The Prince of Darkness

Chapter XVI THE PROPHECY

With the passing of each week, John’s fortunes seemed more dismal. The barons were grumbling together about him and asking themselves how much longer they were going to endure the rule of a king who believed he could make free with their wives and impose on them the most ridiculous fines which were in fact bribes and impositions.

The members of the Braose family would never forget the fate of Matilda and her son. To put a woman of her age into a dungeon and leave her to starve to death was monstrous, when her only fault had been to refuse the money which was demanded of her family and to defy the King in this matter of sending members of her family as hostages. Very understandable, was the verdict, when one considered the fate of Arthur. And it seemed that everyone now was considering the fate of Arthur. Philip of France was demanding that the young Duke be produced, knowing full well that he never could be. Anything that could be used to discredit John he was going to use.

Eustace de Vesci was arousing the barons against him; not that they needed much rousing. They were only too ready to accuse the King and many of them were meeting to discuss what could be done.

There was one who regretted the course events were taking and who determined to make yet another effort to save the monarchy. This was William Marshal and he came to see John.

The King, who was beginning to realise how friendless he was and that such friendlessness could mean he was in acute danger of losing his kingdom, welcomed the Marshal warmly.

‘My lord,’ said William, ‘I come to speak in a straightforward manner to you which you may not find very much to your liking. Yet speak I must for if something is not done with speed, I see disaster overcoming this country and your kingly house.’

‘You may speak as you wish,’ said the King.

‘Then I will say that it is folly to allow this state of affairs to drift as it is now. The barons are dissatisfied.’

‘A plague on the barons!’ muttered John.

‘You may wish a plague on them, my lord, but forget not that such would infect the entire country, as they are now beginning to infect it with their dissatisfaction.’

‘Who are they to show their displeasure?’ demanded John. ‘Am I their King or am I not?’

‘At this time yes,’ said the Marshal bluntly, ‘but who shall say for how long if matters drift along in the direction they are now set.’

‘You are over-bold, Marshal, for it would seem you are critical of me.’

‘I warned you I was over-bold. I ever have been, and if you are not prepared for my boldness it would be well for us both if I retired.’

‘Nay,’ said John, ‘say on.’

‘Think how we stand. Interdict! Excommunication! Inward turmoil, and perhaps most serious of all Philip awaiting his opportunity.’

‘By God’s ears, I would settle him if he dared set foot on this land.’

‘My lord, he has the whole of Normandy. There is little left to you overseas. For the love of your ancestors do not let England pass out of your hands.’

John was afraid. There was one man whom he could trust and that was the Marshal. He had to listen to him. He knew. He had to take his advice, for he knew it would be sound and that Marshal had nothing but the good of England at heart.

‘Trouble grew big with the quarrel with Rome,’ said Marshal. ‘My lord, your first step is to end that quarrel.’

‘How so?’

‘Accept Stephen Langton.’

‘I have sworn not to.’

‘It may be so, but, my lord, a crown is at stake. If you do not make peace with Rome in a short time a French king will take the crown of England. There are many here who would welcome Philip.’

‘Then surely they are traitors.’

‘They are men who are at war with the manner in which England is being ruled. There is so much they do not like. Be prepared for treason, my lord, where you least expect it.’

‘You, Marshal?’

‘I am here to save your kingdom for you, to give you my help and support which is not inconsiderable. Those who murmur against you, love this country. They would serve it well. But they murmur against unfair taxation, the interdict and excommunication and the manner in which you rule. Therefore they believe it would be to the good of the country to take Philip as their King. This would restore Normandy to the crown and with all this and France, Philip would be the most powerful ruler in the world.’

‘And you ask me to go humbly to Innocent?’

‘I am convinced that now is the time to make peace with Rome.’

‘But this will mean breaking my word. I have vowed that never will I have Stephen Langton here.’

‘There are times, my lord, when it is wise and most expedient to break one’s word. This is one of them.’

‘What will people think of me?’

The Marshal’s lips curled. ‘No worse,’ he said bluntly, ‘than they do already.’

‘And you would urge me to make advances to the Pope, to admit my willingness to have Langton here?’

‘I would with all my heart,’ said the Marshal, ‘for I see clearly that if you do not, you will not long remain King of England.’

Marshal half expected him to fly into a rage. The fact that he did not suggested that he was really frightened of the position in which he found himself.

‘I will without delay send an embassy to Innocent,’ he said. ‘I will even take Langton.’

There was a great deal of excitement in Yorkshire at this time because an old man who was known as Peter of Pontefract claimed to have had a vision. Peter was a hermit who lived in a cave at the opening of which people left food for him; he was said to be a man of unusual powers.

He had prophesied that before Ascension Day King John would have ceased to reign. In view of the conditions which existed this did not seem an unreasonable prophecy and it was repeated throughout Yorkshire and began to filter into other counties so persistently that Peter of Pontefract was now known throughout the country.

Beset by difficulties, pondering on the warnings of the Marshal, John was filled with superstitious dread, and during his travels in the North he demanded that Peter be brought to him.

The old man gave no sign that he feared the King. He stood before him without respect or disrespect. He merely showed indifference.

John cried in a hectoring manner: ‘What is this talk you have circulated through the country concerning me?’

‘I have merely said what came into my mind,’ answered Peter. ‘If folks repeat it, ’tis naught to me.’

‘It is something to me,’ cried the King. ‘You say I will not be reigning after Ascension Day.’

‘’Tweren’t I as said it. ’Twere the voices.’

‘To whom do these voices belong, think you?’

‘To God, maybe, or to the powers.’

‘And how shall I lose my kingdom, pray?’ asked John.

‘That I know not,’ was the answer. ‘Only as you shall surely lose it.’

‘I believe you to be lying.’

‘’Tis not so, my lord.’

‘Do you know what is done to liars?’

Peter turned his eyes up to heaven and answered: ‘What is to be will be and what you do to me has not been revealed.’

‘You should tremble in your shoes, Peter of Pontefract.’

‘Nay, my lord, I but speak as I must and the spirits tell me. They say you shall reign no more after Ascension Day and that one more pleasing to God will be set on your throne.’

John lost his temper suddenly. ‘Take this man away,’ he shouted. ‘Throw him into a dungeon at Corfe.’

Peter was serene as they led him away.

‘You will know your fate on Ascension Day,’ John called after him. ‘You should start to pray for your soul now, fellow. For it will go ill with you then.’

Peter merely smiled and held the palms of his hands together as he was hustled away.

Innocent had been made aware of the situation in England. The barons were ready to revolt and if England were allowed to go on much longer under the Interdict with an excommunicated king the wrath of Rome would appear to lose its power. He could not allow the situation to continue so he summoned Stephen Langton, in his eyes Archbishop of Canterbury, and told him that he wished him to go at once to the King of France.

‘John cannot any longer be allowed to reign in England,’ he said. ‘I intend to depose him and I am going to ask the King of France to help me to this end. I know full well that he will be eager to do so.’

Stephen Langton was surprised, for he did not think Innocent wanted to add to Philip’s power, but he saw the Pope’s point of view. John was insolently snapping his fingers at Rome by continuing to accept the Interdict and his excommunication as though they were of little importance to him and making no effort to get them removed.

The Archbishop set out for Paris and no sooner had he left than John’s embassy arrived in Rome with urgent messages from John to the Pope, proclaiming that he would accept Stephen Langton. As a result of this Stephen was hastily recalled to Rome. The Pope now declared his willingness to withdraw the threat to depose John if he ratified his promises.

Philip, meanwhile, had assembled an army with a fleet of ships ready to carry it to England. He was determined to invade and since John was clearly unfit to wear the crown, to take it for himself. No French monarch had ever ruled over England. He had fulfilled his ambition of recapturing Normandy. He had had other successes, but to capture England would make him honoured for ever as a hero, as William the Conqueror had been.

It was amazing how people rallied to John’s banner. Those who had been chary of joining him to fight across the seas felt very differently about their own country. If the French were waiting to attack they would find the English ready for them. They would never accept the French King as theirs. They preferred English John for all his faults. He was able to assemble a good fleet of ships. The Cinque Ports had been true to their promises. The whole country was rallying to John’s banners and he had not felt so confident for a long time.

Instead of the French the Pope’s legate arrived at Dover. He had come hot from Rome with special despatches for the King of England.

The papal legate was Pandulph, a Roman, who had become a clerk of Innocent’s Papal Court and he was accompanied by a Knight of St John named Brother Durandus. John had met them both on a previous occasion when they had come on the Pope’s business and this time he received them with more warmth than he had previously.

John had discussed with the Marshal the terms which the Pope might be expected to offer and it was William’s advice that it would be wise to accept them even though they might appear somewhat drastic.

In the Marshal’s opinion the barons could not be trusted and although they had rallied to John’s banner at the prospect of a French invasion they were at heart weary of John’s rule and if they felt that it would be better under Philip’s they might decide to change sides. To see the army gathered together, to see the ships ready to fight against those of the French, was a goodly sight. But the Marshal knew the extent of John’s unpopularity and he did not trust those who had assembled to help him. For this reason, it seemed to him that John must if possible make peace with the Pope.

Pandulph’s first words indicated to John how important it was for him to make peace with Rome.

‘On my way to you,’ Pandulph told him, ‘I passed through France and sought an audience with its King. In the name of the Pope I forbade him to attempt the invasion of England until after I had seen you. Much will depend on your attitude now. If you accept the Pope’s terms there will be no French invasion, for the Holy See will not permit it and the King of France would not dare undertake such a hazardous operation in which God would be against him since he has been forbidden by Rome.’

John said: ‘I would know your terms.’

The Marshal had been right when he had said the terms would be harsh. There could be none harsher, for the Pope insisted that John surrender his crown to the Pope who would then return it to him creating him a fief of the Holy See. The King of England would become the Pope’s vassal.

The Pope’s vassal! How low had he fallen. What would great William the Conqueror say if he was watching from Heaven at this time? The land which he had won and held at great sacrifice to be passed over to Rome and its King become a vassal!

It was a bitter anger which possessed John – not the violent rage which he knew so well. In this anger was sadness – that this state of affairs should have come to pass.

The whole world is against me, he thought.

‘If you do not agree,’ said Pandulph, ‘His Holiness will give Philip permission to invade. He has a mighty army assembled on the other side of the water. The Pope will render him the aid he needs and the King of France will hold the crown of England under Rome.’

John was silent. He had prepared himself to accept Stephen Langton which he must do; he would allow the exiled clergy to return, and he would compensate the Church for the loss it had suffered when he had confiscated much of its lands and goods. But he had not thought to make himself a vassal of Rome.

He talked to William Marshal, a man who was as sad at the prospect as he was himself. But the Marshal believed – and so did John – that to give way to the Pope was the only way out of a dangerous situation.

‘If you do it,’ said William, ‘you will gain certain advantages. Philip may not obey the Pope’s order to withdraw but if he should attempt invasion against the wishes of the Holy Father there will be many who are not eager to follow him. The barons here who are ready to revolt against you will not have the support of the Pope. The Interdict will be lifted and the benefits of the Church will return to England. Think of it. There will be seemly burial and churching of women and the church doors will be opened once more to the people. You must do it, my lord. It is a sad state of affairs but this is the best way out of our difficulties.’

John said: ‘I often think of the hermit in Corfe Castle.’

‘Ah, the prophecy. When was it to be fulfilled?’

‘On Ascension Day.’

‘Which will soon be upon us.’

The two men looked at each other gravely. Then John spoke. ‘I will do it,’ he said. ‘I will become a vassal of the Pope.’

‘Better that,’ agreed William Marshal, ‘than to become the defeated enemy of the King of France.’

So there followed the ceremony of removing the crown from John’s head which was symbolic of his submission to the Pope and then immediately replacing it to indicate that the Pope had graciously bestowed it on him once more. He was still King of England but he held the crown as the Pope’s vassal which was a matter for rejoicing, said John, for it meant that Holy Rome was the protector of King and country.

John was exultant. He had come well out of his troubles. It was true he had had to accept Stephen Langton but he would make sure that the Archbishop’s claws were clipped when he came to England, and he was no more ready to allow the Church to interfere with the State than any of his predecessors had been, but for a while he could sigh with relief, smile sardonically to think of the army Philip had accumulated with which to invade England, and congratulate himself that he had emerged in triumph from a very alarming situation.

It was time for rejoicing, he told his people. The Interdict was over and the church bells would ring again. There was friendship between England and Rome; there was more than that; there was a great alliance and the Holy See had thrown its protective wings across the country. Let pavilions be erected in the Kentish countryside; let there be singing and dancing in the streets of Dover. Instead of war there was feasting. Instead of a foreign invader their own King was there to rule over them. All was well with England.

The people were always ready for merrymaking. They listened to the church bells ringing and that seemed a very melodious sound; they spoke lovingly of King John who had so adroitly saved them from the French invaders; they danced and sang and there were bonfires on the hills of Kent.

Those who had proclaimed their faith in Peter of Pontefract assured themselves that his prophecy had come true. John had lost his crown by Ascension Day but what Peter had not seen was that he had regained it. Some pointed out that the prophecy had been that John would lose his crown and someone more in God’s favour would wear it. Well, they could even make that fit. The John who had regained the crown was a vassal of the Pope and therefore a changed man. In God’s eyes one under the protection of the Holy Father would be more in God’s favour.

So everyone could be happy and it was easy to be deluded into forgetting the high taxation, the rages of the King which could spell disaster in so many ways to any who displeased him. Just for a day they would give way to merriment and a blind faith in the future.

John was not inclined to forget Peter of Pontefract. The man had caused him a great deal of uneasiness. He had been infuriated by the manner in which he had stood before him with that fanatical look in his eyes as though he were a messenger from God.

And what would people be saying now? They would twist his prophecy to make it the truth. John had hated the man when he had stood there before him and blatantly stated that his place would be taken by someone more worthy in God’s eyes.

A king should not allow men to talk to him in that way. Peter of Pontefract must not be allowed to live and make more such prophecies. For that was what the man would do, he was sure. And he would carry a certain amount of opinion with him. Such uneasy men should be removed.

He gave orders that Peter should be taken from his dungeon in Corfe, and hanged. But first, as a warning to others who might feel they had the gift of prophecy and through this believed they could plot against the King, he was to be tied to a horse’s tail and dragged to the place of execution where he should be hanged high on a gibbet that all might see the fate in store for any who acted in a similar manner.

The King’s orders were carried out and so fickle were the people that those who had supported Peter and declared that he in truth was a great prophet and a man of God, fearing to offend the King, now reviled him.