Виктория Холт - The Battle of the Queens

Hubert could be forgiven for a certain complacency. There had been those who had prophesied disaster when William Marshal had died, but this had not proved to be the case. He could say that England had been governed with the utmost skill in the last two years; and as the King grew out of his childhood, providing he was ready to listen to advice, the country would grow stronger and as the country grew stronger, its Justiciar would be more and more appreciated and more powerful.

Now riding along beside the King, his young wife on the other side of him, he could give way to a certain amount of exuberance, although he was too experienced not to know that a man in his position must be ever watchful.

He was perhaps the richest man in the kingdom. Margaret had brought a good dowry and of course he would now have especial influence with Scotland. He remembered that once William Marshal had said that when a man was at the height of his power was the time when he must be most watchful.

Henry was smiling happily.

‘I think Alexander will be good to my sister,’ he said, ‘and she to him.’

‘I am sure of it, my lord,’ replied Hubert. ‘He would not dare to be otherwise than good to the sister of the King of England.’

‘My brother is not a man to be influenced by fear,’ said Margaret gravely. ‘He will be good to his wife because it is his duty and inclination to love and cherish her.’

‘Well spoken, my love,’ cried Hubert. ‘Is that not so, my lord?’

‘It is indeed,’ replied Henry. ‘And it pleases me that we have brought harmony to the two kingdoms. It will show people how I intend to rule.’

He is growing up indeed, thought Hubert. He takes credit for these marriages as though they were brought about by him. Well, that is the way of kings, and it will be well when he can be seen as the ruler – as long as he remembers to follow the advice of those who serve him well.

So it was a happy party that rode into Westminster; even the wily and experienced Hubert had forgotten that success – which fate had so bountifully bestowed on him – invariably provokes the envy of the less well endowed.

Almost immediately there was murmuring throughout the court about the Justiciar. His enemies were asking each other: Who is this man? Is he the King? He is the man who decides who shall marry whom and he makes sure that his pockets do not remain empty while he pulls the King’s leading strings. Is it not time the Justiciar was made to realise he is not quite the King of England?

John had sown a great many seeds of discordancy when – to further his needs of the moment – he had given land and castles to foreigners in exchange for money or certain concessions, and this meant that in spite of the efforts of William Marshal and Hubert to eliminate the foreign influence, a certain element remained.

This group was led by the Earl of Chester, that Randulph de Blundervill, who had married Constance the widow of Geoffrey (brother of King John) and therefore became stepfather to Prince Arthur who had been murdered by his uncle John. Chester had hoped at one time to put Arthur on the throne when he, Chester, would have proceeded to rule through the boy. Constance however had hated him and fled from him taking Arthur with her and, declaring that their marriage had never been consummated and therefore was no marriage at all, had taken as her husband Guy de Thouars. Constance had not lived long after that and when John had murdered Arthur that put an end to Chester’s hopes of ruling through the boy, so he had turned his attention to other ambitious schemes. Now that the power of Hubert de Burgh was ever increasing Chester was determined to bring the object of his enmity from his high place; so he gathered about him those as discontented as himself.

Chief of these was perhaps Falkes de Breauté, a wild adventurer, a man who was capable of any violent deed to gain his ends. He was a Norman of obscure birth and illegitimate, who had come to the notice of King John, and being of a similiar nature – irreligious, unscrupulous, ready to commit any cruel deed and in fact relishing the undertaking – the King had found him amusing, a good servant, and as he enjoyed his company was ready to reward him. Thus the Norman, who was little more than a peasant, had sprung into prominence.

When the barons had revolted against the King, Falkes had been at John’s side and as a general in the King’s army he had enjoyed some success. As a reward John promised to find a rich wife for him and had decreed that he should marry Margaret, the widow of Baldwin, Earl of Albemarle. Margaret was horrified to be given this cruel man, merely in order that her fortune might pass into his hands, but the King had said the marriage must take place and Margaret, knowing the kind of man with whom she had to deal, submitted, though with the utmost reluctance. As, in addition to being the widow of a rich man, Margaret was an heiress in her own right, being the only child of rich parents, Falkes was doing well, for John had bestowed on him not only Margaret but the custody of the castles of Windsor, Cambridge, Oxford, Northampton and Bedford.

With Chester he captured the town of Worcester for the King, but his treatment of the prisoners did little to help the King’s cause for Falkes took a special delight in torture and he considered it a great sport to capture the rich and torture them with all kinds of methods which it was one of his delights to devise until they had given up all they possessed to save themselves from further torment.

He had a special hatred for religious orders – or it might have been that he greatly coveted their treasures; but it seemed that if he came upon an abbey or a convent he must desecrate it. Sharing similar urges the King made no effort to deter him and in fact enjoyed being given accounts of Falkes’s adventures among the priests.

But even he could be alarmed by what he had done and the story was often told of his fears after he had sacked St Alban’s Abbey. He had pillaged the town, mutilated and tortured the inhabitants but the Abbey was his real objective. Marching into the sacred building, overturning treasures as he went, he demanded that the Abbot be brought to him.

The Abbot came, loudly demanding to know whether Falkes de Breauté knew that he was in a house of God. Falkes’s reply had been to laugh aloud and tell the Abbot that he wanted one hundred pounds of silver and if it was not given to him without delay he would help himself to the treasures of the Abbey and burn it down.

Knowing well the man with whom he had to deal and that he was capable of such an act of sacrilege the Abbot gave him the silver.

Falkes had then left, taking sly looks about the place, noting the treasures for his future attention. That night he awoke from a terrible nightmare. He sat up in bed shouting that he was dying.

Margaret, who must have been relieved at the thought of having the monster removed from her life, said: ‘You have had a dream … a nightmare. But nightmares can have meaning. What was the dream?’

It was not often that de Breauté allowed himself civil conversation but shivering in his bed, with the terrible fear upon him, he was not the same man as the braggart who swaggered through towns terrifying all those who came near him.

‘I dreamed,’ he said, ‘that I was standing beneath the top tower of the Abbey at St Alban’s church when it fell upon me and where I had been there was nothing but powder … nothing of me remained.’

‘A dream full of portent,’ replied Margaret. ‘You desecrated the holy Abbey. It means God is displeased with you.’

De Breauté would have laughed her to scorn at any other time, but he was truly shaken at this time.

‘You must go back to the Abbey,’ she advised him, ‘and ask pardon of the Abbot and the monks.’

‘You mean a penance …’

‘The King’s father did penance for the murder of Thomas à Becket.’

‘And you would ask me to do likewise?’

‘I ask nothing of you,’ she replied. ‘Experience has taught me that would be useless. I merely advise. You have desecrated a holy place … many holy places … but St Albans will have special favour in Heaven. You have been warned by Heaven. The meaning of your dream is clear. Unless you make restitution some fearful fate will overtake you.’

She was obviously amused to see her husband so frightened that he shivered with fear at the prospect of a fate which he had administered with such delight to others. However, so did she terrify him, while pretending to be fearful for him, telling him stories she had heard of the terrible ends which befell those who ignored warnings from Heaven, that he decided he would go to St Albans with all speed, insisting that the knights who had taken part in the raid on the Abbey should accompany him. There he called for the Abbot who, wondering what fresh outrage was about to occur, came in fear, but when he saw the dreaded Falkes de Breauté baring his back and declaring that he had come to do penance – as King Henry II had done for Becket – he summoned his monks, and it is not difficult to imagine with what relish they belaboured the backs of those men who such a short while ago had threatened them.

When the chastisement was over, Falkes de Breauté put on his doublet and shouted that he had only done this because his wife had begged him to, and if the monks thought that what he had taken from them would be restored they were greatly mistaken.

However he left the Abbey and did not practise further sacrilege. He turned his attention to the French who at this time held firm positions in England. The death of John, the accession of young Henry and the defeat of the French had not entirely pleased de Breauté for it had meant the rise to power of Hubert de Burgh, who had demanded the return to the crown of many of the castles which John had bestowed on men such as de Breauté. He was disturbed as were the Earl of Chester and the Bishop of Winchester by the growing power of Hubert. A king who was a minor was a heaven-sent opportunity for ambitious men, and all these men were ambitious, so to see Hubert taking the most powerful position in the kingdom irked them and they decided that something must be done to curb it.