Jean Plaidy: The Prince of Darkness

It was certainly not inconceivable that Richard and his advisers might have some idea of a marriage between her and John since there was a question as to who – John or Arthur – was the rightful heir to the throne. Such a marriage could mean that John might rule until Arthur was of age or on John’s becoming a kind of regent.

Never, she thought. I would not trust my son in his hands … not for a moment.

That she was married to Ranulf de Blundevill, Earl of Chester, and John to Hadwisa of Gloucester would be no impediment. Those marriages could be set aside without a great deal of trouble. Marry John! He would be a thousand times worse than Ranulf. Besides, there was Guy. Her expression softened as she thought of her lover. He might see her from one of the castle windows and if he did he would come to rescue her from her odious brother-in-law. They had talked of the Prince only last night and Guy had said he was in Brittany for no good and that they must take double care of Arthur.

She turned away from John, murmuring that she must leave him now, but when she walked towards the castle he was beside her. She went quickly to her apartments and there she asked one of her trusted women to bring Guy de Thouars to her. When he came and they were alone she embraced him.

‘Oh, Guy,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid … afraid for Arthur.’

‘Arthur is well cared for, my love, while we are here.’

‘There is something in John’s mind. I can see it. He came to me in the gardens. He has some plot brewing.’

‘We must be careful of him, and we are. We knew that from the start.’

‘I see him watching Arthur.’

‘Oh yes, he does not forget that Arthur has a greater claim to the throne of England than he has.’

‘That’s what terrifies me.’ She leaned her head against him and he rested his lips on her hair. ‘This is peace,’ she murmured. ‘Peace for just a few minutes.’

‘Nay, my love, longer than that. Arthur is well protected. His faithful squire sleeps across his door. ’Tis necessary while John is here.’

‘I wish he would go away.’

‘Then he would be somewhere else plotting against Arthur.’

‘At least he would not be so near him.’

‘Nay. ’Tis better he were where we can keep an eye on him. We will continue watchful. Never for one moment will we allow Arthur to be alone with him.’

‘Yet in the forest …’

‘He is always followed. I have seen to that. John but seeks to plague us. He would not allow harm to come to Arthur when it was known that they had been together. The people of Brittany would kill him before he had time to escape and Richard would not forgive him. He knows full well that that would be the end of his hopes.’

‘Life is so cruel,’ said Constance vehemently. She was thinking of her brief life with Geoffrey – perhaps it had not been idyllic but Geoffrey had been young and handsome and had a certain charm and it had resulted in her two children Eleanor and Arthur; it was after his death the nightmare had begun. Ranulf! She shuddered at the thought. What right had the King of England to give her to a man she loathed because it suited him to do so? That had been no marriage. She had fought desperately against its consummation and had quickly escaped from Ranulf, and the people of Brittany had rallied round her and she had had four years when she had governed the dukedom, and cared for Arthur, bringing him up in the way she wished him to go. Alas, Ranulf had after that time captured her and kept her a prisoner in his castle of St Jean Beveron but not before, with the help of good friends, she had been able to send Arthur out of harm’s way to the Court of the King of France.

It was the good people of Brittany who had helped to release her from her prison and fearing that the King of France might use Arthur to gain his own advantage, she had him brought back to her and thus they were together again; but never for a moment must Constance forget how important her son was to the affairs of Europe. There was the King of France on one hand and the King of England on the other, both seeking to use him against each other; but the real enemy was John – the uncle in whose way he could possibly stand, for in the minds of some people Arthur was a step ahead of him in the succession to the throne.

‘I almost wish Arthur were not his father’s heir,’ said Constance. ‘There are times when I wish we could go away together … you, I and my children, and forget Arthur’s inheritance.’

‘Do you really wish that, Constance?’ Guy asked wistfully.

And she could not answer truthfully because Arthur was her son and her love mingled with her ambitions for him. Arthur could be King of England and she could not forget that.

‘If Arthur were safe on the throne of England, in command of possessions here, if he were a few years older …’

‘While Richard lives, the boy is safe. No harm will come to him. Come, my love, forget your troubles. The boy is safe. None could be more carefully guarded.’

‘All the same,’ said Constance, ‘we will be wary of John.’

When John left Constance he went into the schoolroom where Arthur sat with his tutor. The boy’s fair head was bent over his books and John was amused to see how alert the tutor had become since his entry.

‘Ah, nephew,’ said John breezily. ‘I find you at your study. That is good. A boy can never learn too much. Is that not so, my good man?’

The tutor had risen. He bowed to John and replied that learning was an admirable asset to all.

‘Then we are in one mind.’ He nodded. ‘I wish to be alone with my nephew,’ he added.

The man had no recourse but to leave; but he would not go far, John thought with a smirk of amusement. His orders would have been: keep near and send word that Prince John is alone with the young Duke; and someone would be at hand to make sure no harm came to Arthur. He would do his best to lead them a merry dance.

‘Such a beautiful day,’ said John. ‘Not one to be poring over books.’

‘Lessons must be learned,’ said Arthur.

‘What a model pupil you are! I never was. I preferred the hunt and the good fresh air to poring over books.’

‘I can well believe that,’ replied Arthur. Insolent young dog, thought John with a sudden uprush of temper. Be careful, he advised himself. It’s necessary to play the good uncle here.

Arthur went on: ‘My mother thinks that I must spend much time in study and so did the King of France.’

‘I’ll warrant you and young Louis had good sport together.’

‘We hunted, we fenced and studied the art of chivalry …’

‘All that a prince should know, I’ll warrant – and more also. Come, we will go and ride together, eh … just the two of us.’ He said that very loudly for the sake of the listening tutor. Now there would be panic.

Like most young people Arthur loved to feel a horse beneath him; he had inherited the Plantagenet love of the chase from his father; and although he did not like his uncle – and being young and a little arrogant and well aware of his importance, he made little effort to hide the fact – he could not resist the suggestion that they should ride.

‘Come. Let us go.’

Arthur stood up. He was going to be tall and good-looking, resembling his late uncle Henry, who was the best-looking of all the sons of Henry II. His sojourn at the Court of France had had its effect on him; his manners were courtly and he wore his clothes with grace. The haughtiness was there, though; there was no doubt that Arthur was well aware of his importance.

They rode out side by side, their followers around them.

Constance, with Guy beside her, watched them from a castle window.

Guy said: ‘Don’t be afraid. There are trusted men with them.’