The Lion Rampant, page 25
Richard had earlier snatched a moment to tell Henry, in Latin, he had rebuffed the Chancellor the night before and at this moment they were not on speaking terms. Henry understood Thomas’s moods better than he had before. The smile he gave, the slight bow of his head, the apparent amusement he found in his lord’s ruses were all false. The Chancellor was desperately unhappy.
Quietly he added, ‘I realise you’re parting from him after an unresolved tiff, Tom. But the realm takes precedence.’
‘Take him for as long as you like, Henry. I hope he falls over a cliff.’
Henry was not forthcoming with Thomas on how long they would be away or where they were going. He was busy exchanging his royal riding cloak and saddle with the plain one of his knight, when a shout went up. Caught on a rock on the riverbank was the bloated body of a horse. He stared at the creature. ‘That’s mine,’ he muttered.
It was without saddle or bridle. ‘How do you explain this, Chancellor? The fine animal I lent you becomes lost, its equipage is removed, then it’s drowned. This is bad work.’
‘Someone must have s-s-stolen it.’ He did not dare look at Richard. The youth bit his lip. I didn’t vow to tell him the truth of things he doesn’t ask me about.
‘I require recompense for destruction of my property.’ The look Henry gave Thomas made him flinch.
Everything’s changed since we left Foliot’s palace. It was that ghastly little girl and her harlot of a mother. Henry’s attitude to Richard has changed completely. He barely noticed his existence before. Now he favours him as if he were a nephew. When I get the chance I’ll tell him Richard killed his destrier.
The King had decided that he and Strongbow would travel as Norsemen searching Wales for the falcons that nested on its west coast on sea cliffs battered by storms. Gales made the birds’ wings so enormously powerful not even Norse falcons were as highly prized. Besides Richard, their only help were three packhorses that carried provisions, a firestone and weapons; bows, two hundred arrows and undecorated short swords. Strongbow was half a head taller than the King, with the same golden brown hair as his sister. He could pass for a Norseman. He had a slow smile, a wry wit, and limped slightly from a battle injury.
Through Richard they explained to villagers they were on a mission to buy the sea falcons of Wales for the King of England. Some men spat on the ground. Richard dutifully translated: ‘All the English are quinnies’. Men and women made observations on English manners, morals and Englishmen’s diminutive sexual organs. They made no discrimination between Normans and Saxons; all were vicious, the males sported tiny penises, the females limped around with quinnies the size of a cow’s. Some recalled the Romans and what they had done in Wales. In a tavern a woman volunteered, ‘The King of the English is a sodomite.’ A fellow drinker remarked, ‘He eats the flesh of dogs.’ Another added, ‘ After he’s fucked the dog .’ The tavern rocked with such hilarity tears ran down people’s cheeks.
‘Welcome to Wales,’ Strongbow drawled.
Henry gave a graveyard laugh. ‘It’s refreshing to escape my courtiers and hear honest opinions. I’m eager for war in the north-west where they hate us.’
At the next hamlet he told Richard to ask people if they’d heard of Anjevins.
‘Oh, yes,’ a man said. ‘From south across the sea they come. One of them can sing.’
‘That’s my brother!’ Henry hissed to Strongbow. ‘They’ve never heard of me. But Guillaume … When I go to war I’ll put him in the vanguard, the swine, and make him sing!’
Strongbow was laconic. ‘Could work,’ he said. ‘They love poetry and songs.’
Their conversations easily turned to local issues – crops, cattle, priests and politics. Which princes were liked? Which ones disliked? Why? The further north they rode the greater Henry’s discouragement. The forests were dense, the mountains high, the valleys deep.
‘Agriculture’s so scant I’ll have to bring all the army’s supplies,’ Henry muttered.
‘Precarious for packhorses in this terrain,’ Strongbow drawled.
‘I’ll sail food and weaponry up the coast. Maybe into Dovey River.’
‘If your fleet could make it to Anglesey you could attack Owain in his lair,’ de Clare added. His eyes gleamed with excitement.
‘A lion in his lair?’ Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, my dear.’
One night they were so cold they climbed into the hayrack of a barn to sleep above the animals, but even there felt frozen. Henry could see that Richard, thin as a squirrel at the end of winter, shivered inside his blanket and cloak.
‘Come here,’ he ordered. He lifted the furs and riding cloaks he and Strongbow shared, making room for the youth to creep between them. The heat of the their bodies soothed the youth like honeyed milk. He nestled his face against the King. ‘Go to sleep,’ Henry growled. Abruptly he felt still and knew Rachel was present. Around his heart he felt love flow and without intending to, he stroked Richard’s soft, silver-brown hair. The slight, thin body began to shake and a small hand reached up to his chest. The King felt the boy’s tears run from his eyes in such a torrent they wet both of them. ‘Shhh,’ he said.
Richard burrowed his wet face against Henry.
When the men woke next morning the youth had vanished. Outside the barn a breakfast fire was alight and on it the scribe was roasting three fat geese.
‘He’s lived off the land,’ Strongbow muttered. ‘Unusual for a scribe.’
‘He’s not what he seems.’
‘One thing’s certain, he has your Chancellor around his little toe.’ They both grinned.
‘You’ve done well, young man,’ the Earl said. He eyed the roasted birds and the small flour cakes Richard had cooked in the ashes. He had found clean water for the cakes, for drinking and washing their hands.
‘Led an interesting life, haven’t you?’ Henry remarked. ‘Tell the Earl.’
‘During the civil war, my Lord, I lived two years in the forest where I learned to hunt to stay alive.’
Henry nodded as if this were common knowledge. In reality, it was news to him.
Their last day in the north was unutterably miserable. They had traversed the Black Mountains and the Brecon Beacons and were halfway to Snowdonia, where the war was mostly likely to be fought. Their provisions were running too low to continue the reconnoitre. At night there was not a single light to be seen on earth – no house, no hovel, no church. Above them stars in awesome profusion prickled the sky and brought a sense of ineffable longing. The King continued to allow Richard to snuggle against him when they lay down to sleep wherever they could find a dry spot. I’m like a bitch hound that adopts a kitten, Henry thought.
By mid-morning cold rain was falling and underfoot they had to fight against slippery mud with one packhorse almost tumbling into a creek. The horse strained a hind leg and had to be rested. Henry was gratified that Richard, who so far had shown no affection for any living thing except him, dismounted and comforted the packhorse, feeding it an apple he conjured from somewhere.
‘Come here,’ Henry said. He kissed the youth’s forehead. ‘I like to see kindness to animals.’
Richard stared. The remark was a revelation, a way of looking at the world he had never before imagined.
‘You humble me, Sire,’ he whispered.
‘You did very well in collecting the herbs for that little girl bitten by the viper,’ the King added. Tears glistened at the outer edges of the boy’s eyes. Henry thought, I’ve won him and I’m winning Strongbow. He turned to the Earl. ‘It was our Richard who knew which herbs to use for a poultice to draw venom from Clifford’s daughter.’
The boy blushed. The Earl recognised the monarch’s intention to heap praise on him. ‘You put us men to shame, lad, in catching fish and small game,’ he said. ‘Highness, I believe you should promote him. He’s too talented to remain a scribe.’
Henry eyed his vassal. ‘What would you like to be when you’re twenty-five?’ he asked. ‘Rising high in the Church? In the military? A scholar?’
He replied quietly, ‘I’d like to become a knight but work as a courtier, Sire. I’d like to have the knowledge and wisdom to offer advice to the Crown. And …’
‘And?’
‘I’d like to marry. And have children.’
‘I’ll send you to the guild at Oxford to study Roman law.’ To Henry’s surprise Richard began to snivel.
‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘You desire a different study?’
‘Nobody’s ever been so kind to me,’ he whispered.
Strongbow stepped in. ‘Lad, you’ve had a hard life. But in His Highness you’ve found a true protector.’ His genial tone allowed them all to relax into smiles. The grin the King gave was mirrored inside his chest. I’ve won the hearts of both, he thought. Not bad. A young murderer with a wit as sharp as my dagger and a warrior who, given half a chance, would have raised a rebellion against me a month ago. Not bad at all.
On the journey south, much faster than their reconnoitre of the north-west, Henry and Strongbow discussed ‘the problem of Wales’ as the King now referred to it. He had invited the Earl to call him by his first name.
‘Prince Owain must be checked,’ he said. ‘If not he’ll take all of Cheshire. From there he can raid Shrewsbury, even Worcestershire. The brigand controls the worst terrain for a war I’ve ever encountered – and we didn’t even see Snowdonia properly. Or his stronghold of Anglesey.’
Strongbow agreed about the terrain. ‘You could subdue the weaker princes first.’
‘I could. But I’d prefer to strike down the strongest as a lesson to weaker men.’
Richard, who had been sitting against a tree near a stream where they had stopped to drink and eat some dried venison, said, ‘There’s hatred between the prince and his brother, Cadwaller. But Sire, you may find even greater comfort with Madog, the prince of Powys.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘There were servants at Clifford who spoke about the situation in Wales and how the princes hate each other.’
That night Strongbow and Henry strolled together through a wood, picking any edible berries they found. ‘He has an unusual grasp of politics,’ Strongbow remarked.
‘In the scriptorium he’s privy to all but the most secret correspondence of the realm. I take your point, however.’
The Earl stopped in his tracks. ‘Henry, I find this difficult to admit; I’ve never feared an armed man trying to kill me because I know I’ll kill him first. But there’s something about that youth that makes me apprehensive. I’ve noticed he dotes on you. I see him trying to hold your hand or stroke your arm at any opportunity.’
Henry nodded. ‘He’s a catamite, although it now seems he wishes he were not or that he’s outgrown that phase. What I didn’t tell you earlier is that he’s a skilful murderer. He’s murdered many times.’
Strongbow ruminated a while. ‘In one so young …’ he hesitated, knowing Henry had affection for the boy. ‘… such habits become ingrained.’
Henry nodded. ‘But he seems to have changed during this trip. However, as you and I know, evil in the bud is easily crushed; as it ages it becomes stronger. Perhaps Richard has passed that point already.’ He felt suddenly disheartened. They had endured cold, hunger and extreme discomfort only to discover that a war against the Welsh, although necessary, would be more than usually uncertain.
‘When do you plan to attack?’
‘Next summer if I can convince my barons. I’ll be frank with them. Taking Owain won’t be like hunting partridge.’
‘I’ll muster four hundred swords.’
The King turned and embraced him. ‘I knew when you looked me in the eye at Clifford’s place I could rely on you.’ But he sighed after he spoke.
That night they again warmed Richard between their bodies, who whispered to Henry in Welsh, ‘I love you. You’re my daddy. Please forgive me for being so wicked.’
‘Stop mumbling,’ the King growled.
As Striguil came into view, with the royal standard flying in a cold west wind, the three broke into a gallop and the packhorses roused themselves to a sluggish canter. Striguil was an enormous Norman castle perched on a white limestone cliff, the guardian against invasion of southern England across the Severn River. Lookouts saw them and by the time the dishevelled travellers arrived, food and hot water were ready. The Chancellor rushed forward with open arms to welcome his monarch. ‘My dear …!’
He took a step backwards.
Up close, all three stank. They were thick-bearded, wild haired and thinner than when they’d left, but so hungry for a good meal they only splashed water on their hands and faces before eating.
Eveline served the King with her own hands. She was as lovely as a rose, golden curls escaping her headdress, slipping down the sides of her slender neck. She wore a dark green gown that made her eyes even more fascinating. But you’re not worth risking the love of your brother and four hundred swords, Henry thought. ‘Please excuse my stench,’ he said.
At the end of dinner the Chancellor was horrified when the King said to the Earl and Richard, ‘Now we’ll bathe.’
‘Sire, I’m too shy,’ the youth whispered.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Henry answered sharply. ‘We’ve eaten, slept and shat together for almost a month. ‘It’ll save the bath servants some work.’
Thomas felt sick. The man I love more than I’ve ever loved before feels nothing for me – and he’s been sleeping with my chou-chou.
When Richard emerged from the bathing chamber, fragrant from Lady de Clare’s soap, his hair still damp, his cheeks pink, the Chancellor was waiting. He grabbed the scribe’s elbow and marched him towards his own quarters in the castle.
‘What did His Highness mean when he said he slept with you?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing, sir. It was very cold. We slept together for warmth. The Earl, too.’
‘You slept between the King and the Earl of Pembroke!’
After the days of quiet in the wilderness Richard found the Chancellor’s voice was piercingly ugly. ‘I’d have frozen to death.’
‘I see.’ Becket’s look grew menacing, but suddenly he gave a sob. ‘You don’t love me, Richard. You don’t, do you?’
I’ve always despised you. ‘Oh, sir, I missed you dreadfully.’
‘I missed you,’ Thomas replied. He sniffed. ‘Tonight?’
‘I may not be allowed. His Highness …’
The Chancellor inclined his head graciously. In his softest voice he said, ‘Pity. I could tell you the secrets of what happened since you left.’
Richard’s glance darted around the corridor where they spoke. ‘If you tell me now, I may be able to slip away.’
‘Come to my apartment.’
As soon as the door shut Becket opened his robe for the youth to milk him.
Richard whispered, ‘I’m listening.’
The Chancellor relaxed. ‘Well, the Earl’s sister is more than ordinarily curious about the King – and the de Clare family, with Striguil restored to them, now controls too much land and too many villages.’ In a tone of satisfaction he added, ‘I plan to relieve them of some. If you can return tonight I’ll show you the figures.’
Imbecile, Richard thought. Have you no idea of the bond between His Highness and Strongbow after our shared privations?
Thomas gave him an affectionate shove. ‘I think you were born with a cock in your mouth.’
Richard simpered, bowed and made his escape. He could not decide on when he should warn the King about the Chancellor’s plans to plunder the de Clares. Inevitably Strongbow would suspect Henry had authorised it.
That night the barking of the mastiffs dragged the King from sleep.
Eveline de Clare, a candle flame quaking in her hand, was backed against a wall of his chamber. To evade the knights posted outside the royal suite she had entered through the servants’ door. Henry jumped off the bed with a shout to restrain the dogs. He grasped her free hand and led her across the room, suddenly aware his nightshirt barely covered him. He was so stunned he was not sure what to say.
The girl’s voice trembled. ‘Forgive me. I want you to love me, Sire.’
‘Give me that candle.’ He placed it on a table beside the bed. ‘Unfortunately, Eveline, it’s impossible for me to love you.’
‘Am I so hateful?’
‘On the contrary. But …’
‘But I’m vain and arrogant and too objectionable for any man to want?’
‘My heart beats like a blacksmith’s hammer. Are you a virgin?’
She nodded.
‘You’re unbelievably beautiful. But I cannot …’ He buried his face in the angle between her neck and her shoulder.
‘Please do it to me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be a virgin. If I’m married and my husband turns out to be a pig, I want to be able to say to myself, “You think you own me. But the man who enjoyed me first was the King.”’
He took her hand and led her to the bed, lay down and turned his back. ‘Lie behind me,’ he murmured. ‘Lift your gown.’ He twined her long legs between his.
‘Have you seen a man’s penis when it’s extended for love?’
‘No.’
‘You can lean over and hold mine.’ She gasped as he curled her fingers around it. ‘Don’t move your hand. Don’t move it,’ he ordered.
‘What happens if I do, Sire?’
He was concentrating so intensely he couldn’t answer.
After a few minutes she made a small, perturbed sound. ‘It’s changed,’ she said. ‘It’s gone … floppy.’
Henry expelled the breath he’d been holding. He rolled on his back, pulled her on top of him and gave her a chaste kiss. With his foot flat on the mattress he crooked one leg. ‘Would you like to rub yourself on my thigh?’ he asked. ‘Open your legs wide and push your quinny down.’ He spat on his palm and slid it beneath her, thinking her delicate membranes could be scratched by the hair on his thighs. She rode only moments before she gave a cry of wild surprise.
