The Prince of Darkness (7 page)

It was all fancy. Those two were dead … finished … no more earthly glory for them; and their departure meant that John had what he had always longed for.

He rose from his knees, and going towards the choir door, knocked. From behind a grille a nun appeared. The Abbess was away, she said, and the rule was that none must be admitted in her absence.

Thank heaven for that, thought John. He was weary of these pious pilgrimages. He wanted to have done with them and get to England. Oh, the glory of his coronation! He remembered Richard’s which was not really so long ago and how envious he had felt that Richard was the one who would wear the crown and carry the orb and sceptre. My turn now, he thought exultantly. He was thankful to the old Abbess for being away.

He turned to Hugh and said: ‘Tell them that I promise benefactions to their house. I pledge this in my name. Perhaps in return they will pray for me.’

Hugh looked at him sceptically. He did not trust the new piety in one of whom he was well aware rumour had not lied. ‘I could promise nothing in your name until I was sure that the promises would be met. You know full well how I detest falsehood, and promise given and not fulfilled is that.’

‘I swear,’ cried John, ‘that what I promise shall come to pass.’

‘Then I will give the sisters your message, but if you should break your word, forget not that you are offending God.’

John bowed his head in assumed piety.

As they left the church the Bishop began a lecture on the need to govern well. The new King would have to bring a seriousness to his task; God had entrusted him with a great mission. It was to his advantage to carry it out to the best of his ability.

‘I shall maintain the crown,’ boasted John. He brought out an ornament on a gold chain from under his cloak and showed it to the Bishop.

‘You see this amulet? It was given to one of my ancestors and passed down to me. My father gave it to me. That was
when he wished that I should follow him on the throne. The legend is that while this stone is in the possession of our family we shall never lose our dominions.’

‘You would do well, my lord,’ answered the Bishop tersely, ‘to trust in the Chief Corner Stone.’

John turned away with a grimace.

They stood for a moment in the porch on the walls of which had been sculptured a scene of the Last Judgement. God sat on his throne and on one side were depicted the torments which awaited the sinners and on the other side the angels on their way to heavenly bliss.

‘I beg of you, my lord,’ said the Bishop, ‘take good heed of this. See what awaits those who offend against the laws of God.’

‘Look not at them, good Bishop,’ retorted John. ‘See rather those on the other side. The angels are taking them to Heaven. That is the path I have decided is for me.’

The Bishop regarded him uneasily. This virtue had descended too suddenly to be plausible.

They travelled on to Beaufort where Queen Eleanor with the sorrowing widow Berengaria and John’s sister Joanna were waiting to receive him.

His mother embraced him warmly.

‘This is a sad day for us all,’ she said. ‘Your brother, our great King, struck down in his prime by this madman’s arrow.’

‘Alas, alas,’ replied John. ‘He who survived the Holy Land and cruel incarceration in an enemy castle to come to this!’

He was studying Berengaria intently. What if after all she were pregnant? The thought was too horrible for contemplation. She
would have to be disposed of before she brought another rival on to the scene. It was bad enough for Arthur to be there.

He turned to Joanna, clearly pregnant.

‘My dearest sister. This is a sad occasion. I trust it has done no harm to the child you carry.’

Joanna turned away to hide her tears. ‘He was so wonderful,’ she said.

‘We share our grief,’ murmured John, forcing his voice to tremble. ‘And my dear sister-in-law … how sad for you.’

He took Berengaria’s hands and looked into her face. Don’t dare to be pregnant! he was thinking. No, you are not. Richard never wanted you to be. He had no wish for a son.

‘Come to my private apartments,’ said his mother. He had to admire her. She had retired to seclusion, they had thought, but events like this would always bring her out to fight for the family; he thanked his good fortune that she had decided that he was to inherit the throne. What if she had let her choice rest on Arthur? No, with her, a son came before a grandson.

When they were alone together he could see at once that she was uneasy. She was bitterly mourning for Richard. ‘This has been such a sad blow to me,’ she said. ‘I had never thought it possible that he would go and leave me here. I used to worry about him when he was in the Holy Land and during that terrible time when we did not know where he was. But when he came back – as strong and as brave as ever – I never thought he could go before I did and leave me lonely.’

Fighting his resentment John took her hand and kissed it.

‘You still have one son, Mother,’ he reminded her.

‘You, John … the youngest of them all. And you have become the King.’

‘It is a great responsibility.’

‘I’m glad you realise it.’ She looked at him shrewdly. ‘It will not be easy. You know that. You will have more conflict to face than Richard ever did.’

‘Yes,’ he said, his mouth tightening. ‘There is Arthur.’

‘William Marshal believes that you come before Arthur.’

‘William Marshal!’ The joy showed briefly in John’s face. There was one of the most influential men in England, a man renowned for his integrity. Others would follow him.

‘I have sent him to England to prepare the people for your reception there and to urge them to accept you as the rightful King.’

‘You have always been the best of mothers.’

‘Marshal, with Hubert Walter, will convince the people that you are the true King.’

‘The Church must be involved, I dare say.’

‘Hubert is Archbishop of Canterbury. He will perform the coronation. His approval is essential.’

‘And you think he will give it?’

‘If he wavers, Marshal will persuade him. John, you will have to curb your levity.’

‘All that is past. I recognise the responsibilities I have for my crown.’

‘Then that is well. You must always be just. Think of your father. Oh, he had his faults, but taking everything into account he was a good and worthy ruler. The people accepted him because he was just. Try to follow his example.’

‘I shall not follow Richard’s example by leaving my country in the hands of men like Longchamp while I go off in search of glory.’

‘Richard had a mission. He had vowed to go on a crusade. He saw that as his first duty.’

John clasped his hands and raised his eyes piously to the ceiling. ‘Mine shall be to my country.’

Eleanor looked at him sharply. ‘John,’ she said, ‘this is the most important time of your life.’

‘I know it well.’

‘You will have to walk with the utmost care.’

‘I know that also.’

‘Philip will have to be watched. It may well be that he will try to put Arthur in your place.’

‘Think you that I shall allow it?’

‘We must see that it does not happen.’

He was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘Poor Berengaria. She looks fatigued.’

‘She has suffered much. His death was a great shock to her.’

‘I was wondering … is it possible … If it were so it would create an issue …’

Eleanor looked at him sharply. ‘You are afraid that she might be with Richard’s child.’

‘It is a possibility.’

Eleanor shook her head.

‘It is not so.’

‘But possible …’

‘Think you that this has not occurred to me? I have spoken with her. It is not possible.’

John was deeply relieved.

‘Then there is nothing to fear,’ he said, ‘but … Arthur.’

Bishop Hugh was growing increasingly apprehensive. He was of the opinion that Arthur would have been the better choice. True, he was Breton and had been brought up for some of his
formative years at the Court of France, but he was yet a boy who could be moulded. It might be that John as son of the late Henry II was closer to the late King Richard than Arthur – and yet John was an uneasy choice.

To consider his past record must make all churchmen shudder. Setting his exploits in Ireland, and his treachery to his father, on one side, there was still the life he led. The last King’s departure from the orthodox in sexual relations was deplorable, but it had not affected his rule; he had never had favourites who had influenced him.

Hugh was surprised that Queen Eleanor, who was a very wise woman, and William Marshal, who undoubtedly had the good of England at heart, could have let their choice rest on John. The line of succession was not so rigid that it could not be changed for expediency. A king’s son was his natural successor but if that son should show himself to be unworthy it was quite acceptable to select the next candidate. It was a moot point whether Henry II’s youngest son or the son of an older son was the heir to the throne. If Richard himself had had a son how different it would have been. What alarmed Hugh was that the Archbishop of Canterbury believed Arthur to have been the better choice and had been overruled by William Marshal.

Of course William Marshal was a man with a strong sense of duty and he was in close service with King Henry II. It could be that he remembered that it was his old master’s desire that John should be King and this was why he supported the claim of the younger son rather than that of the grandson.

In any case, it appeared that John was to be the next King and they must try to make the best of it.

He went to John’s apartments in the Castle Beaufort and
there found him with one or two of his companions – young men whose tastes were similar to his own.

The Bishop asked if he could speak to John alone. The young man regarded him rather insolently and John hesitated; he would have liked to tell the old prelate to go, but his common sense warned him that until that coronation ceremony he had better be a little careful.

He waved his hand and the young men sauntered out.

‘What is it?’ asked John somewhat testily.

‘Tomorrow is Easter Day,’ said the Bishop. ‘You will of course wish to take communion.’

‘Not I,’ cried John. ‘’Tis not to my taste.’

The Bishop was horrified, and John laughed at him. ‘My good Bishop, I have not communicated since I was able to make up my own mind on such matters and I have no intention of doing so now.’

‘You are now a king …’ The Bishop paused and added ominously: ‘Or hoping to become one. It is necessary for the people to see that you are worthy of the crown.’

‘What has communion to do with kingship?’

‘I think you know. If you are to govern well you will need the guidance of God.’

‘I have no qualms that I shall know how to govern.’

‘Others might have.’

John narrowed his eyes. The insolence of priests! Was he the King or wasn’t he? The answer to that was of course, no, not yet.

Not yet. That was what he must remember. He must get that ceremony performed.

He said: ‘I know I have lived a sinful life. I intend to reform now this great burden has been placed upon my shoulders, but
if after all these years I communicate – and there are many who know that for years I have abstained – they will think my repentance over-sudden. Let me come gradually back to the good life. If I attend the High Mass, that will do for a start. It will show people that I am making a beginning.’

The Bishop said: ‘God will know exactly what is in your heart.’

‘Assuredly,’ answered John with his eyes downcast.

There was no point in further persuasion, the Bishop told himself. Time would show what attitudes John would take and the people would accept or reject him accordingly.

When the Bishop had gone John recalled his friends. He gave them an account of what had happened, mimicking the Bishop.

‘He thinks he is to govern me. We are going to have some fun with Master Bishop, my friends.’

They applauded wildly; it would have been unwise not to do so.

They were with him at the High Mass. John liked them to be there because he felt over-bold when it was necessary to amuse them with his daring.