Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

John’s fury when he saw his ranks diminishing was so great that he wept. He screamed and shouted but this was of no avail. The French, being aware of what had happened, realised this was the time to attack, and John and his forces were soon hastily retreating.

It was the beginning of the end. The French were too strong; John’s allies had deserted him; and his men, who did not believe in his ability to achieve his ends, wanted to go home. They remembered what had been said of John – the King who had lost the French possessions. They reminded each other that there had been a time when Philip had threatened to invade England. The only element which had prevented that was the intervention of the Pope. What sort of king was this? He was no leader. At home they were grumbling about him. The barons were threatening to rise against him. What good could they achieve here in France? There was nothing there but defeat. It was time they returned to England to protect their possessions there before the French came to take them.

Angry, frustrated, John returned to England. Something told him that it would never be in his power to regain the French possessions.

His only pleasure in returning home was to go to Gloucester to see Isabella.

She was pregnant once more, a fact which pleased him. He found it gratifying to keep her shut away and to surround her with guards so that he could be sure no lovers visited her and then to come to her at his will.

He allowed her to have the children with her. Young Henry now eight years old, Richard a year younger, Joanna the little bride-to-be nearly five, and baby Isabella. It was gratifying to contemplate that there would soon be another.

He knew that she was glad to see him and she no longer referred to his infidelities but accepted them as a matter of course which seemed to him right and proper. He wondered how often she thought of her lover hanging lifeless on the bed. Ah, he thought, he would no longer have been any use to her had he lived.

This always amused him; and he could say that he was as pleased with his marriage as he had ever been and although he had been mad with rage when he had discovered her infidelity, she could always excite him more than any other woman he had ever known.

Now he could taunt her.

‘I have had adventures overseas,’ he said.

‘And none, I believe, that have brought you advantage.’

‘Oh, I shall cross the seas ere long and then I will flout the King of France.’

‘Let us hope he will not flout you first. So you have lost everything across the sea?’

‘Nay. ’Tis but a temporary setback. I have made a truce with an old friend of yours.’

‘Which old friend is that?’

‘Hugh de Lusignan. I believe you thought highly of him once.’

She was alert and watchful. What did this mean?

‘He is a brave and noble man,’ she answered defiantly.

‘I am glad you think so because he is to become a member of our family.’

‘How so?’ she asked, and he was pleased to see that her heart had started to beat fast with apprehension. She thought he was going to tell her of some torture inflicted on Hugh. He would let her fear for him for a while before enlightening her with the information which he believed would shock her.

He cleared his throat. ‘I am going to give him our daughter.’

‘Give … him … our daughter?’ she echoed.

‘I mean of course that Joanna is to be betrothed to your old lover, Hugh the Brown.’

‘But … she is a child.’

‘Princesses are married when they are young, as you know. How old were you? Twelve. If our Joanna is anything like her mother she will give Hugh a very happy time.’

‘It is impossible,’ she snapped. ‘The child is but five years old.’

‘In seven years’ time … perhaps earlier, she will be ready. He will be prepared to wait. He is good at that.’

‘He … he will be an old man.’

‘There have been older bridegrooms. He was excited at the prospect. And so we got safe conduct through his territory. It could have given me a victorious campaign but for the traitors. I thought: This will please Isabella. She thought highly of the man. Very well, she will welcome him as a son!’ He began to laugh. She wanted to kill him. She clasped her hands tightly together to prevent their taking action.

She hated him. He was forty-eight years of age and looked more. He was too fat and growing bald and it was inevitable that the life of debauchery should begin to show itself.

‘Come,’ he cried, holding out his hands, ‘show me your gratitude. I have arranged a match for your daughter with a man whom, I have reason to think, you regard very highly.’

Then he caught her to him and she knew that understanding that he had disturbed her gave some zest to his desire.

Cruelty always gave him additional pleasure.

John did not realise what trouble was awaiting him. While he had been in France those barons who had refused to accompany him had been meeting to ask themselves how much longer they were going to endure the rule of an ineffectual tyrant.

Stephen Langton, who owed his duty to the Pope, understood very well how matters were going and was sure that some compromise would have to be reached. Among the archives of Canterbury he had discovered a copy of a document called the Charter of Henry I. This set out certain liberties which on his coronation Henry I had been forced to grant to the people. There were only a few copies of this in existence because Henry had been at great pains to destroy any he could lay his hands on.

On discovering this document in the month of August the Archbishop called together the barons at St Paul’s where he produced the documents, pointing out that many of the rights expressed therein had been waived by succeeding kings.

The struggle between the King and his barons moved a stage further after that assembly at St Paul’s. They now determined to go into action.

November 20^th was a feast day and under the pretext of celebrating this the barons again met, this time at Bury St Edmunds.

Here they took a solemn oath before the high altar. They would insist that John renew the Charter of Henry I; and if he should refuse they were determined to make war.

The time chosen to present their demand to the King was Christmas, which he would be celebrating at Worcester. They decided, however, that the season of goodwill might not be the best time so they changed the meeting place to London and sent a deputation to the King at Worcester telling him that the barons were assembled in London where they must parley with him without delay.

Aware of the storm which was gathering about him, John left Worcester and travelled to London; and there he found the barons awaiting him.

They were a formidable assembly, for they had armed as though for war, and their spokesman informed the King that they insisted he keep the promises and laws set out in the Charter of Henry I.

John was at first inclined arrogantly to accuse them of insubordination, but when he saw how threatening was their manner he knew he must tread carefully.

‘You are asking me a great deal,’ he said. ‘I cannot give you an immediate answer. You must give me a little time to consider these matters. Wait until Easter time and I will have my answer for you then.’

The barons murmured together but finally agreed to await the appointed time.

John immediately sent envoys to the Pope begging for his help against the recalcitrant barons, giving them instructions to tell His Holiness that he was his humble servant and that he needed his help against his rebellious subjects. As his faithful vassal he appealed to him and trusted that he would instruct the rebels to submit, through John, to His Holiness.

The result of this was a letter from the Pope to the baron leaders and Stephen Langton, forbidding them to persist in their persecution of the King. But Stephen Langton was a man of high principles and he had ranged himself on the side of the barons. The Pope did not understand the true situation in England; accordingly at Easter time the barons met at Stamford in Lincolnshire and the Archbishop was with them. With them came two thousand men, armed for battle, to show the King the measure of their seriousness.

John was at Oxford and with him was William Marshal. All John’s efforts were spent in controlling his fury. That his subjects who had once been terrified and ready to hide themselves at the first sign of his temper, were now actually bringing armed forces to intimidate him, maddened him.

William Marshal was faithful as ever, but very grave, being fully aware of John’s unhappy position and the justice of the barons’ grievances.

‘I will go to them, my lord,’ he said, ‘and discover the nature of these demands. Then it is my opinion that you should examine them very closely.’

‘Was ever a king in such a sad state?’ cried John.

‘Rarely,’ answered the Marshal somewhat curtly. He agreed that John’s actions had brought him to this state and it was only his inherent belief that the monarchy must be upheld at all costs which made him determined to serve John until the end, he being, in his opinion, the true sovereign of the realm.

Marshal returned to John in the company of Stephen Langton with the written demands of the barons.

John flushed with fury as he read them: ‘By God’s hands and feet,’ he cried, ‘why do they not demand my kingdom?’

‘They are very insistent, my lord,’ warned Marshal.

John threw the document to the floor and stamped on it. ‘I would never grant liberties which would make me a slave,’ he declared. He added slyly: ‘We will ask the Pope to intervene in this matter. It is the concern of His Holiness, for I hold this kingdom under him. Go, tell the barons they must appeal to the Pope.’