The Prince of Darkness (9 page)

So John was crowned King of England but he refused to receive Holy Communion after the ceremony of crowning which was a custom of the coronation and was looked upon as sealing the oaths a king had just taken.

There was much feasting after they had left the Abbey and John and all the guests had to do justice to the twenty-one oxen which had been roasted for the occasion.

The next day he received the homage of the barons.

He was now truly King of England and Duke of Normandy.

Chapter IV

S
urrounded by serious men, somewhat overawed by the ceremonies of centuries, remembering stories he had heard of his great ancestors William the Conqueror, Henry the Lion of Justice and even the virtues of his own father Henry II, John was temporarily ready to be guided.

His first task was to receive William Marshal, to let him know of his appreciation of what he had done and to express the hope that William would serve him in the same selfless manner as he had served his brother and father.

William assured him of his loyalty and John could not help being impressed in the presence of such a man. He confirmed his title of Earl of Pembroke which had come to him through his wife and showed himself ready to listen to William’s advice.

William was pleased that England had accepted him; and that Normandy too was with him. They would regain Anjou, he promised John. When a new king came to the throne there were always those who thought they had a greater claim. The main trouble would come from the Continent, but all the kings since the Conqueror had been faced with that difficulty.

It was from the North of England, however, that the first threat came.

William, King of Scotland, known as William the Lion, had sent messages to the effect that if John wished him to maintain the loyalty he had given to Richard he, William, would need to be compensated by the return of Northumberland and Cumberland to the Scottish Crown. Faced with the antagonism of Philip and armies under Constance and Arthur, John had replied placatingly to William, saying that if he would wait until he returned to England he would be happy to settle all his claims.

Now that he was back William wanted the territories he had claimed and sent another messenger to say that if they were not given up immediately he would perforce be obliged to take them.

William Marshal was inclined to think that the King of Scotland was bluffing and had no intention of engaging in a major war, but it was important that this did not take place, for clearly John’s first task was to win back Anjou and the property which Philip had taken from him.

‘Offer to negotiate with him,’ advised William. ‘Send him a soft placatory note and while your army is preparing for the Continent you might meet him somewhere. The Archbishop of York would conduct him over the border and you might travel to the Midlands and see him there. You must not give way. Parley with him. Make terms. Your father was an adept at such diplomacy.’

John was irritated by the Marshal’s frequent references to his father, but he had to accept them none the less. He mustn’t forget that William had been instrumental in getting him the crown and there had been opposition to it. He dare not offend William Marshal … not until he was more secure, of course.

John wrote to the King of Scotland as William Marshal dictated and a meeting was arranged at Northampton. When he reached that town there was no sign of William but a peremptory demand awaited him to the effect that if the territories were not restored immediately the large army which was on the Scottish borders would invade England.

John was in a quandary. How could he take on a war in the North when he had so much to regain on the Continent? This was not what he had thought of as kingship. Wars … wars … continual wars. What fun was there in that? He had always thought his father liked wars – though, when he came to think of it, Henry II was more of a diplomatist than a soldier. He had once said that he won more honours by negotiating and getting the better of his enemy at a conference than he ever had through fighting.

That was how John wanted it to be.

He had a stroke of real luck which was so unusual that it might be suspected of being contrived.

William of Scotland, ready to invade England, had visited one of the shrines of a Scottish saint; and while he knelt there, a voice was heard warning him against invading England which would bring sorrow and disaster to Scotland.

This had the desired effect. He disbanded his army and decided to shelve the matter of the Northern Provinces. It couldn’t have been more opportune from John’s point of view, and he was able to forget trouble on the northern border and sail for the Continent.

Joanna, with Berengaria, had reached Rouen where they planned to stay for a while as Joanna’s pregnancy was nearing
its end. Those were sad days. Both queens were overcome by grief at Richard’s death and they would sit together talking of his virtues. Berengaria would forget the long years of neglect and remember only that brief period after his repentance when they had been together. Joanna liked to talk of the days when he had taken her across Aquitaine on her way to Sicily. She recalled clearly how the sun had glinted on his armour and how nobly he had sat on his horse.

‘It seemed inevitable that he should die young,’ said Joanna. ‘One could not imagine Richard’s ever growing old.’

Berengaria said: ‘Perhaps in time I should have had a child. I envy you, Joanna, in your happy state.’

‘To love is not always a happy state,’ Joanna comforted her. ‘There are continuous anxieties. In Toulouse we have a beautiful estate, fertile lands, faithful servants and good friends. But there are those who persecute us because we do not think as they do, and because we fear that Rome is at the heart of these persecutions we are afraid. It is for that reason I am here.’

‘I know, Joanna. But you have your husband who loves you, dear little Raymond and the new child who will soon be with us.’

‘And Richard is dead. My beloved brother … I never believed that he would not come back when so many thought he was dead. What a day of rejoicing it was when Blondel returned to tell us that he had found him! Ever since he took me to Sicily I had told myself Richard is here. Richard will protect me. You see he came to Sicily and I knew that as soon as he arrived I should cease to be Tancred’s prisoner and it came to pass. My beloved brother and champion! He would have saved us from those who now persecute us … and he is gone, so what will become of us?’

‘You have your husband. He will protect you.’

‘He is but the Count of Toulouse. Richard was ruler of England and his dominions here. Sometimes the weight of this tragedy descends on me and I feel life is more than I can bear.’

‘That is no way for a mother to talk,’ said Berengaria in mild reproof.

‘You are right, my dear friend and sister. What should I do without you?’

‘We shall always be together. I will stay with you, Joanna, as long as you want me.’

‘You know I should always want you but it may be that a husband will be found for you.’

Berengaria shook her head. ‘I have done with marriage,’ she said.

Joanna was on the point of saying that because one marriage had been a failure it did not mean that a second would be, but that seemed to cast censure on Richard, so she was silent. He had scarcely been as good a husband to Berengaria as he had been a good brother to her.

That night Joanna’s pains started. They went on all through the next day when it became clear that all was not going well.

The doctors were grave when Berengaria questioned them anxiously. Queen Joanna had suffered a great shock on the death of her brother and this had had an adverse effect on her health. She should have rested in Toulouse instead of travelling to Chaluz to see Richard.

The next morning the child was born, a poor sickly infant who was clearly not destined to live more than a few days. He was hastily baptised before he died.

Joanna lingered for a while but it was soon apparent that it could not be for long.

Berengaria was with her during the day and night, for Joanna found great comfort from her presence.

She said: ‘I am dying, Berengaria. Nay, do not deny it. I know it well. I can see the angel of death beckoning to me. There might be a few days left to me, but no more. I must repent of my sins and prepare myself to make my peace with heaven.’

‘You have led a good life,’ comforted Berengaria. ‘You need have no fears.’

But Joanna talked of her mother in the peace of Fontevraud and said it was her wish that before she died she should be veiled as a nun of Fontevraud.

She had one more request. She wanted to be buried in the Abbey of Fontevraud beside her beloved brother Richard whom she had survived such a short while. They would lie together, she said, at the feet of her father.

So she received the veil the day before she died and then her body was taken to Fontevraud where Queen Eleanor received it and carried out her daughter’s wish.

Berengaria, who went to the funeral, was stricken with grief. The companion of so many years, when they were in the Holy Land together and she gradually understood the nature of the man she had married, was gone for ever. The future looked bleak before her. She could go to her brother’s court or that of her sister. Neither promised her any great joy.

As for Eleanor, she was stricken and for the first time looked her great age.

She was not bitter as Berengaria expected she might be; she was merely resigned. ‘I have lost the two I loved best,’ she said, ‘and that in the space of a few months. My life is over. What is there left for me now but to wait for death?’

She would go into complete seclusion. She would remain at Fontevraud with the remains of her husband, and her beloved son and daughter.

‘My work is done,’ she said, ‘and there is nothing for me now but to wait for death.’

John, meanwhile, had arrived in Normandy at the head of a formidable army, and in one or two skirmishes with the French army was victorious, which led to a meeting being arranged between himself and Philip. The French King wanted the Vexin for himself and Anjou, Maine, Poitou and Touraine for Arthur, but with an army behind him John was in a position to snap his fingers at such demands; the result was war. John’s good fortune was that William des Roches, who was leading the Breton army for Constance, Arthur and Guy Thouars, could not agree with Philip and there was dissension between them. So greatly did they fear the King of France and his intentions towards Arthur that in a moment of panic they decided to place him temporarily under the protection of John.