The Prince of Darkness (37 page)

As soon as John left Canterbury he sent for John de Grey, his Bishop of Norwich.

The King was in a good mood. With de Grey at the head of the Church in England he could look forward to little interference in that direction and he was congratulating himself on having the very man for the post.

‘My dear Bishop,’ he said, ‘it does me good to see you. I have plans for you. What say you to Canterbury?’

‘Canterbury, my lord!’

‘Oh, that makes you open your eyes, does it?’

‘My lord, I know that Hubert is dead …’

‘Interfering old man. His idea was that he would make the State subservient to the Church. He did not say so but the implication was there. Well, now he is no more and we must find another to take his place. Because I know you have been my friend and will continue to be so, I have decided to appoint you Archbishop of Canterbury.’

‘My lord!’ John de Grey was on his knees kissing John’s hand.

‘My dear Bishop,’ said John, ‘I am sure that you will serve me well as you have in the past. You have been a good secretary and friend, and I know that, with you on the Primate’s throne, I shall have done with these trying and interfering old men who would presume to tell me my duty.’

‘I shall serve you with all my heart and soul,’ the Bishop assured him.

‘I know it well and now I shall send envoys at once to Rome, though it irks me to, but so must it be. Then, my dear friend, when you are my archbishop we can work together for the country’s good and keep the Church where it rightly belongs.’

A good day’s work, thought John, when he said farewell to the Bishop of Norwich.

Pope Innocent III, born Lothario of Segni, was a man of great intellectual powers. He had been destined to become Pope ever since the time – some sixteen years before – when he had become a cardinal under his uncle Pope Clement III. Highly educated, he had a lawyer’s mind and was deeply interested in world affairs. He was not content with being the figurehead to whom the Church throughout the world was answerable. He considered all kings and rulers to be subject to the law of the Church and therefore they were under his control no less than the clergy.

Every pope was aware of the conflict which it seemed must inevitably arise between heads of states and the Church and he was more determined than most of his predecessors to keep all subservient to him.

Hubert Walter had been an ideal Archbishop of Canterbury; a strong man who had been a statesman as well as a churchman; it was such men whom Innocent wished to see at the head of the Church throughout the world.

He was surprised, therefore, when Reginald arrived in Rome to ask for his sanction of his appointment as Archbishop of Canterbury. He had never heard of Reginald and as the man had arrived with some secrecy he realised that there must be people in England who would not be eager to see him as Primate. He learned that Reginald had already been elected by the monks of Canterbury, though neither the King nor the bishops had set their seal of approval on this choice. He would make careful inquiries.

He sent emissaries to Reginald and demanded to see his credentials. Reginald assured them that he had been elected by the monks of Canterbury whom ancient tradition allowed to select their archbishop. In his appeal to the Pope he signed himself archbishop Elect.

The Pope was not greatly impressed and laid the matter aside, while Reginald was left chafing with impatience in Rome. There were many who knew why he was there and to them he talked more freely than was discreet, insisting that he had been properly elected and had even been throned in the Primate’s chair. Every document he signed as Archbishop Elect and very soon the object of his mission was well known throughout Rome.

It was hardly to be expected that no one would consider it worthwhile reporting this state of affairs in England. John was at Westminster when he received a caller who had come from Rome with news which he thought should be laid before the King.

John, who had shelved the matter of the election of the archbishop because while there was no archbishop the riches of the see, which were considerable, were at his disposal, was furious.

The monks at Canterbury had dared attempt to outwit him. They had selected their man and sent him to Rome for the Pope’s approval. The perfidy of such an act infuriated him.

He shouted for his servants. ‘Prepare for a journey. I am leaving for Canterbury without delay.’

When the King travelled – which was frequently – none could be unaware of it. He would be at the head of a cavalcade with the Queen riding beside him and not far behind him would be litters and their bearers in case they should get tired of riding. Following them were their ministers, knights, courtiers, musicians, entertainers and the rest; then would come the wagons filled with bedding and cooking utensils and perhaps some piece of furniture of which the royal pair were particularly fond. Servants of all types came behind the wagons and as the party progressed it would be joined by pedlars, harlots, strolling players, all out to earn something from this stroke of unexpected good fortune in being able to join up with the royal party on the move.

Thus the monks of Canterbury heard that the King was coming their way and when this happened they guessed why, and were thrown into a panic. The Abbot’s first act was to send a messenger at once to Rome to repudiate Reginald. He had been indiscreet and had not kept his part of the bargain and therefore they were justified in disowning him.

Meanwhile, John and his retinue arrived at Canterbury and John paid an immediate visit to the abbey and demanded that
the Abbot and his chief subordinates stand before him. They quailed before his rising temper.

‘By God’s ears, teeth and feet,’ cried John in a voice which echoed through the vaulted chamber, ‘I’d know what this means. You traitors, you scoundrels! So you have elected your archbishop, have you? You scheming curs. You have lied to me. You have accepted John de Grey and all the time you have been hiding the fact that you have elected a man to the Primate’s throne.’

‘’Tis not so, ’tis not so,’ cried the Abbot, trembling. ‘Nay, you have been misinformed, my lord.’

John looked a little better humoured. ‘How is it then that I hear you have elected your sub-prior Reginald? You have sent him to Rome for the Pope’s sanction. He prates that you have already enthroned him. By God’s eyes, I’ll have you know that I shall soon unthrone him.’

‘’Tis not so. ’Tis not so,’ was all the Abbot could say.

John seized him almost playfully by the shoulders and looked into his face. John at such moments was terrifying; the blood tinged the whites of his eyes and the pupils were completely exposed; his teeth were bared and expressions of cruelty and sadism chased each other across his face.

‘Nay, ’tis not so, ’tis not so,’ he mimicked. ‘For I know this, Sir Abbot, you would not be so foolish as to cross me thus. Did I not come here and tell you that
I
had appointed John de Grey?’

‘You told us, my lord, that you believed he would be a good archbishop.’

‘And you agreed with me, so it is not conceivable that you could have so deceived me. You would do no such thing. How could you, a godly man, so lie and on such a matter too? All
Heaven would rise against you – as would your earthly master, Abbot. By God’s limbs, no punishment would be too great for one capable of such perfidy. It pleases me that you are innocent of this: It should not care to be called on to do my duty in your case. I would have to order that tongue to be cut out … since it was capable of uttering such lies.’

The Abbot by this time, together with the monks, was reduced to such a state of terror that their only desire was to placate the King.

‘My lord … my lord …’ he babbled.

‘Come, come,’ said John. ‘Speak up. You are an innocent man and innocent men have nothing to fear from me. What is it you would tell me?’

‘That … that we will elect an archbishop now while you are with us, my lord, that we may have no fear of offending you.’

‘Well spoken,’ said John. ‘We will elect John de Grey. Then we must perforce send a deputy to Rome for confirmation from the Pope. A fact which irks me, but nevertheless must be. Come, my good friends, we will proceed, for I see we are in complete agreement on this point.’

So before John left Canterbury, his protégé, John de Grey, had been elected Archbishop and it was arranged that a deputation be sent to Rome to inform the Pope of the election and to procure his sanction.

When Reginald heard that the party had arrived in Rome he was furious. That the deputation came with the King’s authority was indeed disconcerting, but he was a man who was determined to have his rights. He had been elected Archbishop, had even gone through the ceremony, and he was
not going to be brushed aside if he could help it. He sent further proofs of his election to the Pope who by this time had received the deputation from the King.

Meanwhile, the bishops had learned that there were two candidates for the archbishopric and neither of these men had their support. Those who were in Rome immediately sent their protests to the Pope.

Innocent was irritated. This was all very unorthodox. First the secret election was greatly to be deplored and he was sufficiently well informed on State affairs to realise that John de Grey was the King’s man and that he could expect little support for the Church from him. Although, like all popes, he regarded himself as supreme ruler, none but fools would run the risk of alienating powerful kings, even though the Church he believed should hold sway over temporal rulers; he could not, therefore, openly flout John. But he determined that his man should not become Archbishop of Canterbury.

Innocent believed that when a difficulty of such a nature presented itself a great deal was to be gained by delay, but finally he came up with a decision.

The election of Reginald had not been conducted in a proper manner and therefore he could not give his consent to it. Nevertheless, it had been an election and Canterbury had in fact had an archbishop when John de Grey was elected. Therefore, his election was invalid. The Archbishopric of Canterbury was, in fact, vacant.

This seemed to Innocent an excellent opportunity for putting forward his own man, and he had the very one in mind. This was a certain Stephen Langton. There should be no objection to Langton, the Pope reasoned, for he was reputed to be the most illustrious and learned churchman of the age.
Moreover, he was an Englishman, having been born in that country. It was true he had lived there very little, having studied in the University of Paris where he had lived until a year before. There he had lectured on theology and earned himself a reputation as one of the most intellectual men of the day. King Philip, realising his abilities, had shown him great friendship; moreover, he was a man of high moral standing.

A year or so before Innocent had made up his mind that such a man must be recognised for what he was and he sent for him to come to Rome where he made him Cardinal priest of St Chrysogonus. He gave lectures on theology in Rome and had become a friend of the Pope who saw in him a man who could do great service to the Church.

Innocent had learned that when Stephen Langton was invited to Rome, King John had written to congratulate him as an Englishman, for his promotion. John had said that he himself had been on the point of inviting him to come to the English Court for he believed that such an illustrious Englishman should reside in the country of his birth that he might bring credit to it. But since he was in Rome and close to the Pope, doubtless he should not forget that he was an Englishman.

The Pope was amused. So John thought he had an advocate near the Papal Court, did he? He would have to understand that Stephen Langton was no man to be bribed or intimidated. He was one who would stand by his principles in any circumstances, and he was a staunch upholder of the Church and would always support it against any temporal rulers.

He therefore called together an assembly of monks and bishops and told them that his choice had fallen on Stephen Langton and they must agree with him that there was no one
more suited to the post, and he therefore proposed to elect him Archbishop of Canterbury. The see was vacant, rendered so by the death of good Archbishop Hubert. The secret election of Reginald, because it had been conducted in an unorthodox manner, was void and the election of John de Grey was similarly so because it had taken place before Reginald had been displaced. Neither of these men seemed so eligible and everyone must agree with him that Stephen Langton was eminently so.