John was a little petulant at the prospect of having his pleasure spoilt, but his mother was insistent and in his heart he had known something of this nature would happen soon.
While he was digesting his mother’s news another messenger arrived.
This one came from the Count of Angoulême who had the same story to tell.
The Lusignans were on the march, vowing vengeance. Moreover, Arthur’s stepfather, Guy of Thouars, was proving himself a clever strategist. In Arthur’s name he was amassing an army. There was trouble then not only from the powerful Lusignans and the King of France but from Arthur.
Arthur must not be victorious.
John made up his mind. He must prepare to leave England. He would need a big army so he sent envoys throughout the country commanding his barons to come with all speed to Portsmouth with their followers, for he planned to cross to the Continent without delay.
There followed the first clap of thunder from a storm which was to grow big.
Many of the barons had been consulting together and were recalling the good old days before the reign of Henry II when they had indeed been rulers of their estates. None of them could remember that time but the stories had been handed down through their grandparents and parents. In the days of Stephen a baron was a baron. He was the king of his own lands and held jurisdiction over those who passed through them. They forgot that during that time it was not safe for travellers to go on to the road and that many of those who did were captured by cruel and avaricious barons and either held to ransom or robbed and tortured for the sport of other baron guests. This was a situation which to all decent men was intolerable and the rule of Henry II had wiped it out, much to the relief of almost every inhabitant of the country apart from those unscrupulous men who had profited from this barbarism.
Henry II’s stern but just laws had made the country safe again and that King was such that none would have dared to go against him; but when Richard had come to the throne and had enforced taxation in order to pay for his crusade the people had grown restive. But the knowledge that he was engaged in the Holy War made them little inclined to revolt against such taxes because they superstitiously feared they would offend Heaven by doing so and would consequently suffer more harm than if they gave up their money. So they paid up: and when Richard was taken prisoner and came back a hero they were proud of him. All who saw him declared that even towards the end of his life he had the appearance of a god.
And then he had died and there was John. In the first place John lacked those impressive good looks, that kingly bearing and world-wide reputation. John’s image was tarnished before he came to the throne. They had all heard of his exploits in Ireland and when, as Count of Mortain, brother of the King, he had ridden through their villages, they had hidden their daughters. It was well known that when Richard was away he had plotted against him without much foresight and wisdom and consequently been forced to humble himself and crave pardon when his brother returned. They knew that that pardon had been given and Richard had been heard to say that his young brother had been led astray, and in any case he was not to be feared because he would never be able to make a conquest and if by good fortune a kingdom fell into his hands he would not be able to hold it against a foe.
That clearly indicated Richard’s contempt for John. It may well have been why, the barons now reasoned, he had at one time named Arthur as his heir.
And now, there was trouble on the Continent. The barons cared little for the Continent. They were English now, for though many of them had Norman ancestors, Normandy now seemed far away; it was their estates in England which they cared about and they had no desire to pay with their money and perhaps with their lives to help the King hold territories on the Continent while their affairs in England were neglected.
Some of the more bold of them now called together all those who had received a summons from the King and they met at Leicester where they decided they would make a stand against the King’s orders.
They would not accompany him in his proposed war unless in return he did something for them. They wanted the old privileges which their baron ancestors had enjoyed returned to them.
John was in Portsmouth awaiting their arrival when he received the message. Immediately he flew into a rage. Isabella was with him and this was the first time she had seen one of his rages. He had been so delighted with his marriage, so absorbed by Isabella that nothing irked him at all; he had been content to put aside anything that was unpleasant and give himself up entirely to enjoying his marriage.
But this was too much. They had dared defy him as they would never have defied Richard or his father! They refused to come, unless he complied with their conditions.
‘I’ll see them in hell first!’ he screamed and threw himself on to the floor.
Isabella watched him, round-eyed, as he rolled back and forth clutching the rushes, tearing at them with his teeth and spitting them forth as he kicked out madly.
‘John!’ she cried. ‘Please … please do not do that. You will do yourself an injury.’
For once he did not hear her. He lay kicking violently at anything which came within range and when, frightened, she ran out of the room, he did not even notice her going.
When his fury had abated a little he sent for the messenger. The man came pale and trembling, for the news that the King was in one of his raging tantrums had reached him.
‘Go to these rogues,’ shouted the King, ‘and tell them that if they are not in Portsmouth within the week I will seize their castles and lands, and what shall be done to them I leave them to guess.’
The messenger made off with all speed, his one desire being to put as great a distance between himself and John as possible.
‘Now,’ cried the King, ‘which is the nearest castle of these rebel barons?’
He discovered it belonged to a certain William of Albini.
‘They shall see that I mean what I say,’ he declared. ‘We will take this castle, raze it to the ground and hang all those who stand in our way as a lesson to the others.’
John was on the march, Isabella temporarily forgotten. His mouth was set in a firm line; his eyes were slightly bloodshot; there was a strength of purpose in him which all those about him recognised and they wondered whether they had misjudged John.
That was victory, for before they had reached the target castle, William of Albini sent out a body of men with his son offering him to John as hostage until he, William of Albini, could gather together his forces and present himself to the King at Portsmouth.
John laughed aloud. He had won the day. This, he thought, is the end of these barons’ petty revolt. This will show them who is their master.
All believed he was right, for the barons were now arriving at Portsmouth with their men and the money he had commanded them to bring.
Being John he must have his sly joke with them.
He collected the money they had brought which was to keep them and their soldiers during a long stay on the Continent. His eyes glistened as it was counted.
Then he said: ‘You have disappointed me, gentlemen. You show me that your hearts are not in this fight. You live smug and content on your lands here … lands which but for my noble ancestor known as William the Conqueror would never have been yours. You forget the land of your fathers which has been in my family’s possession since Great Rollo came and took it from the French. It is in peril, gentlemen, and you would rather stay behind and live in ease and comfort. The curses of the Conqueror on you! Stay behind. Do you think I want chicken-hearted men serving with me? Go back to your lands. I will take but your money. It will buy me soldiers whose profession it is to fight and will serve me better than you.’