John, in the cathedral, the coronet decorated with golden roses placed on his head, swore on the Gospels and relics of the saints that he would uphold the rights of the Church, that his laws would be just and he would suppress evil.
The Archbishop then attached the sword of justice to his girdle and took up the lance which had always been used by the Normans instead of the sceptre as in the Church of England.
It was while the lance was being handed to him that John heard his friends giggling close by and he could not resist turning to wink at them and assure them that he was still the same merry and irreligious companion who had shared their sport and that he was merely indulging in this solemn ceremony because just at the moment he must go along with the old people; and because his head was turned, the lance, which the Archbishop was at that moment putting into his hands, slipped and fell to the floor.
There was a horrified gasp from all who beheld this and a soft murmur spread through the cathedral.
At this solemn moment the lance, the symbol of Norman power which had been handed down and grasped firmly by every duke of Normandy, had fallen from the grasp of this one.
It was an omen, and what could it be but an evil one with the King of France in arms against them and some believing that Arthur of Brittany had a greater claim to the ducal crown?
John refused to be depressed by the incident. He would laugh about it later with his cronies.
After the ceremony there was good news. The indefatigable Eleanor had left her seclusion once more and placed herself at the head of Richard’s mercenaries led by the brilliant commander Mercadier – he who had inflicted such terrible punishment on Richard’s slayer – and she was driving the French and Bretons back from the territory they had gained. Meanwhile, the people of Normandy were rallying to John and he was soon ready to march on Le Mans.
He took it with ease and was exultant, remembering their cool reception of him such a short while before. He was going to show them what it meant to incur the wrath of King John. He was no Richard who only on rare occasions let the Angevin temper take over. John was going to show people right from the beginning what they must fear if they went against him.
He burned the houses. Every one of them must be demolished, he cried, and the castle was razed to the ground while the leading citizens were brought before him.
‘You were very inhospitable to me but a short time ago,’ he said. ‘You were very haughty, thinking you had the King of France with you. Where is he now? Tell me that. He has deserted you. He left you to my mercy. Now you shall discover how merciful I shall be.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Put them in chains,’ he growled. ‘Put them in the darkest dungeons. We’ll leave them there. There they can brood on what it means to set themselves against King John.’
The men were taken away. They had heard stories of his cruelty. Now they would experience it.
Flushed with success John cried: ‘What we have done with Le Mans we will do to those others who have given themselves freely to the cause of the King of France and little Arthur.’
But his advisers reminded him that the conquest of Le Mans had not been difficult because the King of France had already left, and if he were going to march on Anjou he needed a bigger army. Meanwhile, he should go to England and there let the ceremony of coronation be performed so that he could show the world that he was in truth the King of England.
John needed little persuasion. War in itself did not appeal to him. It was the conquest he liked. He had enjoyed ravaging Le Mans and working himself up into a rage over the people’s perfidy to him while he enjoyed to the full making them pay for their decision to support the wrong side.
But to go to war again, a war which could drag on endlessly, for Philip was a wily adversary and Constance he knew would find many to rally to Arthur’s cause, did not appeal.
He agreed to leave the conquest of Anjou for the future.
He would sail for England and his coronation.
The day after he arrived in London John was crowned. That was on the 26th May. The Abbey had been hung with coloured cloth. Sixteen prelates, ten earls and a host of barons graced the ceremony with their presence; as was the custom at a coronation the Archbishop of Canterbury presided. The Bishop of York protested that the ceremony should not take place until the Archbishop of York was able to be present; but as he was not on the spot it was decided to offend him if need be by continuing without him.
The Archbishop addressed the gathering in an unexpected fashion which appeared to be a justification of the selection of John and exclusion of Arthur.
‘The crown is not the property of any one person,’ he announced. ‘It is the gift of the nation which chooses who shall wear it. This is by custom usually a member of the reigning family, and a prince who is most worthy of wearing it. Prince John is the brother of our dead King Richard – the only surviving brother, and if he will swear the oaths which this high office demands, this country will accept him as its king.’
John gave assurance that he was ready to swear any oaths which would put the crown on his head.
‘Will you swear to uphold the peace of this land,’ asked the Archbishop, ‘to govern with mercy and justice, to renounce evil customs and be guided by the laws of that great King known as Edward the Confessor, these laws having proved beneficial to the nation?’
‘I swear,’ said John.
The Archbishop warned John against attempting to evade his responsibilities and reminded him of the sacred nature of his oath.
So John was crowned King of England but he refused to receive Holy Communion after the ceremony of crowning which was a custom of the coronation and was looked upon as sealing the oaths a king had just taken.
There was much feasting after they had left the Abbey and John and all the guests had to do justice to the twenty-one oxen which had been roasted for the occasion.
The next day he received the homage of the barons.
He was now truly King of England and Duke of Normandy.
Chapter IV
THE GIRL IN THE FOREST
Surrounded by serious men, somewhat overawed by the ceremonies of centuries, remembering stories he had heard of his great ancestors William the Conqueror, Henry the Lion of Justice and even the virtues of his own father Henry II, John was temporarily ready to be guided.
His first task was to receive William Marshal, to let him know of his appreciation of what he had done and to express the hope that William would serve him in the same selfless manner as he had served his brother and father.
William assured him of his loyalty and John could not help being impressed in the presence of such a man. He confirmed his title of Earl of Pembroke which had come to him through his wife and showed himself ready to listen to William’s advice.
William was pleased that England had accepted him; and that Normandy too was with him. They would regain Anjou, he promised John. When a new king came to the throne there were always those who thought they had a greater claim. The main trouble would come from the Continent, but all the kings since the Conqueror had been faced with that difficulty.
It was from the North of England, however, that the first threat came.
William, King of Scotland, known as William the Lion, had sent messages to the effect that if John wished him to maintain the loyalty he had given to Richard he, William, would need to be compensated by the return of Northumberland and Cumberland to the Scottish Crown. Faced with the antagonism of Philip and armies under Constance and Arthur, John had replied placatingly to William, saying that if he would wait until he returned to England he would be happy to settle all his claims.