Michael Jecks - The Prophecy of Death

Such prophecies affected some men more than others, and Richard of Bury was exceedingly susceptible to their allure. He lived and breathed the magnificent stories which were already weaving themselves about his earl. Earl Edward would become King, he would unite the Scottish within his realm, bring all the lost lands back under the Crown, win over the French territories once more, renewing the fabulous Angevin Empire, take for himself the crown of the Holy Roman Empire, and reconquer the Holy Land … Truly, Earl Edward would become a king to rival King Arthur.

But that was not to say that Richard of Bury was lax in his teaching of the Earl. That was not his way. He believed that God gave men an innate ability, a skill, but that the perfection of that skill was the duty of the man who possessed it. Thus, if Earl Edward was capable of being a new paladin, he must be shown the correct ways in which he must improve himself so as to bring out his own best qualities.

This determination had already led to some arguments, for on occasion when the Earl awoke with a mild hangover, the last thing he desired was a serious contemplation of the life of King Arthur, or Alexander of Macedon. And yet that is what he was forced to study, no matter the tiredness of which he complained. Richard was indefatigable in his resolve: the Earl would become a great world ruler, and must not waste a moment in striving to learn all he could that would make him a good King.

‘Today, my Lord Chester, I should like to talk about the marvellous leader, Julius Caesar, the man who conquered Rome itself, and the world. He was the foremost leader in warfare, and in the arts, too. A strong man, who was finally betrayed by those whom he had trusted.’

‘Is it true that he conquered England too?’

‘He conducted two excursions on to your soil, my Lord. It was Claudius who actually added England to the Roman Empire, though, not him.’

Earl Edward nodded, but he was considering other matters as he opened the book passed to him by Bury.

‘You seem distracted, My Lord?’

‘I was reflecting, Master Bury, that all the leaders you have shown me have all been both devout and literate.’

‘That is exactly the case I was going to make to you, my Lord! Hah! It is difficult to teach you some things! You pick them up naturally!’

Richard’s fulsome praise would once have rankled, so similar was it to the subservience of other members of the court. If there was one fault which annoyed the Earl more than any other, it was fawning insincerity. But with Richard, it was not obsequiousness — it was a reflection of his immense excitement and exuberance. He fairly bounced about the room when the Earl showed comprehension of a difficult concept. In the last nine months or so since Bury had arrived here as his tutor, the Earl had quickly realised that whatever else Bury might be, he was no slave.

Now Bury was flicking through the pages of another great book until, reaching the passage he sought, he turned it triumphantly to the Earl. ‘See? Read this.’

As the Earl of Chester began to read, slowly, his finger tracing the lines of the words, Bury continued seriously.

‘You see, no great ruler can achieve anything without learning. And the greatest proofs of learning are an appreciation of the importance of the written word, first and foremost. Because whether you or I know anything at all is unimportant, so long as we have the sense to own the books which already preserve that which we need to know. So long as we have our books, we have all knowledge at our fingertips.

‘That passage says that the Greeks had no ruler of stature who was not literate. I would extend that to include all the great Romans. All were intelligent men who appreciated the written word and the arts. And, more than that, all were entirely convinced of the help of God. True, the Greeks and Romans did not understand about God for they lived in heathen times before the birth of Christ, but can you doubt that a man of the strength of purpose of Alexander, would not have offered thanks and praise to Our Lord for his achievements, had he but known of our God? Of course he would. And Our Lord must also have felt that he had a purpose in elevating Alexander over all others in the world.’

‘A heathen?’ asked Earl Edward.

‘A great man, though! Look at him! A man who could do so much, and then, as they say, who could weep, seeing that there were no more great lands for him to conquer. He died young, and yet he achieved so much more than any other man before or since.’

‘No man can emulate him,’ Earl Edward said with some sadness.

‘You think so? You want to give up your crown now, my Lord? You want to surrender your future? Then do not say such a thing!’ Bury said with asperity. ‘In the Lord’s name, I declare, I believe you shall be a king to rival Alexander or Caesar! I swear that your name shall ring down the ages and lead Englishmen to sing your praise with admiration for as long as England survives!’

Earl Edward looked up at him. ‘Bury, keep a firm grip on yourself. You are growing overly choleric.’

‘How can a mere clerk not be passionate when he has such a great duty, so enormous a charge as I?’

Christ Church Priory, Canterbury

He was exhausted as he clattered under the city’s gate, but Joseph felt only gratitude and relief for the safety that the city walls promised. He saw the man at the gates, and nodded, but hurried on his way as soon as possible towards the priory, determined to reach it before the final bell and the closing of the gates.

It was little time before he was led upstairs to the prior’s chamber.

‘My lord Prior. Messages from the King.’

‘And what are these?’

He opened his little wallet and removed the tiny scrolls, passing them to the Prior, then he stood back, waiting.

‘He wants the oil?’ the Prior muttered. ‘This is wonderful! Just what I need now!’ To the messenger, he cast a sombre look. ‘Anything else?’

‘Only a short message from Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, Prior. He told me to say, that “The thief and murderer may be dead.”’

‘Why? What has he found?’

Joseph told of the discovery of the herald’s body, and the prior listened carefully, but then frowned hopefully. ‘And the oil? Was there any sign of the oil he stole from me?’

‘I know nothing about that, my Lord, but I do not think that there was anything on the body. Perhaps it was something in a saddle-bag? The man did not have it about his person, so far as I saw.’

‘And he was definitely dead?’

‘Oh, he had been dead for some days,’ Joseph confirmed. He swallowed uncomfortably at the memory. Poor fellow. It was one of those nightmares which he suffered from occasionally. The idea of being stabbed and left for dead in the middle of nowhere, perhaps never being discovered.

‘That is good. Good. But the loss of the oil makes my task difficult.’

Joseph knew when he should keep silent. While the prior stood and walked about his chamber, glancing every so often at the papers in his hand, Joseph held his tongue, waiting to hear what he might have to say.

‘Very well,’ the Prior said at last with a sigh. He looked at the note for a last time, and then admitted defeat. ‘Um. I have a note for you to take back with you.’

How to explain to this prickly monarch that the one salvation which he had counted upon had, in fact, already been stolen.

Third Tuesday after Easter 16

Beaulieu

Baldwin felt only a lightening of his spirits as he rode into the grounds of the great abbey at Beaulieu. This, hopefully, was to be the end of his journeying in the King’s service. From here he and Simon could throw down their commitments to the King and return homewards to Devon, where Jeanne was waiting for him, as well as his little Richalda and baby Baldwin, his first-born son.