John and Isabella, lying in bed during the mornings in Château Gaillard, talked idly of trivial matters though sometimes John mentioned State affairs.

Much as he was still enamoured of her, he had not been faithful to her. On the occasions when they had not been together – which were not many – he had found opportunities for sporting with other women. He had reminded himself that as King he had a right to do as he pleased and if Isabella objected she should be told this. But when he was with her he preferred these peccadilloes should be kept a secret from her and he warned his followers that any who tattled of them might find himself without a tongue to repeat the offence.

She knew of course what he had planned to do to Arthur and she had deplored it. Arthur was a pleasant-looking youth and she did not care to think of handsome men being maimed in any way. She enjoyed life and she liked to think of others doing the same. She was good-hearted as long as being so did not curb her pleasures. She disliked that viciousness which she was discovering more and more in John and she often thought of the different life she might have had with Hugh de Lusignan.

Now as they lay in bed John mentioned Arthur and how Hubert had disobeyed his orders.

‘And rightly so,’ said Isabella.

‘I am not sure of that. True, I am glad he did not carry them out but when I give orders I expect them to be obeyed.’

‘And are mightily glad when they are not – since they are the wrong orders.’

He twirled a piece of her hair round his finger.

‘I don’t know that I shouldn’t show him that I won’t be flouted.’

‘He did what he did for your sake. He thought it was right, and so it proved.’

‘You seem to be much concerned about his fate.’

‘I like thanks to be given where they are due.’

‘And you do not forget that he is a handsome man and young Arthur is a pretty boy, eh?’

‘I cannot see that that is at issue.’

‘Can you not? I can. You have a fondness for attractive men.’

‘Is that not obvious since I have married the King?’

He wound a strand of her hair round her throat.

‘Do not have too much fondness for others,’ he said.

‘Why should I when I have one?’

‘Some like variety.’

‘As you do?’ she asked.

He was wary. What had she discovered? Nothing, he was sure. They would all be too much afraid to tell her. And if she did know she would be angry and not hesitate to show it. He did not want that. She was still the best, still the only one he really wanted. It was strange that after so long she could still excite him. He reckoned that they would have to have children soon. That was a measure of how his feelings were changed towards her. In the beginning he had not wanted her body changed; he had wanted to keep that virginal look which so excited him. But nature was changing her. She was as beautiful as ever – most would say more so. But she was no longer the child she had been in the first year.

‘I found the perfect mistress and that she is my wife gives me complete satisfaction.’

‘That is well then,’ she said.

‘Well? Just well?’

‘It means that I do not have to vent my rage upon you.’

‘You think I would fear that?’

‘You would, John.’

‘Nay,’ he said, suddenly angry. ‘I’d have you know that I am King and do what I will.’

‘It might well be that I would let you know that I am Queen,’ she answered.

‘What mean you by that?’

‘That what the King may do, so may the Queen.’

‘’Tis not so. By God, if you were unfaithful to me I’d make you regret it.’

‘As I would if you were to me.’

‘How could you do that?’

‘There are a hundred ways which it is not beyond a woman’s wits to discover. But let us not fret about what is not.’

He was relieved. She did not know.

He started to talk about Arthur and it suddenly occurred to him that it would be a good idea if he went to Falaise to see the boy.


When a messenger arrived at Falaise Castle to inform Hubert that the King was on the way, he was filled with apprehension. He went at once to Arthur and told him.

Arthur turned pale. ‘Why should he come here, Hubert?’

‘We shall soon know,’ replied Hubert. ‘In the meantime we must prepare for him.’

‘I hate him,’ said Arthur fiercely.

‘Keep control of your feelings.’

‘I’ll try, Hubert. But it is not easy when you hate someone as I hate him. When I think of what he would have done to me …’

‘Do not think of it.’

‘I can’t help it, Hubert. I think of it constantly.’

‘He will not harm you … yet,’ said Hubert. ‘He may well be coming in peace. It may well be that he will want you to ride out with him to show the people that you are alive and well.’

‘I will never ride in amity with him.’

‘I beg of you, take care,’ said Hubert.

But by the time John arrived at the castle Arthur had worked himself up into a frenzy of apprehension and hatred. How could he help it towards someone who had wanted to rob him of his precious eyes and had actually commanded it to be done?

I will hate him for ever, thought Arthur.

The King came to the castle and strode in arrogantly. There was something about Falaise which threatened to subdue him. He supposed it was because it was in Falaise that his great ancestor the Conqueror was born. In these cold stone-walled rooms the young William had played at the skirts of his low-born mother. All his life William the Conqueror had been held up as an example. Even his father had talked of him with awe. Consequently John had never liked Falaise. He seemed to sense the old man’s disapproval and he imagined what he would say if he could see the state of Normandy today and be aware of how John lay in bed half the morning with his seductive wife. Great William had never understood such emotions. He would have been very impatient with them.

But what was he doing, thinking so of one who was long dead? He was alive and he was the King of England and Duke of Normandy and so he intended to remain and if he were not the great soldier his ancestor was, it might be that he was more subtle.

He had come to see Arthur and to talk to him. He would try to make the boy see reason. That was the object of his visit.

Hubert de Burgh received him. A good servant, although he did take the law into his own hands. He would give him a reprimand for that, but Hubert would say he did it to serve him and he would have to accept that, because it certainly had. If Arthur had really been dead, all hell would have been let loose over Europe. If he had been blinded and castrated what howls of rage there would have been. No, it was not good policy to have ordered those things to be done – though it would have served the ambitious boy right had it happened to him.

‘Well, Hubert,’ he said, ‘I have called and will stay here for a night before being on my way. And while I’m here I must see this boy, this nephew of mine who is causing me so much trouble, and see if I can talk him into good sense.’

‘He is coming now to greet you,’ said Hubert.

And there was Arthur. He stood still for a moment looking at his uncle. Oh God, prayed Hubert, do not show your hatred so clearly, Arthur.

John saw it for he laughed aloud and went forward with outstretched hands.

‘Nay, nephew, do not kneel.’

Arthur raised well-marked eyebrows, for he had had no intention of kneeling to one whose rank he considered but for usurpation did not equal his own. For in his opinion he Arthur was King and Duke whereas John, if he lost the crown which he had usurped, would be a mere count.

‘I have to see you, nephew,’ went on John. ‘There is much we have to say to each other. But we will talk later. After we have eaten, for I smell venison and I am hungry. Good Hubert, being aware of my coming, I see has prepared for me.’

Hubert said he would have them hurry in the kitchens so that the King did not have to wait long for his meal.

He himself conducted John to the best of the bedchambers and Arthur was left in the hall looking after his uncle with undisguised hatred.

In the bedchamber the King turned to smile at Hubert.

‘Methinks my nephew gives himself certain airs,’ he said.

‘He is but young, my lord, and has much to learn.’

‘Let us hope that he has the good sense to learn his lessons,’ said John.

He feasted in the hall and complimented Hubert on the venison. He drank freely of the wine and looked about him for the comeliest of the women with whom he would spend the night.

But first he must talk with Arthur for he did not wish to linger in Falaise.

At last he and Arthur were alone together. Arthur’s heart was beating wildly. All he could think of was: He gave the order. He commanded them to put out my eyes.

He would remember it always, he knew, whenever he was in the presence of his uncle John. To think this man was his father’s brother and he had ordered that that should be done to him! Hatred filled Arthur’s heart. Hubert had warned him: Take care. Do not offend him. Think before you speak. But all Arthur could think of was: He ordered that they should put out my eyes and but for Hubert it would have been done.

‘Now, nephew,’ said John, ‘it is time you and I understood each other.’

‘I think I understand you well,’ replied Arthur coolly.

‘Then we shall be able to talk good sense. It is no use your thinking that you have a right to what is mine. You are but a boy. You have to grow up.’

‘I have grown up, in the last months.’