Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

How explain to the Pope that John was indeed a tyrant, that he was a worthless king, that he had lost his possessions overseas and was on the verge of losing England? How explain that he had no intention of going on a crusade?

The Pope ended by saying that unless Stephen Langton carried out orders he would be deprived of his office.

John roused himself from his rage and looked the situation straight in the face. If he did not act quickly he was going to lose his kingdom. He must raise an army to fight these barons. He must show them that he would not lightly pass over his crown.

He rode out at dawn one morning with a very few followers and made his way to Dover. He had already despatched one of his agents, Hubert de Boves, to the Continent to recruit an army of mercenaries. He was going to lie low until that army was ready.

Very few people knew where he was and those who did had been sworn to secrecy. The barons were nonplussed and there was nothing they could do but wait for news of the King’s whereabouts.

John smiled wryly, considering the speculation there would be about him. At first there were rumours that he had gone to France to parley with Philip and ask his help. That would have been a dangerous measure but John was capable of such folly. Others said that he had in fact gone on the crusade which he had said he would do but no one could really believe that either. All those near him knew that he had no intention of going on the crusade and that when he had talked of it it had been jokingly. The idea of John’s crusading was ridiculous. One source said that he was dead, that he had been murdered by one of those who had a grudge against him and there were many to choose as suspects. Others said that he had tired of his life as a king and had become a fisherman in some remote part of the country.

John laughed at the rumours and gradually men began to arrive from the Continent.

He marched on Rochester and laid siege to the castle there which was in the hands of the barons. In due course the castle was taken but not before the inmates had been reduced to such starvation that they had eaten their horses.

John, furious that mercenaries should witness the defiance of his own subjects, ordered that every man in the castle should be hanged, but before this order was carried out the captain of the mercenaries managed to persuade him to rescind it. They did not wish to give the enemy an excuse for reprisals, he said. Let the King show his leniency and remember that these people were his own subjects who had perhaps been led astray or coerced into taking a stand against him.

Elated by the victory John was prepared to waive his anger and the defenders of Rochester Castle did not lose their lives.

When the envoys arrived from Rome for the purpose of excommunicating the barons, the latter realised that powerful forces were being released against them. It was never wise to be at odds with the Church when there were battles to be fought, for soldiers could so easily persuade themselves that God was against them and account the smallest setback to Divine displeasure which would undermine future action.

If John had the Pope as an ally, they too must seek one as powerful – or perhaps more so; and the answer to this was of course Philip of France.

There was no doubt that that shrewd and wily monarch was watching events in England with the greatest interest. He had utterly defeated John on the Continent; he was now waiting for the barons to do so in England. He himself not so long ago had cast covetous eyes on the crown and had been turned from his attempt to take it by intervention from the Pope. The fact that help for John was again coming from that quarter gave him deep cause for thought. Philip was secretly amused that the most unholy of kings should have found a friend in the most holy of Fathers. Popes, Philip said to himself, could be moved to act through expedience quite as often – more so in truth – than through holiness; and since Innocent himself had taken John’s crown from him – and graciously bestowed it on him but as a vassal – he would naturally be very inclined to support his puppet.

Now came messengers from the barons of England. They had a proposition to make. If Philip would help them depose John they would be prepared to bestow the crown on Philip’s son Louis.

Philip’s eyes sparkled. So the crown of England could come to France after all!

He pretended to be dubious.

‘How would the people of England reconcile themselves to a French king?’ he wanted to know.

‘My lord, Louis has a certain claim to the throne through his wife.’

Philip nodded. A claim of sorts, though a flimsy one. Eleanor, daughter of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, had married Alfonso, King of Castile. They had had a daughter, Blanche, who was Louis’s wife. Therefore it could be said that the children Louis and Blanche would have would be descended from the English Royal House.

A flimsy link, thought Philip, but one worth considering. If it went wrong he could wash his hands of it and imply that it was Louis’s concern. Philip had never greatly cared for the act of war; he preferred to win his battles through strategy; he would greatly enjoy sitting back and watching what Louis made of it. It would be a great achievement if the crown of England came to France.

He could of course see that the barons were not so eager as they would seem to set a French king on their throne, but since the intervention of the Pope their need was urgent. John was amassing a large army of mercenaries from the Continent and this army would be mainly composed of the French – subjects of Philip. It might well be that the barons, as John’s army increased, believed they were being forced into a desperately unfavourable position. It was a clever stroke of strategy to call in the help of Philip’s son Louis.

While the French were debating how they should act, the Pope threatened to excommunicate Stephen Langton who was not obeying the orders sent from Rome and was pleading the just cause of the barons.

Langton realised that his only hope of convincing the Pope was to go in person to Rome and plead his cause with him.

When John heard that Langton had left for Rome he was uneasy. Langton was an eloquent man; he could lay the case before Innocent in a manner which would bring no good to John. Up to this point his chances had seemed good. His army was increasing and although they were mercenaries who would fight any battle providing the rewards were good, they were trained soldiers, experienced and well equipped in every way for battle. The barons were clearly not trained soldiers; they lacked leaders. A man bent on revenge such as Robert FitzWalter might rouse people by the force of his eloquence but that did not make him a good leader.

‘By God’s ears and teeth,’ cried John, ‘I am going to subdue these barons. I am going to make them wish they had thought twice before raising their hands against me.’

Then luck began to turn against him. The first stroke came with the death of Innocent, and although John immediately put his case to his successor, Honorius III was not interested. Support from Rome had crumbled. Then Louis had arrived in England and was given a welcome by the barons.

‘So they have called in the French!’ cried John. ‘I never thought to see the like. No good has come to me since I turned to the Church.’

The faithful Marshal was beside him, urging him not to despair. He had his mercenaries, trained soldiers, and it was well known that those who defended their homes had an advantage over the invaders. Some special fighting spirit was given to them; it was their determination to fight to the end.

‘What of the Conqueror?’ cried John. ‘He came and took the land. Are the French going to do to me what he did to the Saxons?’