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

Alan was too dismayed to comment and Robert went on: ‘I want you to go to my brother and lay this suggestion before him. At the same time you might well find a wife. The royal Athelings are in an abbey at Rumsey of which one of them is the head. The eldest girl is Edith and marriageable. You might well find that she is a suitable bride for you; and in view of the project you will be laying before him, I think my brother will be in a temper to approve the suit.’

So Alan set out for England.

* * * * *

When Rufus heard the proposition he was thrown into a great state of excitement.

Normandy for 10,000 marks. He would find that money no matter where he had to go for it.

Oh what a fool Robert was! What a mad dreamer! He did not deserve Normandy. That much was clear.

Yes, yes, he declared, Alan of Bretagne might go to the Abbey of Rumsey and see the girl. He waved his hand for him to be gone. He could not wait to call together a meeting of the men he would need to carry out his plans.

How were they going to raise 10,000 marks? There was one way of raising money known to him. Taxation. If his subjects had land and money and he needed it, they must provide it. And if they refused, there were dungeons waiting for them.

First he called in Ranulf Flambard, his greatest friend and favourite.

‘Ha, Ranulf my boy, listen to this.’

Ranulf sprawled familiarly on the faldestol. He roared with laughter when Rufus told him of Robert’s proposition.

‘We’ll get the money.’ cried Ranulf. ‘We’ll get the money and Normandy.’

Rufus gazed affectionately at Ranulf—a man after his own heart. He had been attracted to him the first time he had seen him. His sexual tastes were similar to those of Rufus and they were immediately close companions. Ranulf was the son of a parish priest of Bayeux who had come to London soon after the Conquest. Hearing much of the King’s manner of life he came to Court and his rude manners, his hearty laughter, his malicious tongue and a certain rough wit immediately appealed to Rufus.

Ranulf had quickly discovered that the best way to stay in the good graces of Rufus was to keep him well supplied with money and he had devised new methods of taxation. It was for this reason that he had been given the name of Flambard— the firebrand; for his methods of extortion were not over nice.

Ranulf now threw himself whole-heartedly into the matter of raising 10,000 marks. He instituted a new form of bribery. Men could pay their way out of trouble. Criminals were set free if they could raise enough money to buy their release.

‘The church is rich.’ said Ranulf; and they laughed together. Ranulf knew how his sovereign enjoyed discomfiting the clergy.

‘Get to it, my good friend.’ cried Rufus. ‘And begin with our reluctant Archbishop of Canterbury.’

* * * * *

Anselm was amazed to learn of the bargain into which Robert of Normandy had entered with his brother. He would have refused to help raise the money but he was warned by his friends that that would be unwise. He must remember that Rufus was a violent man and that Rome was too far off to offer him protection. He could be thrown into a dungeon and blinded—a revenge often taken by the King on his victims, for the Conqueror himself had abolished the death penalty and decided that it was a more just punishment to rob rebels of their eyes than their lives.

Anselm therefore raised five hundred pounds of silver in answer to the King’s command.

Rufus roared with anger when he received this offer.

‘Of what use is that to me?’ he demanded. ‘From the rich See of Canterbury I want more and shall have more.’

Anselm replied that he could not give what he did not possess; and he sold the silver and distributed the proceeds among the poor.

Well, mused Rufus, five hundred pounds worth of silver was better than nothing. So he sent a messenger to Anselm to tell him that he would accept the silver after all.

Anselm was not displeased to reply that the silver had already been sold and the money it had raised given to the poor.

Rufus’s face grew purple when he heard this.

He would have to show that insolent priest who was master in this land, he decided, and that soon. In the meantime his great concern was money...money for Normandy.

‘I want money.’ was the message sent to Anselm. ‘Have you not gold and silver boxes full of dead men’s bones?’

That the King should suggest using the ornaments on coffins was repugnant to the Archbishop and he ignored the King’s request.

Rufus forgot Anselm temporarily. He had accumulated the 10,000 marks. The agreement was drawn up. Normandy was in pawn; and if Robert could not repay the loan and if he failed to return, then Rufus King of England would be also Duke of Normandy.

A Suitor at the Abbey

How dreary was life at Rumsey. There were lessons and prayers all through the day; and the girls were made to wear the black Benedictine robe of the order which had been founded by King Alfred.

They were rebellious as far as they could be. Edith had often taken off her robe when she was alone and stamped on it to relieve her feelings. One day when she was thus engaged she perceived a pair of eyes watching her through the aperture in the door of her cell and she was suddenly more frightened than she had ever been in her life. The eyes disappeared but shortly afterwards her aunt came into her cell, but by that time she had hastily put on the robe and was kneeling before the cross on the wall. The Abbess stood quietly behind her for some seconds; then a pair of hands was placed on her shoulders and she was forced down until her head was on the stone floor.

‘Jezebel’ whispered Aunt Christina. Edith’s head was pressed against the stones; she cried out in pain and Aunt Christina laughed derisively.

‘Get up then, spawn of the devil,’ she said.

Edith stood before her.

The Abbess sat on the stone seat cut out of the wall.

‘You like not the holy habit,’ she said.

‘My father said I was not to be a nun.’

‘It may be that God has punished him for denying his daughter her vocation.’

‘I do not wish to take the veil.’

‘It may be that you will have no choice in the matter.’ said Christina. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Take off the robe you so despise.’

‘I do not despise it. It is only that I feel it is not for me.’

‘Take it off,’ said Christina.

Edith took off the robe and stood in the rough hairy shift.

‘Take that off too,’ was the command.

‘I have nothing beneath it,’ replied Edith.

‘Well let us see this body of which you are so proud.’

‘Nay, you mistake me. It is not pride. It is...’

‘Vanity!’ The Abbess rose and taking the shift in her firm hands pulled it off. Edith stood naked before her.

She studied the girl. ‘Voluptuary!’ she said. ‘So you wish to flaunt this do you?’ She pinched the firm flesh and brought her face close to that of Edith. ‘Of what do you think when you lie in your cell? Of what are you thinking when you are on your knees? Pray tell me that. Nay, I will tell you. You are thinking sinful thoughts. You are thinking of men and this body in their hands.’

‘No, no, Aunt Christina, it is not so.’

‘Then you will take the veil.’

‘No, I will not.’

‘Why not, if your thoughts are as pure as you would have me believe?’

‘I wish to marry, to have children.’

‘Did I not tell you what was in your mind? So you add lies to your many sins.’

‘My mother was a good woman—the best that ever lived,’ said Edith defiantly, ‘yet she married and had children.’

The Abbess took Edith by the arm and pushed her down on her straw.

‘So you long for men. You want this body you so much admire to be admired by others, to be caressed. I shall caress it in my way...in God’s way.’ She called to one of the nuns who was waiting outside the cell. The woman came in carrying a long thin cane.