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This was the end of all hope of harmony between them.
By his reply and more by his omission the King had shown Richard that he was against him.
‘And he will find,’ said Richard, ‘that those who work against me will discover in me a bitter enemy.’
It was inevitable that conflict should break out between Philip and Henry. When the excitement about the crusade had died down, as it must do for the preparations were long and enthusiasm could not remain at fever pitch, Philip remembered that the greatest goal of his life was to drive Henry out of France and bring every province under one crown; Henry on the other hand was determined not to lose his inheritance and that land which he had added to it through his clever diplomacy. Each was firm in his purpose and as they were completely opposed so there must be conflict.
Philip was again calling for a conference. He knew that Richard was wavering. He had become involved in hostilities against the Count of Toulouse, a matter which did not greatly upset Philip for it gave him an opportunity to reproach Henry with his son’s conduct. He was, however, obliged to go to the assistance of the Count of Toulouse which meant that for a time Richard and Philip were on opposing sides. Philip had no intention of letting this affect his relationship with Richard, but the fact that, as Henry saw it, there was trouble between Aquitaine and France, meant that he could no longer stay in England and he prepared to cross to Normandy.
He was beset by great anxieties. He knew that the brief respite was over. Philip would not allow it to last long. Moreover the people of England, who had long been satisfied with his rather stern but just rule, were now complaining of the Saladin Tithe which he had imposed for the crusade. If asked they would declare that they were true Christians and that the thought of the Holy Relics being in the hands of the Infidel was distasteful to them; but when it meant that one-tenth of their possessions must be given up for the sake of an attempt to retrieve them, they were less enthusiastic. Life in England was not so comfortable that it could not be improved on; and it seemed that the money which would be taken from the country was needed within.
There had long been a murmuring discontent against the forest laws. Like his Norman ancestors Henry was devoted to the hunt. It brought him comfort and solace as it had to the Conqueror and there was no relaxation like it for a man as active as he had always been. To preserve the forests for his use – again like his ancestors – he had found it necessary to keep to the harsh laws they had introduced. He had brought out a legal system of his own devising; and the main objects of this were to keep order and at the same time to replenish continually the royal exchequer. In the governing of a country there was a constant need for money and it seemed an excellent plan to him to gain as much by imposing fines as by gathering taxes, although of course the latter was necessary too.
Determined to restore the order which had been lost through the reign of mild Stephen wrongdoers were punished by death. Many were hanged and many broken on the wheel and it was a common sight to come upon a dead man hanging from a tree or gallows.
This the people accepted because it did mean a suppression of crime and was a benefit to the law-abiding members of the population. What they would never agree to was the punishment meted out to those who infringed the forestry laws. Any man trespassing in the King’s forest or killing a deer or wild boar when his family might be starving invoked terrible penalties. For offending against these laws, arms, feet or hands were cut off; eyes were put out; men were castrated; and if the crime was considered to be a great one, they were boiled alive.
Many of these sad victims would be seen begging by the roadside and people shuddered at the sight of them for they knew that fate could have befallen so many of them. It was merely a sign that they had invaded and made free of the King’s forests.
Because of the King’s good laws they accepted this; but when what they considered unfair taxes were levied, they remembered. They remembered now.
So there was a further anxiety for Henry. The people of England who, up to this time, had given him little cause for anxiety were restive and complaining of his rule. With this to torment him and the discomfort of his ailment together with the awareness that his body was losing its exceptional vitality, he set out for France.
It was necessary to talk with Philip; if the two Kings could come to some agreement, their ministers told them, they could avoid the consequences of a bitter war, which at heart neither of them wanted.
Philip was eager to talk. His great aim was to prove to Richard that his father was deceiving him. He wanted to force Henry to admit this. But he was young and Henry was old and crafty as a fox; he was an adept at making promises with apparently genuine honesty only to have no intention of ever keeping them. Each King knew the goal of the other; Philip to take back everything and Henry to hold on to it.
They met under an old elm tree at Gisors which was well known as that tree beneath which the kings of France and England had often met to attempt to sort out their differences. The English arriving there first took the shady part and the French were obliged to wait in the sun, and as it was August and the heat intense, the sun-drenched French could scarcely bear it. No satisfactory conclusion could be reached and Philip was so angry because he and his men had been obliged to endure the sun’s heat while his opponents enjoyed the shade, and shifty Henry had apparently got the better of him, that in a rage he ordered that elm to be cut down so that no more conferences could be held beneath it.
He sent for Richard and, as his over-lord, commanded him to come to him without delay.
When Richard arrived he embraced him warmly.
‘We have been apart too long,’ he said.
Richard replied, ‘My lord, I love your company but I am my father’s son and I ca
‘Can you not, when he works continuously against you? Has he not denied you your inheritance?’
‘He has not said this. He has merely implied that he will give me no power and that I must wait until his death.’
‘It is not what is in his mind. I am going to call a conference and you shall be there. I will make my demands in such a ma
‘I wish to know the truth more than anything.’
‘Then wait and I will confront him with my terms and we shall see.’
The two Kings faced each other. Richard was with them.
‘I offer you,’ said Philip, ‘all the lands I have taken in this last conflict. Richard shall keep what he has gained. I ask that he be given my sister the Princess Alice as his wife and you command your nobles, Archbishops, bishops and all men of authority to swear fealty to Richard as the heir of your dominions.’
Henry was cornered. He was asked to give up the two things he had sworn never to give up. The first Alice. She was his and he was going to keep her his. Moreover, he did not wish Richard to rule after him. England and Normandy were for John. Richard could keep Aquitaine but it was England for John.
What could he do? This was not a time for prevarication. He was caught at last.
The French King was smiling mischievously; Richard was looking at him steadily, and Henry remained silent.