cavorting with girls, he is not the man to follow his father in controlling an empire half the size of Europe.’
‘But, my Lord, is he not already crowned and anointed as our sovereign?’
‘He is, but he is the Young King only in name. He can’t be our true King while his father lives, and certainly not while he acts like a juvenile.’
‘But, sire, he’s only twenty-one years old. There will be plenty of time for him to become a mature leader.’
‘I disagree. If you are a crowned king, even while your father lives, you should act like one.’
Although kindly in demeanour and as old as Methuselah, the Earl took on the unmistakeably fierce look of a seasoned warrior.
‘We need a king who has the courage to lead his men in battle, not a mannequin in the fancy dress of the tournament.’
There had been a flash of anger on the Earl’s face. But it soon subsided, to be replaced by his usual sagacious warmth.
‘But there is a man of valour… and one day he will be the King we need.’
I looked at Father Alun again. He nodded his approval with a benign smile. The Earl returned to his seat by the fire and threw more logs into its heart.
‘I feel the cold these days. When I was younger, no amount of cold bothered me, but now I have to look after myself like a newborn baby, heavily swaddled and kept close to the fire!’
He sat back in his chair and stared at the roaring fire, which crackled and spat with energy.
‘The young man in question is like this fire. He burns with ambition and courage. His mother, Queen Eleanor, is wary of my interest and has kept me at arm’s length, but I’ve watched him grow from a distance. He is prodigious. Still only nineteen, but he’s been leading his army in Aquitaine for three years and they already call him “Lionheart”. He’s tall like all his kin, with hair the golden red of a lion’s coat and a beard the dark tinge of the beast’s mane.’
I had heard the name ‘Lionheart’ before. His reputation was already known among my fellow knights. He was Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, King Henry’s third son and, after the early death of his elder brother, William, was now second in line to the throne.
‘Sire, I have heard of this man. But I believe he spends all his time in his dukedom, many miles from England.’
‘You are correct. That is part of the problem that must be solved. Duke Richard was born at Beaumont Palace, in Oxford, but has spent very little time in England. He does not speak our language and, from what I hear, thinks our precious land is a dismal, godforsaken place off the coast of civilized Europe. He thrives in Aquitaine, where he loves the warmth, the wine and the women. He likes to fight and relishes its lawlessness and the challenge of the many formidable adversaries he finds there.’
I was now perplexed. If the task was to persuade the Duke of the value of his English pedigree, it appeared that the Earl needed a sophisticated diplomat rather than a soldier.
‘My Lord, are you suggesting that I can play a role in the life of the Duke?’
‘I am.’
The Earl was quick to see my furrowed brow.
‘Don’t be concerned, there is logic to my plan. But it does require some guesswork on my part and, I admit, for providence to play a role. However, there are several precedents for fate playing a major part in my family’s history.’
He paused to stare at me keenly.
‘It will also involve a leap of faith on your part, but I will leave that to your judgement. If you accept this commission, you will do me and England a great service. This young Duke has the world at his feet. He has good men around him, but they are not men who can help him understand and appreciate his English pedigree, a lineage that is far more important than he realizes. For that, he needs you and Alun.’
With an earnest intensity, Father Alun then spoke for the first time.
‘I have made my leap of faith. For me there could not be a more important calling in life.’
I looked at the priest. I could see the passion in his eyes and felt humbled that these two men should think me worthy to be an accomplice in their quest. Alun had saved my life, and I knew him to be a true and kindly man. If my role was to lend the strength of my arm to the wisdom that he would bring to this intriguing mission, then I would not only be a fool to turn down such a unique challenge, but also disloyal to England and to my people.
A spark flew from the fire at that point, breaking my concentration. Realizing that I had been listening so intently that I had not moved for several minutes, I adjusted my position in my chair. My backside had become numb and I winced slightly as the blood flowed back and made my buttocks prickle.
‘Some more wine, Sir Ranulf? I think you need a little respite for a moment.’
Father Alun leaned across and poured another goblet of the Earl’s excellent dark-red wine.
‘It is from a small estate I have in Aquitaine. You will like it there. In the winter it is not unlike here, but the autumns are mild and the springs and summers are like heaven on earth.’
‘So, I am to travel to Aquitaine?’
‘Yes, all is ready. Our ship is at harbour only yards from here, and I took the liberty of having your things sent down from your garrison at Westminster. We can sail on the next tide.’
‘So, you will accompany us, my Lord?’
‘Yes, I have to prepare the ground; young Richard has no inkling of my proposal yet.’
‘Sire, with the greatest respect, I don’t either. The last thing you said was that I would need to make a leap of faith.’
‘Quite so. I am growing to like you, Ranulf of Lancaster; you have a good sense of humour, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. Have some more wine.’
Both he and Alun laughed heartily as my goblet was filled once more. It seemed that they had made up my mind for me and that I had accepted the mysterious role. I chose not to demur; I liked my two companions as much as they seemed to like me, and I was spellbound by the prospects that lay ahead. What was more, Bosham was full of so many ghosts from England’s past. So, how could I refuse?
Earl Harold held out his hand, as did Father Alun. I shook them vigorously.
‘Aquitaine is a long way from here. We will have many opportunities to talk more on the journey.’
My mission had begun. A powerful energy began to course through my veins. Even though all logic suggested that the young Duke might well dismiss Earl Harold’s proposition out of hand – or, indeed, that the young warrior might have feet of clay and not be the man his reputation portrayed – the mission offered me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Not only did the Earl’s commission bring the prospect of adventures in new and exotic lands, but it also offered the opportunity to be part of his attempt to manoeuvre Duke Richard in a direction that would be to England’s great benefit. I knew not how – but for the time being that mattered little.
Countless others before me, including Earl Harold, had put themselves at the mercy of an unknown destiny for England’s cause. Now it was my turn.
4. Aquitaine
We took ship on the next day’s tide. The Earl had gathered an awesome quintet of warriors who would share our journey, but at that stage I knew them not at all. Our crossing of the Channel was uneventful and we made landfall at Saint-Valery-sur-Somme, from where, poignantly, the Conqueror had set sail in 1066. Horses were waiting for us, organized by Godric, a man who would become a lifelong companion.
We moved south rapidly, passing Abbeville, Rouen, Le Mans, Tours and Poitiers, before turning west towards Saintes in the Charente, where we hoped to make contact with Duke Richard.
I had been to Normandy only once before, and then only briefly – to Rouen, to escort the King back to Westminster – so our journey was fascinating for me. Just as Normandy was very different from England, the further south we travelled the more the people, their buildings and their languages changed. The local inhabitants were shorter and sturdier, with darker complexions, the further south and west we travelled, and their buildings
