The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [235]
Richard was intrigued. Perhaps there was more treasure on the land—and treasure found in his dominions belonged to him. He needed money. The exchequer was always low and taxes were unpopular.
Then it was said that the value of the treasure had been exaggerated—it was nothing but a bag of golden coins; and Acard was a vassal of Adamar of Limoges, who himself claimed the treasure. This seemed like defiance to Richard, and that was something he would not tolerate. He would make immediate war on the insolent barons.
So he marched.
It was Lent—not the time to make war. These things were remembered afterward.
All Richard wanted was the treasure. Let them give it to him and the war would be immediately over.
Richard arrived before the castle of Chlus. It would be an easy matter to take it. How could they possibly defend it against the great Coeur de Lion? No doubt they wished they had handed over the treasure since it was not so very great, but it was too late.
It was so tragic—so ridiculous that so trivial an incident could bring about such a momentous event.
It was revenge, I suppose.
The castle was not a great fortress but it did stand on an elevation which gave it an advantage. Even so, it would be no great task to take it.
It was a March day—one I shall never forget. Richard was inspecting the fortifications when suddenly an arrow struck him on the shoulder. It had entered below the nape of his neck near his spine and was so deeply embedded that it could not be withdrawn. He mounted his horse and rode back to the camp. There his flesh had to be cut away to remove the arrowhead.
I think Richard must have known that death was close, for he sent to me asking me to come to him. I prepared to leave at once, first sending the Abbess Matilda to tell Berengaria and send the news to John. Then I left Fontevrault with the Abbot of Turpenay.
We did not stop all through the night.
When I reached him, I knew there was no hope. He lay there, my beautiful son, with the knowledge that he must go, his work unfinished. His great object now was to make his dominions safe. He wanted me there beside him . . . not only because the love we bore each other was greater than we had ever given to any other but also because he believed that I was the only one in whose hands he could safely leave his kingdom.
Arthur had not come to England; therefore it must be John who followed him. There could be trouble but it was too late to avert it now.
Berengaria arrived. She was at his bedside. He looked at her sadly, apologetically. I knew he was wishing he had been different.
They had found the man who had shot the fatal arrow. He was young, little more than a boy. His name was Bertrand de Gurdun.
When he heard that his murderer had been arrested, Richard wanted to see him. He was amazed that one so young could have been responsible.
He said: “Why did you want to kill me, boy?”
“You killed my father and my two brothers,” was the answer. “You would have killed me . . . for a pot of gold. I wished to avenge my family.”
The King nodded. “Have you any idea what terrible punishment I could order for you?”
“I care not. I have done what I set out to do. I have laid you, tyrant, on your deathbed.”
“This is a brave boy,” said Richard. “No harm shall come to him. Let him go free.”
That was typical of Richard. He understood the boy’s motives. He would have done the same himself.
From the moment I arrived, I was at his bedside. I would not leave him.
“Richard,” I said, “you must live. You cannot die like this . . . in such a place . . . for such a reason.”
“We die when our turn comes, dear Mother. What I regret most is leaving you. Do not weep. This is the end for me. I sought to take Jerusalem and I died fighting for a bag of coins.”
“Richard, you have been ill before. You have been plagued by the fever, but you have always recovered. You must do so now.”
“You must watch John,” he said. “It has to be John. Arthur is not in England . . . and they would not have him. Pray, Mother. Pray for peace in the realm. Send for