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‘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 ru
‘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.
‘My lord is amused.’
‘I think of my father. Great Henry Plantagenet before whom men tremble. His sons have been a disappointment to him … all but John. He does not know that John is the most wicked of them all. ‘Tis true is it not, Ranulf?’
‘It may well be. But let us please keep that interesting fact from your father.’
‘You may trust me, Ranulf.’ He fell on his knees and raised eyes moist with emotion to Ranulf’s face. ‘ “Father, I am your youngest son. I would I were your eldest. But young as I am there is time for me to show you that I will bring to you that which my brothers failed to. Your sons have disappointed you … all but John. It is my mission to prove to you that there was one in the nest whose coming shall repay you for all the ingratitude of the rest.” How’s that, Ranulf?’
‘It could be improved,’ said Ranulf.
‘It shall be, my friend. It shall be.’
Henry received his son with open arms.
‘My son John! It does me good to see you.’
He looked into the young face and John raised eyes as full of emotion as they had been when he acted before Ranulf.
‘Father, you have suffered much,’ said John. ‘I rejoiced to receive your summons. I wanted to come to bring some small comfort to you.’
‘My blessings on you. I need comfort. Your brother, John, my handsome son Henry, to die as he did! He was so young.’
‘He was twenty-eight, Father, and was it true that he had desecrated shrines before he died?’
‘We must pray for his soul, John. He repented at the end. William the Marshall has given me an account of his last hours. When he died he was lying on a bed of ashes in a hair shirt.’
‘I thank God,’ said John.
‘You know, my son, that I am sore pressed. Your brothers are warring against each other one moment, against me the next. Henry was engaged in war against me when he died. That grieves me sorely. But he sent a message to me and I forgave him. We were friends then. Would to God we had never been anything else. These battles in the family, John, they are no good to any of us.’
‘No, Father.’
‘You are now of an age to be taken into my confidence.’
‘I rejoice in that. I want to be beside you. I want to help you. I must learn quickly.’
Henry’s eyes were emotional suddenly. Could it really be that in this son he was going to find the one who would make up for the disappointments the others had brought him?
‘Your brother’s death has made great changes,’ went on Henry. ‘The King of France will now be demanding Marguerite’s dowry back. I ca
‘My brother Richard is now the heir to England, Normandy, Anjou …’ began John.
The King was silent.
‘He will have to marry the Princess Alice now,’ said John slyly.
‘We shall see,’ said the King.
‘People are saying that there is something strange about the Princess. So long she has been betrothed and still there is no marriage.’
‘People will always make mysteries where there are none,’ said the King.
‘Mysteries, yes. There are no real mysteries because someone always knows the answer to them.’
‘I have sent for your brother Richard,’ he said. ‘He is unacceptable to the people of Aquitaine and I am going to make him give up the Duchy.’
‘Who will take it then?’ asked John.
‘You, my son.’
John nodded. The idea pleased him. He was going to be King of Ireland; he had several estates in England; and now Duke of Aquitaine.
He could see that his brother’s death had benefited him
greatly. He must keep his father’s good will and much more that was good would flow his way.
Richard wondered what his father could wish to say to him. The trouble in Aquitaine had been settled favourably with the King’s help, and he could now say that he had established his position there.
That there must be change, he knew. The heir to the throne was dead and he was the next. He believed that his father had many years left to him and one thing was certain: no one would be allowed to take the crown of England or have the slightest sway in Normandy and Anjou while he lived. Aquitaine was different. That had been passed to him by his mother and he could be said to have won it over the last years by the right of his own sword.
If he became the heir to the throne of England and his father’s dominions of Normandy and Anjou, what of Aquitaine?
The King received Richard with accustomed restraint and wished that it had not been necessary for them to meet.
The two brothers surveyed each other with suspicion. John felt a pang of envy, for the blond giant had an air of kingliness which he knew would never be his. He had always disliked Richard, though not as much as he had Henry, for Henry had been even more handsome, as tall, and had a charm which delighted almost everyone.
Well, he was dead now and Richard was heir to the throne and large dominions overseas, and it was better to be King of England than Duke of Aquitaine.
‘My sons,’ said the King, taking them to his private chamber where they could be alone to talk. ‘We meet at a time of great bereavement.’
‘Henry was a fool,’ said Richard in his usual blunt way. ‘He knew he had a fever and he refused to care for himself. He brought on his death.’
The King bowed his head and John said: ‘Hush, Richard. Do you not see our father’s grief?’
Richard said: ‘Since they were at war together and Henry was behaving with the utmost folly I doubt not our father remembers that.’
The King was thinking: Richard is right. I mourn my son but I ca