And this descendant of the Norman Dukes – this Henry Plantagenet – had taken his wife as ruthlessly as Rollo had taken a piece of France; Louis was not a vindictive man, but he would not be displeased to see Henry brought low. Moreover he was deeply shocked by his treatment of Thomas of Canterbury.

Had such a man been my subject, thought Louis, I would have counted myself indeed fortunate.

Now he listened to the complaints of young Henry and Marguerite.

‘Your father has made you a king,’ he said. ‘Why did he do that, if he had no intention of allowing you to behave like one?’

‘I believe he did it to spite Thomas a Becket.’

‘My dear son, you should not say such a thing.’

‘But it is true, my lord. He hated Thomas. He would have done anything to discountenance him.’

Louis shook his head and crossed himself. ‘May that great saint bless us all and intercede for us with God,’ he said.

‘I loved him well,’ remarked Henry, and he was trying not to remember that he had refused to see Thomas when he had wanted to call on him because he had acted on the advice of Roger of York.

‘All good men loved him,’ said Louis.

They were silent for a while, thinking of Thomas.

‘It is the greatest tragedy that ever befell England,’ went on Louis, ‘and no good will come of it.’

‘I thank God that I had no part in his murder,’ said Henry fervently.

‘There are others, I doubt not, who wish they might say the same. Well, my son, you have your troubles, have you not?’

‘Yes, and I fear I shall continue to. But I will not be treated as a child for ever.’

‘Nor should you be. Your father should give you complete control over England if he wishes to stay in Normandy, or over Normandy if he wishes to dwell in England.’

‘So say I, but he will not do that.’

‘And will you endure this?’

‘No,’ cried Henry firmly, ‘I will not.’ But when he thought of his father’s face, eyes narrowed, colour flaming under his skin, he knew in his heart that he was going to find it very difficult – and very likely impossible – to stand out against him.

‘You must tell him what is in your heart,’ said Louis.

‘Yes,’ answered Henry, feeling that that was more easily said than done. ‘I fear he will not listen though.’

‘He must. You are no longer a child. You are a man; you have a wife; soon you will have sons. And your father made you King.’

‘I will ask him,’ said Henry. ‘I will tell him exactly what I feel.’

‘And if he will not agree, you should not stay at his Court, for what good can you do there? If you are to be given no authority what matters it whether you are there or not?’

‘Where should I go?’

‘Where should you go but to the home of your father-in-law. If the King of England continues to treat you as a child and will not listen to your arguments, come to me here. I fancy that might put him in the mood to do something.’

Henry seized the hand of his father-in-law and kissed it fervently.

Louis was right. If his father would not respect him then revolt was the answer.

The King and Queen had arrived by their separate ways at the castle of Chinon, there to spend Christmas. With the Queen came her son Richard, the new Duke of Aquitaine, and his younger brother Geoffrey, the Duke of Brittany. Young Henry and Marguerite were on their way to join them.

Eleanor and Henry took stock of each other. She has aged, thought the King. By God’s eyes she is an old woman now. He was comparing everyone with the tender youth of Alice. But he must admit there was still some quality about Eleanor. No one was quite as elegant and regal as Eleanor and never would be. She could marry again mayhap if they were divorced. Her childbearing days were over though, so she could not bring heirs to a new husband. And Richard was now the Duke of Aquitaine.

Eleanor thought: He has grown older, toughened even more than before by events and weather. Thomas’s death shook him, for somewhere in his flinty heart there was a spark of love for that man.

Once it had been so strong that she had accused him of loving the man unnaturally. Henry had laughed at that, for if ever there was a man who wanted women that man was Henry; yet she had noticed that he was a little thoughtful. We do not all know ourselves, she thought, not even you, Henry Plantagenet, who think yourself almighty.

She had determined that the Christmas should be passed in great revelry. It was not often nowadays that the King and Queen of England were together. She had brought with her the finest of her poets and musicians and had ordered them to devise an entertainment which should surpass all others. Henry was not completely immune to the charms of literature. There had been a time when he and she had been in harmony and he had enjoyed good literature and music almost as much as she did. But when her influence had been removed he had thought less of the artistic way of life; he had become absorbed in the need to conquer and of course indulge his lechery.

Yet at this Christmas she would try to remember the good times they had had together. In the early days of their marriage she had doted on him. She had wished to see him supreme; she had been proud to have him crowned Duke of Aquitaine. But how their marriage had soured! It had started when he brought the bastard to her nursery and she knew that in those early days of their life together he had been unfaithful to her.

Well it was all in the past and love had turned to hatred, for hate him she did. She hated him for being able to beget children which she could not conceive. Of course she had had a good start on him. Almost twelve years his senior. Well, she was not too old to hate and it amused her to see how this great man was in so many ways a fool.

His children either disliked him mildly or hated him fiercely. Richard, of course, had always had a fiery resentment against him. She had engendered that. Richard was her dearest one and he must think as she did. Geoffrey listened to his brother and was beginning to see his father as a tyrant. And now Henry the eldest was growing restive. My dear husband, she thought, what a fool you were to crown Henry! You should have known that there is room only for one king in one kingdom.

Henry and Marguerite joined them the day before Christmas and Eleanor immediately detected the smouldering resentment in her eldest son.

She took him to her chamber as soon as she could and when they were alone asked him how he had found the King of France.

‘Very well and friendly towards me,’ answered Henry. ‘And willing to be more friendly.’

‘So should he be. Are you not his son through your marriage with his daughter?’

‘I found him kind and sympathetic.’

Eleanor laughed. ‘It would seem, my son, that you are drawing comparisons. You found him more kind and sympathetic than your own father, eh?’

‘I did,’ he answered defiantly. ‘My father regards me as a child.’

‘Oh ‘tis not that. He is a man who can never take his hands from that which they have once grasped. You will never be anything but a pawn in his game, Henry, I can tell you that. That is what he would wish us all to be.’

‘I will never accept that.’

‘Nor should you. You should speak to your father.’

‘I know, but it is difficult. He is so fierce. He has such power.’

‘He wants you to fear him. He wants us all to fear him.’

‘You do not, I know.’

‘I never did. And I should like my sons to be the same.’

‘He has such power and his rages are terrible. When he is in one of them he could order anything to be done to us.’

‘It’s true. Methinks sometimes he uses his rages in an attempt to cow us all.’

‘Except you, my lady.’

‘I was Duchess of Aquitaine when he was only Duke of Normandy. Perhaps that was why he was so anxious to marry me. I know him well. He will never give you what you want, Henry.’