Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

So even now, in his evil mood, he paused to find a coin for the beggar.

‘My lord,’ said the man, ‘I am no beggar. I come in this guise with great news for you.’

‘News!’ whispered John. ‘What news?’

‘The King of England is dead.’

‘No.’

‘’Tis so, my lord.’

John seized the man’s arm. ‘How could it be?’

‘It was at Chaluz. It was said that treasure had been found and Richard wanted it.’

‘He would,’ said John. ‘Go on, man.’

‘In the seige an arrow pierced his shoulder. It could not be withdrawn and festered. He is dead. Long live King John.’

‘You’ll be rewarded,’ said John.

‘May God preserve you, my lord. I have come in stealth that you might know what has happened. Soon the news will be abroad … here … in this castle … everywhere.’

‘And what would happen to me here?’ asked John. ‘Because if they knew at this moment they would be for putting Arthur on the throne.’

‘I thought, my lord, you would wish to leave in all haste for Chinon.’

‘For Chinon and the royal treasure,’ cried John.

In the castle Arthur was telling his mother of the fine buck they had brought in, and the smell of roasting meat was in the air. But when the company assembled in the great hall it was discovered that Prince John and his followers were not present.

‘Can they have gone at last?’ cried Constance, her voice joyful.

‘It would seem so,’ said Guy, ‘but I wonder for what reason.’

They were to discover that the next day.

Richard dead. Then Arthur must be Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou and King of England.

But by that time John had reached Chinon and possessed himself of the royal treasure.

What a thrill it was to ride into Chinon. At last that for which he had longed and prayed was ready to fall into his hands. Richard dead! The man who shot the arrow ought to be rewarded; he could not have pleased his new King more. He laughed aloud. What would be the reactions of the lords, knights and barons if he said, ‘Bring that man before me’? They would bring the man, wretched and fearful, and he would play with him for a while so that he believed dire torture awaited him and then he would offer him lands and title. ‘You have served me well. Go in peace.’

Of course it could not be like that. Just at first he would have to follow the conventions a little. But by God’s ears, he thought, when I am King with the crown safely on my head, then I shall do as I wish and men will like it or suffer for not liking.

What a glorious future! Blessed man who shot the arrow, you are my good and faithful servant. Old Lion Heart is no more. The terror of the Saracens, the great crusader, who deserted his own country to win glory in the Holy Land, is just a corpse now … dead and gone and all his glory with him. And the way is clear for John.

Arthur – Bah! what had he to fear from Arthur?

Never had the castle of Chinon looked so beautiful as it did on that April morning. Never had John felt so pleased with life.

Now would come the first test. What if the custodian of the treasure refused to hand it to him? But there was no question of how he should act. He would run the fellow through and take it by force.

Into the castle he rode. There was no resistance. He thrilled with delight. They recognised him as Duke and King.

The treasure was his.

There was a message from his mother who had already given orders that the treasure was to be handed to him. She was at Fontevraud where the funeral was taking place. John, now Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou and King of England, was to come to Fontevraud to pay his last respects to his brother.

John hesitated. None should give orders to him. Then he saw the folly of resisting. His mother knew the procedure and she was on his side, a fact which should make him exult. Any resistance Arthur and the Bretons might put up would be quickly overcome. His mother carried great influence and he must be humble for a while. That was the part to play and he always enjoyed playing those parts which deceived people. To play the sorrowing brother now, a little weighed down by the realisation of his heavy responsibilities, was a part he could do well and find a great enjoyment in playing it.

Being in possession of the Angevin treasure, he prepared to ride to Fontevraud. But first, on his mother’s advice, he sent for Bishop Hugh of Lincoln, the most respected of English bishops, whose presence, as Eleanor said, would impress the people.

John realised this and was amused to think of himself in the company of such a man, for in the past he had been guilty of great levity towards such, and Hugh had a most saintly reputation.

However, for the time being he must curb his high spirits and show a serious mien to the people.

Hugh arrived and gave him his blessing. John noted with some asperity that the Bishop was not inclined to treat him with great respect even though he acknowledged him as King. These churchmen seemed to look on everyone else as their children. He would not endure his preaching for long and the fellow would have to take care how he treated his new sovereign. Richard had not allowed them to bully him although he had taken notice of the old hermit in the woods who had upbraided him for the life he led. Ah, but not until he was laid low and on the point of death!

As everyone knows, thought John laughing, death-beds are the place for repentance; before reaching them one should make sure of committing enough sins to make the grovelling for mercy worthwhile.

‘God’s blessing on you, my lord,’ said Hugh, embracing him.

John thanked him and suggested that they return to England with all speed.

He was longing for the ceremony in Westminster Abbey and he wouldn’t feel completely happy until the crown was on his head. A king was not considered to be a king until after that all-important ceremony had been performed. And with Arthur in the shadows it couldn’t be done too quickly for him.

Hugh began by refusing to go to England. That was impossible for him at this time. What he would do would be to accompany the King to Fontevraud for it was well that John should visit his brother’s grave.

Here we go, thought John. The Church dictating to the Crown already. Very well, my old prelate. Just for a while … until I am firmly in the saddle – and then you’ll have to get out of my way before I trample you underfoot.

It was not long before they reached Fontevraud, there to pay homage to the graves of Henry II and Richard.

John knelt by the grave of his father and thought of those last days of the old man’s life when he had deserted him because it was to his advantage to be with Richard at that time. He couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy in such a solemn place; he could clearly remember his father’s eyes as they had followed him and he had called him the only one of his sons whom he could trust. John had laughed inwardly at the time, and congratulated himself on his fine play-acting, telling himself what a clever fellow he was. But here in the solemn atmosphere of the abbey he felt a twinge of something which might have been conscience but was more likely to be fear of what reprisals the dead might take. Then there was Richard, freshly laid in his tomb – Richard, for whose death he had prayed a hundred times and more. Could it be that the dead did not leave this earth when they died, that they stayed to haunt those who had wronged them? Morbid thoughts. It was that old ghoul of a bishop standing over him so disapprovingly, determined to maintain the war between Church and State.

It was all fancy. Those two were dead … finished … no more earthly glory for them; and their departure meant that John had what he had always longed for.

He rose from his knees, and going towards the choir door, knocked. From behind a grille a nun appeared. The Abbess was away, she said, and the rule was that none must be admitted in her absence.

Thank heaven for that, thought John. He was weary of these pious pilgrimages. He wanted to have done with them and get to England. Oh, the glory of his coronation! He remembered Richard’s which was not really so long ago and how envious he had felt that Richard was the one who would wear the crown and carry the orb and sceptre. My turn now, he thought exultantly. He was thankful to the old Abbess for being away.

He turned to Hugh and said: ‘Tell them that I promise benefactions to their house. I pledge this in my name. Perhaps in return they will pray for me.’

Hugh looked at him sceptically. He did not trust the new piety in one of whom he was well aware rumour had not lied. ‘I could promise nothing in your name until I was sure that the promises would be met. You know full well how I detest falsehood, and promise given and not fulfilled is that.’

‘I swear,’ cried John, ‘that what I promise shall come to pass.’

‘Then I will give the sisters your message, but if you should break your word, forget not that you are offending God.’

John bowed his head in assumed piety.

As they left the church the Bishop began a lecture on the need to govern well. The new King would have to bring a seriousness to his task; God had entrusted him with a great mission. It was to his advantage to carry it out to the best of his ability.

‘I shall maintain the crown,’ boasted John. He brought out an ornament on a gold chain from under his cloak and showed it to the Bishop.

‘You see this amulet? It was given to one of my ancestors and passed down to me. My father gave it to me. That was when he wished that I should follow him on the throne. The legend is that while this stone is in the possession of our family we shall never lose our dominions.’