The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean (читаем полную версию книг бесплатно txt) 📗

‘I shall do all in my power to bring up your son as a good Christian prince,’ replied Becket.

‘Take him to England. Let it be arranged that all the barons and bishops do homage to him. Let England recognise him as their future king.’

Before Thomas reached England Theobald was dead and Thomas regretted that he had not disobeyed the King’s orders and gone back to say a last farewell to his old friend.

In fairness to himself he could suppress his conscience.

He was the King’s Chancellor and in this important post had his duties to perform. Theobald would have understood that. Thomas wondered whether at the end Theobald had regretted getting the Chancellorship for him.

He now devoted himself to the task of carrying out the King’s orders regarding young Henry. The boy soon became devoted to him and the task was pleasant, but it was not long before there came a message from the King.

Thomas was to join him in Normandy.

The See of Canterbury had been vacant for some months, and the country was without its chief archbishop. Henry was in no great hurry to fill the post for while it was vacant the vast revenues fell into his coffers.

The winter had been bad and Thomas suffered great discomfort from the cold, and as a result became ill and was forced to rest at St Gervase in Rouen while the royal party went on to Falaise.

One day when he was well enough to sit up he wrapped himself in a loose robe and was playing a game of chess with one of his knights when the Prior of Leicester called to see him.

The Prior expressed astonishment to see him in such unclerical garb. ‘Why, my lord,’ he said, ‘you look more like a falconer than an archdeacon. Yet churchman you are. Your titles even now are formidable. Archdeacon of Canterbury, Dean of Hastings, Provost of Beverley and Canon of Rouen. Nor is that all.’

‘What mean you by “nor is that all ”?’ asked Thomas.

‘I speak only of the rumours and what is said to be in the King’s mind concerning the Archbishopric of Canterbury.’

‘And what is this then?’

‘That he has it in his mind to make you his Archbishop.’

Thomas rose unsteadily to his feet.

‘Nay, you have heard amiss.’

‘This is what is said in court circles. Those who are intimate with the King are saying that he has mentioned your name in this connection.’

‘It must not be. I know three priests in England whom I would rather see promoted to the Archbishopric than myself.’

‘Are you not an ambitious man then, Chancellor?’

‘My ambition is to do my duty.’

‘Then could you not please God doubly as head of his Church in England?’

‘The King has been my good friend. I know him intimately. I know it would not be good for me to be his Archbishop. I am his Chancellor. As such I can serve him well. It would please me to go on as I am.’

‘The King holds you in such esteem that he would wish to see you head of the Church.’

‘If I became Archbishop of Canterbury I should not hold his favour.’

‘Why should you not?’

‘Because the King likes not those who do not agree with him.’

‘He likes his Chancellor.’

‘We can disagree in secular matters yes, and do. And in these I should be forced to give way to the King. If I were Archbishop I might be called upon to set aside my duty to God in order to please the King.’

‘You’re a strange man, Thomas Becket.’

‘I know myself,’ answered Thomas, ‘and I know the King. I shall decline his offer of the Archbishopric.’

It was difficult to continue with that game of chess.

Uneasy thoughts had settled in Thomas’s mind and come to stay.

The King sent for him at his castle of Falaise.

‘Hey, Thomas,’ he cried. I trust I see you well. Why, you look thin and wan, man. Be of good cheer. Soon we shall set sail for England. I’ll warrant our green fields will make you well again.’

The King’s eyes were glazed with sentiment. He was thinking of Rosamund in her bower waiting to see him. It would in truth be good to be home again.

He turned to Thomas and there was deep affection in his eyes.

‘I wanted to talk with you, Thomas, about a certain matter. It’s months since old Theobald died.’

‘Almost a year,’ said Thomas.

‘And the See of Canterbury has been vacant all this time.

Not that I will complain about that. But it seems we must have an Archbishop there and my thoughts have alighted on the man best suited to fill the part.’

‘I know of several priests who would fit the role admirably, my lord.’

‘I know of only one and that makes the selection easy.’

Henry took a step towards Thomas and laid his hands on his shoulders. ‘My good friend, it gives me pleasure to reward you for all your services to me. I have decided that you shall be my Archbishop of Canterbury.’

‘You are gracious, Sire, but I refuse the honour. It is not for me.’

‘Not for you! What in God’s name do you mean? Not for you! It is for you. I say it’s for you.’

‘My lord, it would not be wise.’

‘What’s this? You and I together. Do we not rule this land, eh? Do I not listen to you and take your advice?’

‘When it pleases you to do so,’ said Thomas.

The King laughed aloud and slapped Thomas on the shoulder.

‘True enough, my good friend. The Church has ever been a thorn in the side of our kings. I have often thought to myself, I will never suffer that thorn. And how shall I avoid it? By putting my good friend Thomas at the head of the Church. Have we not been good friends through your Chancellorship?’

‘The best,’ said Thomas.

‘I like our friendship, Thomas. That’s why I like you with me. I like to go hawking with you. I like to sup at your table.

You are as my brother. There, is that not an honour to you?

The grandson of great Henry and the great-grandson of greater William chooses you, the son of a merchant, as the best friend he ever had.’

‘Such condescension is flattering,’ said Thomas. ‘I, as a humble merchant’s son, am aware of the honour done to me. I value that friendship which you are gracious enough to acknowledge, and it is because I cannot bear to spoil it that I decline the post you offer me.’

The King’s temper was beginning to rise.

‘If my lord will excuse me...’ began Thomas.

‘Nay,’ roared the King. ‘I will do no such thing. You will stay here and you will go on your knees and thank me for my munificence in offering you this great post which is what you desired more than anything else, the peak of your ambition, the post on which you set your heart ever since you entered the Church.’

‘May I speak?’

‘You may.’

‘If I take this post it could impair our friendship.’

‘How so?’

‘If we did not agree...’

‘Are we not now often in disagreement?’

‘It is so. But that is in matters of government in which I must perforce give way to you. You are my King and I am your servant. If I became Archbishop of Canterbury there is one whom I must serve before you and that is God.’

‘A plague on such talk! My ancestors have quarreled constantly with the Church. There has ever been conflict between them. It is to avoid this that I wish you to be my Archbishop. You and I will have our disagreements but should we ever quarrel seriously?’

‘I must repeat that my first allegiance would have to be to God. You are my King and my friend. I would have it remain as it stands now. I beg of you, my lord, to accept my decision.’

The King stared at Thomas. ‘I could force you...’ he began.

‘Nay, that is one thing you could not do,’ contradicted Thomas.

‘Then I must perforce persuade you. Now, your looks do not please me. I like not to see my Chancellor so wan. You shall not travel until you are completely recovered. I must go to England and you shall follow me when you are well.’

‘You are gracious to me, my lord,’ said Thomas with some emotion.