Unfortunately, Viscount Aimar had managed to make an escape and had ridden back to skulk behind the walls of Limoges. But the city was far from being a stronghold. The Duke had destroyed its stone ramparts in the rebellion of 1181, and its only bulwarks were earth banks and wooden palisades. Even so, we had no option but to send for the rest of the army before attempting a siege. Father Alun was relieved; the delay would mean that the Duke’s injury could be treated properly, and he could try to prevent any infection.
Three weeks later, all was ready for an attack on Limoges. The Lionheart had mustered his men and materiel with his usual aplomb. He was a master of strategy, and his attention to tactical detail was astonishing. He was as adept in the skills of his specialist archers, arbalests and cavalrymen as the best of them, and he knew every nuance of the mechanics of his siege engines. He was as brave as any he commanded; they all knew that had he been of low birth, his prowess, although unlikely to have made him their King, would certainly have rendered him their General.
Both his brothers were inside its flimsy walls, as was Viscount Aimar. The Duke was intent on killing all three. His arm was far from healed, but he could not be dissuaded from issuing a challenge to engage each of them in a trial of combat when the city fell.
Perhaps fortuitously, the King arrived on the eve of the attack. He brought a large army of his own and immediately called a council of war.
When everyone was gathered, including the Duke and his Grand Quintet and the King’s senior commanders, Henry rose to make a speech. It was ill conceived and provocative, and the ending incensed the Duke almost to the point he had reached before the slaying of the mercenaries.
‘This bickering between my sons has to end. But as they have shown no willingness to resolve their differences themselves, I will have to do it for them. Richard, you will withdraw your army by a day’s march so that I can enter Limoges and talk to Henry and Geoffrey.’
The Duke’s ruddy complexion turned puce with anger, and he started to get to his feet. William Marshal grabbed his sleeve and tugged at him to sit down. The King stared at his son. It was like a confrontation between an old stag and a young buck. The Lionheart pulled his sleeve from Marshal’s grasp and began to bellow at his father.
‘Your sons are committing treason; they have reneged on the oath they took in Caen, and yet you expect me to withdraw. Are you mad?’
Fearing a familial brawl there and then, I walked into his line of sight, standing between Richard and his father. I turned to address the King.
‘Sire, Duke Richard will need time to organize his men and find a new camp. May we discuss this later, when our plans are finalized?’
William Marshal and Baldwin of Bethune used my surprise intervention to almost grapple the Lionheart away from a confrontation with his father, and we hastily retreated out of the King’s earshot. The Duke pulled away from the protective embrace of his friends and paced up and down in a rage.
‘The King is the King, Henry is his anointed heir, Geoffrey has Brittany and I keep order in the most troublesome domain in the Empire. Yet Henry wants more! He’s a limp-dicked coward who fights with thugs and murderers. But my father never renounces him. Why does he always defend him?’
We stood and listened; it was the wisest option.
‘I’ve had enough. No more oaths, no more concessions! When this is over, we travel to England. I will release my mother from those draughty English castles where my father keeps her out of harm’s way, and we’ll rule this Empire together.’
After a few minutes to let his friend’s anger subside, William Marshal offered some words of wisdom.
‘Tell the King that you will withdraw and go hunting, so that he can talk to your brothers. But since they have allied themselves with mercenaries who can’t be trusted, your army will stay where it is under my command.’
It was sound advice, but the Duke was reluctant.
‘I know what will happen: when I return, there will have been a rapprochement between them and I will be asked to swear another meaningless oath of loyalty. Well, I won’t be deceived again. I am staying here and will storm Limoges, whether my father likes it or not.’
Father Alun then intervened.
‘My Lord, remember what the Abbess said about using your mind rather than your sword.’
‘Be quiet, priest!’
After blurting his rebuke, the Duke began to walk away. But Blondel, who sang much more often than he spoke, called after him.
‘Listen to the priest. It will cost you nothing to let events take their course. We will still be here with your army. Your father is no fool, he knows what Henry is up to; let’s see what transpires over the next few days. Robert and Baldwin will go hunting with you. Drink some wine; take some girls with you.’
The Duke thought for a while before turning to Father Alun.
‘What is your advice? Should I take my leave?’
Father Alun smiled.
‘I think so, my Lord. You can use the time to reflect on your sins. God always looks kindly on a penitent.’
The Duke relented and spent the next week hunting in the forests of the Limousin, one of the finest places in the Empire for game. Meanwhile, the King went backwards and forwards to the city to negotiate with his sons. He had not been happy that the Duke had refused to move his army. But he had no choice other than to accept his son’s stubbornness, as Richard’s answer was delivered to the King long after he had left for the chase.
William Marshal and Father Alun had been right to persuade the Duke to bide his time. The King failed to persuade Young Henry to back down, and an impasse developed. But the stalemate only applied to the Limousin. When word spread that Young Henry was defying his father, the chaos in the Empire spread.
More of the Plantagenet’s dormant enemies reared their heads. Philip, King of France, mobilized his army in support of Henry and Geoffrey, as did Hugh, Duke of Burgundy, and Raymond, Count of Toulouse. The Empire was on the brink of collapse from within, and the foment was being brewed by its own ruling family, the Devil’s Brood.
For the first time in his long and illustrious reign, Henry Plantagenet was unable to impose himself on his vast realm. He was too old, and his sons were too powerful.
He knew it, they knew it, and so did the great and the good of the Empire.
11. Westminster Beckons
Richard returned from his hunt relieved to discover that his father had now been convinced of Young Henry’s duplicity. But the King still demanded that Richard must not attack his brother.
Sometime later, the Duke told me the details of their conversation, beginning with his father’s words to his increasingly impatient son.
‘Henry is digging a deeper and deeper midden for himself, soon he will be up to his neck in shit.’
‘That’s as may be, Father, but in the meantime, our enemies are massing. Your authority is being undermined.’
‘My “authority” can survive a little longer. I don’t want the future of this Plantagenet Empire to be decided by a fight between my sons!’
‘But the fight has already begun and you’re in the middle of the brawl.’
‘That’s why it must not end in a decisive outcome, one way or the other. When he’s older, I am going to give your little brother John the lordship of Ireland. Henry can retain Normandy, Geoffrey can keep Brittany, and you can have everything to the south.’
‘What about England?’
‘I know, I don’t have enough sons… perhaps I will give it to your mother.’
At that moment, Duke Richard realized that the King had no real strategy for his succession and was afraid of making a decision that might tear apart his precious Empire.
