But perhaps I had not changed so much.
That peace was shattered suddenly. Philip Augustus had come to terms with Rome. Agnes’s son and daughter were to be recognized as legitimate. Now he could turn his attention to what had always been an ambition of his: the disintegration of the Plantagenet Empire which had for long been a source of irritation to France.
His father had been weak; he was not. Henry FitzEmpress had been strong; the present King of England was weak. Philip Augustus was ready to go into action.
In snatching Isabella from Hugh le Brun, John had committed an act of aggression against a vassal of Philip Augustus, and as Duke of Normandy John was summoned to appear in Paris to answer charges against him. He naturally refused to comply with this order.
Philip Augustus then declared that John should be deprived of all the land he held under the King of France.
John snapped his fingers at such a decree. Philip Augustus responded by knighting Arthur and betrothing him to the daughter who had just been declared legitimate. This was tantamount to saying that Philip Augustus supported Arthur’s claim to the throne of England and that he would help him to achieve it. Moreover, he gave him an army and sent him off with his blessing, to capture his rights.
John was at Le Mans when the news came to Fontevrault that Arthur was marching on to Poitou. My country! I was alert. Though my people had been loyal to me, they would not rally to John, who was a stranger to them. I had thought I had done with action, but I could see that my peace was at an end. I believed that if I appeared at the head of a small force my people would support me.
There was nothing to be done but leave the peace of Fontevrault. It seemed that I still had a part to play.
I made preparations at once. I gathered what little force I had. I believed it was my presence which would induce my people to rally to my side. They would not allow Poitou to be snatched from me. I was sure of their loyalty.
So ... though I was close on eighty years old, I rode forth.
We had come to the chteau of Mirebeau on the borders of Anjou and Poitou. It proved a bad choice for it was not strongly fortified, and I had not been there very long when news came that Arthur and his army, with that of the Lusignans, had had word of my arrival and were marching on the castle.
I laughed and said: “Whenever these Lusignans are about we can expect an attempted abduction. They seem to make a habit of it ... with me as their intended victim.”
I sent a message to John at Le Mans telling him he must come to Mirebeau with all speed. We then set about fortifying the castle.
It was a horrifying experience to see the armies approaching, because I knew that we could not hold out for long. They would be triumphant, knowing that I was inside the castle and that it would be a simple matter to take me.
Night was almost upon us when the armies encamped outside the castle walls. From a top turret I could see them clearly. I saw Arthur for the first time. My own grandson! He was a handsome boy. I was moved, as I always was by members of the family. I might have been fond of that boy. What a sad thing it was that he was there now, plotting to take me prisoner.
For my own fate I felt little concern. Perhaps one does not care very much when one gets old. My life was finished. What did it matter to me if they killed me in the attempt to take me? It would be that I reached the end a few months ... perhaps a few weeks ... before I should at Fontevrault.
What good fortune that they decided to delay the attack until morning! So are great events decided. They had marched through the day and were weary. There was no hurry, they thought. The prey was in her trap and there could be no escape with the army surrounding the castle, and in the morning it would be an easy matter.
I found myself looking forward to an encounter with my grandson. From what I had seen of him, he was a little arrogant, a little imperious. Well, he was but a boy and when too much respect is shown to the young it is not good for their characters.
I slept not at all and that was a long night. I lay on my bed waiting for the morning.
What hope was there that John would come? When had anything John did been a success? I had tried for so long not to see his faults, but of course I had been aware of them. Here I was ... surrounded by the enemy ... about to be abducted. Held for ransom, I supposed. How much would John think his mother was worth? It was not the money which was important. The Lusignans did not want the people of Poitou to know that I was coming to them. They wanted them to think of me as an old woman dying at Fontevrault. Then they would say: Here is Arthur. Is he any better than John? Why bother to remain under the rule of foreigners?
It was a clever idea to prevent my reaching my people, and we should have found a stronger fortress than Mirebeau. But there was nothing to do but wait for morning.
Life is full of surprises. For once my son John acted as his father would have. When he received the message that I was at Mirebeau, he rode with his army all through the night and arrived at the castle at dawn. Arthur and the Lusignans were taking a leisurely breakfast before beginning what they would look upon as the easiest conquest of their military careers.
With John was that military genius William Marshal. The timing was perfect, with Arthur and the Lusignans feasting, prematurely celebrating their victory: they were unarmed and when John arrived they were surrounded.
There was no real battle. It was all over very quickly and Arthur and the Lusignans were John’s prisoners.
John came into the castle, his eyes alight with triumph. He embraced me. I was so surprised and delighted that I reciprocated warmly.
“I heard you were in danger,” he cried. “I rode through the night. And see! We arrived just in time. There was no battle. We caught them unprepared.”
I had been mistaken in him. I thought in that moment: He is Henry’s son, a true Plantagenet.
c
I wish that could have been true. I think that is the only time I can recall when John acted with good sense, for it is no use winning if one does not know what to do with victory.
He forgot that those men he had captured were noblemen. They had been defeated in battle and it was the mark of a good general that he treat honorable enemies with respect. In war a good leader is fierce; in victory he is magnanimous.
How elated John was to survey his prisoners: Arthur who would take his throne; Hugh le Brun who would have taken his bride. His great desire was to humiliate them.
He acquired farm carts in which cattle were carried from place to place. He chained and fettered his prisoners and forced them to stand in the carts with their faces close to the beasts’ tails as an added insult. John was sadistic by nature. I had long realized that. These prisoners, who were of the noblest families, including his own nephew, were to be paraded through the streets and taken to various places selected for them.
The two he must have had a special delight in humiliating were Arthur and Hugh le Brun. Hugh was tall and handsome; John was far from that. And this was the manner in which he treated his rivals.
He was foolish. He did not see the disgust on the people’s faces or, if he did, ignored it. He did not realize that these people were making up their minds that they would not willingly have such a man to rule over them if he could behave so to their noblemen—many of them members of their own families.
Hugh le Brun was sent to Caen; many others were sent to England and imprisoned in Corfe Castle. Arthur was taken to Falaise.
I had tried to reason with John. He smiled and nodded but I knew he was not listening. I could not warn him; others had tried to. I knew that William Marshal was completely shocked by this treatment of the prisoners and had tried to instill in him the folly of such conduct.