Read The Passionate Enemies Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
Contents
This is the third and final book in The Norman Trilogy and tells the story of the last days of the reign of Henry I. His son and wife are dead, and Henry hastily remarries a woman more than thirty years his junior in the hope of producing a male heir and securing the succession.
If he fails, the throne will pass to Matilda, and Henry fears that his nobles will not willingly serve a woman. But after his death this feckless daughter becomes the focus of a line of would-be kings and soon the country is plunged into a bitter civil war that only a child can undo.
Jean Plaidy, one of the preeminent authors of historical fiction for most of the twentieth century, is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also known as Victoria Holt. Jean Plaidy's novels had sold more than 14 million copies worldwide by the time of her death in 1993.
THE TUDOR SAGA
Uneasy Lies the Head
Katharine, the Virgin Widow
The Shadow of the Pomegranate
The King's Secret Matter
Murder Most Royal
St Thomas's Eve
The Sixth Wife
The Thistle and the Rose
Mary, Queen of France
Lord Robert
Royal Road to Fotheringay
The Captive Queen of Scots
The Spanish Bridegroom
THE CATHERINE DE MEDICI TRILOGY
Madame Serpent
The Italian Woman
Queen Jezebel
THE STUART SAGA
The Murder in the Tower
The Wandering Prince
A Health Unto His Majesty
Here Lies Our Sovereign Lord
The Three Crowns
The Haunted Sisters
The Queen's Favourites
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION SERIES
Louis the Well-Beloved
The Road to Compiègne
Flaunting, Extravagant Queen
THE LUCREZIA BORGIA SERIES
Madonna of the Seven Hills
Light on Lucrezia
ISABELLA AND FERDINAND TRILOGY
Castile for Isabella
Spain for the Sovereigns
Daughters of Spain
THE GEORGIAN SAGA
The Princess of Celle
Queen in Waiting
Caroline the Queen
The Prince and the Quakeress
The Third George
Perdita's Prince
Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill
Indiscretions of the Queen
The Regent's Daughter
Goddess of the Green Room
Victoria in the Wings
THE QUEEN VICTORIA SERIES
The Captive of Kensington
The Queen and Lord M
The Queen's Husband
The Widow of Windsor
THE NORMAN TRILOGY
The Bastard King
The Lion of Justice
THE PLANTAGENET SAGA
The Plantagenet Prelude
The Revolt of the Eaglets
The Heart of the Lion
The Prince of Darkness
The Battle of the Queens
The Queen from Provence
The Hammer of the Scots
The Follies of the King
The Vow of the Heron
Passage to Pontefract
The Star of Lancaster
Epitaph for Three Women
Red Rose of Anjou
The Sun in Splendour
QUEEN OF ENGLAND SERIES
Myself, My Enemy
Queen of this Realm: The Story of Elizabeth I
Victoria, Victorious
The Lady in the Tower
The Goldsmith's Wife
The Queen's Secret
The Rose without a Thorn
OTHER TITLES
The Queen of Diamonds
Daughter of Satan
The Scarlet Cloak
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A KING CANNOT
have too many children, if they be bastards,' mused the King. âIt is only the legitimate ones with which he should be sparing. Too many legitimate sons can cause friction, as in my own family. But bastards can be thrown a castle or two, honours, titles and they may boast throughout their lives of their royal connection, and be loyal often, for a man will be loyal to that of which he is proud. But even so a king should have more than one legitimate son, for in what sad case he is if by evil fortune he should lose his heir.'
And this was precisely the evil fortune which had overtaken him, King Henry I of England, and since he had lost his only legitimate son he had become irascible, ready to burst into anger at the slightest provocation, to the terror of those who served him. Before this tragedy, although he had been capable of acts of cruelty, he had been known, harsh and ruthless though he might be, as a just man.
There was none who could soothe him as easily as his nephew Stephen and indeed it was whispered that he might make Stephen his heir. This would not have been viewed with great disfavour for this young and handsome man was affable to all no matter how humble; he knew how to charm and never hesitated to, even when there seemed little to gain from it but the affection of those who, if the King willed it, would be his subjects. Stephen practised charm on all so that when it was turned on those who could bring him great good, it seemed to be used naturally and without sly motive.
Since the death of his wife, two years before, Henry I of England had sought comfort in wild animals and women. All through his life these pastimes had afforded him more pleasure than any others and he had pursued them with a verve which never flagged and had resulted in many a fine deer or wild boar being brought to the royal table and the most desirable ladies of England to his bed. As a result of his indulgence in these pursuits he had developed indigestion, and innumerable young men and women claimed him as their father. While he deplored the former he delighted in the latter.
Never before in his life had he felt so restless as he did at this time and the cause of the unwelcome change in his nature was the recent tragedy when his son William, on crossing from Normandy to England, had been drowned in that fated White Ship which had struck the rocks just out of Barfleur; and another son and daughter of the King (though these were of the numerous illegitimate brood) had gone down with him.
And here was Henry, fifty-two years of age, master of both England and Normandy, a widower, without a son to follow him to the throne.
Henry loved order in his life. There were some who said he should have been a clerk. Indeed the French had nicknamed him Henri Beauclerc. He loved learning and favoured scholars. He had no intention of dying yet but he wanted to make sure, as his father the Conqueror had, that he had a son to follow him.
Henry knew that he must come to a decision and he could enjoy no peace until he did. True, he could temporarily forget his dilemma in his pleasures and it was always a joy to ride out to the hunt and stop at some castle where a loving châtelaine would be eagerly waiting for him; but with the light of morning would come the depressing realization: fifty-two years old and no son to follow him.
One of his relaxations was to go through his household accounts in which every penny must be accounted for personally to him. This was a task he had reserved for himself whenever he was not absent fighting in Normandy. Alas, he had spent a great deal of his life as King fighting Normandy for there would always be barons there to oppose him and, while his nephew, William the Clito, lived, men would rally to his banner and try to take Normandy from Henry. That was something he accepted. It was these cruel blows of fate which exacerbated him beyond endurance. His wife had given him only two children, a son and a daughter, and then after several barren years had died; his only son was drowned in the prime of his manhood on the White Ship; and he, Henry, who had arranged his household and his armies with precise efficiency, had suddenly found that fate had dealt him a cruel blow which had at one stroke ruined his careful plans.
The figures of his accounts danced before his eyes. He saw that his Chancellor of the Chaplains had had his simnel cake and his measure of clear and ordinary wine; he had had his thick wax candle and his forty pieces of candle with his five shillings a day. His watchmen had had no more than their four candles, their food and one and a half-pennies a day. All members of the household from the Chancellors, who were the chief of all departments, to the most menial serving men had had their dues and one set of figures neatly balanced another, so that there was nothing of which he could complain.
He put aside the accounts and shouted to one of his pages to bring his nephew Stephen to him.
Stephen immediately responded. One did not keep the King waiting at any time, but in the last weeks one responded with even greater alacrity to his commands.
The King's mood softened a little at the sight of his nephew. Stephen grew more like his mother every day and Adela had been Henry's favourite sister. Married to Stephen of Blois she had been in a position to help him in odd little ways when he was planning his conquest of Normandy and Henry was glad to be able to repay her by taking her son under his wing. He had given Stephen estates in England so that he was a rich man; he had found a bride for him, none other than the dead Queen's niece; and since the death of his son, Stephen was constantly at his uncle's side and none would have been surprised if the King had not declared him his heir.
Now the King smiled affectionately at his good-looking nephew.
âAh, Stephen,' he said, âbe seated.'
Stephen bowed and sat as requested on the faldestol close to the King's chair.
âYou find me in ill mood,' said the King.
âYou have had much to plague you,' replied Stephen in that gentle soothing voice which charmed so many.
â'Tis true. I dream of the White Ship. I can't forget it, Stephen. She was so beautiful, that ship. The finest in my fleet. I hear the cries of the stricken . . .'