The Prince of Darkness (5 page)

‘I am well content with my children,’ she answered.

‘And may I say what good work you have done with Arthur.’

‘You may indeed say it, but whether I can claim the credit is another matter. You know he has spent much time at the Court of the King of France.’

‘And a thorough little Frenchman that old scoundrel has tried to make of him.’

‘I have reason to be grateful to the King of France,’ she answered shortly. ‘I can’t agree that he is old or a scoundrel.’

‘You are a stickler for accuracy, my dear sister-in-law. Philip is certainly not so aged, but wily you must admit.’

‘As becomes such a ruler,’ she answered.

‘My brother, the King of England, has reason to distrust him.’

Her lips curled. ‘One hears that there was once such a great friendship between them that men marvelled.’

John came closer to her, leering slightly. ‘Ah, that friendship. Our brother – yours in law, mine in blood – is a man of many parts.’

‘It would seem so.’

‘He has not been over-good to you, my dear Constance.’

‘One learns to be wary.’

‘You and I have a great deal in common,’ said John.

‘Is that so?’

‘Indeed yes – both having been married … after a fashion … and not married, one might say.’

She raised her eyebrows and studied him coolly.

He went on: ‘You know I went through a form of ceremony with Hadwisa of Gloucester. It was what my brother wished. He had just taken the throne and he thought her lands would be a way of providing for his young brother without making demands on his purse.’

‘Had you no wish for the match?’

‘You should see Hadwisa.’

‘I gather you are not pleased with your wife.’

‘Shall I say that she is as different from you as one woman could be from another.’

‘That would tell me little.’

‘Except that you being so attractive, she would necessarily be the opposite.’

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

He went on: ‘It was sad for you, dear Constance, when
Geoffrey died so unexpectedly. Who would have believed it possible when he was playing in a joust?’

‘Those jousts were too realistic. They were more like actual battles than a game.’

‘’Twas so and Geoffrey loved them. And he left you with Eleanor but a baby, and Arthur on the way.’

‘My children have always been a great comfort to me.’

‘And an anxiety. Admit it.’

‘When great inheritances are entailed that is inevitable.’

‘’Tis sad for women. More so than for men. I know how you suffered through Ranulf de Blundevill.’

He saw the expression flit across her face – one of hatred and revulsion; and it titillated his senses to think of this fine woman forced to marry a man she hated. He wondered what had taken place between them and thought of himself with Hadwisa in the first days of their marriage when he had struck terror into his poor shrinking bride and had thus obtained the only pleasure he ever had from her.

How different from Hadwisa was Constance. On the death of Geoffrey she had been forced into the marriage by her father-in-law Henry, the King at that time; but she had no intention of submitting to such indignity as Ranulf would have forced on her. She had run away from him and returned to Brittany where the people rallied round her and showed their intention to protect her from a man she hated; as for the King of England, he was at that time too busily engaged elsewhere to enforce his will.

She was a strong woman, Constance. She had ruled Arthur’s duchy for four years with great strength of purpose and during that time she had endeared the Bretons to her to such an extent that they were ready to defend her and their heir from all invaders.

‘I’ve always admired you, Constance,’ said John. ‘I was so pleased when I heard you had escaped from that beast Ranulf. But you do not regard him as a husband, do you? That is how it is with me. You see we are in like case.’

‘I doubt Hadwisa ever caused you the anxiety the Earl of Chester caused me.’

‘I have the advantage of being a man, dear sister. You are a woman and women need men – good men – to look after them.’

‘Some of us are not so ill-equipped that we cannot look after ourselves.’

‘And you are one of those rare women. Ah, Constance, how I rejoice that we are good friends. Do you?’

‘In a world fraught with dangers it is always good to have friends.’

She hoped that she did not betray the fear which had come to her. What was John implying? Why had he come here? Could it really be that Richard was considering making a match between them?

Horrifying thought. This monster – for she knew he was that – wasted his time exchanging fair words with her. There was not one of her advisers who had not been on the alert from the moment he had arrived at her court. She had ordered that Arthur was to be watched and that if it were possible he was never to be left alone with his uncle. If anything happened to Arthur while John was near, John would immediately be suspected and that would not help him. But how could she be sure how foolish John would be? He was not noted for his wisdom.

It was certainly not inconceivable that Richard and his advisers might have some idea of a marriage between her and
John since there was a question as to who – John or Arthur – was the rightful heir to the throne. Such a marriage could mean that John might rule until Arthur was of age or on John’s becoming a kind of regent.

Never, she thought. I would not trust my son in his hands … not for a moment.

That she was married to Ranulf de Blundevill, Earl of Chester, and John to Hadwisa of Gloucester would be no impediment. Those marriages could be set aside without a great deal of trouble. Marry John! He would be a thousand times worse than Ranulf. Besides, there was Guy. Her expression softened as she thought of her lover. He might see her from one of the castle windows and if he did he would come to rescue her from her odious brother-in-law. They had talked of the Prince only last night and Guy had said he was in Brittany for no good and that they must take double care of Arthur.

She turned away from John, murmuring that she must leave him now, but when she walked towards the castle he was beside her. She went quickly to her apartments and there she asked one of her trusted women to bring Guy de Thouars to her. When he came and they were alone she embraced him.

‘Oh, Guy,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid … afraid for Arthur.’

‘Arthur is well cared for, my love, while we are here.’

‘There is something in John’s mind. I can see it. He came to me in the gardens. He has some plot brewing.’

‘We must be careful of him, and we are. We knew that from the start.’

‘I see him watching Arthur.’

‘Oh yes, he does not forget that Arthur has a greater claim to the throne of England than he has.’

‘That’s what terrifies me.’ She leaned her head against him and he rested his lips on her hair. ‘This is peace,’ she murmured. ‘Peace for just a few minutes.’

‘Nay, my love, longer than that. Arthur is well protected. His faithful squire sleeps across his door. ’Tis necessary while John is here.’

‘I wish he would go away.’

‘Then he would be somewhere else plotting against Arthur.’

‘At least he would not be so near him.’

‘Nay. ’Tis better he were where we can keep an eye on him. We will continue watchful. Never for one moment will we allow Arthur to be alone with him.’

‘Yet in the forest …’

‘He is always followed. I have seen to that. John but seeks to plague us. He would not allow harm to come to Arthur when it was known that they had been together. The people of Brittany would kill him before he had time to escape and Richard would not forgive him. He knows full well that that would be the end of his hopes.’

‘Life is so cruel,’ said Constance vehemently. She was thinking of her brief life with Geoffrey – perhaps it had not been idyllic but Geoffrey had been young and handsome and had a certain charm and it had resulted in her two children Eleanor and Arthur; it was after his death the nightmare had begun. Ranulf! She shuddered at the thought. What right had the King of England to give her to a man she loathed because it suited him to do so? That had been no marriage. She had fought desperately against its consummation and had quickly escaped from Ranulf, and the people of Brittany had rallied round her and she had had four years when she had governed the dukedom, and cared for Arthur, bringing him up
in the way she wished him to go. Alas, Ranulf had after that time captured her and kept her a prisoner in his castle of St Jean Beveron but not before, with the help of good friends, she had been able to send Arthur out of harm’s way to the Court of the King of France.

It was the good people of Brittany who had helped to release her from her prison and fearing that the King of France might use Arthur to gain his own advantage, she had him brought back to her and thus they were together again; but never for a moment must Constance forget how important her son was to the affairs of Europe. There was the King of France on one hand and the King of England on the other, both seeking to use him against each other; but the real enemy was John – the uncle in whose way he could possibly stand, for in the minds of some people Arthur was a step ahead of him in the succession to the throne.

‘I almost wish Arthur were not his father’s heir,’ said Constance. ‘There are times when I wish we could go away together … you, I and my children, and forget Arthur’s inheritance.’

‘Do you really wish that, Constance?’ Guy asked wistfully.

And she could not answer truthfully because Arthur was her son and her love mingled with her ambitions for him. Arthur could be King of England and she could not forget that.

‘If Arthur were safe on the throne of England, in command of possessions here, if he were a few years older …’

‘While Richard lives, the boy is safe. No harm will come to him. Come, my love, forget your troubles. The boy is safe. None could be more carefully guarded.’

‘All the same,’ said Constance, ‘we will be wary of John.’

When John left Constance he went into the schoolroom where Arthur sat with his tutor. The boy’s fair head was bent over his books and John was amused to see how alert the tutor had become since his entry.

‘Ah, nephew,’ said John breezily. ‘I find you at your study. That is good. A boy can never learn too much. Is that not so, my good man?’

The tutor had risen. He bowed to John and replied that learning was an admirable asset to all.

‘Then we are in one mind.’ He nodded. ‘I wish to be alone with my nephew,’ he added.

The man had no recourse but to leave; but he would not go far, John thought with a smirk of amusement. His orders would have been: keep near and send word that Prince John is alone with the young Duke; and someone would be at hand to make sure no harm came to Arthur. He would do his best to lead them a merry dance.

‘Such a beautiful day,’ said John. ‘Not one to be poring over books.’

‘Lessons must be learned,’ said Arthur.

‘What a model pupil you are! I never was. I preferred the hunt and the good fresh air to poring over books.’

‘I can well believe that,’ replied Arthur. Insolent young dog, thought John with a sudden uprush of temper. Be careful, he advised himself. It’s necessary to play the good uncle here.

Arthur went on: ‘My mother thinks that I must spend much time in study and so did the King of France.’

‘I’ll warrant you and young Louis had good sport together.’

‘We hunted, we fenced and studied the art of chivalry …’

‘All that a prince should know, I’ll warrant – and more also. Come, we will go and ride together, eh … just the two of us.’
He said that very loudly for the sake of the listening tutor. Now there would be panic.

Like most young people Arthur loved to feel a horse beneath him; he had inherited the Plantagenet love of the chase from his father; and although he did not like his uncle – and being young and a little arrogant and well aware of his importance, he made little effort to hide the fact – he could not resist the suggestion that they should ride.

‘Come. Let us go.’

Arthur stood up. He was going to be tall and good-looking, resembling his late uncle Henry, who was the best-looking of all the sons of Henry II. His sojourn at the Court of France had had its effect on him; his manners were courtly and he wore his clothes with grace. The haughtiness was there, though; there was no doubt that Arthur was well aware of his importance.

They rode out side by side, their followers around them.

Constance, with Guy beside her, watched them from a castle window.

Guy said: ‘Don’t be afraid. There are trusted men with them.’

‘You know what he does. He contrives to get him away. Why?’

‘Because he finds great joy in torturing you.’

‘He’s a monster.’

‘I have heard that said of him.’

‘I would to God he would go away.’

‘He cannot stay here for ever. But when he goes let us not slacken our care. It may well be that Arthur is safer while he is here, for if aught happened to Arthur then he would be immediately blamed.’

‘I wish he would break his neck.’