Henry was once more in a quandary. The Bishop of London was very stern and although he referred to the soldiers who had taken Hubert as the offenders, he meant of course the King. Henry, who liked to think of himself as a deeply religious man, hated the thought of conflict with the Church; so he immediately agreed that Hubert should be taken back to the chapel where he would be guarded by two sheriffs. His servants might be with him to provide his food and any comforts they could.

After that, he could leave England, according to the laws of sanctuary, or if he failed to do this he would go to prison as was fitting for one who had proved a traitor to his King and country.

Hubert decided that he would leave England for a short period during which time he would prove his innocence, but it was discovered that he had a large quantity of jewels and gold and when these were found his enemies declared that these were in fact the King’s property and here was the proof they needed that he had enriched himself at the King’s cost.

It was no use Hubert’s protesting that the goods had been honestly earned during a lifetime of service. His enemies, led by Peter des Roches, advised the King that Hubert deserved to die.

Henry agreed and it appeared that the end was in sight. But it was not so, for Henry’s conscience began to worry him. He remembered scenes from the past and how Hubert had been there in many a crisis and that when the French were overrunning the country at the time of his father’s death, it was Hubert with William Marshal who had arranged for his coronation and had made the people see that with two such men beside him, supporting him, it was possible to drive the French out of the country.

Peter des Roches came to him and he could not hide how exultant he was. Henry took a sudden dislike to him and began to ask himself why he had allowed himself to be led by him.

‘We have cornered the wolf,’ said Peter des Roches. ‘His days are numbered. Nothing can save him now.’

Was this a man of God, to rub his hands in glee, to lick his lips in anticipation because a man’s blood was to be shed?

Henry said: ‘I can save him.’

‘My lord, what mean you?’ cried the Bishop.

‘I mean,’ said Henry, ‘that I am unsure of what will happen to Hubert. I have always heard it said that from the time he was a very young man he served my uncle Richard and my father very well. I used to think he served me well too.’

‘My lord, he is a cunning man.’

It was the wrong approach. It was suggesting that Hubert’s cunning had deceived Henry because he was less wise.

‘I have decided what shall be done,’ he said, regarding the Bishop of Winchester with a certain coldness of expression. ‘I shall restore some of his castles and he shall be lodged at Devizes. I shall appoint certain lords to watch over him and his fetters shall be removed.’

Peter saw that it would be unwise to press for a favour he was determined to ask. That was that he should be appointed custodian of Devizes Castle; and if he were it would not be long before Hubert died of some vague sickness which perhaps gullible people might believe had been brought on by all he had suffered.


* * *

Life had become like a nightmare for the once powerful Justiciar. At least he had some faith in the King who swayed this way and that and could not seem to make up his mind.

Hubert understood. Henry was young; he was unsure; he was unable to form his own judgment and was so eager that none should guess that he changed his views according to the person who influenced him most at a given time.

He may grow up into a strong king, thought Hubert, but he doubted it. Perhaps Richard of Cornwall would have been the better one.

The fact that the King had released him and placed him here in this castle, showed that he was not listening completely to those who were determined to destroy him. There was a spark of honour in the King. If only he could get near enough to ignite it, he might win back Henry’s favour.

In the meantime he must lie low at Devizes and hope that would satisfy his enemies; and perhaps in due course the King would see him and he could talk him into reason.

He was distracted when one of his manservants – a loyal man whom he could trust – came to him in some agitation.

‘One of the servants of the Bishop of Winchester has come to the castle. He did not immediately tell us for what purpose, but a little good wine loosened his tongue. He has come in advance to make ready for his master. The Bishop of Winchester has prevailed upon the King to give him the custodianship of Devizes Castle.’

‘God help me,’ cried Hubert, ‘this is the end. You know his purpose.’

‘It is to murder you, my lord, I would say. We should retire once more into sanctuary.’

‘You are right, my good fellow.’

‘We have made ready. Two of us will come with you. We will take food and warm robes and there we shall be when the Bishop of Winchester arrives in Devizes.’

It was night when they made their escape from the castle, Hubert creeping out disguised as one of his servants.

They spent the night in the church but when those who had been set to guard him discovered Hubert’s disappearance they were so alarmed because they had let him escape that they decided they would rather face the wrath of God than that of the Bishop of Winchester, so they went to the church and brought Hubert and his servants back to the castle.

It was the old pattern. The Bishop of London this time protested at the violation of sanctuary and Hubert went back to the church.

Henry had now swayed back again and was listening to the Bishop of Winchester.

‘What can I do?’ cried Henry. ‘Whatever happens he slips through our fingers. He is now once more in sanctuary. There is nothing to be done but leave him there.’

‘There is something,’ said the Bishop. ‘If no food is allowed into the sanctuary how can he stay there for his forty days? You could starve him into submission.’

‘That I will do,’ cried Henry. ‘I can see there will be no peace for me while this man lives.’

He gave the order and it seemed to Hubert that this really was the end. There was no church law regarding the refusal to allow food into sanctuary, and the grim choice lay ahead for Hubert. Stay there and starve or come out and face the charges.

Hubert knew that in time he would have to give in. He would have to come out and allow them to take him back to the Tower of London. Who knew that he might yet be able to confute his enemies. Those who would comfort him told him that the Bishop of Winchester was losing his hold on the King. That was a comforting sign, but Peter des Roches was not his only enemy.

It was one night when the decision seemed imminent. Hubert was cold and hungry. He could delay little longer and perhaps the next day he would walk out and give himself up to the King’s men.

Darkness had fallen. The church door opened silently. A man was standing there looking for him, he knew. Hubert could see him but he could not as yet see Hubert.

Hubert called out: ‘Who are you?’

The man came over to him and two more seemed to materialise in the gloom.

‘Do you want your freedom, Hubert de Burgh?’ said a voice.

‘I do.’

‘Come with us then.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Enemies of the Bishop of Winchester.’

Hubert hesitated and the man said: ‘Stay here and die or come with us. Take your choice … only we might decide to take you whether you wish to come or not.’

Hubert had spent a lifetime making quick decisions, but he had never made one more quickly than this.

‘I will come.’

That is good. There are guards outside and if you did not come of your own accord a fight might result.’

‘Where will you take me?’

‘You will see.’

Weak with hunger, Hubert rose unsteadily. He crept out of the chapel and mounted a horse which was waiting for him.

‘Away,’ said the man. ‘We’ll stop soon to feed you, for you are near to starving I see. Can you ride a little?’

‘Since my life would appear to depend on it, I believe I can.’

‘Wise man. Ride … and then soon you shall eat.’

They turned their horses in the direction of Wales.


* * *

The new Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Rich, had been watching the rise to power of the Bishop of Winchester and his protégé, Peter de Rievaulx, with misgiving; and he decided that he must warn the King that the violation of sanctuary which had occurred more than once had indicated a lack of respect for the Church and this must be stopped without delay.

He called together certain barons – many of them those who had risen against John and forced him to sign the charter and with them the leading bishops who shared his anxieties.

The King received them with great courtesy for Edmund was a man who was beginning to be called a saint. He was known for his piety and austere living. It was said that he had not lain on a bed for many years but took a little rest now and then sitting or on his knees. His clothes were rough worsted and he submitted himself to self-inflicted torture with knotted ropes. He gave money to the poor so that he had very little of his own, keeping back only enough to provide the small amount of food he allowed himself.

Among churchmen who looked for land and favours and made a habit of promoting their friends and relations to those posts where they could do their benefactor most good, Edmund was a rarity.