Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

The English set out and here their good fortune continued, for on arriving at the spot where the French fleet lay, they found a vast number of vessels all equipped for the invasion of England, filled with the food and weapons which would be needed; there was armour and fine garments – everything conceivable that would enable the invaders to succeed both before and after conquest.

That there should be but a few people left to guard them made the English laugh with derision while they decided to make the most of their good fortune. Forgotten was the expedition to Flanders. Here was a far more profitable one.

They quickly overpowered the defenders, loaded their own ships with the treasures the French had brought with them and then set fire to Philip’s fleet.

It was a great moment for John. He laughed aloud. His luck had changed. It was now his turn to snap his fingers at Philip.

Having crippled the French fleet so that an invasion of England would be completely out of the question, even if Philip decided to defy the Pope and attempt it, John decided to go to the rescue of the Flemings. Alas, the spasm of luck was over, for Philip, hearing of the disaster to his ships, hurried to the coast and intercepted John’s army, inflicting defeat on it so that it was necessary to make a hasty retreat back to the coast.

There they hastily embarked and sailed back to England. But the adventure could be called highly successful since it had resulted in the near annihilation of the French fleet and had made invasion impossible for a very long time.

It was hot July when Stephen Langton arrived in England. John rode to meet him and the two retinues came face to face at Portchester.

The King, aglitter with jewels, his satin mantle decorated with pearls and rubies, his girdle of sapphires and diamonds, and his gloves adorned with pearls, looked magnificent on his charger. It was more important than ever that he look the part since he had resigned his independence. About him rode his courtiers, splendidly dressed but designedly less so than he was, for he would not have been pleased if they outshone him.

When the two retinues met, John dismounted from his magnificently caparisoned horse, and approaching Stephen Langton, knelt before him; then he stood up and exchanged kisses with him.

‘Welcome, Father,’ he said.

Stephen Langton was not a vindictive man and he was delighted that at last John was ready to receive him. He was eager that the past should be forgotten and he looked forward to working in harmony with the King.

They rode side by side into Winchester, cheered by the people as they passed along the road.

Peace between Church and State! It was what the people longed for. The Interdict was lifted. Their King was no longer excommunicated – although the ban had to be lifted formally – and everyone could return to the normal way of life.

Into the city of Winchester they came, and there in the chapter house of the Cathedral, the Archbishop of Canterbury absolved John and celebrated Mass in his presence.

When it was over, for all to see, the Archbishop and the King gave each other the kiss of peace.

John, the irreligious sceptic, the lecher, the King who had defied the Church as none of his predecessors had before him, was now the dear friend of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the protégé of the Pope.

There was an irony about such a state of affairs and men such as the Marshal solemnly shook their heads and wondered how long this amity could last.

Isabella was in love. He was young and handsome. Often she would compare him with John and marvel at the differences between them. He reminded her of Hugh the Brown and after he had left she would lie in bed and think: This is how it would have been with Hugh.

At first in her thoughts she called him Hugh; and later she told him this. ‘It suits you. You will be Hugh to me,’ and ever after she called him by that name.

She had been afraid for him, although when she had first taken lovers she had liked to test their courage by telling them that their punishment would be terrible if the King ever discovered. Sometimes when they were with her she sensed their fear; at first it gave a zest to her desire.

She took a delight in hiding her adventures from John but sometimes it occurred to her that he knew and that he was waiting to trap her. Outwitting him in itself was a pleasant exercise. She hated him. Perhaps she always had although she had revelled in the early years of their relationship. It had been flattering that he should neglect his State duties because he could not leave their bed and to know that the stories circulated round the world that he was losing his kingdom under the bed quilt.

What a compliment to her powers of attraction! For long he had been a faithful husband which in itself was something of a miracle. And she had made this possible – she with her great fascination. She wondered if Hugh ever thought of her now. Did he reproach himself for his sloth in not taking her when she was there ready and willing, waiting for him before John had come?

At first it had been so exciting. To be Queen and to be so desired. But she had been a queen for a long time now and desired by many. And there were more handsome men in the world than John.

Her thoughts were now for the handsome young man, the Golden Youth she called him, the Hugh-Shadow – Hugh would no longer be young, as she was not, but women such as herself were perennially attractive and men such as he was retained their charm.

Her lover was coming to her bedchamber more frequently now. He was so much in love with her that he gladly risked his life … or worse. She had told him often of the terrible danger he was facing and he brushed that aside. It was worth while … anything that could happen to him was worth while for this.

He was a good lover. There could not have been a better. He was tender as John had never been, not even in the beginning when she was a child. This adoration, this idolising, was delightful. She revelled in it. She loved her Golden Youth.

As they lay in her bed in the early morning before the dawn – for he must be gone by then since it would be fatal to be seen by the light of day – she said to him as she twirled a lock of his golden hair through her fingers, ‘My love, how long will you continue to come to me?’

He answered as she knew he would: ‘For ever.’

‘What if the King comes here?’

‘Then I must perforce wait until he is gone.’

‘What do you know of the King, Hugh?’

‘All know of his tempers.’

‘There never was such temper. They say it even exceeds that of his father and greatly did men fear that. He must never find out, Hugh, never.’

‘If he did, it would have been worth while.’

‘While his servants were doing fearful things to you would you think that?’

‘Aye.’

‘Nay, my dearest love, you think so now. But what are the feelings of a man, think you, to be deprived of his manhood, for methinks that is what John would do to any who had enjoyed me.’

‘I had rather die.’

‘If John knew that, he would not let you. His revenge must suit his mood and his moods are diabolical. Perhaps he would put out your eyes. He wanted to do that to Arthur, you know. His sin was that he was the son of John’s elder brother and some thought he had a greater right to the throne.’

‘He cannot have such thoughts about me.’

‘Nay, but he would hate you more than he ever hated Arthur. Sometimes I tremble for you.’

‘Then I rejoice, for it shows you love me.’

‘I want you to know what you risk, my Hugh. Think of these things.’

‘To be with you for one hour is worth a lifetime of agony.’

‘Youthful words spoken by the young in the hour of ecstasy. What would you say during the lifetime of misery, think you?’

‘It shall not be,’ he said, kissing her.

And while she loved his recklessness, she wanted him to know what he risked.

He had been successful in reaching her. They had devised several hiding places where he could be secreted in a hurry. She might lift the floorboards and he could cower beneath. She had made sure of that and she barred her bedroom door when he was with her.

She would get him away in safety, she promised herself, if he were in danger of being surprised.

But she had many attendants and they knew her secrets.

John came to the castle. She was down at the gates to meet him.

As soon as he looked at her he was as enamoured of her as he had ever been, realising afresh that she had that quality of sensuality stronger than any woman he knew.

He was aware that she had taken a lover. It was for this reason that he had come here. At first he had thought he would come down in secret and catch her in the act; but he had a better idea.

‘Why, you are blooming as a flower does after rain,’ he said. ‘Is that due to my coming?’

‘To what else could it be due?’

‘You are a good wife … always waiting for her husband.’

‘Always,’ she answered, ‘though he comes less often than he once did.’

‘Matters of State, my love.’

‘Is it so then? I had feared it might be matters of another kind.’

‘Are you jealous then?’

‘Continuously so.’

‘There is no need. No matter with whom I bedded I would always prefer and come back to you.’

‘’Tis small compensation when others are taking my place.’

‘Do you sulk, wife?’

‘Nay, I know well the ways of men. None is faithful.’