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Warlord(28)

By:Angus Donald


There were a few murmurs, grumbles and muttered oaths, but Richard’s face was a picture of seriousness. ‘For those of you who do not know this already, my brother has seen the error of his ways and has renewed his allegiance to me. I have forgiven him. I have absolved him of his crimes. He has since returned to Evreux with a strong force of our knights and that fortress is now back in our hands.’

Once again a restrained babbling broke out, but as Richard raised a hand to quiet the crowd of barons and knights around him, a strong voice cut through the general murmuring. ‘Is it true that Prince John slaughtered all the French inhabitants of the town of Evreux? Cut down all of them – peasants, merchants, artisans, monks, nuns, priests – men, women and children …’ I recognized the familiar growling tones of William the Marshal, and sensed a hum of righteous anger behind his question.

‘Why would he do that?’ I said, without taking time to think. ‘What would be the point of such savagery?’

For the tiniest part of a moment, Richard looked uncertain; he opened his mouth to speak but he was superseded before he could utter a word.

A cold, lapidary voice spoke instead. ‘It is true. He killed them all. Slaughtered every one of them. And I helped him do it,’ said Mercadier, who was standing at the King’s elbow. ‘They were traitors, they were scum who served Philip and they all deserved to die.’

The scarred man seemed to be speaking directly at me. I was drawing a deep breath, ready to condemn his brutality, when King Richard spoke: ‘Yes, my brother and Mercadier killed many in Evreux – and God may well judge them for it in the next world. But you should consider this, Sir Alan: in doing so, Mercadier and John saved your life.’

I was completely wrong-footed, baffled, and it must have shown. How could a massacre of townspeople thirty miles away have saved my life?

Richard smiled sadly at me: ‘Why do you think King Philip disappeared so quickly with most of his army? Did you think your handful of men had frightened him away?’

‘No,’ I said, a little nettled, ‘I thought that you had.’

‘It was neither of us, I am afraid,’ Richard replied. ‘It was John. When King Philip heard what my brother had done in Evreux, he hurried there with all possible speed to avenge his people. And while we still hold the castle there, Philip is now furiously besieging our loyal men inside it.

‘But not for long. I will come back to that in a few moments, if I may. For now, let us continue.’ Richard cleared his throat. ‘There are three main areas of operation in this war against Philip. The first theatre is here in Normandy; the second is south around Touraine and the Loire Valley; and the third is in the far south in Aquitaine, my mother’s homeland. In all three areas, Philip will seek to cause mischief, either in person or through his allies; he will bribe and buy support from my vassals where he can, and intimidate others. He will be up to his knavish tricks from Rouen to Toulouse, and I must show my vassals, wherever they are, that I will not forgive treachery and I will put down any rebellion with speed and determination, and I will smash Philip’s armies wherever and whenever they can be brought to battle. And so, we must be prepared to tackle him on all three fronts – simultaneously, if necessary.’ The King took a deep breath. ‘Accordingly, I’ve decided to split the army into three parts.’

There was another outbreak of muttering among the assembled knights. Dividing an army weakened it and if the entire enemy force was able to concentrate against any one part, it could prove disastrous.

‘I have no choice,’ Richard said, answering a rumble of half-asked questions. ‘I must act immediately in several regions hundreds of miles apart, and I cannot be in all places at the same time. Anyway, I have made my decision. This is how it will go: firstly, Prince John and the earls of Leicester and Arundel will hold Normandy for me. They will protect Rouen from Philip’s depredations, and attempt to take back as much territory as they can without endangering their own ability to operate effectively in the northern theatre. Secondly, in the centre, Alençon, I want you to go down to Maine and link up there with my knights from Anjou, who are presently at Le Mans. Your task is to take Montmirail and destroy it and, if he ventures out of his bolt-hole at Chateâudun, I want you to give Geoffrey of the Perche a bloody nose. Thirdly, the earls of Striguil and Locksley, Mercadier and myself, and the bulk of the army will push on further south. We will join my ally and friend Sancho of Navarre and retake the castle of Loches.’

It was a good plan, clear and simple: and despite their reservations about splitting the army, the barons recognized it as such. Sancho, the heir to the King of Navarre, a small country on the far side of the Pyrenees, was King Richard’s brother-in-law. He had been a staunch supporter of Richard since his marriage to Sancho’s sister Berengaria in Cyprus three years ago. While the Lionheart was imprisoned, the Spanish warlord had guarded the southern flank of Richard’s huge dukedom of Aquitaine, battling restless local barons who had been encouraged to revolt by King Philip.