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Now more than ever he needed to show the world that he was ready for any who should come against him.
Duke Conan of Brittany had died suddenly and it was evident that there might be trouble there, for Conan had been holding Brittany for Henry’s son, young Geoffrey, who as a boy not yet thirteen years old was not capable of governing himself.
No sooner had Henry heard that certain Breton nobles were stating their refusal to do homage to him than he set himself at the head of a troop of soldiers and marched on Brittany. He felt better immediately. Whatever the outcome of Becket’s death he was still the King of England and surely not even the Pope would dare attack him.
With his usual skill in a short time he made those Bretons realise that he was their master. His son, Geoffrey, was as yet too young to take up his role as ruler but his father would hold the land for him until he was of age.
That lesson accomplished he was ready for whatever might come. He was seriously thinking of Ireland. This was the answer. He would not brood in one of his castles waiting for excommunication; he would go into action and add to his possessions, thus making himself more powerful than ever.
It was while he was settling affairs in Brittany that he received a message from Count Humbert of Maurie
Knowing that Count Humbert was a widower with two daughters Henry guessed what might well be the nature of his business and when he considered the Count’s possessions, Henry was not displeased.
He received him with honour and begged him to state his business.
‘As you know, my lord King,’ said Humbert, ‘I have no son but two daughters, and it would be a great honour to me if you would accept the elder as a bride for your youngest son.’
Henry pretended to be taken aback. In reality he was far from it. He had already thought very seriously of what Humbert could bring into the family. This was very important. His daughters, Matilda and Eleanor, were both suitably placed – Matilda to the Duke of Saxony, Eleanor to the King of Castile; as for Joa
Here was an opportunity to provide him with territory to rule over. For the chance of marrying his daughter to the son of the King of England – albeit that son had three brothers older than himself and therefore one might say had no chance of reaching the throne – a mere Count of Maurie
He narrowed his eyes and studied the Count. ‘Well, my lord Count,’ he said, ‘I believe your daughter to be a comely child in good health and I would welcome her into my family, but I must look to my son’s welfare. What dowry would she bring?’
‘For such a marriage,’ said the Count, ‘I would be prepared to bestow the greater part of my lands. I have as you know, my lord, a younger daughter, and for her I must reserve a little of my territories, but as she could not hope to make such a brilliant marriage as her sister naturally she would have to take a far smaller portion.’
‘There is the County of Belley,’ said Henry. ‘And the valley of Novalesia.’
‘And Rossillon-en-Bugey, my lord. Aix, Aspremont, Rochetta, Mont Major …’ The Count went on counting them off on his fingers.
The King sat nodding. ‘And you have a claim on Grenoble, I believe.’
‘I have, my lord, and that too should pass to my elder daughter.’
‘It seems a fair enough proposition,’ said the King.
‘I should ask that the bridegroom brought five thousand pounds to my family,’ added the Count.
Five thousand pounds! For so much! It was a fair bargain and Henry’s eyes sparkled at the prospect of the lands which would come into the family on the marriage of John to the daughter of Humbert of Maurie
‘Of course your son is but a child as yet,’ went on the Count.
‘Almost six years,’ agreed the King, ‘but bright for his age and there is no reason why we should not get them betrothed. We’ll not bed them yet but it is well for them to know that we think of them.’
It was a bargain.
John should be Lackland no longer.
It was this kind of bargaining which pleased the King and made him forget the gathering storm over the death of Becket.
While he was congratulating himself on this match, disturbing news was brought to the castle. Two papal legates had already crossed the borders into France on their way to deliver a message to the King of England from the Pope.
Henry was well aware of what that message would contain. His spies had heard that the Pope wished him to observe his humility which meant of course to do some penance for his share in the murder of Becket. To do this would be to admit publicly his guilt and that was something he was not prepared to do.
He must leave for England at once before the papal legates could reach him. There he would give orders that any messenger from the Pope should on setting foot in England be seized as a spy.
Then he would make plans for his campaign against Ireland. The conquest of that country could not be achieved in a few weeks. It would doubtless be a campaign of some duration and while he was engaged on such an enterprise he could hardly be expected to give his mind to other matters. The longer the lapse of time between the murder and the reckoning the better.
So … to England.
His first visit was to Rosamund, now installed in the royal apartments at Westminster. As ever her beauty surprised him and he marvelled, as he had never ceased to do, that he could have loved her so long. The years had added a serenity to her charms; and he thought how much more attractive she was than a more clever and ambitious woman would have been. Of course he was comparing her with Eleanor.
She was pleased to see him and for the first day and night there was nothing but this delight in each other.
She told him of the fears she had while he had been away. He responded with assurances that in the strategy of war he was always one move ahead of his enemies; and that never had he forgotten her and his joy in returning to England was because he would find her there.
They talked of their boys who were now growing up. Young William would soon be of an age to come to Court.
‘Never fear,’ said Henry, ‘the boys shall be as my legitimate sons, for, Rosamund, in my eyes you are indeed my wife.’
‘But not, my lord, in the eyes of God and the State.’
‘What matters that if you are so in my eyes? I will tell you something that has been in my mind of late. I have no love for the Queen – nor she for me. Why should I not rid myself of her?’
‘How so?’ asked Rosamund with a note of fear in her voice.
‘Why should I not divorce her?’
‘It would never be permitted.’
He was astonished. It was rare for her to suggest that anything he wanted would not be possible.
‘If I willed it, it should be,’ he said a trifle impatiently.
‘There are the young King and his brothers.’
‘’Tis no affair of theirs. Their position could not be altered.’
‘On what grounds would my lord be given his divorce? If it were consanguinity then would not the young King and his brothers be illegitimate?’