Go to Canterbury! His ministers were disturbed. Go into the realm of his old enemy the King of England!
‘You forget,’ said Louis, ‘that we are now friends. We have sworn an oath to this purpose and we are planning to go on a crusade together.’
‘It is unwise to put too much trust in the King of England,’ advised his ministers.
‘I trust him now,’ replied Louis. ‘Moreover St Thomas has told me to go. If I do not my son will die. Even if I suspected perfidy on the part of the King of England I would still go to save my son.’
They could see it was no use attempting to dissuade him.
Philip of Flanders was excited by the prospect. He was inclined to agree with the King’s ministers that it was not very wise for Louis to go to England but the prospect of excitement always exhilarated him. Life had been a little dull since his return from the crusade and he was now trying to ingratiate himself with young Philip for he could see that Louis was not long for this world and the journey over the sea would surely be a great trial to him.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I trust I may be allowed to accompany you.’
‘I would be glad of it,’ answered Louis.
His ministers remained dubious. Did he think that he could endure the crossing of the sea? He knew how unpredictable that stretch of water could be.
Louis was well aware of this but his mind was made up. All that remained to be done before he set out was to tell his good friend the King of England of his desire.
When Henry heard that Louis wished to visit the shrine at Canterbury he was uneasy for it occurred to him that while the King of France was in England he would surely wish to see his daughter. He would have to impress on Alice, if this meeting took place – though he would do his utmost to see that it did not – that she must in no way betray her feeling for him. Reference would certainly be made to Richard and if so she must feign to accept him with pleasure as her husband. She could trust Henry to see that the marriage would never take place. But time enough to prime Alice, if a meeting took place between father and daughter. Louis was at the time a very anxious man, concerned with one thing – the preservation of his son, so it might well be that he would forget the predicament of his daughter.
He sent a messenger to Louis with an effusive welcome. The King of England would be honoured to receive the King of France. He understood his great grief and his desire to intercede through St Thomas. He would add his prayers to those of Louis and Louis could be sure of a safe conduct. There was absolutely no need for those in France who wished him well to fear for his safety. The King of England would personally make himself responsible for it.
Assembling a brilliant cavalcade Henry travelled to Dover to await the arrival of the King of France. People gathered at the roadside to see him pass and there were many to witness the meeting of the two Kings.
Poor Louis, racked with anxiety for his son and the misery he had endured during the crossing, looked his age. Have I aged as much in the last few years as he has? wondered Henry. He could still spend a day in the saddle without tiring; he was as active as he ever was and men still marvelled at that tremendous energy which showed no sign of abating. He had never cared for his appearance. How Eleanor had reproached him for that, calling him a peasant in some of her rages, jeering at his chapped hands and his manner of dressing, calling him a barbarian because he said clothes were meant for use and not for ornament. Barbarian indeed! Some of them loved their finery. What about her Saracen lover for one? Why should he think of Eleanor after all this time? What did he care for her opinion? Alice loved him. Alice thought him the most wonderful being that had ever lived. That was all that mattered. His hair was getting thin and he had been proud of his tawny curling locks. They had perhaps been his greatest personal vanity. Even now he combed them carefully in an attempt to hide the baldness.
He had aged a little then, but gracefully, as was to be expected. But poor Louis was an old man. He must be nearing sixty – quite an age; and he did not look as if he would last much longer.
Henry embraced him. ‘My dear, dear friend. Welcome. It rejoices me to see you here.’
There were tears in Louis’s eyes. ‘Blessings on you, Henry. How good it is of you to make me so welcome on your shores. My heart is sick, my dear friend, sick with anxiety. My beloved son …’
‘I feel for you,’ said Henry, ‘and I have made it known that there shall be no delay. When you have rested from your voyage we will go together to the shrine at Canterbury and there mingle our tears and our prayers. I doubt not that they will be answered. Be of good cheer. St Thomas is the good friend of us both and he will intercede for you. I know it.’
Louis thanked his kind host and the next day they set out together for Canterbury.
The Kings rode side by side along the road to Canterbury. They talked, Louis of his son’s misadventure in the forest and how the night in the damp and lonely place had brought on a bout of the fever which often plagued him. ‘He is my only son,’ wailed Louis. ‘You, my good friend, are more fortunate, you are the father of several.’
More than you know, thought Henry; and odd as it is I get more comfort from those who were born outside wedlock than those born within. Perhaps that has something to do with their mothers.
‘I have had my trials with my brood,’ said Henry.
‘You have never had anxieties as to their health.’
‘Nay, but they’re a fighting breed, I fancy. I trust my young John will not turn against his father as the others have done. At least, Louis, you have not suffered that kind of ingratitude.’
Henry thought: There is time yet for Philip to give you cause to suffer it, for I’d not trust him. At least my sons are handsome, boys to be proud of, although rebellious. I would hate to have a peevish weakling like your Philip.
‘We are close,’ said Louis. ‘Bound by the marriages of our children. What a bitter blow that Marguerite should have lost her child. Our grandson would have made a greater tie between us. But I am the father of your son Henry even as you are of my daughter Marguerite. And so it will be with Richard and Alice …’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Henry hastily. ‘You must have heard of the numbers of miracles which have been performed at St Thomas’s shrine. The blind have been made to see, the lame to walk. I believe with all my heart that this time tomorrow when we have said our prayers, Philip will begin to get better.’
‘You comfort me, my friend. I am beginning to believe, too, that it will be so.’
The bells were ringing a welcome as they passed through the walls of the city. Louis went at once to the crypt and knelt by the tomb of St Thomas. There he prayed all through the day and night refusing food, pleading with St Thomas to intercede with God for the life of his son.
Nor was he content with prayer. He promised that the convent there should receive its wine free every year from France.
Henry expressed his thanks and insisted on taking his guest with him to Winchester that he might have a brief respite there before making the arduous journey across the sea. He was determined to show friendship for Louis. It was no use offering him a banquet. Louis was more interested in churches. Henry, however, took him to his treasure vault and there asked him to take something as a pledge of their friendship.
Henry trembled with anxiety as Louis handled some of his most precious gold, silver and jewel-studded ornaments, for he could not bear to part with any of his possessions; he need not have feared. Louis chose something of small value and again they pledged their friendship.