David the Prince - Scotland 03 (7 page)

"My lord Prince!" the latter cried, starting towards them. "Praise God — my lord Prince! The saints have mercy upon us — the King!"

Henry jumped down and strode over to his brother's side. William Rufus lay on his back, sightless eyes staring up through the canopy of the branches, a crossbow-bolt projecting from his chest.

It did not require the huntsman's repeated desperate assertions to convince that the King was dead; the arrow obviously was embedded in the royal heart.

Henry looked down, wordless, as David came up. It was the boy who found his voice first, even though it was a tremulous voice. "What . . . what happened?"

"Dear God alone knows, lord," the man Le Chi
ene gabbled. "Mercy on my soui - I
know not. I put up a fine hart. In Bartley Shaw there." He pointed eastwards. "Not far. The King's Grace and my lord Walter waited here. The hart bolted this way. I sent the hounds to flank it. I heard a scream, that is all. I came, hastening. I found
...
I found the lord Walter kneeling. Over the King's body. When he saw me coming, he jumped up, ran to his horse and rode off. Fast. No doubt to seek help, my lords. The King was . . . was already dead."

"Tirel!" Henry said, not in anger or anguish, but thoughtfully. "Walter Tirel!" '

"Why did he not stop? To tell us?" David wondered. He was looking resolutely away from the staring corpse.

"Fool! Would he come confessing that he had murdered my brother?"

"Murdered . . .? Oh, no. Not murder. An accident . . ."

"Accident, you say?" Henry barked. "Tirel is one of the best marksmen in all Normandy. William is shot through the heart. That was no accident." He straightened up, turning to Le Chiene. "Where are your other foresters?"

"They went further east, my lord Prince. Towards Bird's Walk Wood. To drive those coverts. They would not hear my horn
..."

"Where is the nearest house, man? Or farmery? We need a cart. For this . . . body."

"A cart? A cart, yes. The charcoal-burners have a cart. At Shave Green. We have used it to carry deer . . ."

"Very well. Go get it. Bring it. David - go find and tell de Breteuil. But - tell none other."

"Yes. Bring him here? To you?"

"No. Tell him that I have returned to Winchester."

"Winchester?
But . . ."

"Winchester, yes. Tell Breteuil to come there, to me. At once. No delay. Le Chiene - off with you. To Shave Green, for the cart. Bring his Grace's body to Winchester thereafter. You will not win there, with a cart, this night. Rest at Romsey Abbey. There is no . . . haste. For that!" And he strode over to his horse.

As David mounted his own beast, he looked back. The glade was already empty, deserted, save for the dead monarch, who lay as they had found him. Biting his lip, he hurried in search of the Treasurer. It occurred to him that this was, in a way, like father like son. William the Conqueror, too, when he had died twelve years before, at Rouen, had been deserted, even by his own sons, left lying on the floor of his bedchamber for the dogs to nuzzle.
He
had no cause to love William Rufus - but it was an unchancy way to die.

* * *

It was early evening when David, accompanying de Breteuil, arrived back at Winchester. The town was quiet, with no signs of alarm - the palace too, when they reached it. An officer met them at the gatehouse, however, to say that the Prince Henry awaited them in his own bedchamber. To go, at once.

They found the Prince pacing the floor, still in his green hunting-clothes. "Well my friends," he greeted them. "Here is a notable to-do. You have been commendably swift. As well, for there is much to be done."

"It is most terrible, shameful . . ." the Treasurer began, when Henry raised hand to cut him short.

"Save the lamentations for the funeral!" he jerked. "If lamentations there should be. William was a bad king — and is gone. The realm will have a better, now. You have told none, as yet?"

Both shook their heads.

"That is well. I shall announce the death myself, presently. Meanwhile, to business. And, first of all my Lord Treasurer
-
the keys."

William de
Breteuil stared. "Keys . . .?" he echoed. "Which keys, my lord Prince?"

"The Treasury keys, to be sure. What do you suppose?" "But, but . . ."

"But nothing, man. Those keys - I want them."

"Henry - I swore a solemn oath. As Lord Treasurer of this kingdom. That I would keep them secure, never leave them from off my person. Save to hand them, when required, to the rightful King of England."

'I
am the King of England now, Will. Have you not thought of that? Give me them."

The other gazed at him, whilst David gulped. They were seeing a new Henry Beauclerc.

"Henry - my lord Prince - how can that be?" de Breteuil demanded. "You are the youngest son. Robert, Duke of Normandy, is older. He should succeed. In the treaty between your brothers it was decided. That Robert should have Normandy and William the greater England. But that if William died, lacking heir, Robert should be King . . ."

"Robert is far away. On this great Crusade to the Holy Land. Moreover, Robert is a fool, and weak. England needs a strong king, with wits - and here present! Now. Think you that this realm of fierce, proud lords and warring factions can be held together by aught but the presence of a determined monarch who knows his own mind? If I do not grasp the throne
now
,
there will be war within weeks and no kingdom of England within months!"

"Nevertheless, Henry, you are
not
the King. Not yet. Not when there is a more senior heir, and named so by treaty. Not until you are accepted as such by at least a great number of the lords. And until you are I cannot give you the keys." "You
will
not?"

"No. I am sorry. I am your friend - but this I cannot do."

"So-o-o!" Henry turned, to where his sword hung from its belt on a peg beside his bed. He whipp
ed it from its scabbard. "Will – I
will have those keys. They are on your person. We arc friends, yes - but a kingdom's weal is more important than one man, even a friend. Give me them - or, as God is my witness, I shall strike you down and take them!"

For a long moment they eyed each other starkly, while David gripped the girdle of his tunic tightly.

Then de Breteuil inclined his head, and reaching up, loosened the silken scarf around his neck and drew out the three keys in a soft leather pouch which hung on a golden chain. Slipping the chain over his close-cropped head, he handed it, warm from his body, to the prince.

Henry nodded. "Now - to the Treasury. David - yonder is another sword. Draw it, and follow me. Will
-
you also. Come."

Leaving the bedchamber they strode through the long vaulted corridors of the castle-palace almost to its other end, Henry beckoning imperiously to any guards or others they passed to fall in behind. They had collected quite a little crowd by the time they reached the North Tower. There, isolated, a special guard of three men, throwing dice, started up in some confusion at the eruption, reaching for their weapons; but seeing that it was the prince and their own master, the Treasurer, they straightened up in salute.

Henry handed the sword he was carrying to David, who now had two. The Prince selected the largest of the three keys, to unlock the heavy door of the tower basement. As it creaked open, he signed to all but de Breteuil and David to remain outside. Voices rose in question and exclamation as the door was closed again in their faces.

The stone-vaulted cellar was only dimly lighted with three slit windows, but sufficiently to reveal the stacks, from floor to curved ceiling, of iron-bound chests, scores of them. Henry stepped over, loosed the hasp of one and threw up the lid. It was filled with silver pieces. He tried another. This was as full, but of gold coins. He picked up a handful of these, and let them trickle through his fingers.

"The sinews of a kingdom!" he said. This was the Conqueror's treasure, looted from all England and half France, added to by Rufus's penal taxation and extortions from Holy Church.

Slamming down the lids again, Henry took the middle key and opened an inner door, which led into an adjoining and smaller chamber. As well as more chests, this one was shelved, and on the shelves were piled hundreds upon hundreds of vessels and ornaments in gold and silver, cups, chalices, pattens, crucifixes, plates, candlesticks, images of saints and the like, many jewel-encrusted. Opening one of the chests here, the Prince showed that it contained unnumbered rings and brooches, necklaces and loose gem stones. Another was filled with gold chains and belts.

But it was to a special solid-silver chest, banded in gold, placed in the deep single window-embrasure of the thick walling, that Henry made his way. With the third and smallest key he unlocked this. Inside, on the padded velvet cushions, lay the symbols they had all last seen eleven months before at the Crown-wearing - the crown itself, the orb and sceptre, the ring and the spurs, gleaming dully in the thin slantwise evening sun.

Henry picked out the crown, looked at it for seconds on end, and then, transferring it to his left hand, shut the lid again and relocked it. "Enough!" he said.

Neither of the other two had spoken a word throughout.

They went out, locking the two doors behind them. Henry kept the keys. Beyond the outer door they found the crowd grown. There was a great indrawing of breaths and a swell of comment when they saw what the prince was carrying.

He raised his voice. "De Comines - go find the Justiciar Flambard. Tell him to have everyone of any quality in this palace assemble in the Great Hall. At once. The castle guard to muster and come to me. At the dais entrance. And send wine. Now. You have it?"

"Yes, my lord Prince," the Chief Butler said, agitated. "But . . . the King's Grace . . ."

"Do as I say, man. Forthwith. I speak with the King's voice. Heed it!"

Henry now led the way to the hall, speaking to none. David felt distinctly foolish with his two swords. De Breteuil walked grim-faced behind.

So they came to that same dais platform. All but the three principals were sent curtly down into the body of the hall. Henry remained aloof. But when wine and beakers were brought, he dismissed the servitors and poured for his two companions.

"That New Forest," he said, in a voice different from that he had been using. "It is accursed. I shall never hunt there again. This is the third of our line to die there. My brother Richard, gored by a stag. My half-brother broke his neck, thrown. Now William. That monk from Gloucester spoke truly . . ."

Flambard appeared from the dais-entrance, looking concerned. His glance went straight to the crown, which Henry had placed on the table.

"My lord Prince - what is this?" he exclaimed. "Where is His Grace the King?"

The other did not answer, not in words at any rate. He pointed a finger at the Chief Justice and then jabbed it down towards the lower level of the hall-floor. Flambard hesitated, then, compressing his lips, descended the dais-steps.

Henry poured himself another beaker of wine.

The hall was filling up now, and agog with talk. Reginald de Lucy, the commander of the royal guard, appeared from the dais-doorway. "The guard is assembled, my lord Prince," he announced. "Is this the King's command?"

"Yes. Have a file of them in here. Behind me. The rest round to the door of the hall. When the horn blows, none to enter or to leave. Save on my orders. See to it."

De Lucy looked doubtful but did as he was told.

At length Henry turned. "A blast on your horn, David."

When the wailing notes died away, the prince raised his voice. "My friends - and, it may be, my unfriends also! I have tidings for you, important tidings. Heed well what I say. King William, my brother, is dead. Slain by an arrow, in the New Forest . . ."

The commotion in the hall halted him, and he let the noise prevail for a little, expressionless. Then he raised hand for silence.

"My brother was slain by a bolt shot by Walter Tirel. Whom all know. Who was alone with him in the wood. Whether of intent or accident is yet to be established. But . . . Tirel has fled!"

Again the uproar drowned his words. Henry turned to David and pointed to the horn once more.

The high notes of it gained approximate quiet.

"You will remain silent!" Henry cried "The next to raise his voice unbidden will be removed by the guard. Heed you - and fail to do so at your peril! There has to be a King in England. I,. Henry, have assumed the crown." He picked up the golden circlet and held it aloft. "From this moment, I am King Henry.