The Prince of Darkness (52 page)

Isabella, having given birth to another daughter, whom she named Eleanor, heard of the momentous events which were shaking the very foundations of the throne.

It had been certain to happen, she knew. John had brought it on himself. He had made so many enemies. Arthur’s disappearance would never be forgotten; and there were so many influential families whose members he had wronged in some way.

She often thought about Matilda FitzWalter with whom he was supposed to be so enamoured and she wondered why he had not forced the girl if he had been as eager as rumour would have it he was. It was strange that he should have had her poisoned because she would not submit. But there were so many odd twists and turns in his nature that one could never be entirely sure of what he was thinking.

He had given her so many shocks recently. First her lover’s body over her bed and then giving little Joanna to Hugh. Then she fell to wondering why Hugh had not married and whether
it had anything to do with his devotion to herself. How would he feel about marrying her daughter? But that was far away. Who could be sure what would happen by then?

John had not visited her lately. She supposed he was too preoccupied with the barons and their demands.

Who would have believed at the beginning of his reign that so much could have been lost? Who but John would have lost it?

He was not in good health. She had been aware of that for some time. The anxieties of the last years would have done nothing to alleviate that, and she had always maintained that those fearful rages would kill him one day.

So as she nursed her baby she asked herself what would happen to her when John was dead, for she had a notion that that day might not be far off.

After the signing of the Charter John gave way to his rage, and those about him thought that he would indeed kill himself. He was like a madman; he gnashed his teeth and tore at his clothes; he lay on the floor kicking at furniture and any who came near him; he picked up handfuls of rushes, stuffed them into his mouth and chewed them, seeming to find some relief in this. He muttered to himself and those within earshot listened to the bloodcurdling threats he uttered about what he would do to his enemies. His bouts of rage would subside and then burst out again. The only relief he could get seemed to be through them.

Chains they had put on him, he cried out. These upstarts! They wanted to kill him. They wanted to take his kingdom from him. They had been against him all his life. They would learn one day what happened to his enemies. There would be no mercy … none …

When he grew calmer he decided that he would appeal once more to the Pope. Was he not the fief of the Pope? Had he not surrendered his crown to the Pope and had not the Pope returned it to him? Momentarily he seemed to hear the sighs of his ancestors. The bitter shame of it! But everyone was against me! he cried. Not the Holy Father, though. He would support him. A quick smile touched John’s lips. It was so ironical to think of the Church’s standing with him. In his message to the Pope he mentioned the fact that he was contemplating going on a crusade for of late since he had turned wholeheartedly to the Church he felt his past sins weigh heavily upon him. A mission to the Holy Land alone could rid him of this burden and if he could bring peace to his kingdom he would make his plans.

It was those barons who had brought him to this state – those wicked barons; the Braoses who were determined to have their revenge because that virago of theirs had met her just deserts; Vesci who had made such a fuss because he had admired his wife; and FitzWalter whose silly daughter had refused to submit to her King.

Vesci had told him when the barons were assembled that he was mistaken if he thought he had dishonoured his wife. ‘You slept with a common whore, my lord. You were too drunk to notice she was not my wife.’

‘Liar!’ he had cried and wanted to shout to someone to take the man away and cut out his tongue.

Vesci was bold with the might of the barons behind him.

‘We often laugh at the way in which you were duped, my lord, my wife and I.’

He must have been certain that John would never regain power to have talked like that.

He had tried to think back to that night but he could not remember very clearly and the pleasure he had had from that episode came after when he thought of the haughty Vesci who, as he had thought, had had to give up his wife.

And they had duped him, for deep in his heart he believed this to be so – substituting a common harlot for the lady of the castle; and they had laughed at him. They had cheated him as all the barons had assembled to do.

And strangest of all – his friend was the Pope.

He knew he was right in thinking that the Pope would give him his support. Was he not a fief of the Pope? he kept telling himself. Therefore, the Holy Father would have no wish to see him defeated.

Innocent read the despatches very gravely and came to the conclusion that the barons were seeking to depose John. Why so? Because he had made England a vassal of Rome? The Pope did not wish the King to lose his crown. What if England were plunged into civil war and a new king set up? What of England’s obligations to Rome then?

The Pope sent orders to Stephen Langton to pronounce the sentence of excommunication on the barons.

Langton’s reply was to inform the Pope that he was not fully acquainted with the true state of affairs in England. The King had behaved as a tyrant and the barons were only asking for justice and determined to get it. The case was very different from the manner in which John had presented it.

The Pope was angered by this reply from the Archbishop whose election had created such a storm. He could not understand what was happening. It seemed to him that John had behaved in a most seemly manner. He had become reconciled to the Church; he had reinstated the clergy; he was
planning to go on a crusade. And the barons were behaving in a manner to suggest they planned deposing such a king. They should be helping him prepare for the crusade. Christian leaders were needed in the Holy Land. In creating such disturbances now the barons were displeasing God as much as the Saracens did.

How explain to the Pope that John was indeed a tyrant, that he was a worthless king, that he had lost his possessions overseas and was on the verge of losing England? How explain that he had no intention of going on a crusade?

The Pope ended by saying that unless Stephen Langton carried out orders he would be deprived of his office.

John roused himself from his rage and looked the situation straight in the face. If he did not act quickly he was going to lose his kingdom. He must raise an army to fight these barons. He must show them that he would not lightly pass over his crown.

He rode out at dawn one morning with a very few followers and made his way to Dover. He had already despatched one of his agents, Hubert de Boves, to the Continent to recruit an army of mercenaries. He was going to lie low until that army was ready.

Very few people knew where he was and those who did had been sworn to secrecy. The barons were nonplussed and there was nothing they could do but wait for news of the King’s whereabouts.

John smiled wryly, considering the speculation there would be about him. At first there were rumours that he had gone to France to parley with Philip and ask his help. That would have
been a dangerous measure but John was capable of such folly. Others said that he had in fact gone on the crusade which he had said he would do but no one could really believe that either. All those near him knew that he had no intention of going on the crusade and that when he had talked of it it had been jokingly. The idea of John’s crusading was ridiculous. One source said that he was dead, that he had been murdered by one of those who had a grudge against him and there were many to choose as suspects. Others said that he had tired of his life as a king and had become a fisherman in some remote part of the country.

John laughed at the rumours and gradually men began to arrive from the Continent.

He marched on Rochester and laid siege to the castle there which was in the hands of the barons. In due course the castle was taken but not before the inmates had been reduced to such starvation that they had eaten their horses.

John, furious that mercenaries should witness the defiance of his own subjects, ordered that every man in the castle should be hanged, but before this order was carried out the captain of the mercenaries managed to persuade him to rescind it. They did not wish to give the enemy an excuse for reprisals, he said. Let the King show his leniency and remember that these people were his own subjects who had perhaps been led astray or coerced into taking a stand against him.

Elated by the victory John was prepared to waive his anger and the defenders of Rochester Castle did not lose their lives.

When the envoys arrived from Rome for the purpose of excommunicating the barons, the latter realised that powerful
forces were being released against them. It was never wise to be at odds with the Church when there were battles to be fought, for soldiers could so easily persuade themselves that God was against them and account the smallest setback to Divine displeasure which would undermine future action.

If John had the Pope as an ally, they too must seek one as powerful – or perhaps more so; and the answer to this was of course Philip of France.

There was no doubt that that shrewd and wily monarch was watching events in England with the greatest interest. He had utterly defeated John on the Continent; he was now waiting for the barons to do so in England. He himself not so long ago had cast covetous eyes on the crown and had been turned from his attempt to take it by intervention from the Pope. The fact that help for John was again coming from that quarter gave him deep cause for thought. Philip was secretly amused that the most unholy of kings should have found a friend in the most holy of Fathers. Popes, Philip said to himself, could be moved to act through expedience quite as often – more so in truth – than through holiness; and since Innocent himself had taken John’s crown from him – and graciously bestowed it on him but as a vassal – he would naturally be very inclined to support his puppet.

Now came messengers from the barons of England. They had a proposition to make. If Philip would help them depose John they would be prepared to bestow the crown on Philip’s son Louis.

Philip’s eyes sparkled. So the crown of England could come to France after all!

He pretended to be dubious.

‘How would the people of England reconcile themselves to a French king?’ he wanted to know.

‘My lord, Louis has a certain claim to the throne through his wife.’

Philip nodded. A claim of sorts, though a flimsy one. Eleanor, daughter of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, had married Alfonso, King of Castile. They had had a daughter, Blanche, who was Louis’s wife. Therefore it could be said that the children Louis and Blanche would have would be descended from the English Royal House.

A flimsy link, thought Philip, but one worth considering. If it went wrong he could wash his hands of it and imply that it was Louis’s concern. Philip had never greatly cared for the act of war; he preferred to win his battles through strategy; he would greatly enjoy sitting back and watching what Louis made of it. It would be a great achievement if the crown of England came to France.