‘Oh Alice, my sweetheart,’ he murmured, ‘you have much to answer for.’
He longed for home … and Alice. He thought of her in Westminster or Winchester or Woodstock. Dear, beloved Alice, who never complained that he could not marry her; who was content to remain in comparative seclusion; who was content merely that he love her and keep her from Richard.
He had Alice, but he desperately wanted his sons’ affection too. He had visualised when they were in the nursery how they would grow up and work together and how happy they would be to do his bidding. He had seen them as a formidable family of strong men with himself at the head. None would have dared come against them. Four sons who would marry into Europe and bring more and more rich lands under the Plantagenet crown. How sad, how disillusioning, with his sons warring against each other and against him and making allies of the King of France!
And now Henry dead – and most ignobly had he sacked sacred shrines before dying and something must be done about that or there would be no good fortune for the family. The saints must be placated.
Henry, the most beautiful Prince in Christendom, with his charm of manner which drew men to him – dead. What a waste of a life!
My son, whom I wanted so much to love and who wanted nothing from me but my crown!
And Richard? No, not Richard! He could not have him beside him, the future King of England. How could he? And what of his marriage? It would be expected now.
I will send for John, thought the King.
John came riding in from the hunt when the news was brought to him that his father wished to join him.
John was now seventeen years old; very conscious of being the youngest son, he had been determined to exert himself. His brother Henry had been tall and handsome, so was Richard. John however took after his brother Geoffrey. They were both of small stature though their limbs were well formed. Their father, who was of little over medium height, seemed to tower above them both. Geoffrey and John were very much alike in features and also in character. Both of them could acquire knowledge without much difficulty and were more interested in book learning than either young Henry had been or Richard was. Geoffrey had always been able to express himself with lucidity and to put forward a good case when this seemed a difficult thing to do. John was like Geoffrey in this. He was bland and full of soft words when he wanted something. He was deceitful and seemed to take a delight in deceit. For the sheer joy of getting the better of someone he would go to great lengths and perhaps achieve nothing in the end but the pleasure of deceiving someone.
Gerald of Wales, the priest who had been sent to John to help further his education, realised that it was no use attempting to go against his nature. John had long been dissolute. He had been seducing women from a very early age and often rode out into the country with a band of lusty followers indulging in seduction or rape, whichever came to hand.
He was in the charge of the justiciar Ranulf Glanville, a very able man who had distinguished himself on the battlefield and won the King’s favour to such an extent that he was content to overlook his peculations which were numerous, even when they were proved against him.
That his son John should have been put in the charge of such a man was strange even though he was a justiciar of England and one of the most important men in the country.
John admired him and saw nothing wrong in his shady dealings.
At seventeen he was very much aware of being the youngest son and he never forgot the fact that when he had been born his father had called him John Lackland.
Now his brother Henry was dead and Richard was the heir with Geoffrey next and then himself. It seemed there was no hope for him with two strong brothers to stand between him and the crown; but there was this in his favour: his father was fond of him.
John was amused. Henry had perhaps been the favourite because Henry was tall and beautiful and knew how to charm people, even his father. It seemed he could shoot an arrow at him which could have killed him if it had not pierced his cloak instead and still he could talk himself out of such a situation.
John admired that in his brother, but Henry was a fool of course. He had died of a fever, and that was the end of him. Richard was always going to war so he would doubtless meet a violent end one day.
That left Geoffrey. John had a great deal in common with Geoffrey – they looked alike; their characters were similar. John was the more dissolute. He had surrounded himself with companions of similar tastes. Geoffrey was a sedate married man in comparison; he had a wife, Constance of Brittany, and a daughter Eleanor named after their mother. John, too, had inherited the Angevin temper. He was as ready to flare up as his father was and then his rage could be terrible. He was naturally not so feared as his father, but his attendants always kept well out of the way when John’s temper was about to rise. There was a sadistic streak in him, too, which Geoffrey lacked. And, although on the surface he appeared to be a pleasant young man with a charming manner, beneath that facade there were traits of character as yet unsuspected even by those who were close to him.
When he received the news that his father wished him to join him in Normandy he sent for Ranulf de Glanville to tell him the news.
‘You see what is happening, Ranulf, I am to be my father’s favourite now.’
‘Good news, my lord. Good news.’
‘The poor old man must have one son on whom to dote.’
‘And fortunate, my lord, that Richard and Geoffrey have displeased him so much that you are to be the chosen one.’
‘The chosen one! What do you think it means?’
‘It means that it depends on you, my lord.’
‘What do you mean, “depends on me”?’
‘How you play your part. You could have England.’
‘I … King of England, with two brothers to come before me!’
‘Richard loves not England. He is for Aquitaine. Geoffrey is out of favour. He stood by while someone shot the King’s horse from under him and made no move. Think you the King will forget that?’
‘King of England, Ranulf. I like that. I like it mightily. Think what sport we would have … you and I … and others … roaming the country … received everywhere with acclaim. Riding into the towns, picking the most likely women … and all coming running when I beckoned.’
‘There might be some who repulsed you.’
‘So much the better. A little resistance is amusing. One does not seek submission all the time. If that were so what would become of the delicate art of rape?’
‘My lord, you must curb your language when you are in the presence of the King.’
‘A rare one to talk! What about him? In the days of his youth no woman was safe from him and it seems he can even now give a good account of himself.’
‘Alice contents him when he is in England.’
‘That makes me laugh, Ranulf. Richard’s betrothed is my father’s mistress! I have heard that she bears him children. Is it so, think you?’
‘We should not believe all we hear, but if Alice is fruitful it is no more than must be expected.’
‘Methinks he loves not Richard.’
‘And Geoffrey has displeased him.’
‘And so,’ said John, ‘that leaves his youngest son – his good and dutiful John who will love him and obey him and prove to him that he will be his very good son. Do you think I can play that part, Ranulf?’
‘My dear lord, I think you can play any part you have a mind to.’
‘I have a mind to this one. He must make me his heir, Ranulf, before he dies; and once he has done that I shall be very ready to take a tender farewell of the old man.’ John began to laugh.