The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗
‘Once we are there,’ said Herbert, ‘we can make sure of the protection of the King of France.’
Within a few days they had reached that sanctuary.
Chapter XIV
ROSAMUND’S BOWER
There was a great rejoicing in France for Louis’s wife had given birth to a son. A male heir for France when it had been despaired of. Louis was delighted; all over France the bells rang out and the news was proclaimed through the streets of Paris. He had feared that he could beget only daughters.
Henry heard the news with despondency. His son Henry was married to Marguerite of France and he had hoped that on the death of Louis, since the French King had then no male heir, young Henry might take the crown. He would after all have a certain claim through his wife and with the King of England and Duke of Normandy behind him, his power would be great.
Alas, fate had decided against him.
Eleanor shared his chagrin and she herself very shortly afterwards gave birth to a daughter. They called her Joanna.
The birth of his son seemed to add a new dimension to Louis’s character. He cast off much of his meekness. He had a son to plan for now. This showed immediately in his reception of Thomas Becket to whom he accorded a very warm welcome.
‘It is one of the royal dignities of France to protect fugitives, especially men of the Church, from their persecutors,’ he said. He would do everything in his power to help Thomas reach the Pope.
Henry’s feelings were incomprehensible even to himself.
He was half pleased that Thomas had escaped. He could have arrested him in the council chamber. Why had he not done so? he asked himself many times. Because he did not want Thomas’s blood on his hands. The man exasperated him beyond endurance; he set the hot blood rushing to his head; and yet at the same time he could not entirely suppress a tenderness for him. Often memories of the old days would come crowding into his mind. What fun they had had! No one had ever amused him quite as much as Thomas. What a fool the man was! If only he had been ready to do what the King wished, their friendship would have gone on and on to enrich both their lives.
He sent his envoys to the court of France with gifts for Louis and congratulations, which Louis knew were false, on the birth of his son.
They had come, they said, to speak of the late Archbishop of Canterbury.
Louis with surprising spirit answered that he had not known that Thomas Becket was the late Archbishop of Canterbury. ‘I am a King even as the King of England is,’ he went on, ‘yet I have not the power to depose the least of my clerics.’
They realised then that Louis was not going to be helpful and that Thomas had indeed found a sanctuary with him.
They asked him if he would write to the Pope putting the King of England’s grievances to him. They reminded him that during the conflict between England and France the Archbishop had worked assiduously against France.
‘It was his duty,’ said Louis. ‘Had he been my subject he would have worked so for me.’
There was nothing Henry could do now to prevent the case of Thomas Becket being put before the Pope, and he made sure that his side of the case should be well represented; that old enemy of Thomas’s, Roger, Archbishop of York, was among his emissaries.
The friends Thomas could send, headed by Herbert, were humble in comparison; they had no rich gifts to bring to the Pope. The Pope in his Papal Court at Sens received them with affection however and was deeply moved when he heard of the suffering of Thomas Becket.
‘He is alive still,’ he said. ‘Then I rejoice. He can still, while in the flesh, claim the privilege of martyrdom.’
The next day the Pope called a meeting and the King’s embassy and those who came from Thomas were present.
Carefully the Pope listened to both sides of the story and later sent for Thomas.
When he was received by the Pope and his cardinals, Thomas showed them the constitutions he had brought from Clarendon. The Pope read them with horror and Thomas confessed his sin in that he had promised to obey the King and that only when he had been called to make the promise in public had he realised that the King had no intention of keeping his word. After that he had determined to stand out against Henry no matter what happened.
‘Your fault was great,’ said the Pope, ‘but you have done your best to atone for it. You have fallen from grace, but my son, you have risen stronger than you were before. I will not give you a penance. You have already expiated your sin in all that you have suffered.’
Thomas was determined that they should know the complete truth.
‘Much evil has fallen on the Church on my account,’ he said. ‘I was thrust into my post by the King’s favour, by the design of men, not God. I give into your hands, Holy Father, the burden which I no longer have the strength to bear.’
He tried to put the archiepiscopal ring into the Pope’s hands, but the Pope would not take it.
‘Your work for the Holy Church has atoned for all that has happened to you,’ he said. ‘You will receive the See of Canterbury fresh from my hands. Rest assured that we here
shall maintain you in your cause because it is the Church’s cause. You should retire, my son, to some refuge where you can meditate and regain your strength. I will send you to a monastery where you must learn to subdue the flesh. You have lived in great comfort and luxury and I wish you to learn to live with privation and poverty.’
Thomas declared his burning desire to do so and it was arranged that he should for a while live at the Cistercian monastery of Pontigny which was in Burgundy.
Eleanor was once more pregnant and a few days after Christmas in the year 1166 another son was born to her.
They called him John.
Soon after the birth of this son Eleanor began to wonder why the King’s visits to Woodstock always raised his spirits. There was a lilt in his voice when he mentioned the place.
What, she asked herself, was so special about Woodstock? A pleasant enough place it was true, but the King had many pleasant castles and palaces. She determined to find out.
When Henry was at Woodstock she joined him there and she noticed that he disappeared for long spells at a time, and that when she asked any of her servants where he might be, she could get no satisfactory answer.
She decided she would watch him very closely herself and all the time they were at Woodstock she did this. One afternoon she was rewarded for her diligence. Looking from her window she saw the King emerging from the palace, and hastening from her room she left by a door other than the one which he had used, and so before he had gone very far she came face to face with him.
‘A pleasant day,’ she said, ‘on which to take a walk.’
‘Oh yes, indeed,’ he answered somewhat shiftily she thought, and was about to say that she would accompany him when she noticed attached to his spur a ball of silk.
She was about to ask him how he had come by this when she changed her mind.
She said that she was going into the palace and would see him later. He seemed relieved and kissed her hand and as she passed him facing towards the palace she contrived to bend swiftly and pick up the ball of silk.
He passed on and she saw to her amazement that a piece of the silk was still caught in his spur and that the ball unraveled as he went.
She was very amused because if she could follow the King at some distance she would know exactly which turn he had taken in the maze of trees by following the thread.
