‘It is not his slave he would make you. He wants you to learn kingship from him and then when the time comes, to take over from him. It is a fatherly concern.’
‘To the devil with his fatherly concern. He is a miser, and you know it, William.’
‘Hush, my lord, do not say that which could be construed as treason.’
‘Faint-hearted William!’ taunted Henry.
‘Nay, my lord. Strong-hearted and strong in the arm I trust when it comes to protecting you.’
Marguerite was pregnant.
‘St Thomas has interceded for me,’ she declared. ‘Oh, how happy I am! I shall pray for a son.’
‘That son,’ said Henry proudly, ‘will one day be King of England.’
‘I trust he will never try to take the crown from his father as you have from yours.’
Henry was angry. ‘Dost think that I would deserve such treatment? Besides,’ he added shrewdly, ‘he will never be crowned King while I live.’
He was delighted. It was gratifying to become a father.
Messages must be sent to the Kings of England and France to inform them that they would become grandparents.
He thought of Richard, battling away in Aquitaine. He had always been a little jealous of Richard because their mother had doted on him so much. He wondered why, for Richard was not in the least like her. Richard was a throw-back to their Norman ancestors. Old Rollo must have looked a little like him.
Richard was succeeding in subduing Aquitaine because he was such a brilliant fighter but it was said that he would never be acceptable to the people, for he was alien to everything they were. He was so essentially of the North; he could be hard and cruel; and although he had some talents as a musician and poet he was very different from their mother’s languorous people. And if they did not accept Richard might they not accept someone who was more like themselves, someone who was content to enjoy life and did not want to be continually going into battle, someone who was easy going, who would enjoy the comfortable and easy life?
Why not?
This was a good life but inactivity was becoming boring. Intrigue was exciting and nothing could be more exciting than intrigue against the one whom he most wanted to defeat: his own father. One of his most glorious dreams was that his father, subdued and penitent, came to him to beg his pardon and ask that there might be an end to the strife between them. He could never completely shut out the memory of that humiliating scene when he had gone to his father, knelt before him and begged to be allowed to pay him homage. And the aftermath, that public statement of his humility! He would never forgive his father for that.
Suppose he stirred up a revolt – in Normandy perhaps? There were always people ready to revolt. On the other hand suppose he put out feelers to Aquitaine? Would the people there rather have him than Richard?
There were several possibilities.
William the Marshall guessed what dangerous thoughts were going on in the young King’s mind.
He wondered whether he could speak to Marguerite about his anxieties. The young Queen, since she had become pregnant, had become serene and more mature. She loved her husband. There was a great deal to love in Henry. He could be very charming when he wished and his appearance was very much in his favour. When he entered a room people would have known him for a prince if they had been completely unaware of his identity. He was said to be the handsomest prince in Christendom and if now and then he wore an expression of discontent this was not always the case.
William, who had known him from a child, when he had been knight-at-arms to the royal children, had until recently been closer to Henry than to his friends; he was much older and infinitely wiser, and he deplored the way in which the young King’s character was developing; and most of all he regretted his attitude to his father.
He went to Marguerite who was taking a little exercise in the gardens, as she had been advised to do, in order to ensure an easy confinement. When he joined her the two ladies who were accompanying her dropped behind and William walked side by side with the young Queen.
After inquiring about her health he brought up the subject of her husband and told her that he believed Henry was getting restive.
‘But he is so delighted at the prospect of having a son,’ she answered.
‘He is indeed. But I do very much fear that the conflict between him and his father will grow, and I would give a great deal to prevent that.’
‘The King is determined to prevent Henry from having any power, and that maddens Henry.’
‘In time the King might change his mind.’
‘Henry thinks he never will. He gets so angry that the King should treat him like a child.’
‘Will you try to placate him? I think if he will but be patient a while the King may change. In any case no good can be served by whipping up his anger against his father. My lady, will you try to make him see this? You can talk to him more easily than any. We both love him dearly and his good is our great concern. I know it is useless for him to plot against his father. That is not the way to achieve what he wants.’
‘I will try to speak to him,’ said Marguerite.
So earnestly were they talking together that they did not see the approach of Henry himself.
‘How now?’ he cried. ‘What is this I see? My friends and my wife sharing secrets!’
‘I was inquiring for the Queen’s health,’ said William.
‘Which you see is good.’
Henry fell into step beside them. ‘I long for the day when my son is born,’ he said; and the sulky expression was no longer on his face.
He is indeed the handsomest of princes, thought William. I would to God he were the happiest.
But he was happy enough walking with William and his wife and talking to them of plans for the future of his unborn son.
The prospect of becoming a father had by no means turned Henry’s thoughts from rebellion. Rather had it made him more than ever determined.
Plans began to form in his mind and he was often in the company of men who were known to be hostile to his father.
William the Marshall was not the only one who was uneasy. Adam of Churchdown, a man of mature years, could also see what was happening and asked himself what he should do about it.
He owed his allegiance to young Henry’s father. Moreover, he was fully aware that any insurgents whom Henry might succeed in arousing could do little good for any length of time against the superior forces and generalship of the older Henry.
It occurred to him that if he could send a message of warning to the King in England of what was happening, he would know how to deal with it. He therefore called a messenger to him, gave him a letter and told him to make all speed to the coast and not to give up the letter into any hands but those of the King.
He had worded the letter carefully. He considered it was no treason to young Henry; it was merely to put the King on his guard and Adam knew that he would act in such a manner as to curb young Henry’s rebellious activities and thus save him from disaster.
Alas for Adam, his messenger fell into the hands of one of those knights who hated the King of England and was eager to support his son in rebellion.
The messenger and the message were brought before the young King and when Henry read what Adam had written his rage was great.
‘Bring Adam of Churchdown to me,’ he cried.
Adam, standing before him, realised what had happened. This was disaster. Under the tuition of Philip of Flanders, he knew that his master had become ruthless, and he could expect little mercy.
‘So you are a traitor,’ spat out Henry.
‘Not so, my lord. I have only your good at heart.’