…’ stammered young Henry.
‘I said we, by which I mean you and I.’
‘You will need me to stay in England while you are in Normandy.’
‘My justiciary Richard de Luci has my complete trust.’
‘Father, I would rather stay here. I have had my fill of Normandy.’
The King raised his eyebrows and his son was alarmed to see the familiar tightening of the lips and flash of eyes which warned any who beheld it that they must be wary, for those were the danger signals.
‘I thought you would wish me …’ began young Henry.
‘I have told you what I wish. You will be ready to leave for Normandy. I desire your company there, my son.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the young King quietly.
This was humiliating. Henry secretly raged against the Pope. He had to keep himself under control. He was in a very tricky position. That he, Henry Plantagenet, should be summoned to meet the papal legates was insulting. Yet what could he do? He must act very carefully or the whole world would be against him.
He would have to deal very subtly with those emissaries of the Pope and he wanted to be completely free of anxieties while he did so. Ireland was safe, he believed, even though it was not yet fully conquered. He himself would be in Normandy. Eleanor was in Aquitaine; and he was certainly not going to leave young Henry in England. He would have to be watchful of that young man. He was beginning to see what a great mistake he had made in crowning him King. Why had he done it? To spite Thomas à Becket. To have the boy crowned by Roger of York. Yes, it had been done partly to humiliate Thomas à Becket. Thomas … it always came back to Thomas!
Now he needed some comfort before he left for Normandy and he would go to Rosamund.
He thought there seemed something lacking in her pleasure. She was as deferential as ever, as determined to please and yet there was a certain sadness about her.
He awoke in the night and felt the weight of his trials heavy upon him. He stroked her hair and kissed her into wakefulness.
‘My Rosamund,’ he said, ‘I doubt I was ever in such a position as I now find myself.’
She was wide awake at once, ready to listen, to offer comfort.
‘Before I gained the kingdom which was mine by right I had very little but my hopes. I was sure then of my success. Then I achieved it and my troubles began. It is the fate of kings of England ever since the Conqueror. Our lands are too far flung for us to be able to keep them in order. This I accepted. I knew that any moment I must hurry to Normandy to subdue this or that traitor, and then come back to England because I was needed here. But never was I summoned before.’
‘Can you not refuse to go?’
‘I would have the whole of Christendom rise against me. I would to God these miracles at Canterbury would stop. I do not believe in them. They are a fabrication of my enemies.’
He was aware that Rosamund shuddered. Even she had changed since the death of Thomas à Becket.
‘You believe that, Rosamund?’
She was silent.
God’s eyes, he thought. Even she believes Thomas is a saint and I am guilty of his murder.
He sat up and looked at her in the faint light of the crescent moon. Beautiful Rosamund whom he had loved for years, and been faithful to in his way, even she thought him guilty.
‘How could I have known that those stupid knights would take me literally?’
Still she was silent.
‘Why do you not speak, Rosamund?’ he asked.
‘What do you wish me to say, my lord?’
‘I wish you to say what is in your mind, not to utter words which I should put into your mouth.’
She raised herself and wound her arms about his neck.
‘Then I would say, my lord, that in Normandy you should admit that these men thought they were acting on your wishes.’
‘All the world knows that already.’
‘And that you would give a great deal to undo what is done and that you take responsibility for this fearful crime.’
‘I … take
‘I said we, by which I mean you and I.’
‘You will need me to stay in England while you are in Normandy.’
‘My justiciary Richard de Luci has my complete trust.’
‘Father, I would rather stay here. I have had my fill of Normandy.’
The King raised his eyebrows and his son was alarmed to see the familiar tightening of the lips and flash of eyes which warned any who beheld it that they must be wary, for those were the danger signals.
‘I thought you would wish me …’ began young Henry.
‘I have told you what I wish. You will be ready to leave for Normandy. I desire your company there, my son.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the young King quietly.
This was humiliating. Henry secretly raged against the Pope. He had to keep himself under control. He was in a very tricky position. That he, Henry Plantagenet, should be summoned to meet the papal legates was insulting. Yet what could he do? He must act very carefully or the whole world would be against him.
He would have to deal very subtly with those emissaries of the Pope and he wanted to be completely free of anxieties while he did so. Ireland was safe, he believed, even though it was not yet fully conquered. He himself would be in Normandy. Eleanor was in Aquitaine; and he was certainly not going to leave young Henry in England. He would have to be watchful of that young man. He was beginning to see what a great mistake he had made in crowning him King. Why had he done it? To spite Thomas à Becket. To have the boy crowned by Roger of York. Yes, it had been done partly to humiliate Thomas à Becket. Thomas … it always came back to Thomas!
Now he needed some comfort before he left for Normandy and he would go to Rosamund.
He thought there seemed something lacking in her pleasure. She was as deferential as ever, as determined to please and yet there was a certain sadness about her.
He awoke in the night and felt the weight of his trials heavy upon him. He stroked her hair and kissed her into wakefulness.
‘My Rosamund,’ he said, ‘I doubt I was ever in such a position as I now find myself.’
She was wide awake at once, ready to listen, to offer comfort.
‘Before I gained the kingdom which was mine by right I had very little but my hopes. I was sure then of my success. Then I achieved it and my troubles began. It is the fate of kings of England ever since the Conqueror. Our lands are too far flung for us to be able to keep them in order. This I accepted. I knew that any moment I must hurry to Normandy to subdue this or that traitor, and then come back to England because I was needed here. But never was I summoned before.’
‘Can you not refuse to go?’
‘I would have the whole of Christendom rise against me. I would to God these miracles at Canterbury would stop. I do not believe in them. They are a fabrication of my enemies.’
He was aware that Rosamund shuddered. Even she had changed since the death of Thomas à Becket.
‘You believe that, Rosamund?’
She was silent.
God’s eyes, he thought. Even she believes Thomas is a saint and I am guilty of his murder.
He sat up and looked at her in the faint light of the crescent moon. Beautiful Rosamund whom he had loved for years, and been faithful to in his way, even she thought him guilty.
‘How could I have known that those stupid knights would take me literally?’
Still she was silent.
‘Why do you not speak, Rosamund?’ he asked.
‘What do you wish me to say, my lord?’
‘I wish you to say what is in your mind, not to utter words which I should put into your mouth.’
She raised herself and wound her arms about his neck.
‘Then I would say, my lord, that in Normandy you should admit that these men thought they were acting on your wishes.’
‘All the world knows that already.’
‘And that you would give a great deal to undo what is done and that you take responsibility for this fearful crime.’
‘I … take
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