Jean Plaidy - The Plantagenet Prelude

‘You must not think of it sadly,’ he replied.

‘When you are gone I could not be anything but sad.’

How charming she was. How different from Eleanor. Was that why he was so enamoured of her? Her great quality was her gentleness, her acceptance of his masculine superiority. She was not without education but she lacked Eleanor’s erudition; she adored him and it was very pleasant for one who was surrounded by adulation to sense the complete disinterestedness of this beautiful girl.

‘I would I need not go,’ he said. ‘I would give a great deal to stay here and dally with you, my sweet Rose.’

But the Welsh were rising. He sent out an order that every archer in Shropshire must join his army and he went into battle against Owain Gwynnedd. The fighting was desperate and there were losses on both sides.

He had heard how his grandfather Henry I had often gone to Wales and how he had loved a Welsh princess Nesta, more it was said than any other of his numerous mistresses. Henry had often gone to Wales to see her, and his Queen was the last to hear of his infatuation with that woman. One of their sons, Henry after his father, was fighting with them now on his side against the Welsh.

During that battle Nesta’s son Henry was killed, and Henry the King came very near to losing his life. But for the bravery of one of his loyal soldiers he would have been killed, but the man had stood between him and his assailant and had run his sword through the Welshman’s heart before he could attack the King.

This was violent warfare and the King was determined to subdue these Welshmen. Finally he succeeded in driving them back and fortifying several castle strongholds. But he had to remind himself that it was not Wales alone that he must defend. He must return to London for how could he know that while he was engaged in Wales, trouble would not spring up in some other corner of his territories? Thus it had always been since the days of the Conqueror.

But first he would spend a little while with Rosamund. He had been thinking of her when he was not bitterly engaged in the battle. Other women had lost their appeal for him, but desperately he wanted to see this beautiful girl again.

There was great rejoicing in the castle when he arrived, and he exulted to see how pale Rosamund turned when he told the story of his exploits on the battlefield and how but for the bravery of his men - and one in particular - he would not be alive to tell the tale.

That night when Rosamund lay beside him in his bed she told him that she believed she was to have his child. He was exultant.

‘Rosamund,’ he said, ‘I love you dearly. I am a man who has known many women but have never loved - or perhaps only once - any as I love you. Think not that ours will be a light relationship and that you will see me no more. I shall come back to you … again and again.’

She was trembling with delight and he was more charmed with her than ever. She did not beg or plead or ask for favours either for herself or for her child. She was different from other women, he was sure. He thought of the demanding insolence of Hikenai and of Eleanor’s arrogance. This was indeed his Rose of the World.

‘I will find a place for you to live,’ he said, ‘and I will visit you often. I will be your husband in all but name and you will have our child there. Would you like that?’

‘If I could but see you now and then I should live for those times and thank God for them,’ she answered.

‘I shall come whenever I have the opportunity and you may be sure that I shall make many, for I am content with you, Rosamund, and you shall be as my wife to me. Had I not already a wife I would defy all to marry you and your child should be my legitimate son … or daughter. But I have a wife, a jealous wife, and I would not wish her to know of your existence, for she is rich and powerful and might do you harm. Have no fear though, I shall protect you. I shall find for you an abode which shall be a secret one and only you and I will know that it is my haven of peace and joy for therein will live my own true wife.’

He had not been sure when he had first left her that he would feel as he did now. He made promises easily and often forgot them. But Rosamund was different. He could not forget her. He was as much in love with her as he had been with Eleanor at the beginning of their acquaintance - more so for Rosamund had no rich lands to offer him and he could never quite see Eleanor without the golden shadow of Aquitaine behind her.

He decided that he would find a home for Rosamund near Oxford for he was often in or near that town, and finally he chose Woodstock.

Henry knew that there was constantly going to be trouble in his overseas possessions. If he and Eleanor were in England then there would be trouble in Normandy or Anjou or Maine or even Aquitaine. Subjects did not care that one land should be of more moment to their ruler than another. He was first King of England. That was his greatest title. He must rule England, but he was also Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Count of Anjou and Maine. Those monarchs who had preceded him had had the same difficulties.

Henry therefore looked about him for some means of making allies who could strengthen his position and there was one man whose support could be of the utmost use to him. This was Louis, the King of France.

He was not sure how the King would feel towards a man who had taken his wife but perhaps since Louis himself was now married he would no longer bear resentment against him. In any case Louis was a king. Petty grievances must not stand in the way of State affairs.

Louis had daughters. Oh, yes, he had two by Eleanor, Marie and Alix, and of course there could be no alliance with them. But he also had a daughter by his second marriage and Henry saw no reason why this girl should not be affianced to his son Henry. At least there could be a betrothal. If he should decide when the children were older that he did not wish the marriage to go forward he would have no compunction in cancelling it. But an alliance now when they were more or less in their cradles - Henry was three, the girl one year - would be beneficial to both him and Louis. But would Louis see this?

Louis was a man whom he despised - a weakling. Eleanor had told him much about Louis, and if he had been as eager to keep Eleanor as she implied he had been, he must have been very foolish to let her go. Louis would see reason if the case was presented to him in the right manner.

It was difficult for Henry to go to him and put the proposition before him. The man who had displaced him with Eleanor was hardly the one to come along with the proposition. He would send an emissary. He knew the very man. His Chancellor. He respected that man as he respected no other in his kingdom. He trusted Leicester and Richard de Luci, but Becket he admired and had a real affection for. Becket he often thought of as a man of genius. For a delicate matter such as this might prove to be, he was the man.

He would send for Becket and while he was in France he, Henry, would slip down to Woodstock where he was having a bower built in a wood, a haven where he planned to install his fair Rosamund and where their child should be born.

Henry never wasted time. As soon as the idea had come to him he sent for Chancellor Thomas Becket.

It was not only the King who had a growing regard for Thomas Becket. The Primate Theobald had recognised a quality in the man from the moment he had come into his service.

Thomas’s origins were unusual. His father, Gilbert, had belonged to a family of merchants whose home had been in Rouen but after the Norman invasion, like so many of his kind, he had seen greater prospects in England and had come to settle in London.

During Gilbert’s childhood he had lived in the village of Thierceville and one of his childhood playmates had been a certain Theobald who had always talked of his desire to go into the Church. This he eventually did, by first entering a monastery, and later as he rose to become Archbishop of Canterbury the early friendship had some influence on the life of Gilbert’s son.

Gilbert prospered in the city of London and as he became one of its leading citizens he kept open house for visiting noblemen who were pleased to find a night or so’s shelter under his roof. There was no question of the house being an inn, but favour was given for favour, and the fact that rich and influential people were often entertained at his house meant that he was not the loser and reaped rewards for his hospitality, and with a son and two daughters Gilbert realised how beneficial this could be.

Gilbert himself was a romantic figure. Some years before the birth of his eldest child - his son Thomas - he had, like so many men of his times, decided to make a journey to the Holy Land and had set out with only one servant, a faithful man named Richard who had always served him well. After much tribulation and many hardships they reached their destination, had prayed at the tomb of Christ and feeling purged of their sins prepared to make their way back to England.

The homeward journey was to prove even more adventurous than the outward one and they had not gone very far when the party in which they travelled was surrounded by a company of Saracens, and Gilbert with Richard was taken prisoner.

It was unfortunate for him that he should have fallen into the hands of the Emir Amurath, who was said to be one of the cruellest men of his race. He enjoyed making Christians his slaves but when Gilbert and Richard were brought before him he was immediately struck by Gilbert’s appearance. There was a nobility about the man which was apparent to one even as alien as Amurath and he could not help feeling interested in him.