He had of course quarrelled with John but in a moment of good sense John had realised that a quarrel could profit him very little and he made peace with the Archbishop.

Now at Portchester, Hubert was preaching against taking an army into France. The invasion had been too long delayed, he declared. It could end in failure and if that army were beaten how could England be defended if Philip decided to turn his strength towards it?

John raged and ranted, as eager now to go into battle as a short time ago he had been determined to avoid it.

William Marshal too firmly believed that the expedition would be a failure, but he had another reason for not wishing to go to France.

The barons, growing more and more distrustful of John, had been deluded into thinking that they were going to defend Normandy. Now they had discovered that this was not John’s intention. He was going to do battle with Philip for Poitou and Anjou. While the barons were interested in Normandy where so many of them had property, they were not equally so in the other dominions. They began to murmur among themselves and when they discovered that the Archbishop of Canterbury and William Marshal were reluctant too, they took heart and said they did not wish to go.

William Marshal, with a number of the barons, came to speak of the matter with John.

‘I myself could not go to France to fight,’ he said.

‘I understand you not, Marshal,’ cried John.

‘My lord, you know that I and others made a pact with Philip. This we did with your approval, you will remember. We paid him that we might hold our lands for a year, promising that if you did not conquer Normandy by that time we would swear allegiance to him. That time has passed, my lord, and the allegiance has been sworn.’

‘You … traitor!’ cried John. ‘So you have sworn allegiance to my enemy.’

‘With your knowledge, my lord.’

John’s eyes began to protrude and his lips began to move although he did not immediately speak. They all saw the signs of the notorious temper.

‘Arrest that man!’ he shouted. ‘I will not have traitors beside me.’

There was a silence. The barons remained impassive. There was not one of them who would raise a hand against the Marshal.

John began to scream. He pointed at William Marshal with a shaking finger.

‘By God’s ears and teeth,’ he shouted, ‘I tell you that man is a traitor. He has made pacts with the King of France behind my back. He is my man and he cannot fight the King of France because he has made a vow to serve him. This is a man I have allowed to be close to me. I have given him my confidence and he has betrayed me. Arrest him. Take him away. Take him to a dungeon. Let him there await my pleasure … and my pleasure will not be yours, Marshal, I promise you that.’

His eyes raked the silent company.

‘What’s this? What’s this?’ he cried. ‘So none of you move. You stand there. I order and you do nothing … nothing … nothing!’ His voice had risen to a scream. Then he suddenly seemed to grow quiet. ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘I see clearly. You are all against me. Every one of you. Traitors … all of you. By God’s eyes, this is an ugly matter.’

He turned from them and strode off.

The Marshal was against him. The Archbishop was against him. And there was smouldering resentment among his barons.

‘They shall not stop me,’ he screamed at Isabella. ‘I’ll have my way. Rest assured I will. Nothing will stop me … nothing … nothing … nothing.’

And he went on with his preparations.


William Marshal came to him. He looked sad and contrite and for the moment John’s heart leaped with hope because he thought he had come to beg his pardon.

No so the Marshal. John thought: None would think he were my subject. I could take him and imprison him and put out his eyes. Does he forget that?

No, you could not, whispered common sense. If you did the whole country would rise against you. This man is beloved of the barons and the people. Do not delude yourself. You need his friendship.

All the same he scowled at the Marshal.

‘Well,’ he cried, ‘why do you come to me? Why do you not go to the lord you have chosen to serve?’

‘There is one I serve on these shores,’ said William Marshal. ‘There is one I would always have wished to serve. I have been forced to swear allegiance to the King of France when in the land he now commands and I am a man who must keep his oath.’

‘So you swore away your honour for your lands.’

‘I would never swear away my honour, sire. Has it struck you that if – and by God’s grace may it be soon – you regain Normandy you will have strongholds there of those who serve you well. I am one of those.’

‘Am I expected to believe that?’ demanded John scornfully.

‘You must believe as you will, my lord. The facts will remain as they are. I come now to beg you to disband your army.’

‘Because you do not wish to fight against your friend?’

‘If you refer to the King of France I must say I do not wish to. But my reason for braving your wrath and coming to you is to beg you consider. The facts are these: Philip is now in command of vast territories; he can put more men in the field than you can. You know full well the treachery of the Poitevins. Can you trust them? They would be your friends one day and if it was advantageous to them – as it could well be – they would turn to France. And while you were engaged over there with the flower of your army you would leave this land exposed to the invader. Your presence is needed here. The people are disturbed. They liked not the taxation which has had to be imposed to raise this army. The barons are on the edge of revolt. My lord, you can best serve your interests by disbanding your army and staying here, to hold firmly on to what is left to you.’

‘You disappoint me, Marshal. I had thought I could rely on you.’

‘You can rely on me now as ever. I have done nothing disloyal. I had your consent to pay Philip that I might retain my lands in Normandy and you knew full well the condition that if you did not regain Normandy in one year I must swear fealty to him. This I did as you must have known I must. And because I have taken my oath of allegiance to him I cannot in honour bound accompany you to France … if you decided to go – which I hope you will not.’

John clenched his fists and swore but he must not let his temper break out. He had seen the looks in the barons’ eyes and he wondered what they would do next.

He said: ‘I will summon the barons and talk to them.’

The Marshal looked relieved.


John looked round the company. They were all against him … all! He had his mercenaries; they would follow him. But no, he could not go against his barons and his ministers.

‘You advise me not to go,’ he cried. ‘Tell me then what I must do.’

Some of the barons thought that a small company of knights might be sent to Poitou, there to help those who were loyal to him.

‘A company of knights! Is that going to hold Poitou? Is that going to win back Normandy?’ He had become maudlin. He was in tears. He could rely on nobody. Every man’s hand was against him.

‘Very well,’ he shouted. ‘I will dismiss my army. But you won’t stop my going. I shall go, taking with me a few of my loyal supporters.’

The barons gave their opinion that he must not leave the country. It was imperative that during this uncertain state of affairs he remain in England.

‘Do not attempt to tell me what I shall do and what I shall not,’ he screamed at them, forgetting that he had asked for their advice. ‘You will not come with me.’

He left them and went out to the harbour where his own ship was anchored.

‘Prepare,’ he cried. ‘We sail at once.’

His captain was astonished to hear that only this one ship was going to cross, all the rest being disbanded.

‘Nobody will follow me,’ cried John. ‘Then I will go alone.’

He set sail in his ship while the rest of the fleet was dismantled and the soldiers he had gathered together returned to their homes.

He did not intend to go to France though. As his temper cooled and the land receded, he knew it would be ridiculous if he went to France with just one ship’s company.

He gave orders for the captain to put in at Wareham where he alighted, complaining bitterly that he was surrounded by traitors. He had set out for France to regain his heritage and his subjects had deserted him. The disaster abroad was due to them. See, he had been ready to fight. But they were cowards. They had taken oaths to the King of France, forgetting their duty to the King of England in their determination to save their lands. It would always be remembered against them.

He had come to a sorry pass – not for what he had lost but what he had discovered – the treachery of those who should have loved him best!

Philip naturally took advantage of the situation and in a short time had all of Poitou in his possession with the exception of Rochelle, Thouars and Niort.


Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury, was feeling his years as he left Canterbury for the town of Boxley where he was going to settle a quarrel between the Bishop of Rochester and some of his monks.

He was getting too old for such journeys and he was suffering from a tiresome carbuncle on his neck which was giving him a great deal of pain. On that morning when he had awakened he felt feverish and had wondered whether to postpone the journey, but it was never wise to allow these quarrels to fester. It was far better he always said to find some quick solution. There was trouble enough in the country. He had been very uneasy of late, particularly since he had been with the King in Portchester when the latter had been there assembling his army to take across the Channel. What violent rages John could fall into! Hubert knew the Angevin temper well; John was not the only member of the family who possessed it for it had been present in almost every member of that family. It might well be true that it had been introduced into their blood by the witch woman whom one of the Dukes of Anjou was said to have married. Henry II had had it, so had Richard to some extent, but never had anyone possessed it to such a mad degree as John. He seemed to verge on madness when it flared up in him and to be possessed by the Devil himself. It was alarming to contemplate that such a man was at the head of the country.