The Lion of Justice Read online

  The realization of the truth of this, the promises Henry made, and the knowledge that he had qualities which would make him a better ruler than his brother were decisive. Grudgingly those Normans who had been ready to give their support to Robert gave way. Henry was proclaimed King. He took possession of the Treasury and Regalia.

  ‘We must needs now win the same support in London,’ said Beaumont.

  Within a few hours they were riding to London.

  Henry had been called a lawyer. The Normans had nicknamed him ‘Henri Beauclerc’. It was so rare to find a scholar king. Even the Conqueror had scarcely been that.

  Henry knew that the consent to his accession could well waver: he had to consolidate his position, which meant pandering to those who might well stand against him . . . temporarily of course.

  He believed he would have the humble people with him, for their hatred of the Normans had persisted ever since 1066. They still looked upon them as the conquerors. So he would appeal to the Saxon section of the community.

  He called together all the leading men of the towns and villages and spoke to them.

  ‘My friends and liegemen, natives of this country in which I myself was born, you know that my brother would have my crown. He is a haughty man who cannot live peacefully. He openly despises you, believing you to be cowards and gluttons. He would scorn you and trample you under his feet. But I, a mild and pacific King, would maintain you in all your ancient liberties. I would govern you with moderation and prudence. I will give you, if you require it, a written promise to this effect, signed with my own hand. I will confirm what I write by my oath and my seal. Stand firm, then, by me. For, supported by English valour, I fear not the mad menaces of the Normans.’

  It was a clever speech, calculated to move the oppressed people where they were most affected. Henry’s lawyer’s mind was already busy. He intended to govern sternly but justly, as his father had. He wanted a prosperous kingdom and he knew how to get it. He was not sure how many of the promises he made at this juncture would be kept; he only knew that they had to be given.

  He caused copies of the speech to be made; his seal was set on it and it was put up in all cathedrals and abbeys throughout the country.

  The people were won over by this calm and reasoned statement. They told themselves that the cruel days of Rufus were over. They would have a King who would marry and give the country heirs. The last King’s influence on the morals of the land would be over. There would be no more ridiculous fashions, with men aping women and painting their faces and frizzing their hair. England would become a country of brave men.

  Henry was accepted.

  He was determined to show that he was no coward, and ordered that his coronation should take place without delay in Westminster Abbey. There would be danger, he knew. It would be an occasion when his enemies might rise and make slaughter in the streets. He must take the risk. He could only feel safe when he was the crowned King of England.

  So, three days after the death of Rufus, Henry’s ceremonious coronation took place.

  Meanwhile, Rufus’s decomposing body was brought to Winchester by Purkiss and the five churls who had accompanied him. They took it to the close of St Swithin’s Minster and presented themselves to the Abbot.

  ‘Lord Abbot,’ said Purkiss, ‘this is the body of the King. It is in urgent need of decent burial.’

  The Abbot took one look at the corpse and groaned in horror. Secretly he cursed Purkiss for bringing it to him. He hesitated; but he dared not send the men on with it. Where else would they take it? And if he turned away the body of the King, what then?

  But he knew there was going to be difficulty in the burial.

  He was right.

  The Church had constantly been under the attack of Rufus. He had sneered at it and always baited churchmen. He had said he might be going to hell but at least he would have a good time on earth. Well, now he was in hell, so most people believed.

  Stories about the dead king circulated. There was not the usual need to speak well of the dead, for Rufus had been a self-confessed sinner with no fears of hell. Some said they had seen the Devil, in the form of a great goat in the sky, clutching the soul of Rufus. Rufus was damned. Therefore nothing too bad could be said against him.

  His evil life was recalled. His vicious friend, Ranulf Flambard, should be punished with him, it was hinted. He had shared his vices. Everything would be different now. Rufus was where he belonged – in hell.

  How could such a man be buried in consecrated ground? He would defile any place where he was laid. Yet what should be done with him?

  Days passed. The corpse was now almost unrecognizable, and horrible to behold. Something would have to be done.

  Henry made the decision. Rufus was his brother and had been a king. Therefore he must be accorded burial. Royalty must not be insulted, even evil royalty. A grave should be dug in the choir of the new cathedral and the body of Rufus should be put there. Although he would be in that spot where Saxon Kings lay, his burial should not be attended by any ceremony. The bells should not toll for Rufus, no alms should be given, and as he had so often declared that he cared nothing for the future of his soul, no prayers should be given for its salvation. There should be no text, no cross, no symbols. Although he should be buried among kings – since he was a king and a son of the great William I – there should be no indication of where he lay.

  Thus was the Red King laid to rest.

  Shortly afterwards, the great cathedral tower crashed to the ground and there was terror throughout Winchester.

  This was God’s vengeance on the city, because its people had buried an evil king in a cathedral dedicated to Him.

  At least the evil man was now in the custody of the Devil, but the stories about his wickedness were retold and exaggerated in the telling. They forgot that he was a great general and that although he had milched the Church he had given the country some fine buildings, the chief of these being the White Tower and the bridge across the Thames.

  They forgot the few virtues and remembered the many vices; and they looked forward to the new reign of that benign – or so he had told them he was – and peace-loving monarch King Henry I.

  A Royal Wedding

  THE MOST HATED man in England was Ranulf Flambard. During Rufus’s reign Flambard had been blamed for all the hardships that had been inflicted upon them. He it was who had collected the taxes for Rufus and devised vile means of doing so; therefore he, more than the King, had been regarded with loathing.

  Henry, eager to consolidate his position and not to lose one little bit of the popularity he had gained through his declaration, decided that he must immediately perform two acts which would please the people.

  The first would be to punish Ranulf Flambard and the second to marry the Saxon Princess.

  Henry decided to deal first with Flambard. He had studied the man’s methods often enough and had known that he was exceedingly clever. He had a mind to match Henry’s. He had worked well for Rufus – and for himself of course – and would be an asset to any king for whom he was working.

  Henry could have made use of him. He wondered whether he would be as devoted to him as he had been to Rufus, because there had been a closer tie between the two of them than Henry could ever have with any man. Bribes might work with him. But no, that would be folly. To take Ranulf into his counsels would be in direct contrast to all that he promised the people. He was not in a strong enough position to do that yet.

  Henry had a new adviser in one Roger, a priest who could say the mass quicker than any priest in the country. This had at first endeared him to Henry and, favouring him, he found him astute in many ways.

  He discussed with Roger and with Henry Beaumont what should be done about Flambard.

  Roger said, ‘He is too clever a fellow to lose.’

  ‘Yet the people wish to see him punished,’ insisted Beaumont.

  ‘He never failed to raise the money my brother required,’ mused Henry,
‘and I am going to need money. If I am going to bring about all the reforms I wish to, I am going to need a great deal of it.’

  ‘Yet he must appear to be punished.’

  Henry agreed. ‘He shall be seized. It would please the people to know that he was imprisoned in the White Tower, for it was in raising money to build that Tower that he used the harshest methods.’

  ‘Then he must be imprisoned there. There will be great rejoicing when he is. And the people will applaud you and stand more firmly behind you.’

  ‘He shall be arrested without delay and conveyed there,’ decreed Henry.

  Ranulf was making preparations to leave. Henry, being the clever man he was, would not, he knew, delay long in taking action. Ranulf had toyed with the idea of going to Normandy. Robert was away at the Holy War. What a fool Robert was! What did he think he was doing! Saving his soul! Ranulf had said to Rufus, and this had amused the late King, ‘Normandy’s a high price to pay for a soul.’

  He had often wondered what would happen when Rufus died; he had not expected it yet, in spite of the dream and the warnings. Rufus had been a strong man and he had never thought of such an accident. Was it an accident? Richard, the King’s brother, had died in the forest, and Richard might have been King of England. Had memories of Richard’s death put an idea in someone’s head? If so, that someone would be a man, or men perhaps, who wished to see Henry on the throne.

  How far was Henry implicated? Or was it an accident?

  He had heard a startling piece of news. Sir Walter Tyrrell had left England rather suddenly. Why? Henry had been at Winchester very soon to claim the crown. It was almost as though he had been prepared.

  But what was the use of speculating on the past? What was done was done and could not be changed. It was the future that was all important – the future of that clever fellow Rufus had nicknamed Flambard, because he had taken his flaming torch into the lands and possessions of others, and robbed the owners in order to fill the King’s coffers.

  He heard the sound of guards outside.

  Escape was too late. Foolish of him to have delayed so long – and all for the sake of gathering together his riches! Of what use would they be to him now!

  ‘You are our prisoner,’ said the captain of the guards.

  ‘On whose authority?’

  ‘On that of the King.’

  Too late! he thought.

  He was serious suddenly. What fate was in store for him? Not his eyes. He would die rather. Many a man had dashed out his brains against the stone wall of his prison when the hot irons were ready to tear out his precious eyes.

  To the White Tower – that edifice which had special significance for him. How he had squeezed the money for that out of his protesting victims!

  Ironical! How like the new King to send him there. And what would happen to him in that mighty fortress? What revenge would Henry take?

  Into the Tower. He knew every bit of it. He had seen the plans, which he had discussed at length with Rufus.

  Here was his cell. He looked about him for the torturer.

  Not my eyes, he thought. Anything but my eyes. It was a lesson to him. If he had left with a little he might be safe now. But he had been greedy and he had hesitated too long in an effort to salvage too much.

  He was alone, apprehensive.

  His jailer unlocked the cell and stood before him. Ranulf noticed at once that he was a little more deferential than was to be expected in such circumstances. There were no irons in his hand.

  ‘You are not to be fettered,’ said the jailer.

  Ranulf’s spirits rose immediately.

  ‘You will be allowed two shillings a day so that you may be supplied with wine for your comfort.’

  ‘On whose orders?’ he asked.

  ‘Those in high places,’ said the jailer. ‘Is there anything you could wish for your comfort?’

  Ranulf asked for clean straw, and a stool.

  These were brought to him.

  He was almost elated. The King might well wish to use him. Henry was proving himself to be a man who did not want vengeance unless such would bring him benefit.

  Henry had a clear incisive mind. Ranulf could appreciate that. They were not dissimilar.

  To have sent Ranulf to the White Tower was the most popular move Henry could have made. He now set about making the second.

  He rode in person to Wilton Abbey.

  The Abbess received him. She must do so with deference, for he was now the King.

  ‘Pray send the Princess Edith to me,’ he commanded.

  She hesitated and his anger rose – not the quick choleric temper of his brother and father but the cold kind which was equally deadly.

  ‘My lord King, the Princess has already taken her vows.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It is so, my lord.’

  ‘Send for her,’ thundered the King.

  The Abbess pretended to look bewildered. ‘It is against the laws of Wilton . . . against the laws of God.’

  ‘To refuse would be against the King’s law,’ cried Henry. ‘By God, woman, do you want me to sack the place?’

  The Abbess shook her head and said that she would bring the Princess but she greatly feared the consequences.

  Edith came into the hall accompanied by two nuns.

  Henry strode towards her, took her hands in his and kissed them fiercely.

  Then he turned to the nuns. ‘Go,’ he cried. And to the Abbess, ‘And you with them, Madam. Remember what I threatened; and remember, too, that I am your King.’

  The Abbess obeyed; the nuns followed her, trembling.

  ‘I have come to claim you,’ he cried.

  ‘I have long awaited that day,’ she answered.

  ‘The Abbess says that you have taken the veil.’

  ‘I have not. I swear I have not.’

  ‘I rejoice, for had you done so our marriage might well have been impossible.’

  ‘I swear to you that it is not so. I wore the robes because she was so cruel if I did not. But I hated them. I have always hated them. And I determined to be free for you.’

  He kissed her.

  ‘I could die for very happiness,’ she said. ‘I did not know it could exist and be so great.’

  ‘You have much to learn, my love.’ He led her to the window seat and they sat, with his arm about her.

  ‘We are to be married without delay. The people want it. They are delighted that I have chosen Saxon Princess. There is a strong Norman element in the country who will be against it, but we shall snap our fingers at them as you have just seen me do to the old Abbess.’

  ‘How happy I am that I held her off.’

  ‘She is a virago. She even attempted to defy me.’

  ‘So you are indeed the King.’

  ‘Ay, and determined soon to have a queen. We’ll give them a prince by this time next year. What say you?’

  She flushed a little. ‘You must forgive my ignorance. I have lived all my life, it seems, in an abbey.’

  ‘I would have it so.’ He thought of Nesta then, warm sensuous Nesta, who had had many lovers beside himself and was the most exciting woman he had ever known. He hoped Edith would not be frigid. Although there might be some variety in that – but only temporarily. Poor child, she had a great deal to learn about life and about him.

  ‘I know that you wish to see your own children,’ she said.

  And he thought: By God, I have seen many of them. Nesta would have another by now.

  ‘And I shall do my best to please you.’

  ‘You could not fail to do that,’ he said and jeered at himself for the lie.

  Well, she would grow up. She would learn about men’s ways and his in particular. Men such as he was did not reach the age of thirty-two without a great deal of sexual experience, and that meant children. How many of his were scattered about England and Normandy? Too many to be counted, he supposed. He hoped she would not be over-shocked when she heard it said tha
t he had fathered more children than any known man.

  But these thoughts were of no help. He now had to woo her, for the people wanted this marriage and it would be as popular as sending Ranulf to the White Tower had been.

  ‘I shall send a retinue for you and you will leave the Abbey,’ he said. ‘As soon as can be arranged our wedding shall take place. You will be crowned Queen of England.’

  ‘I cannot believe it has happened at last.’

  He took her face in his hands. He was suddenly sorry for her. She would indeed be Queen of England but her dreams were too rosy.

  He was tender suddenly, as he knew well how to be. She was not unattractive. Had she not been a princess . . . well, then he would not have wanted more than a transitory encounter. But when did he ever? It was only women with overwhelming fascination like Nesta who could hold him for long. But marriage with Edith would consolidate his position. And if she so clearly adored him, the people would like that, too. It would add to the image he wanted to create that he was a benign man, a peaceful man, a man who would govern well his kingdom and his family. They would have heard rumours of his profligacy. They had taken them lightly because they preferred scandals concerning women to those of men with which Rufus had supplied them.

  Edith was going to be a great help to him.

  ‘There is one point over which you may hesitate,’ he told her.

  ‘I cannot believe there could be one.’

  ‘There are many Normans in this country who will deplore our marriage because of your Saxon descent. I wish to please all my subjects where that is possible. As Edith the Saxon Princess you will delight the Saxons. If we could change your name to Matilda, the Normans might forget your Saxon origins and be pleased with the match. It would be a compliment to my mother, who was greatly admired. Would you do this?’