The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [234]
The rest of the party had joined him and were prepared to catch the man, but Richard shook his head.
“Leave him,” he said. “He suffers from a madness, poor fellow, which is no fault of his own.”
That was typical of Richard. It was only rarely that he wanted revenge.
Oddly enough, very soon after that encounter he had an attack of fever and was very ill indeed. In fact, his life was despaired of. He may have remembered the old man in the woods and wondered whether he was indeed a messenger from God.
Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, went to visit him. He was a man who had often been in conflict with Richard but whom Richard admired for his courage. Like the fanatic in the woods, the Bishop was not afraid of speaking his mind. He told Richard that he had an immediate need of repentance.
“Does not every man?” asked Richard.
“You, my lord, are the King. Your responsibilities are heavy. You do not live with your wife, though it is your duty to give the country an heir. Instead you pursue a way of life which is against nature. Mend your ways. Life is short. If you die now, you will have failed in your duty. Give up your way of life. Recall your wife. Admit your sins.”
“You dare to talk to me like this!” said Richard.
“My lord King, I dare,” was the answer.
“I could order that your tongue be cut out. How would you like that?”
“I should not wish to burden your soul with further sin.”
Conflict always made Richard feel better. He was amazed at the boldness of Bishop Hugh.
He said: “I respect your courage. You are right. I have sinned. There is the future to think of. Pray for me. If I have another chance, I will recall my wife. I will try to do my duty.”
Bishop Hugh fell on his knees in prayer. He stayed at the King’s bedside and when he finally arose Richard’s fever had left him.
Richard traveled to Poitou where Berengaria was living. Poor girl, she must have been very lonely now that Joanna had gone. I wondered what she thought when she sat with her embroidery, or plucked halfheartedly at her lute or rode in the forest.
What indeed were her thoughts when Richard came riding into the courtyard?
I knew that in the beginning she had idolized him, but what had the years of neglect done to her love? She must have known why he left her. She knew of the handsome men and charming boys with whom he surrounded himself.
And now he was here . . . come for her . . . implying that he intended to play the faithful husband.
I know Berengaria’s type of woman. Meek, docile, not unlike Alais. I rejoiced. All would be well now.
Such a man as Richard should have many children . . . sons to follow him . . . to save the throne from conflict with John and Arthur . . . to continue to build up that great Plantagenet Empire which bad been Henry’s dream.
Philip Augustus and Richard were now deadly enemies. That was not surprising when one considered the position of their domains. What was to be marveled at was that they had ever been friends.
Philip Augustus was no Louis. He might not have been a great general but he was an astute monarch; he was constantly seizing every advantage and now was posing a threat to Normandy since the all-important Vexin had come into his possession.
Richard built a castle where it overlooked the little towns of Andelys—Petit and Grand—right on the banks of the Seine. Set high on a hill it had commanding views of the countryside, and advancing armies could be seen from miles off from whichever direction they came. It stood there in defiance of Philip Augustus, and Richard named it Chteau Gaillard—the Saucy Castle.
When Philip Augustus heard of this, he said: “I will take it, were it made of iron.”
These words were reported to Richard. His reply was: “I will hold it, were it made of butter.”
Thus the rivalry continued and the once-dear friends were now the bitterest of enemies.
c
There was a rumor abroad.
A peasant, ploughing his master’s fields, had discovered a wonderful golden treasure, said to be figures of gold and silver, worth a fortune. The land belonged