The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [165]
“All the King wishes is to give you a life of peace where you can meditate on the past and earn remission of your sins.”
“He would do well to behave in like manner.”
“None of us is without sin, my lady.”
“And some are more overburdened by it than others. Let us be plain about this. I will not go to Fontevrault Abbey.”
“You would be Abbess of course . . . mistress of your world . . . the ruler of the abbey as you have been of the duchy.”
I laughed. “You are trying to tempt me, Cardinal. The King has sent you and paid you well for it, I doubt not. You have come here to get my consent to go into a nunnery, giving him reasons for divorce, so making him free to take a new wife and get more sons . . . those whom he would mold to his way of thinking, unlike those who love their mother well and hate their father. Does he really think to marry Rosamund Clifford? It is impossible! But then he is a man who refuses to see anything as impossible. You will have to go back to the King and tell him no, no, no. I will not be forced into a convent . . . even Fontevrault. I will stay here, his prisoner, to plague him, a barrier between him and his fair Rosamund. Go back to him and tell him that he will have to think of another way of ridding himself of me.”
When he had gone, I found myself thinking of Fontevrault.
I might be fifty-three years old but I was not yet at that stage when I wished to think of the life to come. I believed I had a few more years ahead of me, and something told me that I should not be a prisoner forever. I would not shut myself away from the world. I wanted to know what my boys were doing. Henry, too. He must think that I saw no release in sight and might as well shut myself away in Fontevrault where I should at least have the dignity of ruling my own little world. He did not realize that I should never give up and that my spirit was as indomitable as his.
Moreover, following his exploits, hating him fiercely, was a rather enjoyable occupation.
A year passed uneventfully for me. I heard that there had been a reconciliation between the King and young Henry. My son had been with the King of France; there he had raged against his father for imprisoning me and saying that he would like to do the same to him.
I was afraid that he swayed this way and that, wondering which way would be to his advantage. What he wanted more than anything, I was sure, was the crown of England; and Louis could not give him that. I often wondered how differently everything would have turned out if Henry had not made that vital mistake of crowning his son King while he lived.
Young Henry eventually decided that his father had more to offer than Louis and he went to him at Bures and fell on his knees before him—the prodigal son returned to the bosom of his family, having seen the error of his ways, and begging for forgiveness.
I was amazed at Henry’s softness where young Henry was concerned. He loved that boy dearly. He could see only good in him. He had long assured himself that all that had gone wrong between them was due to my influence; he would not have been so gentle with Richard or Geoffrey. Delighted to have him back docile, playing the obedient son for a while, Henry promised him money and let him see how overjoyed he was to be friends with him.
I could have told him that the amity between them would not last.
People smiled at the softness of the King toward his son. They ate at the same table, slept in the same bedchamber. I guessed this was because Henry wished to keep an eye on the boy. I wondered how long it would last.
These little pieces of information came to me at intervals and I had to piece them together to get the picture, but knowing both my son and my husband so well, I was able to do this with ease.
I was amused when I heard that young Henry was planning to go on a pilgrimage during Lent of the next year to St. James of Compostela. This idea was too much for the King to accept. He said very firmly that there