The Revolt of the Eaglets - Plaidy Jean - Страница 49

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He had aged a little then, but gracefully, as was to be expected. But poor Louis was an old man. He must be nearing sixty – quite an age; and he did not look as if he would last much longer.

Henry embraced him. ‘My dear, dear friend. Welcome. It rejoices me to see you here.’

There were tears in Louis’s eyes. ‘Blessings on you, Henry. How good it is of you to make me so welcome on your shores. My heart is sick, my dear friend, sick with anxiety. My beloved son …’

‘I feel for you,’ said Henry, ‘and I have made it known that there shall be no delay. When you have rested from your voyage we will go together to the shrine at Canterbury and there mingle our tears and our prayers. I doubt not that they will be answered. Be of good cheer. St Thomas is the good friend of us both and he will intercede for you. I know it.’

Louis thanked his kind host and the next day they set out together for Canterbury.

The Kings rode side by side along the road to Canterbury. They talked, Louis of his son’s misadventure in the forest and how the night in the damp and lonely place had brought on a bout of the fever which often plagued him. ‘He is my only son,’ wailed Louis. ‘You, my good friend, are more fortunate, you are the father of several.’

More than you know, thought Henry; and odd as it is I get more comfort from those who were born outside wedlock than those born within. Perhaps that has something to do with their mothers.

‘I have had my trials with my brood,’ said Henry.

‘You have never had anxieties as to their health.’

‘Nay, but they’re a fighting breed, I fancy. I trust my young John will not turn against his father as the others have done. At least, Louis, you have not suffered that kind of ingratitude.’

Henry thought: There is time yet for Philip to give you cause to suffer it, for I’d not trust him. At least my sons are handsome, boys to be proud of, although rebellious. I would hate to have a peevish weakling like your Philip.

‘We are close,’ said Louis. ‘Bound by the marriages of our children. What a bitter blow that Marguerite should have lost her child. Our grandson would have made a greater tie between us. But I am the father of your son Henry even as you are of my daughter Marguerite. And so it will be with Richard and Alice …’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Henry hastily. ‘You must have heard of the numbers of miracles which have been performed at St Thomas’s shrine. The blind have been made to see, the lame to walk. I believe with all my heart that this time tomorrow when we have said our prayers, Philip will begin to get better.’

‘You comfort me, my friend. I am beginning to believe, too, that it will be so.’

The bells were ringing a welcome as they passed through the walls of the city. Louis went at once to the crypt and knelt by the tomb of St Thomas. There he prayed all through the day and night refusing food, pleading with St Thomas to intercede with God for the life of his son.

Nor was he content with prayer. He promised that the convent there should receive its wine free every year from France.

Henry expressed his thanks and insisted on taking his guest with him to Winchester that he might have a brief respite there before making the arduous journey across the sea. He was determined to show friendship for Louis. It was no use offering him a banquet. Louis was more interested in churches. Henry, however, took him to his treasure vault and there asked him to take something as a pledge of their friendship.

Henry trembled with anxiety as Louis handled some of his most precious gold, silver and jewel-studded ornaments, for he could not bear to part with any of his possessions; he need not have feared. Louis chose something of small value and again they pledged their friendship.

Henry said that he would have begged the King of France to prolong his stay, there was so much he wished to show him in England, but he knew full well how eager he would be to get back to his son. His great anxiety during the visit was that Louis might ask to see Alice or Eleanor. Either could have proved fatal. Alice would have done her best to keep their secret, but would she have been able to? And the fact that Eleanor knew of it often set him sweating with fear. He wondered why she had not made it known. He could only believe that she thought she could plague him more by keeping him guessing.

With skill he avoided either issue and it was with great pleasure that he accompanied the King of France to Dover. Louis embarked on the waiting vessel and sailed back to France.

There, joyous news awaited him. Philip was recovering his health. The doctors swore that it must have been precisely at the time when Louis lay prostrate before the tomb of the martyr that Philip began to revive.

Louis went at once to see his son and the change in him was remarkable. It could only be a miracle, declared the King; and how gratified he was that he had defied his ministers and put his trust in the martyr and Henry of England. He felt it augured well for the future and their new friendship which was to take them together to the Holy Land.

‘Your coronation will not be long delayed,’ he told Philip. ‘We will make preparations without delay.’

He was delighted when his son-in-law, the younger Henry, arrived at the French Court with his wife Marguerite.

Louis embraced them both warmly. Henry looked well and very handsome though Marguerite was a little wan after her ordeal.

‘How glad I am to see you, my son and daughter,’ he said, and he added to Henry: ‘I want you and my Philip to be friends always. Your father and I have taken an oath of friendship and one day you two will stand in the same position as we hold today – Kings of France and England. I want there to be amity between you. Remember that, Henry, for there is nothing but misery in war. I would to God I had never taken part in it. I would be a happier man today if I had not.’

Wars were a necessary part of a king’s life, Henry supposed, but he did not bother to contradict Louis. The poor old fellow was looking older than ever and his skin had taken on an unhealthy tinge.

Henry was glad to renew his friendship with Philip of Flanders but he was less influenced by him than before, for he was more experienced of the world than he had been and although he remembered how generous the Count had been when he was initiating him into the joys of the tournament, he no longer seemed quite the glamorous person he had once appeared to be.

Nor did Henry greatly care for the young Prince of France. No one did; he was not a very attractive character. It was only his father who doted on him, and of course the ministers of France realised his importance, for he was the heir and if he had died after that mishap in the forest there would doubtless have been so many claimants to the throne that there would have been inevitable civil war.

Louis decided that there should be a thanksgiving service at St Denis to commemorate the miraculous recovery of Philip; and this should take place as soon as possible.

He did not wish Thomas a Becket to think he was ungrateful for his intercession.

The date was fixed. Young Henry would ride side by side with Philip to show everyone that the friendship between France and England was firm.

When his attendants helped Louis on to his horse they were struck by his pallor and one of them asked the King if he was feeling unwell.

‘A little weary,’ replied Louis.

‘My lord, should you not perhaps rest?’

‘Nay,’ replied the King. ‘I would not miss this ceremony for anything.’

But he did miss it, for as the procession made its way to the Abbey the King startled everyone by falling forward. He would have slipped to the ground had not one of the knights, who had been inwardly noting his pallor, hurried to save him.

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