The Prince of Darkness Read online

  The Prince of Darkness

  Jean Plaidy, one of the pre-eminent authors of historical fiction for most of the twentieth century, is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also known as Victoria Holt. Jean Plaidy’s novels had sold more than 14 million copies worldwide by the time of her death in 1993.

  For further information about our Jean Plaidy reissues and mailing list, please visit

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  Also by Jean Plaidy

  The Tudors

  Uneasy Lies the Head

  Katharine, the Virgin

  Widow

  The Shadow of the

  Pomegranate

  The King’s Secret Matter

  Murder Most Royal

  St Thomas’s Eve

  The Sixth Wife

  The Thistle and the Rose

  Mary Queen of France

  Lord Robert

  Royal Road to Fotheringay

  The Captive Queen of Scots

  The Medici Trilogy

  Madame Serpent

  The Italian Woman

  Queen Jezebel

  The Plantagenets

  The Plantagenet Prelude

  The Revolt of the Eaglets

  The Heart of the Lion

  The Prince of Darkness

  The French Revolution

  Louis the Well-Beloved

  The Road to Compiègne

  Flaunting, Extravagant

  Queen

  The Prince of Darkness

  JEAN PLAIDY

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Epub ISBN 9781446411773

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  Published by Arrow Books in 2007

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  Copyright © Jean Plaidy, 1978

  Initial lettering copyright © Stephen Raw, 2006

  The Estate of Eleanor Hibbert has asserted its right to have Jean Plaidy identified

  as the author of this work.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be

  lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any

  form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

  condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  First published in the United Kingdom in 1978 by Robert Hale Ltd

  Published in paperback in 1979 by Pan Books Ltd

  Arrow Books

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  A CIP catalogue record for this book

  is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9780099493297

  Contents

  I Death of a King

  II John and Arthur

  III John is Crowned

  IV The Girl in the Forest

  V Isabella

  VI The King’s Infatuation

  VII The Crowned Queen of England

  VIII The Triumph of Mirebeau

  IX ‘Put Out His Eyes’

  X The Body in the Seine

  XI Death at Fontevraud

  XII An Election at Canterbury

  XIII The Spectre of Arthur

  XIV The Virgin of Dunmow

  XV A Substitute for the Bedchamber

  XVI The Prophecy

  XVII Threat of Invasion

  XVIII John’s Revenge

  XIX A Bride for Hugh

  XX Runnymede

  XXI Peace

  Chapter I

  DEATH OF A KING

  In a quiet room in the Château of Vaudreuil William Marshal, the most respected of all the King’s knights, sat dozing pleasantly after an excellent dinner of roast venison. Half sleeping, half waking he was considering what a happy state of affairs existed now that the King had returned from the Holy Land and was bringing law and order back to his dominions. Already England was at peace and Richard had restored much of that land which Philip Augustus, King of France – stealing an advantage because Richard was far away – had taken from him in Normandy.

  William Marshal, known in the days of his youth as the finest knight of the age, renowned for his integrity and as a man who was not afraid to offend the King even though it could mean risking his life – and therefore cherished by wise kings such as Richard and his father before him – was now in his mid-fifties but still strong and with the weight of experience to lean on, appeared to have gained rather than lost from the passing of the years.

  He had deplored the King’s absence from the country, for, while he accepted the fact that Richard had made a vow to bring Jerusalem back to Christendom, he had believed that a king’s first duty was to his own kingdom; he had been against the excessive taxation which had had to be imposed in order to raise money for the crusade, but he had been indefatigable in getting together the funds required for the King’s ransom when it had been discovered that Richard was in his enemy’s hands in the castle of Dürenstein.

  Now, his brother John’s attempt to take the crown from him during his absence had been foiled and Richard was restored to his people. As William saw it, the prospects were fair – or as fair as they ever could be, considering the vulnerability of the dukedom of Normandy situated as it was on the very borders of French territory.

  His wife Isabella came into the room and looked at him with affection. She was a good wife and he had married her when Richard had come to the throne. She had brought him not only fine sons but riches, for her father had been Richard de Clare, Earl of Pembroke and Striguel and, although the King had not yet confirmed William in the ‘full peace and name of earl’, the earldom was in his possession, and that ceremony would be performed in due course. Before his marriage he had been known as the ‘landless knight’ and had had little to recommend him but his noble birth and unrivalled skills. Henry II had recognised these and put him in charge of his eldest son Prince Henry (after he had been misguided enough to crown him so that the boy had had the title of King while his father still lived – one of the gravest mistakes that usually wise monarch had ever made, for the boy, as was to be expected, became arrogant, immediately flaunting his title and flouting his father, finally making war against him and, with his brothers, bringing him in sorrow to the grave).

  Smiling at Isabella William said: ‘I was back in the past, thinking of the time when Richard came to the throne.’

  She looked at him gravely. ‘You thought then, William, that your hopes of rising in the world were ended f
or ever.’

  He nodded. ‘And that death and imprisonment would be my lot.’

  He lapsed into silence, thinking of that time when Richard was his enemy because he was making war on his father Henry II, whose staunch henchman he, William, was at that time, and how he had come face to face with a defenceless Richard and could have killed him. He had had no wish to do that, but he had satisfied himself by calling him traitor and killing his horse from under him. And soon afterwards Henry had died and Richard was the King.

  He mused: ‘I shall never forget it, Isabella.’

  ‘I know. You have told me many times how you waited for him to order you to a dungeon and how instead he told you that he could trust one who had served his father well to serve him.’

  ‘I was determined he should never regret that decision,’ said William.

  ‘Nor has he. He could never have had a more faithful knight and full well he knows it.’

  ‘He has been good to us, Isabella. He is generous to his friends. Open, honest, forthright … a man after my own heart. I knew he meant our family well when he commanded me to carry the gold sceptre at his coronation and my brother John the spurs, and how right I was!’

  ‘And he allowed us to marry.’

  ‘The most important benefit of all,’ he answered.

  ‘Well, you have served him well ever since. I wonder when we shall be hearing of the birth of an heir.’

  ‘He has not long returned to Berengaria. But he knows his duty and that the dissatisfaction his subjects feel will end when he gives the country an heir. He is young and vigorous still.’

  ‘But they have been married so long.’

  ‘But parted.’

  ‘It seems to have been a strange marriage.’

  ‘It was certain to be. The King loves battle better than women.’

  ‘It seems unnatural that a man cannot want sons.’

  He smiled at her fondly. She was proud of hers. He did not want to say that Richard preferred the company of his own sex to that of women and it was only his meeting with a hermit in a forest, when he was hunting and temporarily alone, who had so harangued him about the life he led and prophesied disaster, that had made him consider reforming his ways; and when shortly afterwards he had been laid low with a fever which threatened to end his life he had decided to return to Berengaria and do his duty by his country.

  It was late, thought William. But better late than never. Richard was a man of immense strength and apart from the fever which periodically attacked him he was very healthy. If he could produce a son or two and live until they had reached maturity, that would be good for England.

  ‘I doubt not,’ he answered his wife, ‘that when his son is born he will be as delighted with him as any father would be … and more so, considering the importance to the realm. I trust that soon he will be sending me news that the Queen is expecting.’

  ‘Poor Berengaria. Hers has not been a very happy life, I fear.’

  ‘Such is the fate of queens, my dear.’

  She sighed. ‘I dare swear one should be grateful that one was not born royal.’

  It was pleasant to have her so satisfied with her lot. She never referred to the riches and title she had brought him for she considered herself the most fortunate of women and he hoped she would long continue to do so.

  As they sat talking together there was a sudden clatter of horse’s hoofs in the courtyard. William stood up hastily.

  ‘Who can it be?’ he wondered.

  Isabella was at the window.

  ‘It looks like a messenger.’ She turned to him, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘I wonder if it is … It seems so odd. We were but talking of it a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Come,’ said William, ‘we will go and see.’

  They hurried down to the courtyard but one look at the face of the messenger was enough to tell William that the news he brought was not good.

  He had dismounted and a groom had taken his horse. William cried: ‘What news?’

  ‘Ill news, my lord.’

  ‘Tell me. Let me know the worst.’

  ‘The King has been wounded … mortally, some say.’

  ‘It is not possible. In what action?’

  ‘At Chaluz against Odamar of Limoges and Achard of Chaluz.’

  ‘This makes no sense to me.’

  ‘My lord, you were unaware that treasure was found on the land of Achard of Chaluz. News reached the King that gold figures had been discovered by a ploughman and claiming that as the suzerain this belonged by right to him he went forth to demand the treasure be given up. Achard declared that what had been found was nothing but a pot of old coins but the King did not believe him and attacked the castle. During the attack an arrow went into the King’s shoulder.’

  ‘This is impossible,’ cried William. ‘A foolish quarrel over a pot of coins.’

  ‘’Tis so, my lord. The King sent for me. He is mortally ill and in great anguish. He has tried to pull the arrow from his shoulder but in doing so has broken it and it remains imbedded in his flesh and is mortifying. He has sent me to you commanding that you go at once to Chinon and there take charge of the royal treasure.’

  ‘He will recover,’ said William. ‘He must recover.’

  The messenger shook his head. ‘I saw his face, my lord. There was death there.’

  ‘Come in and refresh yourself,’ said William. ‘You will be weary from your journey. I must to Chinon with all speed.’

  Isabella came out and seeing her husband’s face asked what ill news he had received.

  William told her. She was bewildered. ‘What will this mean?’ she asked.

  ‘He has faced death many times. Always he has recovered. We must hope.’

  While William Marshal was preparing to leave for Chinon yet another messenger came to Vaudreuil. This one brought the news that Richard Cœur de Lion had died of the wound he had received from an arrow shot by Bertrand de Gourdon, a nobleman of Quercy who bore a grudge against him and who since had declared that he was ready to suffer the greatest torments if need be, for he would die happy having seen Richard on his death-bed.

  So the King was dead. What was to follow?

  Arriving at Chinon, and assuring himself that the royal treasure was well guarded, William asked Hubert Walter, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was by good fortune in Normandy at the time, to come to him at once. Realising the gravity of the situation Hubert lost no time in complying with this request.

  William embraced the Archbishop and took him to a private chamber where they could talk together without being overheard.

  ‘What think you of the news?’ asked William.

  The Archbishop shook his head gravely.

  ‘It could be disastrous.’

  ‘Everything hangs on the next few months.’

  ‘If he had but lived with his wife; if he had produced sons …’

  ‘Any son they had had would as yet be a minor.’

  ‘That would not have disturbed me. He could have been tutored and there would have been a king.’

  ‘There is a king now,’ said William.

  ‘Who? John or Arthur?’

  ‘It must be John,’ insisted William.

  ‘Nay, my friend, the true heir to the throne is Prince Arthur.’

  ‘In the direct line of succession maybe, but I for one could never support Arthur’s claim.’

  ‘You mean you will give your allegiance to John!’

  ‘I deplore that it is necessary, but I see no other way.’

  ‘My good friend, Arthur is the son of Geoffrey and Geoffrey was older than John. Therefore according to the law of succession Arthur is the true heir.’

  ‘The selection of kings does not necessarily depend on direct succession. Suitability must be considered and Arthur is a child.’

  ‘But John is dissolute and unfit for the crown.’

  ‘The English would never accept Arthur.’

  ‘They would accept the fact that he is the true
heir to the throne because that is what he is.’

  ‘Nay, Archbishop. Henry II named John as his heir – even to come before Richard.’

  ‘That was wrong. Richard was the elder brother and more fitted to reign. The people would never have accepted John while Richard lived.’

  ‘That I agree with and Richard had no intention of standing aside for his younger brother. Henry realised this in his last moments, when John’s true nature was revealed, and would have approved of what was done. But now Richard is dead and the natural heir is John.’

  ‘You are wrong, Marshal. Arthur is the true heir.’

  ‘A boy who has never been to England, who speaks no English, brought up in foreign courts! The English will never accept him. Moreover, John would be determined to take the crown, and there would be continual strife. Many would be behind John. They are prepared for him to follow his brother. He has lived in England. He is English. They will not take a foreigner and little more than a child at that. Arthur I have heard is haughty and proud and has no love for the English. Prince John is the one who is nearest to his father and his brother Richard. John should follow him.’

  ‘Marshal, is this really your wish?’

  ‘It is, my lord, for it seems but good sense to me. A son has a closer claim to his father’s inheritance than his grandson can have. It is right that John should take the crown.’

  ‘There will be conflict over this. Arthur will have his supporters and John will have his.’

  ‘I consider it right and in the interests of the country that John should be offered the crown,’ said the Marshal stubbornly.

  The Archbishop inclined his head. ‘So shall it be. But know this, Marshal, and remember what I say, for the day will come when you will question your decision. I promise you that nothing you ever did have you so much cause to repent of as you will have of this.’

  ‘If you are right,’ answered William judiciously, ‘and it may be that you will be proved right, still I know this should be and that I am but following the will of my masters – King Henry II and Richard the Lion-Hearted – in proclaiming Prince John King of England.’

  ‘So be it,’ said the Archbishop but he continued to shake his head sorrowfully.