* * *
I managed another activity that kept the young men busy. That was the tournaments. Young Henry was the idol of the tournament crowd. Small wonder. He was clever, and he was lovable. He was generous, and he was easy to bring to laughter. I will give two examples.
One day as we were riding to a tournament, we stopped to refresh ourselves by a spring. As we dismounted, thirsty and dusty, we discovered that there was only one bottle of wine among us. We numbered forty-two. The single bottle belonged to Young Henry. “I shall share it,” he said. He emptied the bottle into the spring. “Diluted, but equal,” he said, laughing.
On another occasion we were riding through Normandy, and I mentioned to him that it was my birthday.
“Your birthday, William? You should not celebrate alone.”
“I am not alone, my prince. I keep company with the best of men, and any time with you is marked as a celebration.”
“Thank you. I, too, consider myself in good company when I am with a William. I think I should like to dine with many Williams.” He called for a page and ordered him to round up every William in town. William was the second most common name in Normandy, the Normans still being proud to name children for their hero, William the Conqueror. One hundred ten Williams came to dine. Young Henry saw to it that each had a good time. With him as host, and with me as guest of honor, how could they not?
There were only two things wrong with the tournaments. They were expensive, and they fostered jealousy between the brothers, Henry and Richard.
Richard was actually better than Henry at combat, but he took his losses too seriously. Henry preferred to win, but he liked participating as much as he liked winning. Henry would lose, and the winner, as was his right, would hold Henry and his horse for ransom. Henry made an art of the bargaining. Richard would not. Henry developed his wit to deal with people as Richard sharpened his sword. Richard was not a boy altogether without wit. When he became a man, he wrote poetry, some very fine poetry, but Richard was without spontaneity. The two sons, Richard and Henry, would have made a perfect team, but as often happens with brothers, each disliked the other for his best qualities.
The jealousy between them came to a climax years later. I was there to witness the end of it as I was there to witness its beginning.
* * *
At this point in my career, I was promoted to master-at-arms for my skills and my services.
3
ONCE MARIE OF CHAMPAGNE had settled the children, Queen Eleanor devoted herself to keeping peace in her lands. She knew that it was important to tie up the wounds that years of petty warfare had left, and the queen had learned valuable lessons in government from her years in England.
Politics also kept King Henry busy. He wanted to make certain that the empire that he was putting together would stay in Plantagenet hands. With this purpose in mind, he called his three oldest sons to a meeting with King Louis. The three boys were to pay homage from the lands that had been given them at birth. By paying homage for their lands, the king of France became their overlord and officially recognized their right to inherit the land.
Tall, blond Young Henry knelt first to King Louis and received the kiss of peace. Next was Richard, the broad, strong prince with hair the color of candlelight. Geoffrey, slighter and quieter than his brothers, did the same. The Plantagenet princes were a handsome trio, and King Louis was pleased to recognize their right to the lands of Normandy, Anjou, the Aquitaine and Brittany.
John was too young to share in the inheritance. Poor John. King Henry nicknamed him John Lackland, and then he went about conquering Ireland for him.
* * *
Queen Eleanor introduced Richard, who was to have the Aquitaine, to her people. Richard traveled with his mother wherever she went. He took part in every ceremony. He sat by his mother when she held court and when she collected taxes. He learned everything about government at her side.
Young Henry was supposed to learn government from his father, but King Henry was a different kind of teacher. After he had finished conquering Ireland (for John), he had Young Henry accompany him as he traveled throughout England. But the jobs he gave Young Henry were more those of an errand boy than those of a prince. I was often in the difficult position of trying to explain the father to the son. And vice versa.
Young Henry would tire of the jobs he was given, and he would complain to his father. King Henry would not sympathize. “Every job in the world has some built-in boredom. No man can stay excited about something every minute he is doing it. Routine is as necessary to life as water is to beer; it is the base that holds the flavors and spices together.”
Young Henry saw how his mother taught Richard the ways of the Aquitaine, how she allowed him to make decisions as well as to do the routine, and his anger at his father grew. He went on a feverish round of tournaments. He became careless and then reckless.
King Henry wanted to curb the expenses of the tournaments, and he tried to lure Young Henry back with gifts and other bribes. Young Henry would not be tempted. Then the king offered his son the crown of England.
“To be king means to be no man’s vassal,” Young Henry said to me. “Not even my father’s.”
I knew that the crown that Young Henry would wear would mean no more than his titles to Normandy and Anjou. But I said nothing. A master-at-arms must also be a master-at-tact.
* * *
Queen Eleanor helped to plan the coronation ceremony; she made certain that it was elegant. Having her son crowned King of England fit well into her plan to breed a rebellion of all of her sons against their father. Since the coronation was held in England, the queen chose not to attend.
At the banquet following the ceremony, King Henry himself carried the tray that held the roast pig to the table. “Is it not a great honor to have a prince served by a king?” I remarked to Young Henry.
Young Henry looked at his father and answered, “It is surely no great honor to have the son of a king served by the son of a count.”
The situation between father and son got worse after the coronation. Young Henry’s jobs remained the same, but they seemed less for his titles had become more.
4
BY THE TIME the Plantagenets held Christmas court in 1172, Queen Eleanor had had six years to train her sons in chivalry and in rebellion. After all the official holiday ceremonies were over, the family found itself together, and the topic of John came up.
John was now six years old, and he was already a difficult child to like. John had unkind opinions about everything and everyone, and he told them at the top of his voice. John’s natural expression was a scowl. John cheated at games, and John told lies. It was impossible for most people to like John, but King Henry loved him. He loved him beyond reason, but then, all love is beyond reason.
When his name came up for discussion that Christmas, John smiled for the first time in two days. There was something unlovely even about his smile; it was so smug that it was a challenge not to punch him. I reminded myself that a noble knight does not hit those who are younger than he.
King Henry started the discussion. “Eleanor, dear,” he began, “our little boy John is very much on my mind. Our girls are all well spoken for, our older sons all have a good portion, but poor little John has nothing. Little John Lackland.” John smiled at his father and rested his head in his father’s lap.
Richard was annoyed. He cared as little for John as he did for Henry. Geoffrey was the only one of his brothers who did not annoy him. Geoffrey was businesslike and kept to himself. Richard looked at John, and his annoyance swelled. “Wipe your nose, John,” he said.
John walked over to his brother and wiped his nose on Richard’s sleeve. Richard lifted his arm to hit him, but the king stopped him. He laughed; he picked John up and put him on his knee. “I like a boy who immediately does as he is told,” he said. He looked at his older boys. “I want each of us to give John a little something.” King Henry unrolled a map and pointed. “There is a spot
where Anjou, which is Henry’s, meets Poitou which is Richard’s and also touches Brittany which is Geoffrey’s. I think that we should all pitch in and give John a castle, one castle apiece.” He pointed out the castles: one, two, three. “Poor John,” he added, “needs something so that I can arrange some kind of marriage for him.”
Now Young Henry’s temper flared. “You have gotten Ireland for this snot-nose. That is enough.”
“But, Henry, my son, we want to marry John to someone of worth. What good is marriage if it doesn’t extend the empire?”
Queen Eleanor looked up at that. “Some marriages unite people as well as territories.”
King Henry ignored her remark. “No one worthwhile will have John if he has only Ireland. Ireland is practically pagan. The people there dance naked in the woods on Midsummer Eve.”
“Oh, that would never do for John,” Young Henry said, “hopping around naked like that, people might mistake him for a pimpled toad and cook him up into a potion. But I wouldn’t worry about John, Father. John will find a way to marry and get land. He is already a capable liar and a wonderful cheat. What he cannot gain honestly, he will take without honor.”
King Henry rolled the map up. He smiled and reached his arm across Young Henry’s shoulder, “Henry, my son, I may as well tell you. I have already promised those castles as well as a few estates in England to a very rich count who happens to have a very marriageable daughter.”
“A few estates in England. England! Again you see a way to clip my feathers.”
“Ah, my boy, what are a few pinfeathers to a bird of such fine plumage?”
“Yes, Father,” Richard interrupted, “we all have fine plumage. Bright plumage, but it is purely ornamental. When will you let us fly?”
“Never,” Queen Eleanor answered. “Your father expects you to stay in the nest forever, my sons.” Then she looked at her husband and said, “Those are not your castles or your estates to give, my husband. Young Henry has been crowned and recognized by the people of England as their king, and Richard, Geoffrey and Henry have paid homage for their territories in France. Henry, my husband, you may give Ireland to John, but I’m afraid that you have no right to give him anything else.”
King Henry turned on her. “I have every right! I built the nest. Those castles and estates are mine. I have fought to keep this land together. I now have a chance of marrying John to a princess.” Henry came over to Eleanor and spoke directly to her. “Don’t you see, Eleanor? We can extend our lands all the way to Italy. What has Young Henry done to keep these lands? He does nothing but play at tournaments and at elaborate games of love in your court at Poitiers.”
Young Henry was furious. “When have you ever let me do anything that would show you that I can rule? Mother has let Richard rule the Aquitaine with her. They truly share the work. He mashes rebellion with a hammer, and she follows in his wake and passes out bandages. Mother has convinced the people of the Aquitaine that her father, their beloved Duke William, has come to life again in the person of your son, Richard. The Aquitaine is better off without you, Father. Are you afraid that the people of Normandy, Anjou and England will find me a better overlord than you? Is that why you won’t let me do anything more than show my face once here and once there and then only to collect your taxes? Is that why you have to chop up my inheritance?”
Queen Eleanor spoke again. She was calm, controlled. “That is only part of the reason, children. Your father will not let you rule because he considers himself the grandest puppeteer in Europe. He believes that for a great performance, he needs only a few puppets and one very large stage—say from Scotland to the Pyrenees and a little bit eastward—say to Italy. That will do for the present. What your father does not realize, children, is that someone, not him, but someone, has put some guts into his puppets. Guts bleed, my husband. Look well. You have just drawn the first blood.”
Then Queen Eleanor left the room. Her sons followed. The queen had at last what she had wanted: two sons unwilling to give up the taste of power they had and another one fighting mad to get it. John was nothing in this first rebellion, nothing except the excuse for it.
5
WAR FOLLOWED. Father against son. Father won. King Henry finished his battles with his sons and headed for Poitiers. He knew now that his queen had cost him a war and his son’s loyalty. He was hell-bent for a show down. Queen Eleanor was not in Poitiers when he arrived. His fury grew. “Eleanor! Eleanor!” he shouted in the empty halls. Where was that woman?
The truth was that Queen Eleanor was dressed as a knight and was riding toward the borders of France. Some of the king’s men were on a routine mission when they chanced upon a small band of knights close to the borders of the land of King Louis. They asked the knights the nature of their business. “Our business is none of yours,” answered one of the knights.
“Whatever happens within these borders is our business. We are the men of King Henry, and this land is his.”
“You are wrong. This land belongs to his wife,” answered the same knight.
One of the guards said to another, “Only a very young knight or an old lady could have so brazen a tongue and so high a voice.” Saying that, he pulled the cap from the head of the saucy knight and found that the head with the quick tongue belonged to a lady. More than a lady. It belonged to a queen. Eleanor.
* * *
She was taken to the king. The king looked at his wife and asked, “Was it you, Eleanor? Was it you who inspired the rebellion of my sons?”
“Yes, Henry, it was.”
The king nodded his head. “I thought as much. Were you going to Louis when you were captured?”
“Yes, Henry, I was.”
“You are without shame.”
“I am not. A woman without shame has no pride, and I have plenty of that. Pride drove me out of England. Louis is still my overlord. I always say, Henry, that politics makes nicer bedfellows than marriage. Speaking of marriage, Henry, why don’t you divorce me? You have excellent grounds. There are no better grounds for divorce than treason.”
“No, madam,” King Henry answered. “I shall not divorce you and set you free to marry someone else and then sue me for the return of the Aquitaine. There are other remedies for treason, my queen.”
“Prison! Are you going to put me in jail, Henry?”
“Call it house arrest, madam.” King Henry looked at his wife and saw her smile. “Why do you smile, madam? Don’t you fear being my prisoner?”
“Fear is not something I am familiar with, Henry. Loathing is. I know that I shall loathe prison more than I shall fear it.”
“Why, then, do you smile?”
“Because, Henry, I know that I shall love that loathing, and that spark of love will keep me well.”
* * *
The queen was taken to England. Henry wanted her far away from him and his sons while he negotiated peace with them. The Channel was high, and the wind was strong when they set sail. Just twenty years before they had made a similar stormy crossing, but that crossing had marked a union and a beginning. This crossing marked a separation and an end. King Henry again stood up in the boat, and he again thrust his fist at the storm. “Hear me, Lord?” he shouted, “see us safely through to the other side of the Channel. Let my will be done upon this woman before Thy will be done.”
“Amen,” the queen said.
King Henry looked at his wife and roared, “Why are you smiling now, madam?”
“You and my father are the only men I have ever known who grab God by the throat instead of whispering into His good ear,” she answered.
“One must get His attention first, madam,” Henry said, smiling.
And there, for that moment, the sound of their shared laughter broke through the noise of the storm and the sea.
6
QUEEN ELEANOR was taken to Salisbury. She was allowed to ride in the country, but she was always under guard. She sometimes moved from one castle to another after she had received permission to
do so. That, too, was done under guard. She was deprived of the company of her children, and she was deprived of being at the center of affairs. She was deprived of learning of events firsthand and of being the cause of those events.
Not far from Salisbury was the circle of giant stones, called Stonehenge. Queen Eleanor loved to ride there and watch the light peek through the openings of the arches made by the stones. The tallest stones were set in an odd pattern of arches, the space between them was too narrow for a horse and rider to pass through.
One day shortly after I had been promoted to marshal, I came to deliver a message. Upon arriving at Salisbury Tower, I was told that the queen had gone to Stonehenge. I rode there to meet her, and I found her sitting astride her horse beside one of the large stones outside the circle.
“My queen seems lost in thought,” I said.
“Lost in time,” she answered. “Now that the present is denied me, I wonder about the past. I wonder how these stones got here. I ride here often and wonder. Surely these giants are not native to this flat pancake of land.”
“It is said, my lady, that Merlin brought these stones from Ireland.”
“Merlin who? And who says?”
“Merlin the magician, the teacher of King Arthur. And Geoffrey Monmouth says. Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote a book called the Histories of the Kings of Britain; it tells the story of Merlin and King Arthur.”
“I want a copy of that book,” the queen said.