The Revolt of the Eaglets - Plaidy Jean (книги бесплатно без .TXT) 📗

He promised certain concessions. Henry could choose whether he wished to live in Normandy or England; Richard should have more revenue from Aquitaine, and Geoffrey from Brittany.

How galling that they should retire with the King of France to discuss with him their own father’s proposals!

They left Gisors without seeing him again. His terms were unacceptable, they said. It seemed nothing would satisfy them but that he, the King, at the height of his powers, should hand over everything to his sons.

Frustrated and angry he fell into a great rage and declared that if the cubs wanted war they should have it.

Eleanor, disguised as a knight, was riding towards the French frontier. She had received little news of the fighting but her hopes were high that her three sons, with the help of Louis, would be victorious over her husband. She would not deceive herself; Henry was a great general; she had not been wrong in that respect when she had assessed him all those years ago. He was one of those men who are born to command and conquer. But no man should conquer her. If he had been her good and faithful husband, they would have worked side by side and she would have brought up her children to love and respect him. But his lechery was going to prove his downfall.

What would happen now? Louis, with young Henry, Richard and Geoffrey beside him would conquer Anjou and Normandy; she felt certain that there would be traitors in England to rise against her husband. But they would not be traitors, for they would support the new King, the young King, her own son Henry.

How she would laugh at Henry the old lion. ‘Did you not crown your son, Henry?’ she would taunt. ‘Was it not at your command that the ceremony took place?’

Sly, cunning he was, but he had made two great mistakes, one when he became involved in the murder of Becket and the other when he had crowned his son while he himself still wanted to hold the crown and all that went with it in his greedy hands.

‘We must be nearing Chartres,’ she said to the knight who rode beside her.

‘It will soon be in sight.’

She had forbidden them to address her as ‘my lady’. Not until she reached Louis’s Court should her identity be guessed.

She imagined his surprise at seeing her. Poor Louis, who had loved her so devotedly once. He had never wanted the divorce even though he knew she was unfaithful to him. He would have been her creature as Henry never would.

In the distance a band of riders appeared on the horizon, and Eleanor recognised them as men in the service of her husband.

‘We will call a greeting and pass on,’ she said, ‘and if they should ask whither we are bound we will say we are travellers who are on our way to Poitiers. Let us be civil with them and elude them as soon as possible. But it may be that a mere greeting will do.’

How wrong she was! She had had no news so she did not know that war was in progress between her son Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, and his father and it would immediately be assumed that the knights were on their way to join Richard. Therefore they would be the enemies of the King of England.

The party was three times as strong as Eleanor’s and it very quickly became clear what was about to happen.

‘Halt,’ cried the leader of the party. ‘You are Poitevins, are you not?’

‘We are,’ replied one of Eleanor’s knights, ‘and on our way to Poitiers.’

‘You will not reach it. You are our prisoners. The Duke of Aquitaine is at war with our King.’

Eleanor was horrified. This could mean only one thing. She was Henry’s prisoner. And how long could she keep her identity secret?

Henry was becoming very disturbed. This was no minor revolt. Trouble was springing up in every direction. He thought he knew why. God was angry with him. This was Thomas’s revenge. Of course he was guilty of his murder. Of course he had wanted him dead. He had more or less commanded those knights to kill him. At least he had upbraided them for not doing so. What could be clearer than that? And ever since ill fortune had been his lot. His own sons were turning against him and all over his kingdom there was discontent. Everyone connected him with the murder of Becket and to make matters worse, miracles were being performed at Canterbury and the story of them was being blazoned throughout his dominions.

That traitor Leicester was in Flanders doubtless making plans to invade England with foreign help and take it from him that it might be presented to his son. And now another blow, William King of Scotland had chosen this moment – as might be expected – to cross the border. Thank God he had some loyal friends. He could trust Richard de Luci to keep the Scots at bay. They were nothing more than a parcel of savages and although they could lay waste the country in most barbaric fashion they would have no chance against a well disciplined army. But he needed Luci elsewhere.

This was a ruler’s nightmare, when his dominions were so scattered and trouble arose in several places at once.

One of his men came in to tell him that a knight was without who wished to have urgent speech with him.

He commanded that he should be brought to him. Fresh trouble? he wondered. Where would the next rebellion be?

But this man’s news was different.

‘My lord,’ he explained, ‘we were riding near to Chartres when we came upon a party of Poitevin knights. We were of the opinion that they were riding to join the enemy so we captured them.’

The King nodded. The right act but scarcely one to report to him.

‘There was one among them, my lord, who aroused our suspicions. We formed the opinion that she was a woman.’

A woman. The King grimaced, but the knight’s next words made him stare at him in amazement.

‘She proved to be the Queen, my lord.’

‘The Queen! My wife!’ cried Henry.

‘’Twas so, my lord. She admitted it and there was indeed no doubt.’

Henry started to laugh. He stopped abruptly. ‘Where is she?’

‘We have brought her to you, my lord, not knowing your wishes.’

Henry went to the knight and slapped him heartily on the back. ‘You did right,’ he said. ‘By God’s eyes, I promise you I’ll remember you for this deed. She is here then. Bring her to me. I would have speech with my captive.’

It was indeed Eleanor. She stood there before him, anger in her eyes, defiance, hatred, everything he remembered so well.

‘Leave us,’ he commanded. Then he stared at her and gave vent to loud laughter.

‘So you have joined the army, eh?’

‘It behoves all men and women to fight against tyranny.’

‘Brave words from a prisoner. Captured, eh? Where were you going?’

‘To join my sons.’

‘And you were going into battle with them against their father?’

‘Nothing would please me more.’

‘You are a little old for such activities. These are not the days when you rode out to the Holy Land and had great sport on the way with your uncle and the infidels. You see what happens? You are captured before you reach your objective. I’ll wager you were on your way to the Court of France. Did you hope that now that you are old your first husband might be more to your taste than he was in your lustier days?’

‘It surprises me not that Henry the Lecher’s thoughts run always in one direction. My project was to gain for my sons that which is their right.’

‘You talk nonsense. I am the King. What I hold I hold by right and conquest. You are a foolish woman and you shall learn this for you are my prisoner and I swear that you shall never again be free while I live to make discord between me and my sons.’

‘What do you mean? You will throw me into a dungeon?’

‘What I intend to do you will know ere long.’