Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

He cleared his throat. ‘I am going to give him our daughter.’

‘Give … him … our daughter?’ she echoed.

‘I mean of course that Joanna is to be betrothed to your old lover, Hugh the Brown.’

‘But … she is a child.’

‘Princesses are married when they are young, as you know. How old were you? Twelve. If our Joanna is anything like her mother she will give Hugh a very happy time.’

‘It is impossible,’ she snapped. ‘The child is but five years old.’

‘In seven years’ time … perhaps earlier, she will be ready. He will be prepared to wait. He is good at that.’

‘He … he will be an old man.’

‘There have been older bridegrooms. He was excited at the prospect. And so we got safe conduct through his territory. It could have given me a victorious campaign but for the traitors. I thought: This will please Isabella. She thought highly of the man. Very well, she will welcome him as a son!’ He began to laugh. She wanted to kill him. She clasped her hands tightly together to prevent their taking action.

She hated him. He was forty-eight years of age and looked more. He was too fat and growing bald and it was inevitable that the life of debauchery should begin to show itself.

‘Come,’ he cried, holding out his hands, ‘show me your gratitude. I have arranged a match for your daughter with a man whom, I have reason to think, you regard very highly.’

Then he caught her to him and she knew that understanding that he had disturbed her gave some zest to his desire.

Cruelty always gave him additional pleasure.

John did not realise what trouble was awaiting him. While he had been in France those barons who had refused to accompany him had been meeting to ask themselves how much longer they were going to endure the rule of an ineffectual tyrant.

Stephen Langton, who owed his duty to the Pope, understood very well how matters were going and was sure that some compromise would have to be reached. Among the archives of Canterbury he had discovered a copy of a document called the Charter of Henry I. This set out certain liberties which on his coronation Henry I had been forced to grant to the people. There were only a few copies of this in existence because Henry had been at great pains to destroy any he could lay his hands on.

On discovering this document in the month of August the Archbishop called together the barons at St Paul’s where he produced the documents, pointing out that many of the rights expressed therein had been waived by succeeding kings.

The struggle between the King and his barons moved a stage further after that assembly at St Paul’s. They now determined to go into action.

November 20 thwas a feast day and under the pretext of celebrating this the barons again met, this time at Bury St Edmunds.

Here they took a solemn oath before the high altar. They would insist that John renew the Charter of Henry I; and if he should refuse they were determined to make war.

The time chosen to present their demand to the King was Christmas, which he would be celebrating at Worcester. They decided, however, that the season of goodwill might not be the best time so they changed the meeting place to London and sent a deputation to the King at Worcester telling him that the barons were assembled in London where they must parley with him without delay.

Aware of the storm which was gathering about him, John left Worcester and travelled to London; and there he found the barons awaiting him.

They were a formidable assembly, for they had armed as though for war, and their spokesman informed the King that they insisted he keep the promises and laws set out in the Charter of Henry I.

John was at first inclined arrogantly to accuse them of insubordination, but when he saw how threatening was their manner he knew he must tread carefully.

‘You are asking me a great deal,’ he said. ‘I cannot give you an immediate answer. You must give me a little time to consider these matters. Wait until Easter time and I will have my answer for you then.’

The barons murmured together but finally agreed to await the appointed time.

John immediately sent envoys to the Pope begging for his help against the recalcitrant barons, giving them instructions to tell His Holiness that he was his humble servant and that he needed his help against his rebellious subjects. As his faithful vassal he appealed to him and trusted that he would instruct the rebels to submit, through John, to His Holiness.

The result of this was a letter from the Pope to the baron leaders and Stephen Langton, forbidding them to persist in their persecution of the King. But Stephen Langton was a man of high principles and he had ranged himself on the side of the barons. The Pope did not understand the true situation in England; accordingly at Easter time the barons met at Stamford in Lincolnshire and the Archbishop was with them. With them came two thousand men, armed for battle, to show the King the measure of their seriousness.

John was at Oxford and with him was William Marshal. All John’s efforts were spent in controlling his fury. That his subjects who had once been terrified and ready to hide themselves at the first sign of his temper, were now actually bringing armed forces to intimidate him, maddened him.

William Marshal was faithful as ever, but very grave, being fully aware of John’s unhappy position and the justice of the barons’ grievances.

‘I will go to them, my lord,’ he said, ‘and discover the nature of these demands. Then it is my opinion that you should examine them very closely.’

‘Was ever a king in such a sad state?’ cried John.

‘Rarely,’ answered the Marshal somewhat curtly. He agreed that John’s actions had brought him to this state and it was only his inherent belief that the monarchy must be upheld at all costs which made him determined to serve John until the end, he being, in his opinion, the true sovereign of the realm.

Marshal returned to John in the company of Stephen Langton with the written demands of the barons.

John flushed with fury as he read them: ‘By God’s hands and feet,’ he cried, ‘why do they not demand my kingdom?’

‘They are very insistent, my lord,’ warned Marshal.

John threw the document to the floor and stamped on it. ‘I would never grant liberties which would make me a slave,’ he declared. He added slyly: ‘We will ask the Pope to intervene in this matter. It is the concern of His Holiness, for I hold this kingdom under him. Go, tell the barons they must appeal to the Pope.’

This the barons refused to do and the Pope sent Pandulph, who happened to be in England at the time, instructions to excommunicate the barons as they were, in rebelling against the King of England, defying the Holy See.

Stephen Langton sent for Pandulph and told him that he could see the situation more clearly than an outsider, being right at the heart of it. The country could not exist any longer under the tyranny of its King and the barons were claiming no more than their rights in demanding adherence to the Charter.

‘Instead of excommunicating the barons,’ he declared, ‘it is the King’s army of mercenaries who should be excommunicated. Without them he would be powerless against the people.’

John, deeply alarmed at this observation, went to the Tower of London that he might take possession of his capital city.

This seemed tantamount to a state of war and the barons decided to elect a marshal.

It was ironical that the man they chose was Robert FitzWalter, the King’s enemy and a man who had a score to settle with the murderer of his daughter.

All those who had suffered from the King’s unjust taxation now rallied together and joined the barons. An army marched on London and there was welcomed by the people. The whole country was rising against the King, and John knew it.