The Prince of Darkness (31 page)

But what was he doing, thinking so of one who was long dead? He was alive and he was the King of England and Duke of Normandy and so he intended to remain and if he were not the great soldier his ancestor was, it might be that he was more subtle.

He had come to see Arthur and to talk to him. He would try to make the boy see reason. That was the object of his visit.

Hubert de Burgh received him. A good servant, although he did take the law into his own hands. He would give him a reprimand for that, but Hubert would say he did it to serve him and he would have to accept that, because it certainly had. If Arthur had really been dead, all hell would have been let loose over Europe. If he had been blinded and castrated what howls of rage there would have been. No, it was not good policy to have ordered those things to be done – though it would have served the ambitious boy right had it happened to him.

‘Well, Hubert,’ he said, ‘I have called and will stay here for a night before being on my way. And while I’m here I must see this boy, this nephew of mine who is causing me so much trouble, and see if I can talk him into good sense.’

‘He is coming now to greet you,’ said Hubert.

And there was Arthur. He stood still for a moment looking at his uncle. Oh God, prayed Hubert, do not show your hatred so clearly, Arthur.

John saw it for he laughed aloud and went forward with outstretched hands.

‘Nay, nephew, do not kneel.’

Arthur raised well-marked eyebrows, for he had had no intention of kneeling to one whose rank he considered but for usurpation did not equal his own. For in his opinion he Arthur was King and Duke whereas John, if he lost the crown which he had usurped, would be a mere count.

‘I have to see you, nephew,’ went on John. ‘There is much we have to say to each other. But we will talk later. After we have eaten, for I smell venison and I am hungry. Good Hubert, being aware of my coming, I see has prepared for me.’

Hubert said he would have them hurry in the kitchens so that the King did not have to wait long for his meal.

He himself conducted John to the best of the bedchambers and Arthur was left in the hall looking after his uncle with undisguised hatred.

In the bedchamber the King turned to smile at Hubert.

‘Methinks my nephew gives himself certain airs,’ he said.

‘He is but young, my lord, and has much to learn.’

‘Let us hope that he has the good sense to learn his lessons,’ said John.

He feasted in the hall and complimented Hubert on the venison. He drank freely of the wine and looked about him for the comeliest of the women with whom he would spend the night.

But first he must talk with Arthur for he did not wish to linger in Falaise.

At last he and Arthur were alone together. Arthur’s heart was beating wildly. All he could think of was: He gave the order. He commanded them to put out my eyes.

He would remember it always, he knew, whenever he was in the presence of his uncle John. To think this man was his father’s brother and he had ordered that that should be done to him! Hatred filled Arthur’s heart. Hubert had warned him: Take care. Do not offend him. Think before you speak. But all Arthur could think of was: He ordered that they should put out my eyes and but for Hubert it would have been done.

‘Now, nephew,’ said John, ‘it is time you and I understood each other.’

‘I think I understand you well,’ replied Arthur coolly.

‘Then we shall be able to talk good sense. It is no use your thinking that you have a right to what is mine. You are but a boy. You have to grow up.’

‘I
have
grown up, in the last months.’

‘You have grown a little older, but I want you to stop this foolish conflict. Thousands of men have died and more will because of your obstinacy unless you withdraw your claim to England, Normandy and all that is mine. Promise me you will. If you did that, doubtless we should be very good friends.’

‘There is that between us, Uncle, which prevents that.’

‘Then by God’s ears let us remove it.’

‘That is not possible.’

‘And why not? Why not?’

‘Because what you have is mine and I shall not cease to claim it.’

‘You talk like a fool. Haven’t you seen what happened to you when you made war on me? You thought to capture your grandmother and look what that brought you to.’

He saw the shiver pass through the boy’s body and he smiled grimly.

‘You see, my dear nephew, you have much to learn. Give me your word that you will give up your claim to the crown. I will have a treaty drawn up and we will both pledge our solemn word. When that is signed and sealed you shall go back to Brittany. How’s that?’

‘I could not sign away my birthright.’

John sighed elaborately. He felt too drowsy to lose his temper; he was thinking of the woman who would be waiting for him in his bedchamber if she did not wish to displease him,
and he did not think she would. He wanted to be with her and he was impatient with foolish young boys.

‘If I had no legitimate son then the crown would go to you,’ said John. ‘Is that not just?’

‘’Tis most unjust that you should hold that which is mine.’

John yawned. ‘Think of what this means, nephew. Remember what happened to you at Mirebeau. You were my prisoner then. You do not want to remain my prisoner all your life, do you?’

‘That would not be. My people would never allow it.’

‘I see you are in a stubborn mood and I waste my time in trying to make you see reason. I shall leave here tomorrow.’ Arthur could not help showing his relief and John smiled. ‘I see that fact does not cause you any great sorrow,’ he went on. ‘But when I go I want you to think very clearly. You have been my prisoner. It has not been a very happy experience for you.’

Arthur cried out: ‘I know full well what you intended to do to me.’

For a moment John’s lazy mood dropped from him. His eyes flashed and he cried: ‘Remember it. Think of it when you consider what I have said to you this night. It would be well for you, nephew, if you set aside your claim to what is mine and were content with your dukedom of Brittany. I will leave you now to your thoughts.’

John rose and went to his bedchamber.

He forgot about Arthur but the next day he remembered.

A week after John’s visit to Falaise the King’s messengers arrived at the castle. There were orders for Hubert de Burgh.

The King was pleased with his custodianship of the castle and wished him to remain there. He had a fancy though to remove his nephew and shortly after the arrival of this messenger, guards would be coming to the castle to take Arthur to another castle of the King’s choosing.

When Hubert read the message he felt sick with grief. So he and Arthur were going to be parted. How much had John guessed? Had he believed that Hubert had spared Arthur’s eyes because he felt he would serve his king better by doing so or had it been out of affection for the boy? Arthur did not hide his feelings well. He knew he had shown his hatred and fear of John; he would most certainly have betrayed his affection for Hubert. This John would think was the reason why the boy kept his eyes.

It would amuse John to separate them. He did not see why if Arthur would not do as he wished he should do anything for Arthur.

‘What is it?’ asked Arthur fearfully. ‘Is it orders from John?’

Hubert knew that he could not keep the news from him for long and in any case it was better for him to be prepared.

‘’Tis ill news indeed. He is going to separate us.’

‘No, Hubert, no. I won’t hear of it.’

Hubert said: ‘It won’t be for long.’

‘Where am I going, Hubert?’

‘I have not been told. But he is sending a guard for you. It could arrive at any time.’

‘Oh Hubert, let us get away from here. Let us go to Brittany.’

‘We could not do it, Arthur. The King has set guards to watch over you. He knows that I have an affection for you and fears what I might do. We should never be allowed to escape
from here. We should be caught, imprisoned and then you can imagine what would happen to us.’

‘I would I could kill him,’ cried Arthur.

‘Hush, do not speak so. The best plan is to go calmly with his guards. I will discover where you are.’

‘And we will escape to Brittany,’ said Arthur.

‘Who knows?’ murmured Hubert, for there could be no harm in letting the boy hope.

‘I know why he is sending me away,’ said Arthur. ‘He tried to make me promise to give up my claims and when I would not and showed him that I hated and despised him he told me to think of it and remember my imprisonment. He was thinking of my eyes, Hubert. I could see that in his.’

‘Take care, Arthur.’

‘I will.’

‘He will not dare to harm you,’ said Hubert comfortingly. ‘We have seen that. He has learned his lesson. He knows what would happen if he did. So you will be safe … though his prisoner.’

‘I shall watch for you, Hubert. You must come to me.’

‘I shall try,’ said Hubert.

It was only a few hours later when the guards arrived in Falaise.

From a turret Hubert watched the departure until he could see them no more. Then he turned away and went mournfully to his bedchamber.

My poor unfortunate child, he thought. Would you had been born a shepherd or a swineherd. What will become of you now?

Arthur did not know where they were taking him. He held his head high but he was sick at heart. He had not dared look at Hubert at the parting. It would have been too shameful if he had burst into tears. He knew too that Hubert – that dear good saviour – felt as he did, so Arthur tried to think of his hatred of his uncle and so stifle the emotion which his love for Hubert aroused in him.

They came along by the river – and there was the Château Gaillard, such a castle as he had never seen before. There had never been such a fortress. How formidable it looked in the sunshine.

The man who rode beside him said: ‘See, my lord, King Richard’s Saucy Castle. None could take it. That was what the King intended.’

They were reminding him of course of the might of King John. I hate him, hate him, he thought. He tried to rob me of my eyes.

And at last they came to a city that from a distance looked like a mighty castle, for it was enclosed in a strong stone wall and there was the river flowing past on its way to the sea.

He knew that he had come to Rouen, the capital city of Normandy, which should, he reminded himself, be his if he had his rights.

He must remember Hubert’s words. He must try not to offend them. Never, never must he forget what could so easily have happened to him in the castle of Falaise.

He was taken into the castle – the stronghold of Norman kings almost since the days when Rollo first came to Normandy. He was treated with respect. His apartments were not like a prison but there were guards outside his door. Still it was a comfort to have some freedom. He might go to the
battlements at the top of the tower and look down on the city, on the housetops and the river and the city wall. If Hubert were here it would be bearable, he thought.

Each day he went to those battlements and looked hopefully to see if riders came this way. He dreamed of plans which could be carried out – of Hubert’s coming to him and carrying him off in a sack as he had heard the Seneschal of Richard the Fearless had done in years gone by, long before the birth of William the Conqueror and himself.

Life was only bearable if he passed the days dreaming of escape. Sometimes he thought a party of Bretons would storm the castle. There would be a siege and he would creep out to the besiegers and place himself at their head. What joy that would be when he was reunited with his own people. But he liked best the fancy that it was Hubert who came to rescue him.

But the days passed and neither the Bretons nor Hubert came to Rouen.