William had been very content to stand aside for Henry and become the Count of Boulogne, which title he inherited through his mother and there was no one who could say he had no right to this. Boulogne, however, through its connection with the Crown was a vassal state of England.

Henry had been pleased with the state of affairs, for Boulogne under William, who was without ambition, had caused him no anxiety, but when William died, Henry realised that it would be necessary to take immediate action to keep Boulogne as it had been, a vassal of England and Normandy.

He had no desire to make war – which was never wise when the matter could be resolved in any other way. And there was another way. Stephen had also had a daughter, Mary, who early in her life had decided on a religious career and was now the Abbess of the Convent of Romsey.

Henry acted promptly. He commanded her to come to him without delay. The startled Abbess protested to the messenger who arrived at Romsey with the King’s command, but she was told that this was an order which it would be treason to disobey. She had visions of her convent being laid to waste, her nuns dispersed, for the King was ruthless enough to take such action, and as the daughter of the late King she was in a precarious position.

She knew that William, her recently dead brother, had decided to get out of England for he had felt that it would be unwise for him to stay there as the only legitimate son of the late King when there was a new King on the throne.

Bewildered, the Abbess traveled to Normandy and there she was met by Henry who told her that he had a bridegroom for her and she was to prepare to marry without delay.

‘My lord,’ she cried aghast, ‘how can I marry? I have taken my religious vows. I am Abbess of Romsey.’

‘You were,’ said the King testily. ‘But you are no longer so.’

‘How can that be when I have taken my vows? None but the Pope would grant my dispensation.’

‘Leave that to me,’ said Henry.

‘I am afraid, my lord...’

‘Afraid,’ thundered Henry. ‘You’re to marry and that is my command.’

‘I do not understand. Who would wish to marry me?’

‘My cousin Matthew wishes to marry you, Madam, because I have said he should. He knows better than to disobey me.’

‘But...for what purpose? I am not of an age...’

‘You are of an age to obey your King. When you marry, Boulogne shall be yours and Matthew will be the new Count of Boulogne.’

Now it was clear. William had died and Henry feared some enemy might take Boulogne. It must be kept in the family.

She said: ‘I must appeal to the Pope.’

Henry narrowed his eyes and the colour flamed into his face.

‘Think not that I lack influence in that direction,’ he said.

He dismissed her and she went immediately to Thomas Becket, who had joined the King’s party.

When she told him what had happened he was horrified.

The King, who had known what his attitude would be, had said nothing to him. But Thomas was not afraid of offending the King.

‘The Pope will stand beside you,’ Thomas comforted Mary. ‘You have taken your vows. They cannot be thrust aside as though they had never been taken just to suit the King’s ambitions.’

‘What must I do?’ asked the bewildered Abbess.

‘You have told the King you will appeal to the Pope. You must do so without delay.’

‘Will you help me, my Lord Chancellor?’

‘I will despatch a message to the Pope without delay,’ said Thomas.

When the King knew what Thomas had done he was furious. He strode into the Chancellor’s apartments, his eyes wild, his face scarlet, his tawny hair on end so that he looked more like a raging lion than ever.

‘So, Master Becket, you have decided to take the crown! It is you who rule England and Normandy then?’

Thomas looked at him calmly.

‘It is this matter of the Abbess which grieves you, my lord.’

‘Grieves me! I tell you I am so wild with fury that I myself would hold the burning iron that shall put out those haughty eyes.’

‘So you have sentenced me without hearing my case.’

‘I am your King, Becket.’

‘I know it well, my lord.’

‘And you fear not to anger me?’

‘I fear only to do what I know to be wrong.’

‘So you are judging us, are you? You, Thomas Becket, clerk of the counting-house, would judge your King!’

‘It is only God who will do that, my lord.’

‘You and your piety! You make me sick, Thomas. You are a man and posing always as a saint. One of these days I shall catch you out. How I look forward to that! And if you value your life you will withdraw your request to the Pope on account of Stephen’s daughter.’

‘I have sent her case to the Pope with her consent, my lord.’

‘Know this. There is no one who gives consent here but the King.’

‘There is a higher power.’

‘You would serve the Pope then...rather than your King?’

‘I would serve the right, my lord.’

The King’s fury abated a little. It was strange how he found it difficult to keep up a quarrel with Thomas.

‘Don’t be a fool, Thomas. Would you have me lose Boulogne?’

‘If God wills it.’

‘Have done with this talk of God. I have never known Him go into battle with my grandfather or my great-grandfather.’

‘They asked help many a time I doubt not.’

‘His help maybe but they did not sit and wait for Him to make their conquests. If they had, they would have waited a long time. I am not going to lose Boulogne. If I did, what would happen? What if it fell into the hands of some evil lord who knew not how to govern? Nay, Thomas, you’re a chancel or not a priest. Forget your cleric’s robes. I can take Boulogne with the utmost ease through this marriage.

It will save war and conflict. And all because a nun is asked to relinquish her vows and take a husband.’

‘It is wrong.’

‘Have done.’

‘Nay, my lord, I cannot.’

‘Send another messenger to the Pope. Tell him that the lady has consented to the marriage. Let it be known that you ask for no barriers to be put in the way of this match.’

‘I cannot do it, my lord.’

The King’s face was suffused with blood. He took a step towards Thomas, his hand raised to strike him. Thomas stood impassive. For a few seconds Henry seemed as though he would fall on the Chancellor and tear him apart or at least call to his guards to arrest the Chancellor. His eyes, wild with rage, looked into Thomas’s cool ones, and suddenly he turned and picking up a stool threw it against the wall.

‘I am defied,’ he cried. ‘Defied by those whom I have befriended. They work against me in secret. By God, I’ll be revenged.’

Thomas said nothing. He stood there, then with a cry of rage the King threw himself on the floor and seizing a handful of rushes gnawed them in his rage.

Thomas went out and left him.

He had seen Henry in such a rage that he could not control his temper on one or two occasions, but that anger had never been directed against him before.

He waited for what would happen next.

There was a message from the Pope. He had received news from both the King and the Chancellor concerning the Abbess of Romsey. Pope Alexander was in a very uneasy position. He had been elected at the conclave a very short time before and there had been certain opposition to his taking the papal crown. As that opposition was backed by the Emperor Barbarossa, he did not feel that the papal crown was very secure.

He dared not offend Henry Plantagenet who was not only King of England but fast becoming the most powerful man in France. The fact that the King’s Chancellor differed from his master and was in the right was a very special reason for giving the King what he wanted, for the fact that one of his servants was against him and he himself was in the wrong would make the King doubly angry if the Pope sided against him. Therefore Alexander granted the dispensation.