The Revolt of the Eaglets - Plaidy Jean - Страница 59

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He was growing sentimental with the years. He wanted to believe in them and as he had made a habit of getting what he wanted he kept this belief. But his shrewdness often got the better of his great desire for affection. Then he would ask himself which of them was going to betray him next, and whether, when John grew older, he might not be as false to his father as his brothers had been.

He needed this short respite with his grandchildren. They were too young to be aught but honest with him.

When his father had gone, young Henry’s ambitions grew.

He was no longer a boy. It was twenty-eight years since he had seen the light of day. Oh, God, he cried, shall I be treated as a child until I die?

Bertrand de Born was singing songs describing Henry’s beauty and valour. He wrote of the yoke under which the people of Aquitaine suffered. Richard the ruthless and cruel had put that there, this harsh son of a harsh father, this Viking man, with his yellow hair and steely blue eyes. Yet there was one whom the whole world loved, a beautiful gentle man, who hated wars and loved song and poetry. Richard did too, but this man would sing of love not war. Henry loved pleasure. He was generous hearted; he excelled at the tournament – Richard did too but Richard would rather indulge in actual warfare. He could see no glory in the mock battle. Henry was waiting to take Richard’s place. Let them welcome him with open arms.

Here they were waiting to receive him, thought young Henry, and his father treating him like a child!

He wondered whether news of what was happening in Aquitaine had reached his father’s ears. Of course there was a little explaining to be done about his accepting the acclaim of the people and then joining Richard and his father and acting as though he were in their camp.

Before his father could hear of his conduct he took up an offensive attitude and wrote to the King imperiously demanding to be given control of Normandy.

The King’s answer came back promptly. He was holding his dominions while there was life in him, was the answer. Suffice it that a good and obedient son should honour his father and be prepared to serve under him. Must he remind Henry that once he had taken an oath in which he had sworn to follow this course?

Young Henry stamped and swore with rage when he received his father’s reply.

‘It is no use, Henry,’ soothed Marguerite. ‘Your father will never give up anything while he lives.’

‘Then I shall perforce take it,’ cried Henry.

She smiled at him soothingly. He knew as well as she did that he could never take anything that his father did not wish him to have.

‘There is nothing for me to do but take Aquitaine,’ declared Henry. ‘If I have it and the people acclaim me my father must perforce allow me to keep it.’

Marguerite was uncertain but she knew that it was no use trying to oppose her husband.

An opportunity arose at that moment and it was brought to his notice by Bertrand de Born who had written a song which troubadours were singing all over Aquitaine.

A castle had been built near Mirabeau which was close to the frontiers of Poitiers but which was actually in Anjou. Anjou was of course that territory over which young Henry would have held sway had he been allowed to. Richard had built this castle and in doing so he had strayed beyond Aquitaine into Anjou.

Would the young King allow this insolence to go unchecked? He must be most displeased that the tyrant Richard had encroached on his land.

When young Henry heard the news and the song which was being sung in every hall where knights gathered together he was angry. He would have to do something about it or people would jeer at him. Bertrand de Born would not go on loving a man and writing enchanting verses about him if he proved himself to be too meek to stand up against his insolent brother.

He sent a message to his father demanding that Richard give him the castle since it was on his land.

When the King received the message he groaned aloud. Who would have children? He had gone wrong somewhere. No one could call him a weak man and yet he had failed with his family.

This time Richard was at fault. He should never have built a castle outside Aquitaine.

He sent a message to Richard, saying that it had come to his ears that the castle built near Mirabeau was in fact in Anjou. This had understandably offended his brother Henry and it was only right that having committed the offence he should pass the castle over to his brother.

Richard’s retort was that he would not yield the castle. It was necessary for the defence of Poitiers because the city was unprotected on its north flank.

Henry could always more easily be roused to anger through Richard. Of this son he was unsure. That he was steadier than his brother, more honest and reliable he could not fail to know. That he was a great soldier and a man dedicated to duty he knew too. But between them was an emotion so fierce that it could not be quelled and it was largely made up of hatred. Richard hated him for what he had done to his mother; and he disliked Richard who had turned away from him as a child and that dislike had turned to hatred because he had wronged him through Alice.

He sent a message back at once. ‘Hand over the castle or I shall come and take it from you.’

The last thing Richard wanted was war against his father. He needed his help badly. He could not hold down Aquitaine and fight his father at the same time.

‘I shall not give the castle to my brother Henry,’ he wrote, ‘who is working against me here in Aquitaine. I will give the castle to you if you will judge whether it should be in my hands or not since it is necessary to the defence of Poitiers.’

When the King received this message he was very disturbed. Henry working against Richard! Oh, no, Henry could not be such a fool. He sent back a message at once to Richard. It should be as he wished. He would make the decision as to whom the castle should belong and he wished his son to come with all speed to Angers for he had something of importance to say to him.

Henry met his three sons at Angers, whither he had summoned them all.

‘I have brought you here because there is something of great moment which I must say to you. It has been brought to my notice that there is some conflict between you, and I command you to end this strife. You must understand that all your strength is in your union. We have great dominions and if we are to keep our grip on them we must stand together. When there is trouble in our midst then do our enemies rejoice. There must be no such jubilance among our enemies. In our discord is their triumph.’

Young Henry looked bland enough although he was secretly smiling. What would Richard say if he knew that Aquitaine was ready to turn him out and accept his brother Henry?

‘Once,’ went on the King, ‘you swore to serve me all my life. Sometimes I think you have forgotten that, for the way you can serve me ill is to war against each other. I am going to command you to swear fidelity towards each other now … here this moment.’

Young Henry was not deeply perturbed. His father broke his word continually and men respected him. There was no reason why he should not follow him in that.

‘Henry is my eldest son,’ went on the King, ‘and as such he will be King of England and hold rights over those lands which are mine. Richard and Geoffrey, you will hold Aquitaine and Brittany through the grace of your brother. You will therefore swear fealty to him.’

Young Henry smiled, well pleased with this arrangement. Not so Richard. His eyes were cold as steel and if his hands trembled slightly it was with the ague and as his family knew they must not misconstrue the reason for the tremble.

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