The Plantagenet Prelude

He was a man who needed women, but if he had a good one he did not wish to be promiscuous. One satisfied him providing she was always there when he needed her.

He had watched Hikenai’s figure thicken and noticed the obvious signs of pregnancy. She had been pleased.

‘This one,’ she had said, ‘will be a king’s son.’

‘You go too fast,’ he told her.

‘Come, my lord Duke, you’ll be a king before this little one has known two summers.’

‘It’s a good and loyal statement,’ he told her, and expressed the hope that it would be a boy.

While he had been in England he had seen his other, two boys.

‘By God,’ he had cried, ‘I am a begetter of boys.’

He had wondered whether their mother would still appeal to him. He had been devoted to Avice some few years before when he was in England, and the two boys she had borne him were fine little fellows. He remembered her saying she would call her firstborn Geoffrey after their grandfather, and William after their illustrious ancestor, he who was known as the Conqueror. Yes, he had been deeply enamoured of Avice. How old could he have been when Geoffrey was born? He was only twenty now. Fifteen!

Oh, he had been a lusty young fellow even then.

Avice was living at Stamford. It had delighted him to see the boys again. He had spent a night with Avice but the attraction was gone. After Eleonore perhaps, only such a practised harlot as Hikenai could satisfy him.

So he had taken his quick farewell of Avice and promised her that when he was king he would not forget her boys.

And now Stephen and he had called a truce. He would never understand Stephen. He liked his kinsman but Stephen was not of the stuff kings were made. There was something kind, sentimental, too emotional about him. He reminded him of Louis of France who had never been able to get out of his mind that his soldiers had pillaged a town in the church of which men, women and children had been burned to death.

Cruelty was not a kingly, quality but perforce it must be committed now and then, and when this happened it was best done quickly and forgotten.

When he was King of England he would follow the lines laid down first by William the Conqueror and then by his grandfather Henry I for they were ruthless men, but never cruel for the sake of cruelty. Justice came first with them.

That was the way to rule.

And now what next? What was Stephen implying?

There came a message for a meeting at Winchester. He would listen eagerly to Stephen’s proposal.

It was clear what Stephen’s intentions were. He was not so much an old man as a sick and tired one. He had lost his wife and his elder son. He was in no mood to continue the fight.

If he were allowed to rule in peace for the rest of his life he would name his successor Henry, Duke of Normandy, who unlike himself was in the direct line of succession. He was sure that the people would accept Henry. He was the son of the daughter of Henry I, himself son of the great Conqueror, whereas Stephen was the son of the Conqueror’s daughter Adela. There could be no one to raise a voice against Henry’s claim.

Henry was wise. He looked intently at Stephen. How long could he live? One year. Two years. Three at most.

Let the war be called off. He was content. He would go back to Normandy but he would first have the King’s assurance that it was his wish that he should follow him to the throne.

It should be done so that there was no doubt that it was Stephen’s wish, and the two traveled to London where a conclave of archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, justiciars, sheriffs and barons should be called.

And to these people the declaration should be made and set out in a treaty after the signing of which, fealty should be sworn to Henry.

A triumph. He had achieved what he had come for and without much bloodshed. This was the kind of victory all wise rulers hoped for.

Before the gathering Stephen made his declaration:

‘I, the King of England, Stephen, have made Henry, Duke of Normandy, the successor to the kingdom of England after me, and my heir by hereditary right and thus I have given and confirmed to him and his heirs the kingdom of England. The Duke, because of this honour and grant and confirmation made to him by me, has done homage to me and sworn by oath that he will be faithful to me...’

Indeed he would, for he was wise enough to know that if he waited until the death of Stephen, which could not be long, all men would honour him.

This declaration was of the greatest value. How much more important it was for Stephen to have made him his heir than for him to have won the crown in battle. Now all men must accept him.

He wanted now to get back to Eleonore. He wanted to tell her in detail of his triumph.

First though he must go to Oxford to receive the homage of the men who would be his subjects.

Before he left for that town he heard that Hikenai had been brought to bed, and went to see her.

She smiled at him from her bed and held up her child.

‘Our son, my lord,’ she said.

‘Another boy! So I am father of another boy.’

‘I shall call him Geoffrey after your father,’ she told him,

‘so that you will never forget that he is a member of the family.’

‘I am going to be King of England, Hikenai,’ he said.

‘And that day soon. I swear to you that when I am I shall not forget our son Geoffrey.’

‘I’ll keep you to that promise, my lord,’ she answered.

Then he went on to Oxford to receive the homage of those who would in time be his subjects.

Now he was torn between the desire to go back to Normandy to be with Eleonore and see their baby son, and to stay in England and consolidate his position. The important men of England had sworn fealty to him, Stephen had given him his word that he should follow him to the throne, even so, a man should be close at hand to watch his interests.

He could not make up his mind but it was not long before it was made up for him. His enemies in Normandy were attempting to take advantage of his absence. His mother wrote to him that she thought it wise for him to return. It was April when he arrived in Normandy. What joy there was in his reunion with Eleonore. This was a little tempered by a certain anxiety which the baby was arousing. He was not as lusty as they had at first hoped he would be.

There was plenty to occupy him while Eleonore cared for the little boy and it was not long before he had settled the uprisings. He took a troop of soldiers around his entire dominions and made it clear that he expected and would have obedience.

Matilda wanted to know what had happened during the parley with Stephen, and she listened intently while he told her how friendly Stephen had been to him and so anxious for peace was he that he had been ready to pass over his son William for the sake of it.

Matilda nodded. ‘He is an old man, I believe, now.’

‘He carries himself well and has a pleasant countenance,’ answered Henry.

‘He always had,’ said Matilda. ‘He knew how to charm people. I used to mock him for it. When he was young he would go out of his way to please people who could never bring any good to him. I used to say he was practising so that it would seem natural to those who could bring him good.’

‘One could not help but like him,’ said Henry, ‘and he was very eager to be pleasant to me.’

Matilda nodded, and was quite lost in memories of the days when she and Stephen had been more than mere cousins.

They talked of the troubles in the country.

‘There is Geoffrey,’ said Matilda. ‘He will not be content.’