Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

He had no real reason to be jealous of Hugh. But he would humiliate him all the same.

He stood up and shouted. His servants came running.

‘There is no reason why we should stay here,’ he cried. ‘We shall prepare to leave at once for Normandy.’

He was so amused. He had thought of a brilliant idea. He had sent his servants forth to find farm carts – those in which cattle or hay had been carried – and in these, securely fettered, he put his prisoners. He laughed aloud to see them – haughty young Arthur, the would-be-King, riding there like a cow to market; Hugh the Brown, would-be-husband of Isabella, like a proud bull going in to be inspected and bid for.

There were others of course but those were the two who gave him most pleasure.

Young Arthur was overcome with shame.

This, thought John unctuously, will be good for him. He was too haughty by far.

It was wonderful to ride thus, the conqueror. People had said that he would never be the king his father or brother were. They sniggered at his lying abed late with his wife. Any of them would have lain abed if they could have done so with Isabella. They had said he would lose his dominions, for the King of France was too wily for him, and ere long Arthur would be on the throne.

And how wrong he had proved them to be!

Philip would be very uneasy, overcome with shame to know that his protégé was in his enemy’s hands. And Hugh de Lusignan, too. This would show the upstart barons what happened when they opposed the King.

Oh yes, he was very content with himself riding through Normandy to Caen. He was going to show his prisoners to Isabella. That would be amusing. She should sit with him while they were trundled past. It would be quite a spectacle and how the prisoners would writhe with shame. Mental torture was often more rewarding than the physical kind, he was beginning to realise.

Arthur would not like to be seen in a farm cart chained like an animal.

And bold brave Hugh? What will Isabella think of you then?

Isabella was at Caen waiting to receive him. He hurried her off to the bedchamber immediately.

She laughed at him. It was the longest period they had been apart.

Later he boasted of his victory. ‘Speed is what is necessary, Isabella. If I had delayed it would have been victory for them. They would have taken my mother prisoner. Imagine that. The impudence of them!’

‘But you were there and stopped them.’

‘Aye, and took them prisoner. I have some fine prisoners to show you.’

She pouted slightly. ‘I do not greatly care for prisoners.’

‘I want you to see these. There is young Arthur himself.’

‘He’s only a child.’

‘Ha, hark who is talking! He’s older than you are!’

‘I shouldn’t like to be your prisoner.’

‘Nay,’ said John sentimentally. ‘I am yours.’

‘’Tis a pretty thought,’ she said.

‘And now I wish to show them to you.’

‘But I said I did not want to see them.’

‘But you will to please me.’

‘I thought you always wanted to please me.’

‘I do when your pleasure is mine.’

They laughed together; but he had implied that he was going to insist on her viewing the prisoners.

She didn’t want to. She hated unpleasant things and the sight of men in chains gave her no pleasure – particularly if they were handsome men. She was beginning to be a little wary of John. She had seen the redness tinge his eyes and it gave her a qualm or two. She would never forget how he had rolled on the floor and stuffed the rushes into his mouth.

If she were to have her way it would have to be subtly; and she must never appear to go against him.

So she found herself sitting in the courtyard beside him while the farm carts rolled by.

Poor little Arthur, he looked so sad and frightened too. He was such a boy. She knew he was a little older than she was but not much; and she shuddered to think of herself fettered in a farm cart, John’s prisoner.

And there was another. She started at the sight of him. Hugh! He stood up in the cart, his head high as though he were quite unaware of where he was. Her heart leaped at the sight of him and a great emotion swept over her. Oh not Hugh! she thought, and was afraid that she had spoken aloud as she knew John was aware of her every movement, and was watching the expression on her face.

Hugh had turned his head and was looking straight at her. What was that she saw in his eyes? She tried to answer him. Oh, Hugh, Hugh, I am sorry. It was not of my doing really. They forced me to it.

I wanted to be Queen, she thought. Yes, I did. I liked the ceremony and the clothes, the jewels, the people cheering and saying I was beautiful. I like my nights with John – but he frightens me sometimes. Oh, Hugh, if it hadn’t happened like this …

The cart had passed; she did not look after it but stared at the next one.

‘What thought you of your one-time betrothed?’ asked John.

She hesitated. She could not bring herself to speak flippantly.

She said: ‘I thought he bore himself like a brave man.’ John was silent. He thought: If she had cared for him she would never have dared speak of him like that.

Nay, she is content enough. Are her responses not enough to tell me that?

He gave orders that Arthur was to be sent under strict guard to Falaise; there he was to be held in the utmost security. If he was allowed to escape, he commented, he would not envy those who had been in charge of him. His sister Eleanor should go to Bristol. She was only a girl and he did not fear her. Let her be treated with courtesy.

Others he sent to Corfe Castle in Dorset.

‘I have not yet decided where I shall send Hugh the Brown,’ he told Isabella. ‘But it shall be a strong prison for that one. Such a bold brave man might well attempt escape.’

She did not answer.

Then he said: ‘I have it. It shall be here in Caen. We have some fine dungeons here – damp and cold. You can think of him when you and I are revelling together – but no, your thoughts must all be for me. I’ll not have it otherwise.’ Playfully he put his hands about her throat. ‘You’d not disappoint me, sweetheart.’

‘How could I do so?’ she asked.

‘By pitying poor Hugh the Brown.’

‘What good would that do him?’ she answered.

‘None, my love. None at all.’

They stayed on at Caen through the autumn and John declared they would pass Christmas there.

This they did. There was much jollity, feasting, singing, dancing; and the King and the Queen, it was noticed and remarked on, did not leave their beds until dinner time.

Riding in the midst of John’s guards Arthur was quiet and sullen. He missed his mother; he wondered what was happening to Guy; if only his sister Eleanor were with him there would have been some comfort, but here he was alone with strangers, enemy strangers.

He kept going over the events which had led to this humiliating capture. If only they had taken his grandmother and left Mirebeau with her, victory would have been theirs. How could they have been so stupid as to delay? He had to admit it had been his wish and he had been so eager to have his way. He knew that the soldiers had wanted to stay and he had heard it said that when men were fighting they must not be driven too hard all the time. And after a battle must be given some sort of reward. It had been so wonderful taking Mirebeau with his grandmother looking on at the battle and, as he had believed, wishing she had given her support to her grandson Arthur instead of worthless John.

And then suddenly it had all changed. They were the losers and he had had to ride in that dreadful farm cart – a degradation he would never forget.

Before him lay the castle of Falaise – renowned because it was in this town that his great ancestor William the Conqueror had been born. Was that why John had sent him here, that he might be held a prisoner in the old home of that great ancestor?

William de Braose and his wife Matilda, who were waiting to receive him, came out to the courtyard and William held Arthur’s stirrup while he alighted.

‘I trust the journey was comfortable, my lord,’ he said in a soothing and respectful voice which was reassuring to Arthur.

‘I could scarcely be comforted in the circumstances,’ replied Arthur.

‘My wife and I will do all we can for you, my lord, while you are here.’

Matilda de Braose came forward then and curtsied to Arthur. She was a tall woman with strong features and a deep resonant voice.

She said she had had his apartments made ready for him, and had herself made sure that he should lack nothing for his comfort.

It was a better reception than he had hoped for after his treatment from his uncle.

He was taken into the castle and William de Braose led the way up a spiral staircase. Arthur followed and Matilda brought up the rear.

There was his bedchamber. The bars across the narrow window were the only indication that it was a prison.

William de Braose glanced at them apologetically. ‘Alas, my lord, we have to hold you under restraint and the King’s orders are that there must be guards outside your door and one must sleep in your room. It is with great regret that I must carry out these orders for I know how irksome this can be.’

‘We want you to understand,’ said Matilda, ‘that it is our desire to make your stay in Falaise as comfortable as is possible. If there is anything you need, pray ask for it, and if it is within our power to give it to you, that shall be done.’