The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean (список книг txt) 📗

‘Lord Abbot.’ said Purkiss, ‘this is the body of the King. It is in urgent need of decent burial.’

The Abbot took one look at the corpse and groaned in horror. Secretly he cursed Purkiss for bringing it to him. He hesitated; but he dared not send the men on with it. Where else would they take it? And if he turned away the body of the King, what then?

But he knew there was going to be difficulty in the burial.

He was right.

The Church had constantly been under the attack of Rufus. He had sneered at it and always baited churchmen. He had said he might be going to hell but at least he would have a good time on earth. Well, now he was in hell, so most people believed.

Stories about the dead king circulated. There was not the usual need to speak well of the dead, for Rufus had been a self-confessed sinner with no fears of hell. Some said they had seen the Devil in the form of a great goat in the sky, clutching the soul of Rufus. Rufus was damned. Therefore nothing too bad could be said against him.

His evil life was recalled. His vicious friend, Ranulf Flam-bard, should be punished with him, it was hinted. He had shared his vices. Everything would be different now. Rufus was where he belonged—in hell.

How could such a man be buried in consecrated ground? He would defile any place where he was laid. Yet what should be done with him?

Days passed. The corpse was now almost unrecognizable and horrible to behold. Something would have to be done.

Henry made the decision. Rufus was his brother and had been a king. Therefore he must be accorded burial. Royalty must not be insulted, even evil royalty. A grave should be dug in the choir of the new cathedral and the body of Rufus should be put there. Although he would be in that spot where Saxon Kings lay, his burial should not be attended by any ceremony. The bells should not toll for Rufus, no alms should be given, and as he had so often declared that he cared for nothing for the future of his soul, no prayers should be given for its salvation. There should be no text, no cross, no symbols. Although he should be buried among kings—since he was a king and a son of the great William I—there should be no indication of where he lay.

Thus was the Red King laid to rest.

Shortly afterwards the great cathedral tower crashed to the ground and there was terror throughout Winchester.

This was God’s vengeance on the city because its people had buried an evil king in a cathedral dedicated to Him.

At least the evil man was now in the custody of the Devil, but the stories about his wickedness were retold and exaggerated in the telling. They forgot that he was a great general and that although he had milched the Church he had given the country some fine buildings, the chief of these being the White Tower and the bridge across the Thames.

They forgot the few virtues and remembered the many vices; and they looked forward to the new reign of that benign —or so he had told them he was—and peace loving monarch King Henry I.

A Royal Wedding

The most hated man in England was Ranulf Flambard. During Rufus’s reign Flambard had been blamed for all the hardships that had been inflicted upon them. He it was who had collected the taxes for Rufus and devised vile means of doing so; therefore he, more than the King, had been regarded with loathing.

Henry, eager to consolidate his position and not lose one little bit of the popularity he had gained through his declaration, decided that he must immediately perform two acts which would please the people.

The first would be to punish Ranulf Flambard and the second to marry the Saxon Princess.

Henry decided to deal first with Flambard. He had studied the man’s methods often enough and had known that he was exceedingly clever. He had a mind to match Henry’s. He had worked well for Rufus – and for himself of course – and would be an asset to any king for whom he was working.

Henry could have made use of him. He wondered whether he would be as devoted to him as he had been to Rufus because there had been a closer tie between the two of them than Henry could ever have with any man. Bribes might work with him. But no, that would be folly. To take Ranulf into his counsels would be in direct contrast to all that he promised the people. He was not in a strong enough position to do that yet.

Henry had a new adviser in one Roger, a priest who could say the mass quicker than any priest in the country. This had at first endeared him to Henry and, favouring him, he found him astute in many ways.

He discussed with Roger and with Henry Beaumont what should be done about Flambard.

Roger said: ‘He is too clever a fellow to lose.’

‘Yet the people wish to see him punished,’ insisted Beaumont.

‘He never failed to raise the money my brother required.’ mused Henry, ‘and I am going to need money. If I am going to bring about all the reforms I wish to, I am going to need a great deal of it.’

‘Yet he must appear to be punished.’

Henry agreed. ‘He shall be seized. It would please the people to know that he was imprisoned in the White Tower, for it was in raising money to build that Tower that he used the harshest methods.’

‘Then he must be imprisoned there. There will be great rejoicing when he is. And the people will applaud you and stand more firmly behind you.’

‘He shall be arrested without delay and conveyed there,’ decreed Henry.

* * * * *

Ranulf was making preparations to leave. Henry, being the clever man he was, would not, he knew, delay long in taking action. Ranulf had toyed with the idea of going to Normandy. Robert was away at the Holy War. What a fool Robert was! What did he think he was doing? Saving his soul! Ranulf had said to Rufus and this had amused the late King: ‘Normandy’s a high price to pay for a soul.’

He had often wondered what would happen when Rufus died; he had not expected it yet in spite of the dream and the warnings. Rufus had been a strong man and he had never thought of such an accident. Was it an accident? Richard, the King’s brother, had died in the forest, and Richard might have been King of England. Had memories of Richard’s death put an idea in someone’s head? If so, that someone would be a man, or men perhaps, who wished to see Henry on the throne.

How far was Henry implicated? Or was it an accident?

He had heard a startling piece of news. Sir Walter Tyrrell had left England rather suddenly. Why? Henry had been at Winchester very soon to claim the crown. It was almost as though he had been prepared.

But what was the use of speculating on the past? What was done was done and could not be changed. It was the future that was all important-^-the future of that clever fellow, Rufus had nicknamed Flambard, because he had taken his flaming torch into those lands and other possessions and robbed the owner of them in order to fill the King’s coffers.

He heard the sound of guards outside.

Escape was too late. Foolish of him to have delayed so long —and all for the sake of gathering together his riches! Of what use would they be to him now!

‘You are our prisoner.’ said the captain of the guards.

‘On whose authority?’

‘On that of the King.’

Too late! he thought.

He was serious suddenly. What fate was in store for him? Not his eyes. He would die rather. Many a man had dashed out his brains against the stone wall of his prison when the hot irons were ready to tear out his precious eyes.

To the White Tower—that edifice which had special significance for him. How he had squeezed the money for that out of his protesting victims!

Ironical! How like the new King to send him there. And what would happen to him in that mighty fortress? What revenge would Henry take?

Into the Tower. He knew every bit of it. He had seen the plans which he had discussed at length with Rufus.