Read Online The Prince of Darkness by Jean Plaidy - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
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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 theircool 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’sperfidy 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 26 th 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
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 theircool 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’sperfidy 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 26 th 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
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