The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [200]
Henry must have smiled wryly. One could trust William Marshal to put a finger on the truth. He had tried to rob Richard of his rights because he wanted John, whom he believed to be his only faithful son, to have everything.
How tired he would have felt, how despondent. I never knew why, hating Henry as I did, I could feel sorry for him. The great raging lion, the invincible warrior. How did it feel to be brought to the stage when one’s aging body did not match one’s valiant spirit?
From a high point he would see the French camp and know that his son Richard was there with his enemy.
There was a high wind blowing straight into the French encampment. He had an idea. Fearing he might not be a match for the French and his son Richard, he would attempt other methods to win the battle. If he had fires lighted, the wind would blow them straight at the French camp and might destroy it completely. At worst it would do much harm and impede their advance. All means are fair in war.
He gave the order and the fires were lighted.
It was like a miracle. It was as though God was working on the side of the French against him. For no sooner were the fires lighted than the wind changed, and instead of blowing them into the French camp, they blew back to the town of Le Mans.
He could not believe it. The flames were enveloping the city. He cried out in anguish; then his rage overtook him. He shook his fist at the heavens. Such a disaster could only come from one place. God was against him. God had determined to destroy him.
William Marshal said it was an unusual change in the wind. Such things happened.
“It was deliberate,” shouted Henry. “It was done to plague me. It shows God is not on my side. I have prayed to Him . . . worked for Him, and He has deserted me in my hour of need. By His eyes, I will pray no more. I will curse Him who curses me.”
His son Geoffrey was in fear of what would happen next. He implored his father not to blaspheme. They needed God’s help as never before.
“He has deserted me. I will plead with Him no more,” shouted Henry.
Geoffrey was greatly distressed. I think that must have comforted him a little. He had been good to Geoffrey, and Geoffrey had always adored him and had had that attitude toward him for which he had looked in vain from his legitimate sons.
Then came news that the French were preparing to advance. William Marshal urged him to mount his horse for they must retreat at once.
Henry, the great warrior in retreat! The humiliation must have been intolerable to him. Old, tired, sick, the only son left to him, John, about whom he must know he was deluding himself; and thebastard Geoffrey, of course, was the only one on whom he could rely.
Richard told me about an incident which occurred at that time.
Intending to parley with his father, Richard set out with a few men. Unarmed for combat and isolated from his party, suddenly he was halted by a man on a horse who had a lance which he pointed at Richard’s throat.
“It was too late for me to do anything,” said Richard. “He could have killed me. I knew the man. It was William Marshal. I said, ‘You are going to kill me, William Marshal. But see, I am unarmed.’ He paused for a moment, then he said: ‘No, I will not kill you. I will notbe the one to send you to the Devil.’ And with that he slew my horse from under me and rode off. I could only find my men and lead them back to the French camp, thus allowing my father to escape.”
I should always be grateful to William Marshal. I knew he was a good man. He might have considered it his duty to kill the King’s enemy, and Richard at that time was one.
Henry must have known that he was no match for the French. Le Mans was a burned-out town, burned out by his act which made it all the harder to bear. William Marshal and Geoffrey and the others discussed what they should do next. Marshal thought they should make for Normandy, where they would find men to rally to