The Prince of Darkness (10 page)

John was delighted. He was in Le Mans at the time and he welcomed William des Roches with open arms.

‘Ah, my good lord,’ he said, ‘it pleases me that there are some wise men in the world. This conflict with my own nephew breaks my heart. I have never ill-wished the boy. I would his mother could be made to understand this.’

‘I am doing my best to make her do so. The King of France is quite perfidious. I never trusted him.’

‘Nor I,’ said John. ‘Where is Arthur?’

‘Not far from here. I will bring him to you, my lord, if you
will promise to guard him until such time as he is safe from the King of France.’

‘Bring him to me with all speed. I will guard him with my life.’

John was inwardly exulting. The folly of others was always exciting. They were actually going to put Arthur under his protection! And Constance would be with him. That was highly amusing. He had to be grateful to William des Roches for quarrelling so fiercely with the King of France that he saw Philip was the very essence of villainy beside whom his other enemies seemed like saints.

From the castle tower John saw the party riding towards the castle – young Arthur between his mother and Guy de Thouars. He was Constance’s paramour, of course. That was obvious. John’s eyes narrowed as he thought of the sport he could have with those two if the opportunity arose, but his main concern must be with Arthur, of course, because Arthur was the great threat to his security and he was the very heart of conflict between them.

Rubbing his hands he went to greet them.

‘My dear, dear Constance,’ he cried. ‘It does me good to behold you. And Arthur! How you have grown, nephew! You are indeed a man. And here is the Viscount de Thouars, your
very
good friend. I thank you, my lord, for taking such good care of my sister-in-law and my beloved nephew.’

She was wary, that woman. It had been against her judgement that they were here, he was sure. She would never trust him. But how frightened she must be of the King of France to have allowed Arthur to be brought to him!

Arthur was too young to hide his resentment. He knew John had been crowned King of England and the arrogant young
creature thought that honour should have been his. It was maddening to think that quite a number of people agreed with him. A dangerous boy, this one.

That was why he was going to be very welcoming to him.

Constance said: ‘We wish to shelter here for a short time. Our stay will not be long but if you would give us hospitality for a while we shall be grateful.’

‘I want no gratitude for that which can only give me great pleasure. Come into the castle. A feast is being prepared. I want you to know how happy I am to see you. I have always deplored that there should be conflict between us. Now we can talk as friends of any differences which may have arisen between us.’

Constance exchanged glances with Guy. Any differences! Only the usurpation of a throne! How could she have allowed William des Roches to persuade her to bring Arthur here? She only had to be in John’s company for a few moments for all her suspicions to be aroused. Surely Philip of France would have been the better choice even though there was disagreement between him and William des Roches. She had greatly feared that Philip would imprison Arthur. But what if John did the same? She knew then that she feared the King of England more than she did the King of France.

She was given a magnificent bedchamber and Arthur had the adjoining one. When they were alone together Arthur said: ‘My uncle seems very kind.’

She smiled wryly. ‘It is when he is most kind that I trust him least.’

There was a scratching at the door. Constance went to it and opened it cautiously. She fell back with relief. ‘Guy!’

Guy lifted his finger to his lips. ‘Depend upon it,’ he
whispered, ‘there will be those to watch us. I like this not. We should never have allowed William des Roches to bring us here.’

‘But we are here now,’ said Constance, ‘and must needs make the best of it.’

Guy shook his head. ‘I have heard whispers,’ he said. ‘John will never let Arthur leave here. At first he will soothe us with soft words but his intention is to make Arthur his prisoner.’

‘That must never be,’ cried Constance.

‘So think I. God knows what would happen to Arthur if he fell into that monster’s hands.’

Constance clung to his arm.

‘Oh, Guy, what shall we do?’

‘We are not spending a night in this castle. I have given orders to men I can trust. Tonight when the castle is quiet we shall steal out to the stables and horses will be ready. We shall not stop riding until dawn.’

She leaned against him, her eyes half closed. ‘Oh, Guy, how thankful I am that you are with us.’

All through the night they rode towards Brittany where they could feel safe for a while. With dawn they came to rest at the residence of a knight whom they could trust.

Before they continued their journey Constance talked seriously to Guy about the dangerous position which Arthur was in. ‘It is strange,’ she said, ‘that as soon as I see John I sense that which is evil in him, although when I am not with him I can be led to believe that he is not as bad as I really know him to be.’

‘Never forget,’ said Guy, ‘that he fears Arthur will take
what he wants, and which many believe by right is Arthur’s. Arthur will never be safe while John lives.’

‘It terrifies me. I would to God someone would kill him as they did his brother.’

‘It may happen, but until it does let us be on our guard.’

‘I know not what I would do without you, Guy.’

‘You know that you will never have to do without me, Constance. Let us marry.’

‘And the Earl of Chester?’

‘That was no marriage. You could surely get a dispensation. Marriage which was never consummated is no marriage at all.’

‘Guy, there is a priest here. He shall marry us. Then I shall know that we shall never be parted.’

‘It is what I hope for,’ he said.

And so immediately after their flight from Le Mans, Guy and Constance went through a ceremony of marriage.

When John heard that Arthur had escaped he fell into such a fury that none dared approach for the rest of the day. He threw himself on to the floor and rolled among the rushes, cramming handfuls of them into his mouth, grinding his teeth in his rage and then shouting to everyone what he would do to Arthur and his mother if ever they fell into his hands again.

Queen Eleanor was feeling her age, which was not surprising considering what it was. Few had lived as long as she had. In two years she would be eighty years old. There had been a time when she had thought she was to be immortal; but since Richard’s death she had lost that driving will and determination to live and some force had gone from her. It had surprised her that she had considered for a while settling down
in Fontevraud and leading a semi-pious life of seclusion. How she would have laughed at herself a few years ago; now it seemed a quite desirable way of passing the time left to her.

But it was not to be so. Experience had made her wise and she was naturally astute. She had immediately seen what a precarious position John was in, largely due to the existence of Arthur. None could be more aware of John’s weaknesses than herself, but he was her son and in her opinion he came before her grandson. She would therefore do everything she could to maintain him on the throne.

Her duty had seemed clear to her. The peaceful life at Fontevraud must be ended and she must go to Aquitaine in order to hold it for John. If she did not, she was well aware that it would fall to Philip.

That she should ever be reluctant to go to the beloved country of her birth amazed her; it was only because the days of holding court were over and she knew she would be nostalgic for her youth – and even for the days when she had left that desirable state some way behind – and young men had composed their songs of praise to her beauty with words and music which throbbed with desire for the lady of Aquitaine. But who could honestly sing such songs to a woman close on eighty!

Some might try but she would laugh them to scorn if they did and they would soon desist.

The fact was that she must return, swear fealty to Philip as a vassal to France for Aquitaine and take up the reins once more – to hold them until such a time as they could safely be passed over to John. Then she would go back to Fontevraud to that life of quiet and seclusion which had suddenly become attractive to her.

She was often anxious wondering how John would be able
to stand up to the wily, subtle King of France over whom Richard had held some spell, and wondering too how Philip felt about Richard’s death. As in every aspect of their relationship there must be contrasting emotions. While Richard lived there was no chance of Philip’s regaining those territories he so earnestly desired; but now John had stepped into Richard’s shoes? There were times when it was better not to look too far ahead, especially when it was likely that one would not be alive to see the catastrophe. But such was her nature that while she lived she would do everything to avoid it.

Messengers arrived at the castle, forerunners of a royal cavalcade at the head of which was her son John. She immediately gave orders for the preparation of a banquet, and went up to a turret to watch for the arrival. It was not long before she saw them approaching and she went down to greet them.

She embraced John warmly and together they went into the castle that she might hear what news it was that had brought him.

‘I met the King of France at Les Andelys,’ he told her, ‘and there is a truce between us. It is this that I wish to discuss with you.’

‘How did you find Philip? More amenable than usual, I’ll warrant,’ she said, a glint in her eyes and an excitement gripping her to feel herself once more at the centre of affairs. A life of seclusion for her! How would she endure it!

She was amused by Philip’s predicament. What a complex creature he was; and the fact that he was the son of her first husband had always made her interested in him. She would have enjoyed having him for a son; and she often wondered how a poor monk like Louis had managed to beget him. Philip
was clever; in fact she wondered whether there was any man alive to compare with him in mental agility. He was ambitious but preferred to make his conquests through diplomacy and clever juggling than through fighting, which was the best way in the end if the desired result could be achieved. That had been her second husband’s virtue. Henry II had had a reputation as a great general and yet if he could avoid battle he did so. This she had always seen as the secret of his successes in his early days. Philip resembled him in that way. Richard – straightforward, seeing but one side to every question – had believed that war was the decisive weapon. It often was, and when conducted by the greatest soldier in the world, invariably successful, but it was the wily ones like Henry II and Philip who often achieved their ends at least cost.

It was strange that Philip, who had once so passionately loved Richard, should now be in love with a woman. But in love he must be to allow a relationship to affect him politically.

His first wife Isabella of Hainault had died some years before, leaving him a son, Louis. Three years after her death he had married Ingeburga, a princess of Denmark. As soon as the ceremony had taken place he took a violent dislike to her and refused to live with her. As was the custom in such cases with kings he at once trumped up a case of consanguinity which would render the marriage null and this was immediately confirmed by a French court which did not wish to displease the King.

It was not always easy, though, to rid oneself of a royal princess, for her family rallied to her and popes who were often amenable when one side was important and the other less so liked to be a little more careful when dealing with royalty on either side. Thus Pope Celestine quashed the
decision of the French court and forbade Philip to marry again. Two princesses refused the honour of becoming Queen of France, fearing that they might not please Philip and their fate be like that of Ingeburga; but then he met Agnes of Meran and her beauty and grace charmed him to such an extent that he was determined, in spite of the Pope, to marry her. This he did. Celestine might have bowed to a
fait accompli
but his successor Innocent III was of sterner morals and, moreover, determined to exercise his power. He wrote to Philip to tell him that his conduct had brought upon him the wrath of God and the thunder of the Church and if Philip continued to live with Agnes he would impose the Interdict on him which meant that there would be no religious ceremonies and festivals in France.