concerns my marriage. I am no longer a boy. I need a wife.’ He did not add: And I need her fortune. But neither his mother nor his brother would be ignorant of the size of that.

‘Our father betrothed you to Hadwisa of Gloucester,’ said Richard; ‘I often wondered whether it was wise. There is a close relationship between our families.’

Wise! thought John. The richest heiress in the country! Of course it was wise!

‘I would marry her tomorrow . . . if you gave your consent,’ said John; and he thought: Aye, and without it, for I would risk much for Hadwisa’s wealth.

Eleanor said: ‘The Gloucester lands and wealth should be brought into the family. Let John marry Hadwisa and then it will be too late for the Church to do much about it.’

Richard was thoughtful but John’s eyes were glistening with avaricious delight.

Rich lands in Normandy and wealth from England and now marriage with its rich heiress.