The Plantagenet Prelude

This suggestion was acclaimed by his ministers and all right-thinking men and women, and great optimism swept over the country.

In Bermondsey, Eleanor awaited the birth of the child while Henry began his pilgrimage. He traveled in great state as became a king and with him rode not only his army but his domestic staff with all their accoutrements. His bed with clean straw for his bedding was carried in the cavalcade, with objects of furniture, his clothes and food.

Cooks, stewards, scullions, and other members of his household staff marched with his soldiers.

People turned out in their thousands to watch the procession pass and so during those early days of his reign he began to rid the country of the brigand barons, burning down many of their fortresses much to the delight of those who had for long lived in fear of them.

There were of course many who resented this but they had little chance against the King. As the days passed he grew in strength and it was clear to many that the weak rule of Stephen was over.

Meanwhile in the village of Bermondsey Eleonore gave birth to her child.

This was a cause for great rejoicing for not only was it a boy but this time a lusty one. This was a great comfort for little William’s health had not improved and it seemed hardly likely that he would reach his manhood.

‘There is only one name for this boy,’ declared Eleanor.

‘He must be called Henry after his father.’

As soon as Eleanor had risen from child-bed she joined Henry and they went about the country together in order to show themselves to their people.

‘Let us be together while we can,’ said Henry, ‘for I fear trouble either in Normandy, Aquitaine, Maine or Anjou...and then I shall have to leave you to govern here in my absence.’

Eleanor replied that she hoped he would stay with her, but if by ill-chance he was forced to go away she would use all her skill to govern in his place and according to his wishes.

‘It was a good day when we were wed,’ he told her. ‘Two sons you have already given me and it is not so long since we were married.’

‘I am anxious about William,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem to have the will to live,’

‘He’ll grow out of it.’

‘You could never have been like that.’

‘Oh, I would bawl for all I wanted and when my grandfather used to dandle me on his knee, he told me that his father grasped a handful of rushes when he was a few days old and that this was a symbol of what his life would be. He’d take land wherever he found it. And it seems I took after him. You can’t expect everyone to be like us.’

‘I’d expect it of your son,’ replied Eleanor. ‘Henry is more like you. He has more life in him already than our poor little William.’

‘William’ll change. He’ll be a scholar most likely. Forget not he has two learned parents.’

Although he was smiling he was thinking of his illegitimate son by Hikenai and of his promise to bring him to court.

Not yet, he comforted himself. The boy would be too young for a few years.

During one of his visits to Bermondsey his brother Geoffrey came to the palace and demanded an audience.

Geoffrey’s looks were sullen.

‘How like you England?’ asked Henry.

‘How could I like a land in which I am a pauper depending on my brother’s whims?’ demanded Geoffrey.

‘What an impatient fellow you are!’ retorted Henry. ‘I have not had the crown long enough to dispose of land and castles.’

‘I believe some have been favoured by you.’

‘Those whose support it was necessary to have, yes. I expect yours, brother, without payment.’

‘Perhaps you expect too much,’ grumbled Geoffrey.

‘Be patient, brother. Great good will come to you if you will but be patient.’

‘Great good should have come to me by now. Did not my father leave me Anjou and Maine in his will, to be mine when you gained the crown of England?’

‘All in good time,’ parried Henry.

And he thought: How long would this boy hold Anjou and Maine? To give them to him would be to throw them to our enemies.

‘In whose good time?’ demanded Geoffrey. ‘Mine or yours?’

‘In that of the King’s,’ answered Henry; and Geoffrey went away grumbling.

Very soon afterwards Henry heard that his brother had left England and had returned to Anjou.

It was as he had expected. Geoffrey had gone back to raise men to his standard. He was declaring that he had right on his side. His father had left him Anjou and Maine which were to come to him when his brother secured the crown of England and now Henry refused to hand them over. There was only one thing to do and that was fight for them.

As Henry was occupied in England there were men ready to flock to Geoffrey’s ba

Matilda, the Empress, had come to England. She wanted to see her son in the crown which she had always believed should have been hers. He was delighted to see her for her single-minded devotion to him had endeared her to him, and he believed she had never really cared for anyone but himself, and that he could rely on her advice.

He told her of Geoffrey’s fury and pointed out that he could not give him the land his father had promised him.

She saw the point at once. Only her eldest son was worthy to rule. All her hopes were in him. His brothers, she, believed, should have been contented to serve him.

The more possessions in the hands of the King of England, the more powerful he would be and that was for the good of the House of Plantagenet.

‘You will never get my brothers to see that,’ sighed Henry ruefully. ‘There is also William. How shall I satisfy him? He will soon be wanting territory to rule over. I have been talking over with Eleanor a plan for conquering Ireland and setting up William as its king.’

Matilda was thoughtful. ‘That’s well enough for later on. First you must make sure of your position here, and what of Anjou and Maine? What do you think would happen if you took a war into Ireland? Geoffrey would immediately revolt and take your possessions over there. Perhaps even Normandy. Nay! You have secured the crown of England. Now make sure that you lose nothing that you have before you seek fresh conquests. You should go. and see what mischief Geoffrey is making.’

He talked this proposition over with Eleanor and she was sure that Matilda was right.

‘I shall miss you bitterly,’ she said. ‘But you must go and save Anjou and Maine.’ She grew pale. ‘Perhaps even Aquitaine is in danger. Nay, you must go. You can leave me here with Leicester and Richard de Luci. You know you can trust us.’

‘Aye, I know,’ answered Henry; and he thought: They are right. This is what happened to my grandfather and my great-grandfather. Their lives were spent between England and Normandy because being in possession of one there was always the need to keep the other.

Eleanor was pregnant once more. He must leave her.

She would be capable of ruling with the help of men whom he could trust.

And so he set sail for his troubled possessions across the sea.

There was much to occupy her.

She had set about making a court in England to compare with those which had delighted her in Aquitaine and Paris.

Already troubadours from Provence were coming to her court. They were singing their songs of love and often she was the heroine of the romantic stories they portrayed.

Whenever she rode out her clothes were admired by the people who gathered to stare at her and raise a loyal shout.

She set new fashions. She was often seen with her hair loosely plaited covered by fine gauze; her gowns with their long hanging sleeves were the delight and wonder of the citizens of London, a city of which she was becoming very fond.

She delighted in the Tower of London at the east end of the city; she liked to pass under the gateway of Ludgate and enter the old cathedral; she loved the river down which she sailed to Westminster past the Strand with the beautiful gardens ru