The fact that the King ignored these rules and was indeed spending more and more, and often on the foreigners, had given rise to such discontent that the leading barons, under Simon de Montfort, were determined that the position should not be allowed to endure.
Henry was depressed. He could not ride out without an armed guard. The barons were turning his subjects against him, he said.
He remembered how his grandfather had, in the depth of his melancholy, caused a picture to be painted of an eagle in a nest with the young eaglets attacking him. Henry represented the eagle, the eaglets his sons. His was not quite such a sorry case. He could imagine nothing as bad as having a man’s own family turn against him. Thank God, that had not happened and that unfortunate matter with Edward had been resolved and had been proved to be due to malicious Gloucester’s envy of Simon de Montfort. Edward was his very good son and if he wanted proof of his family’s affection he only had to think of how Margaret had deceived her husband and his ministers because of her great desire to come to England and be with her family.
Now it was the people who were traitors to their King – the barons led by that man who had menaced his peace of mind for so long – Simon de Montfort.
He went to pray in the Abbey of Westminster and when he was returning to the palace he passed one of the monks who was painting a picture of the Abbey. He paused to admire it. It was exceedingly clever how the monk had caught the gleam of the stone.
‘A fine picture, William,’ he said.
The man bowed his head in pleasure.
‘You are indeed an artist.’
‘God has been good to me,’ said William. ‘All that I have comes from Him.’
‘That’s true. But that He has chosen you as His instrument redounds to your credit.’
The King stood for a few moments studying the picture.
‘You shall paint one for me, my good monk,’ he said. His eyes narrowed. ‘You shall depict me with my subjects who are endeavouring to tear me to pieces; but I shall be rescued … rescued by my own dogs. Would you do that then, good William?’
‘My lord, I could paint a picture no matter what the subject.’
‘Then here is a subject for you. It will show future generations what I had to endure from those who should have served me best. Rest assured, you will be paid well.’
The monk bowed his head and the King passed on. As he continued to paint the picture of the Abbey William was thinking that the King was overwrought and small wonder if rumours he heard were true. There was trouble brewing, and when a King’s subjects were restive and ready to rise against him it needed only one little spark to set the conflagration going.
The King would forget he did not doubt and he was surprised when the following day he was summoned to appear before him. That very day the picture was begun.
When it was finished, the King declared himself well pleased. There was no mistaking the meaning there.
Henry said: ‘It shall be placed in my wardrobe here in Westminster. I come here when I wash my head and I shall never fail to look at it and marvel at the ingratitude of those men whose duty it is to obey me. I have commanded my treasurer Philip Lovel to pay you for your work. You have done well.’
So the picture was hung and for several weeks the King would look at it every morning when he came into his wardrobe. After a while he forgot, for Simon de Montfort, realising that the country was as yet unripe for rebellion, left for France.
There was trouble in Gascony and the King’s presence was needed there.
He told the Queen that he would have to go and he could not bear to be parted from her.
‘Then I will come with you,’ she said.
Henry frowned. ‘I could not contemplate going without you but I am afraid to leave the country.’
‘That wretched de Montfort is no longer here. The people seem to be coming to their senses.’
Henry shook his head. ‘It is not quite the case. People do seem to hate us less, but we have enemies all about us. We cannot afford trouble in Gascony now. I want at the same time to see Louis … to sound him … perhaps to get his help.’
‘You think he would give it?’
‘No king cares to see another deposed.’
‘Deposed! You don’t think they would dare?’
‘They tried to do it to my father. That was the worst thing that ever happened to the monarchy. It lives for ever in their minds. I think Louis would not wish to see me toppled from my throne. It sets a precedent. He might help.’
‘He should help,’ said Eleanor. ‘After all he is Marguerite’s husband.’
‘Alas, my love, all have not such strong family feeling as you are blessed with.’
‘I must come with you, Henry. I insist. You have not been well of late.’
‘The thought of going without you makes me desolate indeed.’
‘We have a son. Let Edward return to England. He is of an age now to take the reins in your absence. Oh, my dear Henry, you hesitate. No child of mine would ever stand against his father.’
Henry took her hand and kissed it. ‘I see you are right as you so often are. I should let myself be guided by you. Edward shall return. Our son will take charge of matters here in our absence; and you and I will not be parted.’
The Queen was to be grateful that she had accompanied the King for it seemed that luck was against him. When in France he was smitten with a fever which rendered him very feeble and even endangered his life, and but for the untiring nursing of the Queen he might have died. Without her, he admitted, he would have felt listless and in no mood to fight for his life. But she was here to make sure that he had doctors and attention and everything possible to sustain him. Most of all she assured him that he must live for the sake of her and the family.
She reminded him how Edward had sobbed when he had sailed for France years ago when Edward was but a boy; she recalled Margaret’s recent visit. Did it not show how loved he was?
Was it so important that his subjects were ungrateful and easily led astray when he would always have his beloved family beside him? He must think of them, for if he did not fight for his life and keep his hold on it he was condemning them to such misery as he could well understand, for what misery would he know if she, his wife and Queen, were taken from him.
He began to recover under the Queen’s ministrations but he had not achieved the purpose of his visit. He had been several months in France; the trouble in Gascony had resolved itself but Louis was not inclined to offer material help. All he could give was advice which was something Henry thought he could do well without. Henry returned to England.
Simon de Montfort was back and his absence had endeared the rebels to him. They had feared that he had wearied of the struggle and had left them to fight the battle with the King, and on his return he was welcomed with such enthusiasm that it seemed the moment was ripe to start bargaining with the King.
They agreed to meet the King and Simon arrived with a party of barons led by himself and Roger Bigod of Norfolk.
The Provisions of Oxford must be adhered to, said the barons. These have been laid down by the Parliament and even the King must accept the wishes of his people.
Roger Bigod said: ‘My lord, since your return from France you have brought even more foreigners into the country. This is against the wishes of your people.’