The Revolt of the Eaglets

Chapter XVIII PHILIP AND RICHARD

Henry was feeling ill. He had an uncomfortable and humiliating internal disease. Long hours in the saddle tired him. It was irksome. Always before he had had ten times the energy of other men but he was not young any more. He was fifty-four years of age. It was true Eleanor was twelve years older, but she seemed indestructible and during the years of captivity she had led a peaceful life occupied only with keeping herself young and beautiful and dabbling in intrigue whenever it was possible. Whereas he had fought a perpetual fight to keep his dominions intact, to keep Alice with him, to keep at bay the young sly King of France. It had been so much easier when Louis had been alive. Gentle Louis had been so different from his shrewd young son. Who would have thought that the spoilt boy would have turned into a considerable ruler? And he had to face him now.

They were going into battle against each other. The conference had failed as Henry had feared it would. Philip had had no intention of doing anything but humiliate him. He had never wanted battle. He had always preferred to win through shrewd diplomacy. Louis had been of like mind; but how easy it had been to fob Louis off with promises he had no intention of keeping.

Philip, sly young Philip, how different he was!

God help me, he prayed. Forget my sins until the battle is over. Then I will go on a crusade to the Holy Land.

He smiled wryly. That was how he had wheedled his way out of difficult situations with Louis. Poor Louis, who had always been pious and could be deluded by such talk. Did he think that he could delude God as he had Louis?

Nay, he would never go on a crusade. How could he? He had lands to govern.

At least on this occasion he had his sons with him. Richard the fighter and John the beloved. That was a mercy. At least they stood together against the King of France.

Richard was uneasy. He had wondered lately what his father’s intentions were. There was so much talk about John, and John gave himself such airs of superiority even over his elder brother, that Richard wondered whether he was privy to some plan of his father’s. Always when Richard was in his father’s presence the antagonism was there. Both of them were aware of it; Richard continually wondered whether his father was deceiving him.

While Richard was brooding, one of his servants told him that a knight was without and asking to have word with him. To Richard’s surprise Philip of Flanders was brought into him. This ambitious, adventure-loving man who had at first sought to dominate the King of France and had later taken up arms against him, now served in his army, and this meant that he had risked considerable danger in coming into the enemy’s camp.

‘Hail, cousin,’ said Philip of Flanders.

‘What do you here?’ demanded Richard.

‘I came to have a word with you.’

‘You to come here!’

Philip laughed. ‘I was ever one to take a risk.’

‘What is it you wish to say to me?’

‘To warn you. You are preparing to fight against the King of France. Have you forgotten that the Duchy of Aquitaine is held under him? So … you would be fighting your suzerain.’

‘I stand with my father.’

‘With a father who is planning to disinherit you.’

‘That is not true.’

‘What of your brother on whom he dotes? I would have you take care, Richard. You are a better warrior than your brother or your father. Think. Do not be rash.’

‘What would you have me do? Turn on my father? Join the enemy?’

‘Nay, I would not ask that of you, but the King of France would see you and speak with you.’

‘Does he wish to make a truce?’

‘He wishes only to speak with you.’

‘When?’

‘Now.’

‘You have come to take me to him?’

‘Come as you are. In your armour. He does not ask you to come humbly. He would wish to receive you as a friend … a cousin.’

‘Should I tell my father?’

‘Nay, that is the last thing. He wishes you to come with me now.’

‘How do I know that I may trust him?’

‘He gives his word. As I give mine.’

Richard did not look for deceit in others. He said: ‘I will come.’

‘Then let us leave at once.’

Together on horseback they went through the lines and when they came to the French camp Philip of Flanders led Richard to the quarters of the King of France.

The King of France came out of his tent and looked up at Richard seated on his horse. Few men could sit a horse as Richard could. He looked magnificent, godlike almost in his shining armour seated on his splendidly caparisoned horse.

‘Richard,’ said the King of France. ‘Cousin, welcome.’

‘What would you have of me, Philip?’

‘Friendship,’ answered Philip.

‘Offer it to my father.’

‘I have none to offer him. Come into my tent. We will talk together.’ The King of France did him the great honour of holding his stirrup.

‘Why, Richard,’ said Philip, ‘how tall you are. You are a veritable Viking.’

‘So I have been told. It comes from my ancestor the Conqueror.’

‘And proud you must be of him.’

Together they went into the tent.

‘Take off that of your armour which encumbers you. You may trust me, Richard. See, I am unarmed.’

‘And I in the midst of the enemy’s camp.’

‘By God, Richard, I believe you would give a good account of yourself if the whole of my army came against you. But it will not. I have asked you here in good faith. I would not allow aught harmful to touch you.’

‘Smooth words,’ said Richard.

‘Spoken from the heart! Sit here where I may see you,’ said Philip.

Philip gazed at him intently.

‘Did you have some matter to discuss?’ asked Richard.

‘You and I should not be on opposite sides.’

‘How could it be otherwise?’

‘It would be otherwise if you did not fight beside your father.’

‘I would not wish to fight against him.’

‘It would not be the first time he has fought against you. He has betrayed you, Richard, again and again. What of my sister Alice? Why is she not your wife?’

‘My father has continually postponed the marriage.’

‘Why, Richard?’ Philip laughed. ‘There have been rumours. She is my sister, a daughter of France. She is going to marry you, Richard, and then you and I will be brothers in very truth. You are the heir to England and we shall be friends, you and I. Wars between us destroy us both. Your father is my enemy, not you, Richard, and I have brought you here to tell you that if he is not your enemy he is not your friend. You are fighting beside him. For what reason? That he may disown you and set up another in your place? He deceived my father … again and again he deceived him. He won the battle against Louis VII not with sword and lance but with sly cunning; he shall not win against Philip II. I ask you to consider this. Should you and I not be on the same side?’

Richard said: ‘If that is all you wish to say to me, I shall be going.’

‘Nay, sit awhile. Have no fear. You shall be safely conducted back to your father’s camp.’

‘I have no fear.’

‘’Tis true, Richard. You are a great warrior. Never have I seen you without my spirits being lifted. This is why I want you for my friend.’

Richard had risen to his feet and Philip stood up; Richard was the taller by far.

‘Noble Richard,’ murmured Philip. ‘I know that you are to be trusted. Richard Yea and Nay. If you said I will be your friend, I would know you meant it. There are not many men on whom one can rely. I am eight years younger than you Richard – yes, I have known but twenty-two winters and you thirty – but I am wise in the ways of the world and I respect you, Richard. I want you for my friend.’

‘You honour me,’ said Richard.

‘If you gave me your friendship I should be honoured.’

‘I will go now and think of what you have said.’

Philip lifted Richard’s hand to his and kissed it. Then he helped him on with his armour.

‘Such an honour,’ said Richard, ‘the King of France, my dresser!’

‘It is I who am honoured,’ said Philip softly.

They stepped out into the night. Philip of Flanders who had been waiting stepped forward.

‘Conduct my good cousin safely to his camp,’ said the King of France.

Richard thought of the strange interview and wondered what it meant. None could have appeared more friendly than Philip. And he was warning him against his father. Could it possibly be true that his father was planning to disown him? And why was Philip so eager to help him? Was it because Philip’s sister was his betrothed?

Richard was puzzled.

As soon as dawn broke he went to his father. Henry looked haggard and ill in the harsh light of morning.

‘Well come, Richard,’ said the King.

‘You are not well, my lord.’

‘It is my complaint. Richard, I like not the position. It would seem to me that the King of France is determined on war.’

‘He was ready to consider a truce.’

‘But on what terms? He wants to humiliate me, force me to do this and that.’

‘You mean relinquish Alice.’

‘Alice,’ cried Henry. ‘The Princess Alice? But you are to marry her … when the time is ripe.’

‘The ripening has been so long delayed. Do you forget, Father, that I am thirty, and Alice is no longer young.’

‘She is of a good age for marriage and you were not ready before.’

‘Why should you be so concerned at relinquishing her?’

‘I was not thinking of Alice. How I wish Louis were alive. I could reason with him.’

‘Philip is stronger than his father.’

‘He is a headstrong young man.’

‘I think he is more subtle than his father; he will be a clever ruler.’

‘I fear so. That is not good, Richard. I want to avoid a direct conflict. I see no good in fighting a war in which much blood could be shed to no purpose.’

‘It could be that there will be no alternative.’

‘I have thought of something. I am getting old, Richard, and my sins sit heavily upon me. It has often occurred to me that I should go to the Holy Land after all. You remember Heraclius, the Patriarch, and the ill news he brought us. It has sadly disturbed me that at the time I refused him, although it was on the advice of my ministers.’

‘I know full well,’ said Richard coldly, ‘on whose commands they advised against your going.’

‘My son, I had my dominions to govern. A king cannot forget his duty to his people for the sake of his own sins.’

‘That is what you wish to do now.’

‘Nay, nay. I will go on a crusade and ask Philip to give me a truce for two years while I am away. I believe he is a cynical young man but even he would not dare attack my dominions while I was fighting a holy war.’

‘I have always felt an urge to fight the Infidel,’ said Richard.

‘I know it, my son. We will go together. I shall send envoys into the French King’s camp and tell him of my intentions.’

When Philip heard Henry’s request he smiled slyly.

He sent for Philip of Flanders.

‘Do you know, Count, what the King of England suggests? That I give him two years’ truce while he goes to the Holy Land.’

‘He will never go to the Holy Land.’

‘I know that well.’

‘He is old and sick.’

‘Though a lion still.’

‘A mangy lion.’

‘He can still growl fiercely and has some of his teeth. Let us not forget that, Count.’

‘What will you do, my lord King?’

‘Accept the truce. Let him go to the Holy Land and we will see what happens to his dominions while he is away.’

‘You would attack them? While he was away on a crusade?’

‘Let us say that I would have no hesitation if I saw the opportunity. But rest assured, Count, he will never go on a crusade. That is what he told my father. He merely wants to postpone a battle. He has no intention of going to the Holy Land.’

‘What do you wish then?’

‘To say, yes. There shall be a truce for two years. Now let him go to the Holy Land! It is time Henry realised that I see right through his schemes. Let them go. I cannot wait to hear what the King of England has to say.’

Even before the envoys returned Henry was in despair.

He sent for Richard whose knowledge of warfare was so much greater than John’s.

‘I wouldn’t trust Philip,’ he said. ‘If I went on a crusade how should I know what was happening to my country? He is not like his father.’

‘Nay,’ agreed Richard, ‘he is indeed not like his father.’

‘It occurs to me that he may accept my terms. If he did, how could I go on a crusade? How could I, Richard?’

‘You would risk losing all if you did.’

‘Then how could I go? And the other alternative is war. I will take you into my confidence, Richard. All those years when Philip’s father was King there was conflict between his country and mine. Sometimes I think there always will be. What am I to do? I must have a truce. I must avoid war.’

Richard looked at his father. He could not believe that this was the great Henry Plantagenet speaking. How grey he looked, how drawn! He was more ill than he would admit.

‘Richard,’ he said, ‘you must see the King of France. Ask him for new terms for a truce. I am not prepared to go to war. The King of France is eager for it now, which can only mean that he is aware of his strength.’

‘I … see the King of France,’ cried Richard. ‘You would ask me to go … as a suppliant?’

‘I would ask you to go in all honour but to see if you can bring him to terms.’

‘You have offered him terms. You will go on a crusade for two years’ truce.’

‘I cannot go on a crusade! I dare not. Nay, Richard, there must be other terms.’

‘And you think he would offer those terms to me?’

‘You are my son, my eldest son …’

‘Methinks that is something you often forget,’ said Richard quietly.

‘Bring about this truce and I will remember it always.’

Spoken from the heart but what did that mean with Henry Plantagenet?

‘I see I must needs go,’ said Richard. ‘I must be humble and I like that not.’

‘Sometimes momentary humiliation is necessary for glory to come.’

‘Then,’ said Richard, ‘I will go to the King of France.’

Philip waited to receive him.

How beautiful he was! thought the King of France as Richard rode into his camp. Those cold blue eyes, that hair that was neither red nor yellow, the strength of the countenance and the tall straight figure!

How proud the King of England should be of such a son and how foolish he was to put his faith in John. The King of England’s folly was the gain of the King of France.

Ceremoniously Richard handed his sword to Philip. He was bareheaded as he knelt.

Philip put out a hand and touched the curling hair.

‘Rise, Richard,’ he said gently.

He took him into his tent as he had before.

Richard said: ‘I come in humility. My father asks for a truce.’

Philip smiled wryly. ‘That he may go on a crusade?’

‘He cannot go on a crusade. He wishes for a truce that you might parley together and come to terms.’

‘Come to terms with your father! But he does not know how to keep a promise. My father was continually coming to terms with the King of England and what good came of it for France?’

‘Still he asks for terms.’

‘Then I will meet him. Why, Richard, if I went into battle with him now I would defeat him.’

‘He has never been defeated.’

‘He is eager for a truce now because he knows that the time has at last come for him to face defeat. I am going to be lenient with him, Richard. You would fight with him. I would not wish you to suffer the humiliation of defeat … or possibly death. For your sake, cousin, I will consider this truce.’

‘What are your terms, my lord?’

Philip looked at that proud handsome face.

‘That the King of England gives me his son to stay with me a while that we may talk together of our difficulties.’

‘You mean … a hostage?’

‘I would not call it that. You will be treated as an honoured guest. I would not have you think that I would make a prisoner of you. I want your friendship, Richard. Aye, so much do I want it that I am ready to consider giving your father a truce – when I all but have him at my mercy – for the sake of it.’

A hostage! thought Richard. For that was what it was. He liked that not. And the alternative? Defeat in battle.

He must give way.

Philip took great pains to treat his guest with the utmost courtesy. He wanted Richard to know that it gave him great pleasure to have him at his Court.

They hunted together and when they sat at table they ate from the same dish. This was how the most honoured guests were treated and Philip implied that that was how he regarded Richard.

He was not happy when Richard was not at his side. His voice was frequently heard demanding the whereabouts of the Duke of Aquitaine.

He said to Richard: ‘It is a custom that the greatest honour we can show a guest is to ask him to share our bed. That is what I would wish you to do, my beloved cousin.’

And so it came to pass. The friendship between Richard and the King of France was one of passionate devotion.

Richard began to learn much of the affairs of France from Philip and in his turn he talked of his own difficulties. The two trusted each other during this time for there was a deep bond of love between them.

When they rode together in the forest they talked of their affairs and sometimes when they lay in bed together Philip would tell Richard of his plans.

‘You must watch your father, Richard,’ he said. ‘I have seen that he is no friend of yours. He favoured your brother Henry although he would give him no power and when Henry died he turned to John. I know that he plans to set you aside for John.’

‘I shall not allow it.’

‘And I shall be beside you.’

‘Why should he treat me thus?’

‘Because he fears you in some way. You are so noble to look at. So different from him. What a coarse creature he is! His clothes are so often soiled, and his hands …’ Philip shuddered. ‘My beautiful Richard, it seems impossible that you could be his son. But then regard me. And I had a monk for a father … or so he would have been if he could have chosen. You were born to rule and he fears you. That is at the source of it. He has prevented you marrying my sister. He will try now to disinherit you.’

‘He cannot do it. I am his eldest son.’

‘He will try. He wants John to have what is yours.’

‘I shall not allow that. Nor would the people.’

‘We must see that they do not. You and I will work together, Richard. Always … you and I together.’

Henry was puzzled. What was this strange friendship of his son with the King of France? They were seen often together. It was said that the King of France was peevish when Richard was not at his side.

It was disconcerting. Henry did not like to think of Alice’s brother and Alice’s betrothed putting their heads together.

Sometimes he suffered intense pain. Then he only wanted to be at peace. If he could be with Alice he would be content. Alice had become a symbol to him; she was more than a mistress. When he lost Alice he would have lost the battle. He felt somehow that would be the end.

This was folly. He was a great king. He had been known as the most feared in Christendom. It was simply because he was old and ill that he felt this.

He kept John beside him, and thanked God for him. The poor old man he had become needed John, needed his affection, needed to know that he had not failed with all his sons. The old Henry that he had been seemed a separate part of him, another being who stood aside and watched mockingly. John, that Henry said, do you trust John? Have you forgotten the eaglet who was waiting the moment to pluck out your eyes?

Richard and Philip … together. His son and the King of France!

It was a dangerous friendship.

He wrote to Philip.

He knew that one of the differences between them was the betrothal of Alice to Richard. That marriage had been long delayed. Richard had never shown any interest in it. Now he, Henry, had other plans. Suppose he gave all his lands – with the exception of England and Normandy – to John, and John married Alice.

Henry had lacked his usual shrewdness. Full of deceits himself, he had judged Philip to be the same.

Philip, however, was in love. He was also trying to prove to Richard that he was making a mistake in trusting his father.

He immediately showed Henry’s letter to Richard.

Richard was furious. He cared passionately about Aquitaine. He had subdued it by the sword and had only allowed his mother to have it because he knew that she was his faithful ally and that in due course it would be entirely his. He would not give up Aquitaine.

He said: ‘By God’s eyes, Philip, I must defend what is mine.’

Philip nodded sagely.

Then he added wistfully: ‘It seems I must let you go.’

‘I must fortify my castles. I must be prepared against my father.’

Philip had to consider. He must either lose his friend or keep him very much against his will. He loved Richard and did not want to lose his regard. If he let him go, he would prove indeed the depth of his feeling.

He decided that he must make the sacrifice.

‘It grieves me deeply to see you go, Richard, but you are right when you say you must defend your castles against your father. At any time he could take them from you, for that is his intention. So I will not say good-bye but au revoir! Soon we will meet again. Perhaps when the time is ripe you and I will go on a crusade to the Holy Land.’

‘By God’s eyes,’ cried Richard, ‘little could please me more.’

Then he rode away to Aquitaine.

Richard had made his castles strong and was thinking of going off to the Holy Land in the company of Philip. He could think of nothing that would better suit his mood. To ride out with Philip beside him, two good friends bent on a righteous mission. Before he had left Philip they had talked of little but their adventures in the Holy Land.

‘Side by side,’ Philip had said. ‘That would give me greater pleasure than anything I have ever known.’

News reached him from Jerusalem. Heraclius had prepared the world for what was happening. Had he not begged King Henry to come to their aid? He had told them of the terrible disease which had overtaken King Baldwin and how the flesh had fallen from his bones and he was in such a sorry state that he could not live much longer.

Now he was dead; his nephew had succeeded him – a young boy who himself was but little more than an infant. Moreover the boy was not robust and he had quickly followed his uncle to the grave.

Saladin, the leader of the Infidels, a man of action who knew no fear, was as determined to drive the Christians out of the Holy Land as they were to preserve it. He was fierce and courageous; he gave no quarter and asked none. This man Saladin was fast becoming a legend and Christians trembled at his name.

Heraclius had foreseen this. He had come to plead to the King of England to save Jerusalem because Henry of England had the reputation of being a strong man.

They had been mistaken in his father, thought Richard. Henry was no longer a strong man; he was a feeble old one. It was not he who would be the saviour of the Holy Sepulchre.

But he had a son; and there was born in Richard then a great desire.

He went to Tours and there took the cross and swore that he would join a crusade and save the Holy Land.

Now that Richard was gone Philip was determined to bring Henry to terms. He knew that Henry had written to Richard and that Richard only half believed in his father’s treachery. Richard was after all Henry’s son and he could not entirely believe that his own father wished him ill. It seemed to him wrong that he should be in league with another against his own father, even though that other was Philip.

Philip was well aware of Richard’s character and his great aim now was to prove to him how treacherous his father was. So while Richard was putting his castles into a state of defence and swearing allegiance to the cross at Tours, he decided to take action.

Henry, who was lulled into a sense of security, believing that Richard had brought about a temporary peace with Philip, planned to return to England. He longed to escape to a certain amount of peace. He would go and be quiet with Alice for a while. She could nurse him, for he needed to be nursed; and there in the peace of one of his palaces he would grow stronger and ready for anything that Philip might be planning.

Christmas was not very festive. How could it be with the King’s security in jeopardy and his temper so uncertain for he was in sporadic pain? All the company looked forward to being in England where the King would feel more at peace. Alas, Philip had no intention of giving Henry an easy way out.

Let Henry go to England if he wished. Then Philip would invade Normandy and stand a very good chance of success with Henry out of the way. On the other hand, if Henry preferred to stay and fight, let him.

Henry sighed and knew that he could not make the longed for visit to England.

A message came from Philip. He pointed out that Henry had taken possession of Alice’s dowry but there had been no marriage. When was the marriage to take place? Either he must return the lands he had taken or Richard must marry Alice without delay.

It had begun again. The old question.

Oh, Alice, he thought, what am I going to do? The decision is getting nearer and nearer. Louis, why did you have to die and give me this son of yours to deal with?

They must meet at Gisors, which town Philip was demanding he return.

Was the time approaching when he would have to surrender Alice?

God was on his side. Or was it Thomas à Becket? In any case a way out was shown to him.

Before the conference at Gisors could be started the Archbishop of Tyre came riding into the city. He had heard that the Kings of France and England were there and he had sorry news for them.

Almost three months before, Jerusalem had fallen into Saladin’s hands. The little King was dead as they had already heard. His mother who had remarried had appointed her second husband King of Jerusalem. Now Saladin was in Jerusalem and he had taken possession of the Holy Cross.

Christians all over the world must be plunged into deepest mourning. King Guy was captured and the true Cross was in Saladin’s hands. All good Christians must rise and wrest the holy relics from the Infidels.

It was impossible, in the face of such an overwhelming calamity for the two Kings to discuss their differences. They seemed petty enough now … to all except Henry.

Philip, who had planned in any case to go on a crusade with Richard, knowing that Richard had already taken the cross, declared his intention immediately. And the Archbishop of Tyre in a moving ceremony presented him with the cross. There was nothing that Henry could do but take it also. He doubted though that he would ever carry out his vows. He could only regard this as a temporary way out of his difficulties. Their men followed them and so numerous were they that crosses of different colours had to be handed to the different nationalities – red for the French, white for the English and green for the Flemings.

Philip and Henry now conferred not as enemies but as allies and vowed together what they would do to enable them to set out on their crusade together. They would need time to prepare and they decided that it would take a year to get together the money they would need and to assemble their equipment. They planned to leave at the Easter of 1189.

They discussed together how the money could be raised and Henry suggested that each man who did not accompany them should give one-tenth of his possessions to the cause and those who did should set aside a tenth of theirs to provide themselves with what they would need.

This seemed fair enough and in great relief Henry set out for England.

He found Alice in a state of anxiety, for news had reached her that the King of France was determined on her marriage.

He embraced her with fervour. The very sight of her revived his youth.

‘What news, my lord?’ she asked anxiously.

‘All is well. God is with me. It is St Thomas I think, for it was like a miracle. Your brother is a hard man, Alice. He is so different from your father. He is sharp and sly and I think he is doing his best to destroy me.’

She shuddered.

‘Have no fear, sweetheart, I’ll be a match for him. He’s but a boy and I am a man of great experience. He was going to demand you for Richard, and then the Archbishop of Tyre appeared with the terrible news. How could we discuss our affairs then? There was only one thing for us to do and that was band together and go on our crusade.’

‘You will go on a crusade!’

‘It will come to nothing. Many times in my life has there been talk of crusades and never have I been on one yet. Nay. Something will happen, depend upon it, and I shall be prevented from going to Jerusalem. I have my duties here. I can see no virtue in leaving my own lands to disaster and rebellion maybe, while I go fighting to bring the Holy City back to Christendom. Now if I were a man without responsibilities … but I am not, Alice. So fear not. We are together and there is only one who could part us two.’

‘Who?’ she asked.

‘Death,’ he replied. She shivered and he said: ‘Now I have made you fret. Smile, Alice, smile for me. You do not know how I have longed to see you do that.’

So she smiled and they forgot all these alien forces which sought to part them, chief of them all Death.

Richard was delighted to hear that the conference between Philip and Henry had been abandoned that they might join together and plan a crusade.

His nature was such that, much as he disliked his father and much as he was drawn to Philip, he could not forget that he was Henry’s son and that the kings of France were the natural enemies of the kings of England. He did not wish to be disloyal to his father and if only Henry would have met him half-way he would have been prepared to strive for harmony between them.

The fact that Henry was now pledged to go on a crusade pleased him. It made hopes of a reconciliation between them possible.

He wrote to his father asking him to supply him with money for his crusade. Also as he was to go on such a dangerous venture he thought he should ask that the knights and bishops of England swear fealty to him as his father’s eldest son and heir.

This was the crux of the matter. It was tantamount to asking Henry to deny the rumours that he was planning to disinherit Richard in favour of John.

He was no longer a boy. He was a man who needed assurance that his future was secure; and this matter of the crusades had brought the question to a head. Everything depended on Henry’s reply. If he agreed that Richard must come to England and receive the oaths of allegiance then rumour had lied.

The King must mean him to be his heir and once the oaths had been sworn he would be accepted.

Henry’s reply was characteristic of him but it was an indication to Richard of the true state of affairs.

They would not go separately on the road to Jerusalem. Richard need not concern himself with raising money, for the King and his son would share everything together.

And no mention of the oath that should be sworn to secure his inheritance.

When Richard read the reply his eyes were as cold as steel and fury raged within him which was none the less fierce because he did not show it in a furious outburst.

This was the end of all hope of harmony between them.

By his reply and more by his omission the King had shown Richard that he was against him.

‘And he will find,’ said Richard, ‘that those who work against me will discover in me a bitter enemy.’

It was inevitable that conflict should break out between Philip and Henry. When the excitement about the crusade had died down, as it must do for the preparations were long and enthusiasm could not remain at fever pitch, Philip remembered that the greatest goal of his life was to drive Henry out of France and bring every province under one crown; Henry on the other hand was determined not to lose his inheritance and that land which he had added to it through his clever diplomacy. Each was firm in his purpose and as they were completely opposed so there must be conflict.

Philip was again calling for a conference. He knew that Richard was wavering. He had become involved in hostilities against the Count of Toulouse, a matter which did not greatly upset Philip for it gave him an opportunity to reproach Henry with his son’s conduct. He was, however, obliged to go to the assistance of the Count of Toulouse which meant that for a time Richard and Philip were on opposing sides. Philip had no intention of letting this affect his relationship with Richard, but the fact that, as Henry saw it, there was trouble between Aquitaine and France, meant that he could no longer stay in England and he prepared to cross to Normandy.

He was beset by great anxieties. He knew that the brief respite was over. Philip would not allow it to last long. Moreover the people of England, who had long been satisfied with his rather stern but just rule, were now complaining of the Saladin Tithe which he had imposed for the crusade. If asked they would declare that they were true Christians and that the thought of the Holy Relics being in the hands of the Infidel was distasteful to them; but when it meant that one-tenth of their possessions must be given up for the sake of an attempt to retrieve them, they were less enthusiastic. Life in England was not so comfortable that it could not be improved on; and it seemed that the money which would be taken from the country was needed within.

There had long been a murmuring discontent against the forest laws. Like his Norman ancestors Henry was devoted to the hunt. It brought him comfort and solace as it had to the Conqueror and there was no relaxation like it for a man as active as he had always been. To preserve the forests for his use – again like his ancestors – he had found it necessary to keep to the harsh laws they had introduced. He had brought out a legal system of his own devising; and the main objects of this were to keep order and at the same time to replenish continually the royal exchequer. In the governing of a country there was a constant need for money and it seemed an excellent plan to him to gain as much by imposing fines as by gathering taxes, although of course the latter was necessary too.

Determined to restore the order which had been lost through the reign of mild Stephen wrongdoers were punished by death. Many were hanged and many broken on the wheel and it was a common sight to come upon a dead man hanging from a tree or gallows.

This the people accepted because it did mean a suppression of crime and was a benefit to the law-abiding members of the population. What they would never agree to was the punishment meted out to those who infringed the forestry laws. Any man trespassing in the King’s forest or killing a deer or wild boar when his family might be starving invoked terrible penalties. For offending against these laws, arms, feet or hands were cut off; eyes were put out; men were castrated; and if the crime was considered to be a great one, they were boiled alive.

Many of these sad victims would be seen begging by the roadside and people shuddered at the sight of them for they knew that fate could have befallen so many of them. It was merely a sign that they had invaded and made free of the King’s forests.

Because of the King’s good laws they accepted this; but when what they considered unfair taxes were levied, they remembered. They remembered now.

So there was a further anxiety for Henry. The people of England who, up to this time, had given him little cause for anxiety were restive and complaining of his rule. With this to torment him and the discomfort of his ailment together with the awareness that his body was losing its exceptional vitality, he set out for France.

It was necessary to talk with Philip; if the two Kings could come to some agreement, their ministers told them, they could avoid the consequences of a bitter war, which at heart neither of them wanted.

Philip was eager to talk. His great aim was to prove to Richard that his father was deceiving him. He wanted to force Henry to admit this. But he was young and Henry was old and crafty as a fox; he was an adept at making promises with apparently genuine honesty only to have no intention of ever keeping them. Each King knew the goal of the other; Philip to take back everything and Henry to hold on to it.

They met under an old elm tree at Gisors which was well known as that tree beneath which the kings of France and England had often met to attempt to sort out their differences. The English arriving there first took the shady part and the French were obliged to wait in the sun, and as it was August and the heat intense, the sun-drenched French could scarcely bear it. No satisfactory conclusion could be reached and Philip was so angry because he and his men had been obliged to endure the sun’s heat while his opponents enjoyed the shade, and shifty Henry had apparently got the better of him, that in a rage he ordered that elm to be cut down so that no more conferences could be held beneath it.

He sent for Richard and, as his over-lord, commanded him to come to him without delay.

When Richard arrived he embraced him warmly.

‘We have been apart too long,’ he said.

Richard replied, ‘My lord, I love your company but I am my father’s son and I cannot with a good conscience work against him.’

‘Can you not, when he works continuously against you? Has he not denied you your inheritance?’

‘He has not said this. He has merely implied that he will give me no power and that I must wait until his death.’

‘It is not what is in his mind. I am going to call a conference and you shall be there. I will make my demands in such a manner that he is forced to betray his true designs to you. Then you and I will stand together against him, the friends we were meant to be, as I knew when you came to me as my guest. Tell me, Richard, can you bear to know the truth?’

‘I wish to know the truth more than anything.’

‘Then wait and I will confront him with my terms and we shall see.’

The two Kings faced each other. Richard was with them.

‘I offer you,’ said Philip, ‘all the lands I have taken in this last conflict. Richard shall keep what he has gained. I ask that he be given my sister the Princess Alice as his wife and you command your nobles, Archbishops, bishops and all men of authority to swear fealty to Richard as the heir of your dominions.’

Henry was cornered. He was asked to give up the two things he had sworn never to give up. The first Alice. She was his and he was going to keep her his. Moreover, he did not wish Richard to rule after him. England and Normandy were for John. Richard could keep Aquitaine but it was England for John.

What could he do? This was not a time for prevarication. He was caught at last.

The French King was smiling mischievously; Richard was looking at him steadily, and Henry remained silent.

‘You have heard the King of France, my lord,’ said Richard. ‘Swear to me that I shall have my bride and that I shall be acknowledged as your heir to which, on account of my being your eldest living son, I have every right.’

In vain Henry sought a way out. There was none. He could promise, yes, but he could see by the purpose in the eyes of Philip and Richard that he would be forced to carry out his promises without delay.

He cried out suddenly: ‘No. I will not.’

Richard looked at him in some amazement. Then he said quietly: ‘Now at last I see that you mean this. I would not believe it could be possible, but now I know it is.’

He turned to the King of France and unbuckling his sword he gave it to him.

‘My over-lord and suzerain, I offer you my allegiance,’ he said.

Richard had taken Philip’s hands between his and Philip stooped quickly and kissed Richard’s.

Their eyes met and those watching marvelled at the tenderness between them.

Henry was thunderstruck. Before his eyes his own son was swearing allegiance to his enemy. Philip was his liege lord of course on account of Aquitaine, but this was a pledge to stand with the King of France against his own father.

Philip said quickly that he would agree to a truce until January when they would meet again. In the meantime perhaps the King of England would consider his demands and if he could not agree to them, then war could not be avoided.

Philip had achieved his purpose. He had proved to Richard that his father would not accept him, had decided to disinherit him and set up John in his place.

When the conference was over Henry had the mortification of seeing his son ride away side by side in most affectionate manner with the King of France.