The Prince of Darkness (23 page)

‘She must not be allowed to get there,’ cried Arthur, ‘for if she does the whole of Aquitaine will rise up to help her. She may be my grandmother but she is no friend of mine.’

‘It is difficult to be a friend of a grandson if it means being an enemy of a son,’ Eleanor reminded him. ‘What a pity that there have to be these rifts in families!’

‘It is no use getting sentimental,’ Arthur told her sharply. He turned to Guy. ‘What are we going to do about my grandmother?’

‘As you say, we have to prevent her reaching Poitiers and that means we must lose no time in going in pursuit of her.’

‘Then why are we wasting time?’ asked Arthur imperiously.

It was a hard journey. With a very few supporters, all she could muster at such short notice, Queen Eleanor had ridden with as much speed as was possible from Fontevraud. She was exhausted at the end of the day and when news was brought to her that Arthur was on pursuit on one hand and the Lusignans were coming up from the South to join Arthur, she said that they must take refuge immediately and if possible defend themselves.

The castle of Mirebeau was near at hand. ‘We will make our way there,’ said Eleanor, ‘and let my son John be told that I am being pursued. I am sure that then he will come to my rescue without delay.’

She was received into the castle by loyal friends, and realising the danger they made ready for a seige. Eleanor was not greatly perturbed.

‘I’m too old for panic,’ she said. ‘If they kill me I shall die, which I expected to do soon in any case, though in my own bed. And if they take me prisoner, well, it will be a short imprisonment. But I know my son will come with all speed when he knows what a predicament I am in.’

She went into the keep and watched from a window. It was not very long before she saw the approaching army led by her grandson.

She knew the castle could not hold out long because it was ill-defended and unprepared for a seige and in a very short time Arthur’s men had broken through to the inner courtyard.

She picked out her grandson. How young he is, she thought. Just a boy! He couldn’t be much more than fifteen. It’s too young to have to take decisions, to have to fight for a crown, she thought.

A noble-looking boy though – one of whom a grandmother could be proud. A little imperious perhaps. That was natural, for too much responsibility had been thrust on him at too early an age and he made good pretence of being able to carry it.

Geoffrey’s son! How like his father he was! And an orphan now. Poor Arthur, what would be his fate, she wondered.

He was the enemy, of course. At any moment now, his men would break into the keep and confront her. She hoped they would let her talk to Arthur and she would try to explain to him how she bore no animosity towards him; she was merely following a principle because she felt her son John had a greater right to the throne.

Arthur looked up and saw her at the window. His formidable grandmother of whom he had heard so much! He wondered what he would say to her when they broke down the last door and he confronted her.

He felt very uncertain. He would ask Guy to take her prisoner perhaps. It would come better from him; and they would shut her up where she could no longer work for John and cause the people of Aquitaine to rise up in support of her.

He called a halt to the fighting. Hugh de Lusignan and Guy
asked him what his orders were now that they were on the point of attaining their object.

‘We have captured the Queen Mother,’ he said. ‘But if we break down the door of the keep, what shall we do with her?’

‘We could ride on,’ said Hugh, ‘to one of my castles and hold her there, for we should keep her prison a secret.’

‘This we shall do tomorrow,’ said Arthur. ‘The men are tired now. Let us stay here for the night and leave at dawn.’

Both men agreed that it seemed a good idea and the soldiers were delighted with the decision. They could help themselves to food from the kitchens and wine from the cellars. They had ridden far and fought hard and the object was achieved, the Queen Mother being their prisoner. They were entitled to enjoy a few hours’ respite before going on duty again.

So the night passed.

Eleanor in the keep waited, at first expecting that she would be confronted by her grandson or Hugh or Guy, and told to make ready for the journey to wherever they were going to take her.

Can it be, she thought, that I shall once again be a prisoner? It was ironical when she considered it. First her husband and now her grandson. She would have liked to have had a word with Arthur. Perhaps that would be granted her.

She could not sleep, which in the circumstances was to be expected. In any case she reminded herself the old did not need a great deal of sleep.

Where was John? she wondered. Had he received her cry for help? Would he come with all speed or would he be unable to tear himself away from Isabella? If she were with him the answer would be no.

It would be interesting to see. Life was always full of interest
or so it had seemed to her; that was the secret of her ability to enjoy being alive while she was philosophical enough to be prepared for death.

Arthur lay awake only for a short while. This was a victory. To have captured such an important person as his grandmother would show the world that although he was merely a boy he was a general too. He would plan and use his armies to advantage. He had to show them that he knew how to act, because people dismissed him slightingly as a boy. And one day soon he would come into his kingdom and his wicked uncle would be defeated for ever. He had such good friends – his prospective father-in-law, Philip of France; Guy, his stepfather, whom his mother had loved and who had promised to serve him faithfully; and Hugh de Lusignan who had his own special grudge against John.

Arthur slept peacefully.

Hugh de Lusignan was thinking of Isabella. She was never very far from his thoughts. He would go over and over again in his mind that terrible day when he had heard of her marriage to John. He had been stunned, unable to believe there could be such perfidy. And Isabella who must have been willing was only a child really and her father would have pushed her into it. She could not be blamed. He thought of her charming ways, the show of affection, the artless manner in which she had clung to him. He had restrained himself against her beguiling ways, reminding himself of her youth, and then that lecher had taken her and, child that she was, had married her.
He
had had no respect for her youth. The sly innuendoes had reached him. He knew that they lay abed half the day.

Isabella! He would never forget her – her youth and her charm and the promise that was in her; he would never forget either that John had deceived him and taken her from him.

He would always love Isabella but he would never blame her. And he would always hate John.

They were up with the dawn.

‘There must be no delay,’ said Hugh. ‘I would we had left last night.’

‘As soon as breakfast is over we will leave,’ promised Arthur.

The servants came with pigeon pie which would make an excellent breakfast.

‘Let us eat quickly and be gone,’ said Hugh.

‘When I have finished,’ Arthur answered, ‘I will go to my grandmother and tell her to prepare to leave and that she is to be our prisoner.’

But he did not do so, for while he was still at the table there was a shout from without. An army was making its way to the Château Mirebeau.

When John heard that his mother, who was on the road to Poitiers in order to hold Aquitaine for him, was being pursued by Arthur and Hugh de Lusignan, he acted with a speed which was unusual with him.

He saw at once the importance of this. If Eleanor were captured he could lose Aquitaine and what heart that would put into his enemies! Philip penetrating into Normandy with Arthur and Hugh in the south would put him into a very uneasy position.

He had to rescue his mother at all costs.

All through the night he rode with his army and just before dawn they arrived at Mirebeau. Great was his delight when he discovered that the enemy was still there.

They stormed the castle. It was an easy victory, for John’s forces greatly outnumbered those of Arthur and Hugh. Exultantly Arthur and his sister Eleanor and Hugh among others were taken prisoner and John himself went up to the top of the keep to escort his mother to safety.

The old Queen’s eyes were shining with delight. John at last was behaving like a son of hers. She was proud of him.

This was John’s greatest victory. William Marshal who had ridden with him lost much of the uneasiness he had experienced since he had been adamant in supporting John’s claim to the throne.

John was proving himself to be a king after all. There could not be a better turn to events. Two of the most important leaders of the revolt against him were in his hands.

‘We must lose no time in letting Philip know that Arthur is your prisoner,’ he said.

‘Philip shall be informed at once.’

‘And Ralph de Lusignan must know that his brother Hugh is in your hands.’

John licked his lips with pleasure at the thought.

‘This day’s work has saved us many a battle, I doubt not,’ said the Marshal.

John was proud. It was the sort of battle he enjoyed – quick and decisive and bringing glory at the end.

He embraced his mother, who congratulated him on the speed with which he had acted. Her praise delighted him, he replied. And if she were proud of him he was doubly so of her.
For she had sought to save his duchy for him and he knew that she was tired and longed to rest.

‘Depend upon it if I were needed I would rise from my deathbed,’ she answered.

She took her farewell of him; that which she had set out to do no longer needed to be done. Aquitaine was safe, for Arthur and Hugh were no longer in a position to threaten it.

‘That will soon be common knowledge,’ said John.

Eleanor went back to Fontevraud, there to rest, for now the ordeal was over she realised how it had exhausted her.

When she had gone John prepared to return to Normandy.

He was in high spirits. There were two prisoners over whom he wanted to gloat – one was his nephew Arthur and the other Hugh de Lusignan.