‘What think you of the news?’ asked William.

The Archbishop shook his head gravely.

‘It could be disastrous.’

‘Everything hangs on the next few months.’

‘If he had but lived with his wife; if he had produced sons …’

‘Any son they had had would as yet be a minor.’

‘That would not have disturbed me. He could have been tutored and there would have been a king.’

‘There is a king now,’ said William.

‘Who? John or Arthur?’

‘It must be John,’ insisted William.

‘Nay, my friend, the true heir to the throne is Prince Arthur.’

‘In the direct line of succession maybe, but I for one could never support Arthur’s claim.’

‘You mean you will give your allegiance to John!’

‘I deplore that it is necessary, but I see no other way.’

‘My good friend, Arthur is the son of Geoffrey and Geoffrey was older than John. Therefore according to the law of succession Arthur is the true heir.’

‘The selection of kings does not necessarily depend on direct succession. Suitability must be considered and Arthur is a child.’

‘But John is dissolute and unfit for the crown.’

‘The English would never accept Arthur.’

‘They would accept the fact that he is the true heir to the throne because that is what he is.’

‘Nay, Archbishop. Henry II named John as his heir – even to come before Richard.’

‘That was wrong. Richard was the elder brother and more fitted to reign. The people would never have accepted John while Richard lived.’

‘That I agree with and Richard had no intention of standing aside for his younger brother. Henry realised this in his last moments, when John’s true nature was revealed, and would have approved of what was done. But now Richard is dead and the natural heir is John.’

‘You are wrong, Marshal. Arthur is the true heir.’

‘A boy who has never been to England, who speaks no English, brought up in foreign courts! The English will never accept him. Moreover, John would be determined to take the crown, and there would be continual strife. Many would be behind John. They are prepared for him to follow his brother. He has lived in England. He is English. They will not take a foreigner and little more than a child at that. Arthur I have heard is haughty and proud and has no love for the English. Prince John is the one who is nearest to his father and his brother Richard. John should follow him.’

‘Marshal, is this really your wish?’

‘It is, my lord, for it seems but good sense to me. A son has a closer claim to his father’s inheritance than his grandson can have. It is right that John should take the crown.’

‘There will be conflict over this. Arthur will have his supporters and John will have his.’

‘I consider it right and in the interests of the country that John should be offered the crown,’ said the Marshal stubbornly.

The Archbishop inclined his head. ‘So shall it be. But know this, Marshal, and remember what I say, for the day will come when you will question your decision. I promise you that nothing you ever did have you so much cause to repent of as you will have of this.’

‘If you are right,’ answered William judiciously, ‘and it may be that you will be proved right, still I know this should be and that I am but following the will of my masters – King Henry II and Richard the Lion-Hearted – in proclaiming Prince John King of England.’

‘So be it,’ said the Archbishop but he continued to shake his head sorrowfully.

In spite of his firm assurances that he had done the right thing, William Marshal was very uneasy; after all, if there was such sturdy disagreement between two men who wished the crown and the country the greatest good fortune – which it would assuredly need – how was it possible to expect the people to be of one mind?

Of one thing all could be certain. With two such claimants to the throne there would be trouble.

Oh, why had Richard to die at such a time – and all for a few coins in a pot!


Joanna, the King’s sister, was on her way to Normandy. She had determined to make the journey before her pregnancy prevented her. She and her husband, Raymond of Toulouse, needed help and she believed that Richard could and would come to their aid; he had been a kindly and generous brother to her, except on one occasion when he had planned to marry her to the Saracen Malek Adel in order to further his treaty with Saladin, but she had always believed that he had never been very serious about that. Indeed when she had indignantly refused he had made no effort to coerce her and the event had not interfered with the devotion between them.

Richard had been a hero to her when as a young girl she had travelled out to Sicily to be married to the king of that island and Richard had conducted her across Aquitaine. Later she had joined him in Sicily when the island had been seized by Tancred; she had become companion duenna to his wife Berengaria before her marriage to Richard and afterwards had been Berengaria’s constant companion until she herself had married Raymond of Toulouse.

She had often thought of Berengaria with pity, and wondered how she was faring. She knew a great deal about the married life of the Queen of England for she had been with her during the first years of her marriage to Richard. He had never been actively unkind to her; he had merely behaved as though she did not exist. Perhaps it would have been more comforting to have lived a stormy life with him; dislike would have been easier to bear than indifference. How embarrassing it had been – for both she and Berengaria knew that he was constantly seeking excuses to avoid her.

Joanna would have liked to explain to Berengaria: It is not you in person who does not please him. It is the fact that you are a woman. He does not like our sex. It is extraordinary that one who is so strong, so vital, with every characteristic of manliness so firm in him, should lack this one. People talked as much as they dared of his one-time passionate friendship with the King of France, of his close ties with favoured knights, of the devotion of boys such as Blondel de Nesle, the minstrel who had travelled across Europe in search of him when he was incarcerated in the fortress of Dürenstein, and had discovered his whereabouts by singing a song which they had composed together and none had sung but them. In the beginning, though, poor Berengaria had known nothing of this.

And when Joanna had married Raymond she had said farewell to her companion of several years and had gone to her new life. Raymond had not disappointed her and they had a beautiful son – Raymond like his father – now two years old, and she had found contentment in her married life. Her husband’s court was one where beauty was appreciated; he loved music; and poets and troubadours were encouraged; in the great halls of his castles songs would be composed and judged; religious views were aired and there was great freedom of thought throughout his domain. Alas, this had been noticed and reported to Rome and since it seemed to the leaders of the Catholic Church that some of the doctrines freely discussed were subversive and could harm that powerful body, it was made known to rival barons that if they attacked Raymond, Rome would be behind them.

This knowledge had stunned both Raymond and Joanna; there had merely been one or two skirmishes at first but now the hostility was growing more marked and it was because of this that Joanna had decided that she would approach Richard and ask his advice for she had no doubt that he would come to their aid.

She and Raymond had decided that she was the one to put the case before him; he would listen to her; moreover, he had always been a man to respect family ties. She remembered well his indignation when he had arrived in Sicily to find her Tancred’s prisoner and it was not only the thought of her rich dowry which Tancred had confiscated which made him delay his journey to the Holy Land to right her wrongs.

As she travelled towards Normandy she was contemplating the pleasure of her reunion with Berengaria who, she had heard, was now with Richard. That was good news. Perhaps by this time Berengaria was in the same happy condition as she herself; she hoped so. How Berengaria would love a child! And Richard must realise that it was necessary to establish the succession.

Her mission was not the happiest and she was deeply concerned for Raymond, but there should be compensations at the end of her journey.

Ahead of her lay the Château Gaillard, and she was filled with pride as she contemplated it … this magnificent castle which Richard had declared should be the finest in France – and it was. The great fortress glittered in the sun as though flaunting its defiance to the King of France and any who might come against it. Its mighty rectangular bastions, its seventeen towers, its curtain walls, its casements cut in the rock, proclaimed the might of the man who would always be remembered as the Lion Heart, her brother Richard who had never failed her and she knew never would as long as he lived.

Alas, her comfort was to be shattered. Richard was not at his castle. He had left for Chaluz for he had heard rumours of great treasure which had been found there on the land of one of his vassals.

She set out for Chaluz unaware of the tragedy which awaited her there.

The battle was over. The castle of Chaluz had fallen to Richard but, though Richard had won his pot of coins, he had lost his life in doing so.

Everyone seemed stunned by the news. There had been about Richard an aura of invincibility. Often, being a victim of a virulent fever – which had pursued him all his life – he had now and then come near to death but always he had risen from his sick-bed as strong as he had been before the attack. This time, however, death had caught up with him through an arrow shot by a certain Bertrand de Gourdon.