The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [229]
Thus, after being a prisoner for a year and six weeks, Richard was free.
On a March day we landed at Sandwich and on our way to London passed Canterbury to give thanks at the shrine of St. Thomas Becket.
London gave a great welcome to the returning King. There were banners everywhere and singing and dancing and general rejoicing. For this day the citizens had forgotten what it had cost to bring him out of captivity. He was the returning hero; he might not have captured Jerusalem but he had been acclaimed wherever he went . . . Coeur de Lion, the greatest warrior the world knew. Richard was made for pageantry. He stood out against all others with his magnificent height and dazzling fair looks; his godlike appearance made of him a natural hero.
So the return of the King was celebrated.
But there was one who was not there to welcome him: his brother John. I guessed he was in Paris, gnashing his teeth with Philip Augustus, asking himself what his best move would be.
It was wonderful to be with my beloved son. Now that he was home, I told him, he must not go away again; and I think he agreed with me. Prison had had its effect on him. But, of course, he was an adventurer by nature.
“You must now show yourself to your subjects,” I told him. “You have been too little in England. The English want to see their King. We shall make a tour of the countryside. It is the perfect time of the year to do this. Spring is the best time in England.”
He was very grateful to me for all I had done. He knew that I, and I alone, had kept his kingdom intact during his absence, and he was fully aware of what a difficult task it had been. He was ready to take my advice.
There followed a happy time for me. We were together, as close as ever. We talked freely and frankly. He told me how he had traveled across Europe disguised as a merchant.
“I called myself Hugo of Damascus. It was interesting to stay in inns and to hear the talk of how King Richard was traveling in disguise across the country. One innkeeper told us that he would have to report our presence to the governor because we were strangers and they were told they must be watchful everywhere for the King in disguise.”
“That should have been a warning to you.”
“It was. Then there was Roger.” His eyes were soft, he was smiling. “I wish you could have met Roger. He was such a charming fellow. I knew him for a Norman as soon as I saw him; he had the fair looks and long limbs of a Viking.”
“One of your own kind,” I said.
“We met on the road. He asked us where our destination was and we told him England. He then said that we could spend a night or two at his castle. I liked the man on sight. Do you know, dear Mother, I trusted him. The others did not. They were very suspicious. But then they were suspicious of everyone.”
“And rightly so.”
“Yes, indeed, rightly so. But there was a feeling between myself and Roger. I knew he would not betray us.”
“Because of his handsome looks?”
“Oh far more than that. There was a rapport between us. He gave us a great welcome at his castle. I can see it now . . . the smell of roasting venison, the sweet sound of music, the warmth of the great hall. He had a good voice and we sang together; we played a game of chess. I checkmated him. I think he may have allowed me to.
“He said to me after the game, ‘You are no ordinary merchant. I think you are a great nobleman.’ I had a feeling that he knew who I was, and I asked him if this were so. I said to him bluntly: ‘Do you know who I am?’ And he answered, ‘I think I do. You are the great Coeur de Lion. There could not be another who looks as noble as you, and I have heard that the King of England is the most noble-looking man on Earth.’ Such was the understanding between us that I did not deny it.
“He looked worried. He said, ‘You are in danger. There are those here who would make you prisoner. There is an order throughout the land that any who suspect