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

‘Go and tell your master that he has offended against the laws of this land and he is summoned to the courts.’

‘My lord answers only to one master during the absence of the King. He is the liegeman of Prince John.’

‘Pray go and tell your master that he is summoned to the courts and it will go ill with him if he does not obey this summons.’

It was this matter which was giving Longchamp anxious thoughts on this summer’s morning of the year 1191.

When Gerard de Camville asked for an audience with Prince John he was received at once.

‘This insolent Norman flouts you, my lord,’ cried Gerard. ‘I have told him that I obey only one liege lord: my Prince. His answer is that that will not serve. He ignores you, my lord and your authority.’

‘By God’s eyes, ’tis so,’ cried John. ‘We’ll show the knave. I’ll drive him from his office. You will see. I am the King’s brother. I am in fact the rightful King, for you know full well my father wanted me to have this kingdom.’

Gerard was silent. He was with John at the moment but one must be careful not to utter treason. There were too many who could overhear a carelessly spoken word.

‘As your liegeman,’ said Gerard, ‘I maintain that it is only in your courts that I can be tried.’

‘Leave this to me,’ said John. He was excited, seeing here a chance for open conflict with Longchamp. He wanted to think what trouble could grow out of this incident.

He whipped himself up to a fury. It was an indulgence he could never resist. Anger stimulated him. He liked to feel it rising within him to such heights that he had to let it out. Now he felt he could indulge in righteous anger.

‘Am I a king’s son or am I not?’ he demanded.

‘You are indeed, my Prince,’ answered Gerard, soothingly. ‘Any who denied it would lie in his throat.’

‘And one denies it. This low-born peasant, this serf who gives himself the airs of a King. Would I had him here, Gerard! What would I do with him? No torture would be too severe. It would please me greatly to listen to his screams for mercy.’

‘He is indeed an arrogant upstart, my Prince.’

‘Aye, and living like a king. His servants . . . English servants mark you! . . . kneeling before him when he eats. I should like to make him kneel . . . kneel to the humblest man I could find. That would amuse me. Strip him of his silks and jewels and have him mother naked in the streets and the lash descending on his peasant’s back till the blood flowed.’

Gerard was wondering what reasonable action the Prince would take.

He said cautiously: ‘That will come, my lord Prince, but first it will be necessary to warn him.’

John scowled. Warn him! He didn’t want him warned. He wanted him to go on making such mistakes that the whole country would rise against him.

‘I shall take up arms against him,’ growled John, ‘and there’ll be many to follow me. The people hate him, Gerard . . . even as I do.’

He shouted to a messenger. ‘Come hither. Go at once to upstart Chancellor William de Longchamp and tell him this from me. He is to stop persecuting Gerard de Camville. If he does not he will wish he had never been born, for I shall come against him in battle with such forces that will drive him out of this land.’

When Longchamp received this message he knew that he must take speedy action. Only by force could he reason with John. It was deplorable. The King would be displeased; but Longchamp could see nothing for it. He could not allow John to dictate to him.

He summoned the leading ministers, but before they arrived news was brought to him that the castellans of Tickhill and Nottingham had handed the castles to John.

Longchamp was horrified.

‘There must have been threats,’ he said. ‘These men would never have given up their trusts otherwise. They have been holding the castles in the King’s name and now to hand them over to his brother is an act of treason against Richard.’

‘And Richard,’ his ministers reminding him, ‘being far away . . .’

‘Aye, ’tis a sorry state of affairs, for as Regent I must do as the King would do. I see that Prince John has his eyes on the crown, and that I must hold at all costs for my master.’

‘This will mean open friction with the Prince,’ Walter de Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen, warned him.

‘If that is so then it must be. John should never have been allowed to come back into the country. The King forbade him to for three years.’

‘But the King later gave permission for both John and his base-born brother Geoffrey to return.’

‘So ’twas said. I cannot believe the King would have been so unaware of their trouble-making propensities to allow it. We must take bold action. It is the only course when dealing with men such as Prince John. I am going to summon him to appear before courts to investigate the manner of his return to England when the King banished him for three years. If the King indeed gave him leave to come back, it must be proved.’

The Archbishop of Rouen agreed that while such action was taking place it might give those who were seeking rebellion time to brood on what this would mean and it was a way of reminding people that although the Prince, as the King’s brother, was becoming a powerful force in the land he like everyone else was a subject of King Richard and must obey his laws.

‘My lord Archbishop,’ said Longchamp, ‘only you are of sufficient rank to take the summons to Prince John.’

The Archbishop nodded ruefully. He could imagine the Prince’s wrath when he realised he was summoned to appear before the courts.

It was as he anticipated. He had never seen such fury except in the old King Henry II. The Prince’s skin was livid, his eyes ablaze with fury; he foamed at the lips and clenched and unclenched his hands.

‘By God’s eyes,’ he shouted, ‘if I but had that devil here. He’d never limp again. I’d slit that big belly right up . . . I, with my own knife. He’d not die easy . . .’

The Archbishop allowed him to go on and his very calmness cooled John’s temper. The Archbishop showed no fear; he stood rather like someone who was patiently waiting for the storm to be over.

It irritated John for it spoilt the excitement his fury always gave him. He liked to see people cringe before him. This calm dignified man in his robes of office, which must always inspire a certain respect, disconcerted him.

He stopped suddenly and looked full at the Archbishop.

‘And what say you, my lord, to see a Prince so treated?’

‘I say this,’ answered the Archbishop: ‘You should offer to meet Longchamp and find a solution to your differences.’

‘Do you think there will ever be any solution?’

‘We must pray for peace, my lord, until the return of our sovereign lord the King.’

Sovereign lord the King! Where was Richard now? Why was there no news? He was in constant danger. Why was God so perverse that he continued to protect him from that poisoned arrow?

The opposing parties met at Winchester both supported by armed followers. The Archbishop of Rouen however was successful in advising a peaceful solution. The two castles which had been surrendered to John were to be given up, for they were after all the King’s castles, and those who had surrendered them had been but custodians. John agreed that they should be given back but, if the King died or Longchamp did not keep his side of the agreement between them, the castles should revert to him. Wilily he arranged that the castles should be put into the hands of two men who were his friends. Longchamp was aware of this and insisted that the greater strongholds of Winchester, Windsor and Northampton were to be guarded by his own supporters.

John was disappointed. He had believed that more of the barons would be ready to support him on account of the unpopularity of Longchamp. It was true that the Chancellor was disliked but the barons could see that John was not strong enough to stand successfully against him. He was weak, self-indulgent and that violent temper augured no good. They longed for a strong King. If Richard would return they were convinced that all would be well.