The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine (45 page)

Louis saw the wisdom of this. There was nothing else he could do. He was a man of faith. He believed that his son’s life would now be spared.

In order to impress Louis with his friendship—and perhaps fearing that he might have heard rumors about Alais and himself—Henry took Louis to visit churches, where, I have no doubt, there was more praying; he also showed him the treasury vaults and begged him to take some precious object as a mark of the amity between them. How amused I should have been! If I had been Louis, I should have selected the most valuable object I could find, for I knew how Henry hated to lose anything of value. I believe he would have regretted the gesture as soon as he had made it. But there was little malice in Louis. He had never been interested in earthly possessions and took the smallest object he could find.

Louis declined further hospitality and declared he was sufficiently rested to make the journey back across the sea and return to his son for he was sure Thomas Becket would not have failed him and that God would have answered his prayers by now.

And sure enough, when he returned to France, he found that Philip Augustus had completely recovered. Everyone was sure that his return to health had begun at that moment when Louis was on his knees at the tomb of the martyr.

It was a miracle.

It was of great importance now to go ahead with the coronation. My son Henry was at the French Court with Marguerite. He would be dismayed at the recovery of Philip Augustus, which had put the French crown out of his reach. I hoped he was not foolish enough to show it.

Before anything else there had to be a thanksgiving service at St. Denis. The whole French nation must show its gratitude for the heir’s return to health.

My son was to ride beside the King of France in the procession. Louis had been delighted by the show of friendship which had been given him in England and the fact that the King had prayed with him so earnestly for the recovery of Philip Augustus when the latter’s death could have brought such power to his own son. Louis’s faith in human nature was almost equal to his faith in God. It was nave of him, but rather lovable in a way, and there was so little that was lovable about Louis that I wanted to remember it.

There was an incident during the journey to the abbey.

Louis had been looking ill apparently soon after his return. His wan looks had been commented on, and as they came near the abbey, one of the knights near to him saw him sway sidewards. He was just in time to catch him before he fell. He was carried back to the castle and the doctors were sent for. They diagnosed a seizure and thought he had not long to live.

Louis was paralyzed in his arm and leg, but he did not die immediately.

Now the coronation of Philip Augustus was very necessary. Louis sent for the Count of Flanders and put the care of his son in his hands. The Count of Flanders had been one of those who had joined with young Henry against his father. I wondered what my husband thought to see him in such a position, guiding the new King of France, for with Louis incapacitated, that was what Philip Augustus would soon be. So poor sick Louis—unwise as ever—chose the Count of Flanders to guide his son through the coronation and after. My son with his wife Marguerite was present at this impressive occasion. What bitterness he must have been feeling! I knew my son well. He had come very close to winning the crown, and Thomas Becket had intervened.

The old King had undoubtedly shortened his life by crossing the seas to get assistance.

So Philip Augustus went to Rheims while his father was in bed, and the boy’s uncle, who was his mother’s brother and Archbishop of Rheims, crowned him.

Louis would be praying, of course, for his son’s welfare. In his mind he would see it all: his son-in-law Henry holding the crown which his brother-in-law would place on his son’s head, and the Count of Flanders carrying the golden sword.

And there he lay in his bed, a broken man, worn out by a way of life which had been thrust upon him because of the antics of a wayward pig.

So he lingered on.

The situation in France was now more interesting to me than that in England. It was not so easy to hear gossip of another country, but messengers were always coming to and from the Courts and news slipped through. Amaria was an avid gleaner of such items. It may be that they were not entirely accurate, but with my knowledge of the two countries I was often able to sift the truth from the distortions, and that gave me a very good picture of what was going on.

What a mistake to crown young boys!

Louis, of course, had had no alternative; Henry was the fool. Every turn in events seemed to point to the greatness of this mistake. So now there was a young King of England—although there was an old one still very much in possession of the throne, and an even younger one in France with a man, still the King, lying paralyzed in his bed. The menace of youth was greater in France than it was in England.

From what I knew of the Count of Flanders, he was flamboyant and extravagant, although with the means to indulge his tastes. He was hungry for power, just the man to appeal to a boy as young as Philip Augustus, as he had to my son Henry.

Louis had been lucky in his wife Adela. She was a wise woman and anxious to protect her son. Seeing the effect the Count was having, she wanted to call in her brothers to help guide her son. These were Henry, Count of Champagne, and Thibault, Count of Blois, and each of them had married a daughter of mine—Marie and Alix. It was reasonable that Adela should call in members of her family, but it was not difficult to picture the fury of the Count of Flanders at such a suggestion.

The information came to me in such scraps that I could not see the whole picture until later         .         .         .         years later in fact, but I tell now the story as I have been able to piece it together long after it happened.

The Count of Flanders was, as was to be expected, a very ambitious man and he saw himself in a unique position. He knew exactly how to flatter the two young Kings and by carefully manipulating them he could become the ruler of the two countries. It was not easy in the case of England, where the elder Henry was very much in command, but the Count was building for the future. How different it was with the King of France! But first he must prevent the arrival at Court of the King’s uncles.

How could he do this? Adela would have told Louis of her decision, and Louis was still King. Philip Augustus, like his young friend Henry, was King in name only while his father lived. But Louis was only half alive, Henry entirely so.

Young Philip Augustus was at odds with his mother, and when she told him she had asked his uncles to come and help him rule, the boy, egged on by the Count of Flanders, told her that he would not have them, at which she reminded him that he was not King while his father lived.

Adela told Philip Augustus that God was not pleased with those who did not respect His commandments, and one of those was “Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” Because of his exalted position, this applied particularly to Philip Augustus, who could not give orders without the stamp of the Great Seal which was in his father’s possession.

The Count of Flanders must have been desperate. If those uncles arrived, it would be the end of his dreams. He would lose his influence over the young King. I believe that Philip Augustus, in spite of his youth, was not as easy to handle as my son had been. He was already showing an independent spirit.

The Count of Flanders, who had always been on good terms with my son, turned to him for help. Marguerite did not share her husband’s admiration for the Count. He had, I heard, talked disparagingly of her father, from whom Marguerite had had nothing but kindness. This turned her more from the Count, who feared she might have some influence with her half-brother. He was a scheming man, this Count, and he sought to break Marguerite’s position with her husband by arousing young Henry’s jealousy, for Marguerite was an exceptionally beautiful young woman. What he did was diabolical.

One of the most honored men in England was William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke and Striguil. He had a reputation for bravery and honor. Long ago, at the time when I had told Henry I wanted to leave him and it had been decided that I should remain in Aquitaine, he had come with me to quell the rebellion there. I had almost fallen foul of an ambush set for me by Geoffrey and Guy de Lusignan. In the skirmish my bodyguard, Earl Patrick, had been slain. Earl Patrick was William Marshal’s uncle, and William Marshal, who had been riding with him at the time, had been wounded and taken prisoner. I was very much impressed by both uncle and nephew and took an early opportunity of paying a ransom to Geoffrey and Guy de Lusignan for the release of William Marshal.

He was a young man who had delighted me. He fought with such courage and was so handsome and honorable—the kind of man I had always liked to have around me. I gave him arms and money and did all I could to further his career; and when he went to England, Henry, always quick to recognize a man’s worth, put him in charge of young Henry. It was true that when the rebellion broke out Marshal was on the side of the young King, but in spite of this he did not lose Henry’s favor, and he allowed him to remain in charge of his son.

William continued to distinguish himself. He was a success at the tournaments which young Henry so loved to organize, and this won him fame. He had great influence over Henry and Marguerite, and they were both very fond of him. He viewed with disfavor the influence the Count of Flanders had over young Henry. The Count knew this and decided to break Henry’s friendship with Marshal. Insidiously he poured poison into Henry’s ears. Wasn’t Marguerite a beautiful lady? He had seen many admiring glances go her way. Even the virtuous William Marshal had rather a special way of looking at her which was quite revealing         .         .         .

It must have gone something like that.

Henry was very proud of Marguerite; she was much admired for her beauty and her charm. Marshal was a handsome fellow. One could imagine the words         .         .         .         sounding so innocent and being far from it. Women would admire Marshal. He had a certain maturity.

I wondered whether the Count of Flanders told Henry what he had done to his wife’s lover. Not at that stage perhaps. That would come later when he was not discussing Marguerite, perhaps, but talking generally of the frailty of women. I had heard the story and despised the Count for it. He had the man flogged severely until he was almost dead and then hung him over a cesspool. The lover in question was Walter du Fontaines, who had won fame for his chivalry. He would doubtless point out that there were men who lost all sense of honor when it came to women.

I could imagine my son’s jealousy being whipped up. He had the Angevin temper. He would have watched William Marshal jealously and misconstrued those glances which passed between him and Marguerite.

Eventually he could contain his jealousy no longer. He summoned William Marshal and accused him of being intimate with the Queen. I could picture William’s amazement, his cold disdain of the blustering boy. I could imagine his pouring scorn on the sly insinuations of the scheming Count of Flanders with such dignity that Henry would quail before him. If he had any ideas of flogging William Marshal and hanging him over a cesspool, they must soon have been dispersed. William’s calm conduct would put him at a loss. Henry was always inclined to bluster and remind people of his high office in case they forgot it.

All he could do now was stammer that William was dismissed.

William of course took his dismissal coolly and prepared to leave for England.

When Marguerite discovered that he had dismissed William and for what reason—for he could not keep it from her—she was angry. How could he have been so foolish? He ought to have known that the Count was lying. William Marshal had been a good friend to her and more so to Henry. This was nonsense, and the Count only wanted Marshal out of the way so that he could rule Henry as well as Philip Augustus.

Meanwhile the Count had induced Philip Augustus to steal the Great Seal from Louis’s bedchamber and make an order forbidding the uncles to come to Court.

My son was ready to be swayed this way and that, and Marguerite had always had great influence over him. He must have felt rather foolish in dismissing Marshal because Marguerite could make him see how absurd the accusation was. I imagined that he hated to be compared with Philip Augustus, for they were in such similar positions: but he always remembered that Philip Augustus must very soon become the one and only King of France, and he would have to wait years before he was King of England.

I think it must have been Adela who asked for his help; that would please him. He liked to be thought powerful and then he could be magnanimous. Adela would have asked him to come to see her and told him how beset she was by her enemies, how she feared for her son. Her husband was no longer able to take care of his kingdom; her son was but a boy; there were warring factions all around the throne. Her brothers, whom she relied upon to help her, were forbidden to come to Court; she needed help and was asking Henry for it.

How he would swell with pride. He liked to see himself as a knight of chivalry; naturally he would help a lady in distress.

What Adela needed was help from Henry’s father, and she wanted young Henry to go to him and tell him of her need. Perhaps he was a little piqued that it was his father whose help was wanted and his only indirectly. However, she was pleading and that was pleasant. Moreover, it was embarrassing being at the French Court where Philip Augustus was so much more important than he was; and there was all the unpleasantness over the Count of Flanders and the dismissal of William Marshal.

So young Henry quietly left the country and went to his father. They met at Reading. I heard that the King was delighted to see him, even after all the trouble he had caused. That faithfulness always amazed me. It must have been the only faithful feeling he ever had for anyone. He so wanted Henry to be a good and worthy son, preparing for his destiny, that I believe he continued to deceive himself that he would make Henry this in time.