Part 25

They were, however, in no condition to oppose the grasping monarch; Henry entered Brittany, assembled the States at Nantes, and claimed the guardianship of his grandson’s person and domains. They were at first intimidated by his threats, but Constance showed so much spirit, that she obtained the keeping of her son, and the immediate government, though she was not to act without the advice and consent of the King of England, who received the oaths of the barons present. The widowed heiress suffered much persecution from the different suitors for her hand, among whom figured her brother-in-law, John Lackland; and Henry, fearing her marriage with some powerful prince, so tormented her by threats of removing her son from her charge, that he forced her into a marriage with Ranulf de Blondeville, Count of Chester, grandson to an illegitimate son of Henry I., a man of violent, and ambitious temper, and of mean and ungraceful appearance. In a dispute which took place between him and the Count de Perche, in Lincoln Cathedral, the latter contemptuously called him a dwarf. “Sayest thou so?” cried Ranulf; “ere long I shall seem to thee as high as that steeple!”--and his words were fulfilled, when, as Duke of Brittany, he claimed the allegiance of the Count.

He made himself extremely hated in Brittany by his cruelty and injustice; and no sooner had the news arrived of the death of Henry II., than the people rose with one consent, drove him away, and restored the power to Constance. Richard I. did not interfere in his behalf, and appeared favorable to his nephew Arthur, acknowledging him as heir-presumptive of England, and, when at Messina, betrothing him to the daughter of Tancred, King of Sicily. It was probably in honor of this intended alliance that Richard presented Tancred with the sword Excalibar, which certainly should never have passed out of the possession of the British.

Constance remained at peace for the present, though Richard’s absence left the other territories over which he asserted his power exposed to much disturbance. He had left the government of England in the hands of Hugh, Bishop of Durham (the young Earl), and William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely--a native of Beauvais, who had risen to high favor in the employ first of Geoffrey, the son of Rosamond, Archbishop of York, and was now chancellor, and afterward of Richard. He was an arrogant man, and broke through all restraint, imprisoned his colleague, deprived him of his offices, and forced him to resign his earldom; then, when Richard despatched orders that he should be re-instated, declared that he knew what were the King’s private intentions, and should obey no public instructions. He sealed public acts with his own seal instead of the King’s, kept a guard of fifteen hundred rapacious and disorderly mercenaries, plundered men of every rank, so that it was said “the knight could not keep his silver belt, the noble his ring, the lady her necklace, nor the Jew his merchandise.” He travelled in great state, with a train of minstrels and jesters, who drowned the outcries of the injured people by songs in his praise. Again Richard sent orders to restrain him, but in vain; he only declared them a forgery, and pursued his careless course.

Geoffrey, Archbishop of York, had sworn not to enter the kingdom for three years, but he now returned; whereupon the chancellor seized him while at mass, and kept him prisoner. John had no love for his half-brother: but this was a good opportunity of overthrowing the chancellor, after such an outrage on the person of an archbishop; and, at the head of the barons and bishops, he forced Longchamp to resign the chancellorship, and promise to give up the keys of the King’s castles.

To avoid yielding the castles, he attempted to escape from England in disguise, and arrived at the seashore of Kent in the dress of an old woman--a gown with large sleeves, a thick veil, and a bundle of linen and ell-wand in his hand. The tide did not serve, and he was forced to seat himself on a stone to wait for his vessel. Here the fisherwomen came up and began to examine his wares, and ask their price; but the English chancellor and bishop understood no English, and only shook his head. Thinking him a crazy woman, they peeped under his veil, and, “spying a great beard under his muffler,” raised a shout which brought their husbands to the spot, who, while he vainly tried to explain himself, dragged him in derision through the mud, and shut him up in a cellar. He was, however, released, gave up the keys, and left England.

Geoffrey became chancellor in his stead, and took possession of the see of York. The next disturbance was caused by the return of Philippe of France, begging Pope Celestine III. to absolve him of his oath to respect Richard’s dominions. Celestine refused, and no one was found to second his plans but Richard’s own brother John, whom he brought over by promises of securing to him the succession, and bestowing on him the continental fiefs. The English, and with them William the Lion of Scotland and his brother David, maintained the rights of the young Arthur, and matters continued in suspense till Richard’s release from his captivity.

Easily subduing and more easily pardoning his traitor brother, Richard carried his arms into France, gained a victory at Vendome, and took the great seal of France; then entered Guienne, where the turbulent nobility had revolted, and reducing them, enjoyed a short space of tranquillity and minstrelsy, and kept on a poetical correspondence with Count Guy of Auvergne.

Arthur, who was now nine years old, was, in 1196, introduced by his mother to the assembly of the States of Brittany, and associated with her in the duchy. His uncle at the same time claimed the charge of him as his heir, and invited Constance to a conference at Pontorson. On her way--it is much to be feared with his connivance--she was seized by a body of troops under her husband, the Earl of Chester, and carried a prisoner to the castle of St. James de Beuvron.

Her nobles met at St. Malo, and deputed the seneschal of Rennes to inquire of her how they should act, and to assure her of their fidelity. She thanked them earnestly, but her whole entreaty was that they would guard her son, watch him like friends, servants, and parents, and save him from the English. “As for me,” wrote she, “that will be as God wills; but whatever may befall me, do your best for Arthur my son. I shall always be well, provided he is well, and in the care of good subjects.”

The vassals wept at this letter, full of maternal love; they swore to devote themselves to their young lord, even to the death, and obtained from him a promise never to treat with the English without their consent. They placed him under the charge of the Sieur de Vitré, who conducted him from castle to castle with so much secrecy, that Richard continually failed in his attempts to seize on him. Treaties were attempted, but failed, with mutual accusations of perfidy, and while Constance continued a prisoner, a most desolating war raged in the unfortunate duchy. The dislike and distrust that existed between Constance and her mother-in-law, Queen Eleanor, seem to have been the root of many of these troubles; Eleanor was all-powerful with her son, and contrived to inspire him with distrust of Constance--a suspicion naturally augmented by her refusal to allow him the care of her son, his own heir, whom she placed in the hands of the foe of the English.

Richard’s troops were chiefly Brabançon mercenaries, or free-companions--a lawless soldiery, deservedly execrated; and their captain, Mercadet, was a favorite of the King on account of his dauntless courage and enterprise. In a skirmish, Mercadot took prisoner the Bishop of Beauvais, one of the warlike prelates who forgot their proper office. The Pope demanded his liberation, and Richard returned the suit of armor in which the bishop had been taken, with the message, “See if this be thy son’s coat, or no.”

“No, indeed,” said Celestine; “this is the coat of a son of Mars; I will leave it to Mars to deliver him.”

Vitré succeeded in lodging young Arthur, his charge, in the hands of the King of France, who espoused his cause as an excuse for attacking Richard. Several battles took place, and at length another treaty of peace was made, by which Constance was liberated, after eighteen months’ captivity. Doubtless this would soon have proved as hollow as every other agreement between the French King and the Plantagenet; but it was Coeur de Lion’s last.

The Vicomte de Limoges, in Poitou, sent him two mule-burdens of silver, part of a treasure found in his hands. Richard rapaciously claimed the whole. “No,” said the Vicomte, “only treasure in gold belongs to the suzerain; treasure in silver is halved.”

Richard, in anger, marched to Poitou with his Brabançons, and besieged the Castle of Chaluz, where he believed the rest of the riches to be concealed. In the course of the assault his shoulder was pierced by an arrow shot from the walls by an archer named Bertrand de Gourdon, and though the wound at first appeared slight, the surgeons, in attempting to extract the head of the arrow, so mangled the shoulder, that fever came on, and his life was despaired of. Mercadet, in the meantime, pushed on the attack, took the castle, and brought Gourdon a prisoner to the King’s tent.

“Villain, wherefore hast thou slain me?” said Richard.

“Because,” replied Gourdon, “thou hast with thine own hand killed my father and my two brothers. Torture me as thou wilt; I shall rejoice in having freed the world of a tyrant.”

The dying King ordered that the archer should be released, and have a sum of money given to him; but the Brabançons, in their rage and grief, flayed the unhappy man alive. Richard’s favorite sister Joan, Queen of Sicily, had married Raymond, Count of Toulouse, who was at this juncture in great distress from having taken the part of the persecuted Albigenses. She travelled to her brother’s camp to ask his aid, but arriving to find him expiring, she was taken ill, and, after giving birth to a dead child, died a few hours after her brother. They were buried together, at their father’s feet, at Fontevraud. Queen Berengaria survived him thirty years, living peacefully in a convent at Mans, where she was buried in the church of St. Julien, an English Queen who never set foot in England.

Loud were the lamentations of the troubadours of Aquitaine over their minstrel King, Bertrand de Born especially, bewailing him as “_le roi des courtois, l’empereur des preux_,” and declaring that barons, troubadours, jongleurs, had lost their all. This strange, contradictory character, the ardent friend yet the turbulent enemy of the Plantagenet princes, ended his life of rebellion and gallantry as a penitent in the Abbey of Citeaux. Dante nevertheless introduces him in his Inferno, his head severed from his body, and explaining his doom thus:

“Sappi ch’i’son Bertram dal Bornio, quelli Che diedi al re Giovanni i ma’ comforti I’ feci’l padre e’l figlio in se ribelli Achitofel non fè pir d’Absalone E di David co’ malvagi pungelli Perch’ i’ parti cosi giunte persone

## Partito porto il mio cerebro, lasso

Dal suo principio ch’é n questo troncone cosi s’osserva in me lo contrapasso.”

Queen Eleanor’s influence and Richard’s own displeasure at the Duchess of Brittany so prevailed, that Arthur was not even named by the dying Coeur de Lion; but he directed his barons to swear fealty to his brother John, and the wish was universally complied with.

Philippe Auguste’s voice was the only one uplifted in favor of Arthur, but it was merely as a means of obtaining a bribe, which John administered in the shape of the county of Evreux, as a marriage-portion for his niece, Blanche, the eldest daughter of Eleanor Plantagenet, Queen of Castile. John, though half-married to various ladies, had no recognized wife, and to give her to Louis, the eldest son of the King of France, would therefore, as John hoped, separate France from the interests of the Breton prince. He little thought what effect that claim would have on himself! Queen Eleanor, though in her seventieth year, travelled to Castile to fetch her granddaughter, a beautiful and noble lady, innocent of all the intrigues that hinged on her espousal, and in whom France received a blessing.

Philippe Auguste brought young Arthur to this betrothal, and caused him to swear fealty to his uncle for Brittany as a fief of Normandy. Arthur was now thirteen, and had newly received the order of knighthood, adopting as his device the lion, unicorn, and griffin, which tradition declared to have been borne by his namesake, and this homage must have been sorely against his will. He was betrothed to Marie, one of the French King’s daughters, and continued to reside at his court, never venturing into the power of his uncle.

His mother, Constance, had taken advantage of this tranquillity to obtain a divorce from the hated Earl of Chester, and to give her hand to the Vicomte Guy de Thouars; but the Bretons appear to have disapproved of the step, as they never allowed him to bear the title of Duke. She survived her marriage little more than two years, in the course of which she gave birth to three daughters, Alix, Catherine, and Marguerite, and died in the end of 1201.

Arthur set off to take possession of his dukedom, and was soon delighted to hear of a fresh disturbance between his uncle and the King of France, hoping that he might thus come to his rights.

John had long ago fallen in love with Avice, granddaughter of Earl Robert of Gloucester, and had been espoused to her at his brother’s coronation; but the Church had interposed, and refused to permit their union, as they were second cousins. He was now in the south of France, where he beheld the beautiful Isabelle, daughter of the Count of Angoulême, only waiting till her age was sufficient for her to fulfill the engagement made in her infancy, and become the wife of Hugh de Lusignan, called _le brun_, Count de la Marche, namely, the borders of English and French Poitou. Regardless of their former ties, John at once obtained the damsel from her faithless parents, and made her his queen; while her lover, who was ardently attached to her, called upon the King of France, as suzerain, to do him justice.

Philippe was glad to establish the supremacy of his court, and summoned John to appear. John promised compensation, and offered as a pledge two of his castles; then broke his word, and refused; whereupon Philippe took up arms, besieged the castles, and had just destroyed them both, when Arthur arrived, with all the Breton knights he could collect, and burning with the eagerness of his sixteen years.

At once Philippe offered to receive his homage for the county of Anjou, and to send him to conquer it with any knights who would volunteer to follow him. Hugh de Lusignan was the first to bring him fifteen, and other Poitevin barons joined him; but, in all, he could muster but one hundred knights and four or five hundred other troops, and the wiser heads advised him to wait for reinforcements from Brittany. The fiery young men, however, asked, “When was it our fashion to count our foes?” and their rashness prevailed. Arthur marched to besiege the town of Mirabeau, where there resided one whom he should never have attacked--his aged grandmother; but Constance had taught him no sentiment toward her but hatred, and with this ill-omened beginning to his chivalry he commenced his expedition.

The town was soon taken: but Eleanor’s high spirit had not deserted her; she shut herself up in the castle, and contrived to send intelligence to her son. John was for once roused, and marched to Mirabeau with such speed, that Arthur soon found himself surrounded in his turn. The Queen was in the citadel, the prince in the town, besieging her, and himself besieged by the King on the outside; but the town wall was strong, and John could not easily injure his nephew, nor send succor to his mother.

He recollected a knight named Guillaume dos Roches, who had once been attached to Arthur’s service, but was now in his camp; and sending for him, the wily King thus addressed him: “It is hard that persons who should be friendly kindred should so disturb each other for want of meeting and coming to an understanding. Here is Eleanor, my honored mother, discourteously shut up in a tower in danger of being broken down by engines of war, and sending forth nothing but cries and tears. Here is Arthur, my fair nephew, who some day will be an honor to chivalry, going straight forward, fancying nothing can hurt him, looking on battles as feasts and sports. And here am I, John, his lord and King, who could easily take from him at a blow all the rest of his life; I am waiting, and endeavoring to spare him, though his men-at-arms may come and catch me like a fox in the toils. Cannot you find some expedient? Can you remember no friend of my fair nephew who could help you to restore peace, and obtain a guerdon from me?”

“The only guerdon I desire,” replied Des Roches, “is the honor of serving my lord; but one gift I entreat.”

“I grant it, by the soul of my father,” said John.

“To-morrow, then,” said Des Roches, “the young Duke and all his young lords shall be at your disposal; but I claim the gift you granted me. It is, that none of the besieged shall be imprisoned or put to death, and that Duke Arthur be treated by you as your good and honorable nephew, and that you leave him such of his lands as rightfully pertain to him.”

John promised, and even swore that, if he violated his word, he released his subjects from their oaths. Arthur’s stepfather, Guy de Thouars, witnessed the agreement, and, thus satisfied, Des Roches introduced his troops into the town at midnight, and Arthur and his followers were seized in their sleep. But for John’s promise, he regarded it no more than the wind; he sent twenty-two knights at once to Corfe Castle, chained two and two together in carts drawn by oxen, where all but Hugh de Lusignan were starved to death by his orders. He threw the rest into different prisons, and closely confined his nephew at Falaise. Des Roches remonstrated, upon which John attempted to arrest both him and De Thouars, but they escaped from his dominions; and Des Roches was so grieved at the fatal consequence of his treachery, that he became a hermit, and ended his life in penance.

The old Queen, whose disposition had softened with her years, charged John, on pain of her curses, not to hurt his nephew, and exerted herself to save the victims from barbarity. She prevailed so far as to obtain the life of Lusignan; but he was shut up at Bristol Castle, where John likewise imprisoned the elder sister of Arthur, Eleanor, a girl of eighteen, of such peerless beauty that she was called the Pearl of Brittany. John held a parley with his nephew at Falaise, when the following dialogue took place; [Footnote: These particulars are from old chronicles of slight authority.]

“Give up your false pretentions,” said John, “to crowns you will never wear. Am I not your uncle? I will give you a share of my inheritance as your lord, and grant you my friendship.”

“Better the hatred of the King of France!” exclaimed the high-spirited boy; “he has not broken his faith, and with a noble knight there is always a resource in generosity.”

“Folly to trust him!” sneered John. “French kings are the born enemies of Plantagenets.”

“Philippe has placed the crown on my brow--he was my godfather in chivalry--he has granted me his daughter,” said Arthur.

“And you will never marry her, fair nephew! My towers are strong; none here resist my will.”

The boy burst out proudly: “Neither towers nor swords shall make me cowardly enough to deny the right I hold from my father and from God. He was your elder brother, now before the Saviour of men. England, Touraine, Anjou, Guienne, are mine in his right, and Brittany through my mother. Never will I renounce them, but by death.”

“So be it, fair nephew,” were John’s words, and with them he left his captive alone, to dwell on the horrors thus implied.

Soon after, John secretly sent a party of men into Arthur’s dungeon, with orders to put out his eyes. The youth caught up a wooden bench, and defended himself with it, calling so loudly for help as to bring to the spot the excellent governor of the castle, Hubert de Burgh, who had been in ignorance of their horrible design. He sent away the assassins, and, as the only means of saving the poor prince, he caused the chapel bell to be tolled, and let it be supposed that he had perished under their hands. All the world believed it, and Brittany and Normandy began to rise, to call the murderer to account. Hubert thought he was doing a service in divulging the safety of the prisoner, but the effect was, that John transferred the poor boy to Rouen, and to the keeping of William Bruce.

He was an old man, and dreaded the iniquity that he saw would soon be practised; and, coming to the King, gave up his charge in these words: “I know not what Fate intends for your nephew, whom I have hitherto faithfully kept. I give him up to you, in full health, and sound in limb; but I will guard him no longer; I must return to my own affairs.”

John’s eyes flashed fury; but the baron retired to his own fiefs, which he put in a state of defence. A few days after, John and his wicked squire, Pierre de Maulac, left the court, giving notice that he was going to Cherbourg, and, after wandering for three days in the woods of Moulineau, came late at night in a little boat to the foot of the tower where Arthur was confined. Horses were ready there, and he sent Maulac to bring him his nephew.

“Fair nephew,” said he, “come and see the day you have so long desired. I will make you free as air: you shall even have a kingdom to govern.”

Arthur began to ask explanations, but John cut him short, telling him there would be time for questions and thanks; and Maulac helped him to his horse, for he was so much weakened by his imprisonment that he could hardly mount. They rode on, Arthur in front, till they came to a spot where the river flowed beneath a precipitous bank. It was John’s chosen spot; and he spurred his horse against his nephew’s, striking him down with his sword. The poor boy cried aloud for mercy, promising to yield all he required.

“All is mine henceforth,” said John, “and here is the kingdom I promised you.”