The Revolt of the Eaglets (7 page)

At Waterford he received the homage of the petty princes and arranged that they should pay him a small annual tribute as a token that they accepted him as their suzerain.

It was November by the time he came to Dublin. He took up his headquarters in the wooden palace there; and he sent his two commissioners, Roger de Lacy and William Fitzalden, to parley with Roderick, the King of Connaught, who was the chief of all the petty princes. They met on the banks of the Shannon where Roderick made it very clear that as he considered himself the true ruler of Ireland he had no intention of abdicating in favour of Henry of England.

When Henry received the message he was furious. Everything had gone so smoothly until this time. He would have liked to go into battle immediately to show the little king that he was master, but his soldier’s eye saw at once that the mountains were too steep and the weather too wet to enable him to embark on a successful campaign. He cursed Roderick – the only one who had stood out against him – and swore that as soon as the weather changed he would be ready to make him wish he had acted differently.

Christmas came. Henry was not sorry that he must celebrate the festival in Dublin. Time was getting very near to the anniversary of Thomas’s death and he knew that in England and France people would remember. It was as well therefore to be far away at such a time.

Those of the Irish who had decided to accept him as their ruler paid great honour to him. They even built him a palace outside the walls of the city. It was constructed in a very short time and was made of wattle. Henry was very proud of it. There should be a great celebration on Christmas Day, he said, and he would invite all his new and loyal subjects to join him at his table.

Then he set his cooks to produce a magnificent meal such as would impress these people so much that they would talk about it for years to come and Roderick of Connaught would hear of the riches of the new lord of Ireland.

There was merrymaking and much laughter and Henry listened with grave appreciation to his new subjects’ songs and performances on the harp.

Shortly after the festivities he arranged that the bishops of Ireland should swear fealty to him and when this had been done he wrote to the Pope asking Alexander to accept him and his heirs as the rulers of Ireland.

All was going well with the exception of the tiresome Roderick who was constantly affirming his determination to stand against the King. Henry planned to take by force what Roderick would not give him, but the weather was still too treacherous for him to launch a campaign. The wind howled up the river; the rain fell in torrents; it was clear to the most inexperienced soldier that no campaign could be successfully carried out in such conditions.

January passed and February had come, but the weather continued to be against them and there was nothing he could do but wait.

All through March he waited and just as he was preparing to finish Roderick’s resistance for ever, ships arrived from England.

They had disturbing news.

On the anniversary of Thomas’s death, the pilgrims had streamed into Canterbury. Many of them declared that they were cured of their infirmities at the shrine of the martyr. Everyone was saying that Thomas was a saint.

Worse still the Pope had sent Cardinals Theodwine and Albert to Normandy to find the King.

‘Why do they wait in Normandy?’ demanded Henry. ‘Why do they not come to England?’

There was a simple answer to that. They did not come to England because they knew that they would be arrested as a danger to the peace if they set foot there.

Instead they waited for him in Normandy.

‘Then they must needs wait,’ was his answer to that.

‘They are saying, my lord, that if you do not go to Normandy with all speed they have the Pope’s authority to lay all your lands under edict.’

‘By God’s eyes,’ muttered the King.

He knew of course that he had to go. If he did not he could lose Normandy.

Thomas was continuing to plague him in death as much as he had done in life – and that was saying a good deal.

He shut himself into his apartments. What must he do? It was more than a year since Thomas’s death and the martyrdom was as fresh as ever. Moreover, there were all those miracles at the shrine and he had too many enemies.

He dare not delay. There were too many waiting to snatch his lands from him. He could not conquer the whole of Ireland as he had planned. Roderick of Connaught would have to wait.

Leaving Hugh de Lacy behind with a garrison to hold what he had gained he sent messengers to the Cardinals telling them that he was sailing at once for England and would in due course arrive in Normandy.

That Christmas the young King Henry decided to remind everyone at his Court that he was indeed their King. His father had sent him to Normandy when he went to Ireland, where he was to act as a kind of regent. ‘A regent,’ stormed Henry to William the Marshall, ‘why should I be a regent? I am a king in my own right.’

William the Marshall, the Earl of Salisbury’s nephew, who had held a post of knight-at-arms to young Henry for some years, was his closest friend and companion. ‘In due course you will be so in every way,’ he reminded him.

‘Not while my father lives, William.’

‘My lord,’ answered William, ‘it is unwise to mention the King’s death.’

‘How can I help mentioning it? It can only be when it happens that I shall be free.’

William the Marshall looked over his shoulder fearfully but Henry burst into laughter.

‘Have no fear. The people here are my friends.’

‘A king never knows who are his friends.’

‘I know that there is not a king in Christendom who has more enemies than my father. His nature is such to arouse enmity.’

‘I would venture to contradict you, my lord.’

‘Have a care, William. Remember I am your King.’

‘And you are my friend also. If I must flatter you as so many do I should cease to be that. What do you wish, my lord, my flattery or my friendship?’

‘You know, William.’

‘I think I do, so I will risk saying that if all men do not love your father there are few who do not respect and fear him; and sometimes it is better to be respected and feared than loved.’

‘The old man has bemused you with his rages.’

‘I beg of you, do not speak of him thus. He is your father and our King.’

‘I am not likely to forget that. But know this, William, he shall not keep me in this state for ever.’

‘My lord, you are young yet. You have won men’s hearts by your nature but you could not afford to stand out against your father.’

‘I did not say I would do that, William. I merely say that I want to be a king in more than name.’

‘But there is already a King of England.’

Henry sighed. ‘Come, let us think of other things. This is my first Christmas as King and I intend to celebrate it as such. This Court shall have no doubt about my rank.’

‘This Court, my lord, knows exactly your rank. You are its King, and it is the first time in England’s history that she has had two Kings.’

‘It was my father’s wish that it should be so, and he can have no one to blame but himself for it. Come, I am determined that my first Christmas as King shall be remembered for ever, so that people will know how merry life will be when there is only one king in England. And I will tell you something, my friend, when I am King and have a son, a crown shall not be put on his head until I am dead.’

William the Marshall was silent, but he wondered, as many had begun to, how Henry II could have made such a major blunder as to have his son crowned King while he still lived.

‘I have it,’ cried young Henry. ‘I shall invite all the knights, counts and nobles together with men of the church to my banquet. They shall have gifts which will prove to them that I shall be a generous king. My father is the most parsimonious man alive. He hates giving anything away. He will never relinquish his hold on one castle while he lives. I will show my subjects here how different I shall be. I want to be as different from my father as I can possibly be. I regret that I share his name.’

‘Would you rather have been a William?’

‘That was my eldest brother. There are more Williams in England and Normandy than any other name, I’ll swear. They are all named after my great-great-grandfather, William the Conqueror. You are one of them, my friend.’

‘I’d say there are as many Henrys.’

‘Nay, William, I’d wager it. I have an idea. At my banquet I shall reparate all the Williams and they shall dine with me in one room. No one who is not a William shall sit down with me. Then you and I will count them and see how many Williams are there. I’ll wager there will be more than a hundred.’

Henry was excited at the prospect and William joined in his enthusiasm, realising that in planning his Christmas celebrations Henry forgot his enmity towards his father.

He was delighted to discover that there were one hundred and ten knights named William and many of other ranks.

He was the only Henry among the Williams who crowded into his chamber. This was called the feast of the Williams.

When his father heard what had happened, he was displeased by what seemed to him childish frivolity. He also heard rumours of his son’s growing dissatisfaction with his state and this was more disturbing than his irresponsibility.

Young Henry left for England soon after Christmas. That banquet had been a great success. It was all very well for his friend William the Marshall to tell him to beware of flatterers. He
was
popular, good-looking, charming – all things that his father was not, and what William called flattery was in fact the truth.

When he had been at Bures his mother’s uncle, Ralph de Faye, had come to see him bringing with him his friend, Hugh de St Maure, and they had said what accounts they would take back to his mother of his kingly ways.

He had been enchanted by this kinsman and his friend. They had declared themselves quite shocked by the manner in which his father tried to treat him.

‘You might be a child of ten years old by the way the King behaves towards you,’ they said. ‘Why, you are in your seventeenth year. You are a man.’

It was true; he was a man and treated like a boy!

‘You should make your dissatisfaction known,’ Ralph told him.

He knew he should. But how? It was all very well to talk about defying his father when he was not there and quite a different matter when one was confronted by him. Young Henry remembered how the face could flush, the eyes seem to start out of their sockets and the terrible fury begin to rise. Any wise man kept away from that.

Still, they were right. Something should be done, but it would have to be more subtle than confrontation with his father and a demand that he be given his rights.

In the meantime he was going to England and that was where he liked best to be because in England he was a king; and when his father was absent he could delude himself into thinking that he ruled the land.

He was not allowed to delude himself for long. He had not been at Westminster more than a month or so when his father arrived.

Face to face with the older Henry the younger lost his courage. It had always been so. Much as he might rage against him to his friends, his father only had to appear and he was immediately subdued.

‘I hear,’ said the King, ‘that you passed a merry Christmas at Bures.’

‘I think my … our subjects were pleased by the display I gave.’

The elder Henry nodded slowly.

‘You seem to have a fondness for my Norman subjects. That is well because we are leaving shortly for Normandy.’

‘We …’ stammered young Henry.

‘I said we, by which I mean you and I.’

‘You will need me to stay in England while you are in Normandy.’

‘My justiciary Richard de Luci has my complete trust.’

‘Father, I would rather stay here. I have had my fill of Normandy.’

The King raised his eyebrows and his son was alarmed to see the familiar tightening of the lips and flash of eyes which warned any who beheld it that they must be wary, for those were the danger signals.

‘I thought you would wish me …’ began young Henry.