The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [164]
The news of the Scottish King’s capture was brought to him while he was in bed.
“They say, my lady, that he leaped out of bed,” was Amaria’s version. “He said it was a sign from Heaven . . . from Thomas Becket up there. ‘We are friends once more,’ cried the King. ‘Now you will work for me. I shall go from victory to victory. We shall be friends as we were in the beginning.’”
I laughed. Amaria amused me. But I think it must have happened something like that. Henry used everything to advantage. Did he really believe that the capture of the King of Scotland was due to Becket’s help? One thing he would know was that the people would think so; and that would be important to Henry. What a combination—Thomas in Heaven, Henry on Earth. They would be invincible.
I knew he would be smiling to himself. The humiliation of walking barefoot, the sore back, the humble confession of guilt . . . it was all worthwhile. Now the people would believe that Henry was at peace with Heaven, and Thomas was on his side. Let his enemies beware.
I was moved from Salisbury to Winchester, where life was a little easier. I lived in comparative comfort. Of course I missed the fine clothes which I had always had in abundance; I missed my musicians and my Court of Poitiers.
My jailer for a while was Ranulf de Glanville, which showed how important I was to the King, for he was one of his most trusted subjects. He was the Chief Justiciar of England and a man of many gifts. He was Sheriff of Lancashire and during the recent Scottish invasion had led the men of Lancashire into the attack which had resulted in the capture of the King of Scotland. It was Ranulf who had taken the news to the King. He had Henry’s complete trust. I did not believe I would get any concessions from him.
Another of my jailers was William FitzStephen, who was to write a biography of Becket, with whom he had been in close contact for ten years. During the time of his intimacy with Becket, Henry must have come to know FitzStephen very well. He had been a subdeacon in Becket’s chapel and entrusted with special duties.
I viewed Henry’s choice of jailers with mixed feelings. In the first place, I felt it a mark of respect for me that he would not give the post to any but those he trusted absolutely; but secondly it meant that my chances of escape were slight—or, more accurately, nonexistent.
I had been in England over a year when I had a visitor, a Cardinal who had come to England and found himself drawn into a matter which Henry was considering.
He was very suave, friendly and compassionate.
“My lady,” he said, “how different this life must be from that to which you have been accustomed in the past.” I could agree with him on that. “I know you have always been interested in the Abbey of Fontevrault.”
“Yes,” I said, now very alert.
“How would you feel about going there and living a life of peace?”
“I have never thought I was suited to the cloistered existence. It is not in my nature to be.”
“But here you are . . . cloistered. You are a prisoner. There you would be free.”
“Has the King sent you here?”
He lowered his eyes. “The King has suggested that I visit you.”
“With a purpose in mind, I see. To get rid of me by sending me to Fontevrault. I retire . . . and my retirement means that a divorce can be arranged for the King. Is that it? There is no need to mince words with me, Cardinal.”
“My lady, the King thinks of your welfare.”
“Not forgetting his own.”
“It seems this would be beneficial to you both. You are . . .” He hesitated. “ . . . my lady, you are no longer young.”
“I am fifty-three years of age. Time, you suggest, for me to retire from the world?”
“You would find a life of meditation and prayer most satisfactory.”
“And if I took to it, so would Henry. A divorce would be easy, would it not? A wife who has retired from the world is as good as dead. And a divorce? Does he plan to marry again? Whom would he marry? His mistress, Rosamund Clifford? He lives with her openly now,