Thus it was that at this time, when my son Henry was in a precarious position, wondering whether his father would discover his perfidy toward his brother, this diversion arose to turn the King’s thoughts from Aquitaine.
Little Lothair was too young to undertake the journey, and he must be left for a while, but Henry the Lion, with Matilda and the three children, Richenza, Henry and Otto, set out for Normandy.
The King met them there. He was deeply touched to be reunited with his daughter. He had such plans for his sons but I think it was his daughters who brought him the most joy.
Almost as soon as they arrived, Matilda’s husband, overcome with humiliation because of what had happened to him, decided he must go on a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostela, who was at this time the most popular of all the saints; pilgrims from all over Europe were going to visit his shrine. There were springing up inns all along the road to Compostela, and whether or not the saint answered the prayers of those who prayed at his shrine, he certainly provided prosperity for the innkeepers.
There were great preparations for his departure, and before he left Matilda was pregnant again.
I do believe that for a short time at Argentan the King forgot his troubles and gave himself up to his grandchildren, in whom he found great pleasure. Matilda told me about it afterward. She herself was surprised. The grandchildren adored him. It was amazing, said Matilda, to see Richenza climbing all over him, and the boys shouting with glee as he played war games with them. When he told them about the battles in which he had fought, they listened in silent awe; he wanted to spend as much time with them as he possibly could, and for once he forgot his dominions.
I could never feel indifferent about Henry. I could hate him fiercely. Who would not hate a husband who had kept her incarcerated for years? But I understood him. He had to keep me incarcerated, for how did he know what I would do if I were free? I was sorry for him in a way as I was not for myself. My captivity had given me time for reflection. My mind had always been too active for it to become sluggish. Here I was removed from events, looking in from the outside and finding it all fascinating. I was not one to sit down and weep for my misfortunes. I could see many sides to every question and, because I was so interested in people, I could understand their motives and realize that from their point of view they were in the right.
My feelings for Henry were similar to those he had had for Becket. I had loved him; I had hated him; but always he had been of vital interest to me, and I could picture his snatching that brief period at Argentan when Matilda’s children played with him, showed their pleasure in having him with them and gave him what he had missed in his own children.
Young Henry could not learn his lessons. As soon as his father was no longer there to overawe him, his ambitions began to return; and there was Bernard de Borne to feed them.
Bernard de Borne probably suggested that he had been too meek with his father. Men like the King of England understood strength and respected it.
Aquitaine was now out of the question. Richard was securely installed. The King had shown that he stood firmly behind him on that matter, and Henry must needs accept that this was so, and although the people thought Henry might bring softer rule, they had no wish to go to war.
There was Normandy, of course. Why should he not have Normandy?
With the praises of Bernard de Borne ringing in his ears, he wrote to his father demanding that he be given control of Normandy.
The reply came back. The King had no intention of relinquishing any of his possessions while he lived. He expected his sons to serve him and reminded Henry of the oath he had taken to do just that.
More frustrated than ever, raging inwardly, listening to the flattering poems of Bernard de Borne, young Henry looked around for trouble.
It came when he discovered that Richard had built a castle near the frontiers of Poitiers but which was actually in Anjou. Anjou, of course, was territory which would become Henry’s on his father’s death, and in building the castle Richard had encroached on land not his. This was the opportunity. Henry wrote to his father demanding that the castle be handed over to him.
I could imagine the King’s groans when he read of this. I wondered if he went into one of his rages. Perhaps not; there would be no point in doing so. This squabbling in the family was dangerous. Did these sons of his not see that their strength was in their union! He wrote to Richard telling him he must immediately hand over the castle to Henry as it had been built on land not his.
Richard’s reply was a blank refusal. The castle was necessary for defense.
“Hand it over or I shall come and take it,” replied the King.
Richard was first and foremost a soldier; he and the King should have been close; it was a pity they disliked each other. The King knew that Richard was a good soldier. How well they could have worked together for the aggrandizement of the Plantagenet empire! But Richard hated him because of his treatment of me; and there was another matter: Alais Capet, who had been destined for Richard and with whom the King had fallen in love. His feelings for Alais were, I believe, similar to those he had had for Rosamund Clifford. It went deeper than lust. Both women were beautiful and gentle. I had been beautiful but never gentle. They were the kind of women he needed—not to plague him but always to be there to soothe him, with no recriminations when he returned from those little respites which he allowed himself. I believed he really loved Alais. Every time the proposed marriage with Richard was brought up, he eluded it. Richard would always remind him of the wrong he had done his son; and people hate those whom they have wronged. Thus his feelings for Richard, who would have been a man after his own heart.
Richard was too wise to enter into conflict with his father. He wrote back that he would never give the castle to his brother who had been working against him with the object of taking Aquitaine. The castle was necessary to the defense of Poitiers. If the King would judge for himself the importance of the castle to Aquitaine, he would be prepared to accept his decision.
The King immediately realized that the castle was important for defense, otherwise Richard would not have built it in that particular spot, and as it was very necessary to defend Aquitaine, he was sure that Richard was right. He wrote back that he accepted Richard’s decision; he himself would decide about the castle when he saw it.
He was deeply disturbed, I was sure, about this discord in the family and he sent for Henry, Richard and Geoffrey to come to Caen, ostensibly to celebrate Christmas, but in fact he wanted a full understanding that these quarrels between them must stop: he wanted to impress on them the importance of solidarity in the family. He must have hoped that the Christmas spirit would incline his sons to reason.
I wished I had been there at that Christmas. Matilda’s presence would have helped perhaps, but young Henry, spurred on by the flattery of de Borne and the conviction that he had been cheated of his rights, was determined to make trouble.
Christmas fare had been provided in plenty: pies of all description, game, great joints of pig and lamb, and all the best wines obtainable. The King, of course, was impatient of such feasting, but it all had to be provided to give an air of Christmas festivity.
Yet there was little of the Christmas spirit that Christmas. Henry began by reminding his sons that they had taken an oath to serve him, and now they were warring together. He insisted that they swear an oath of fidelity toward each other.