Warlord(58)

On the outskirts of Rouen, we stayed for one night in a monastery, and I discovered from one of the monks that what Richard had told me was indeed true: the French King was holding talks with King Richard’s Chancellor, William Longchamp, and a truce between the two sides now seemed to be imminent. The agreement was likely to allow each side to retain what territory it had. Both sides, the monk said, were exhausted by months of warfare; there would be a cessation of hostilities for a long while, God be praised.

I was weighed down with fatigue myself; Richard’s hard campaigning in the south had worn me thin, and my suspicions of Robin dragged at my spirits. I could not decide what to do about them: I knew that I must avenge my father, but challenging Robin was an unthinkable prospect. I needed to know more about the events around my father’s expulsion from Paris; and that knowledge could only be obtained by travelling to that great foreign city and demanding answers from Bishop Maurice de Sully and my uncle Thibault, the Seigneur d’Alle. I vowed that I would not leave that place until I had fathomed this mystery; and, furthermore, if it proved that Robin was responsible for my father’s death – despite my long friendship for him, and all that I owed him – I would seek a fitting revenge.

While the truce talks between Chancellor Longchamp and the French were taking place at the castle of Tillières, ten miles east of Verneuil – and King Richard, we heard, was continuing to win a series of minor but brilliant victories against the rebels in the south – Hanno, Thomas and I found ourselves accommodation in the stone castle of Rouen. Things were not at all well in the Norman capital: Prince John had been holding the city for Richard for the past two months, but while Richard had been covering himself in glory in the south, Prince John had been struggling to hold his own in the Duchy against King Philip’s marauding men. A few weeks before our arrival, the French had captured the small stronghold of Fontaines, a bare five miles north of the walls of Rouen. Worse, Robert, Earl of Leicester, a renowned and reliable warrior – who had been charged with the defence of Normandy along with Richard’s brother – had been captured by the French while raiding the lands of Hugh de Gournay and was now being held for ransom. There was an air of defeatism in the castle, servants tiptoed, knights wore long faces and talked among themselves almost in whispers. Prince John, on the other hand, complained long and loud to anyone who would listen that Richard had not given him sufficient men-at-arms to hold the Duchy, and was to be heard suggesting that the string of reverses that his men had suffered were, in fact, no fault of his but a result of Richard’s meanness with his available troops.

I had determined to stay out of Prince John’s presence, and I came to his attention, I believe, only once during the ten dull days I spent there. At dinner one day – a surprisingly lavish feast, given our circumstances, of swan baked in its feathers, stuffed crane, roast boar’s head and stewed lampreys – I found myself staring with deep contempt at John while he talked loudly in his harsh croaking voice about secret traitors within the walls of Rouen who were undermining his heroic defence. The look I gave him was unguarded, betraying all the derision that I held in my heart for the man, and he caught my eye while he was in mid-flow about the suspected perfidy of the Jews of the town. Our eyes locked for an instant, then I quickly glanced away – it does not pay to confront royalty, it can be as dangerous as teasing a wild bear – and I saw a glow of dark anger in his eyes. Clearly he had not forgotten me, and my ‘betrayal’ of his cause a year earlier. But he said nothing, and neither did I, and the talk between him and his cronies passed to other matters, chiefly, the hunt – for John, if he was a poor warrior, was extravagantly fond of sport, war’s tamer shadow.

I took care to stay away from Prince John for the remainder of my stay in the castle, and filled the hours with battle practice with Hanno, and in the training of Thomas, who was becoming at least half-decent with a sword and shield, for all his tender years. I also took the opportunity to re-equip myself and my men, spending some of the Tourangeaux silver on new shields painted with my boar device and bundles of lances, fresh provisions and other necessities, and buying a spirited palfrey for Hanno to ride and a swift, well-mannered, three-year-old courser for myself.



When the news arrived in late July that Chancellor Longchamp had indeed secured a truce with the French at Tillières, which was agreed by both sides to last until November the following year, Hanno, Thomas and I were rested, ready and equipped to take advantage of the cessation of hostilities and make our way onwards to Paris.