‘The King will not allow that,’ replied Henry.
‘How could I go to the King in his present condition and tell him what his son is trying to do and that he is listening to evil counsel?’
Henry bit his lip in mortification. Philip was not the only one who had done that.
‘If I could do aught to help you …’ he began.
‘You can and it is for that reason that I have asked you to come.’
‘What do you wish of me?’
‘Slip away to England. Seek out your father. Tell him of the position in which I find myself. He will help me, I know.’
Henry considered. He would be pleased to leave the Court of France, for he was feeling more and more ashamed of himself.
If he went to England to see his father that would be a way of escape from a delicate and embarrassing situation.
The King was in good spirits when he went to Westminster. There was dear little Alice eagerly waiting to greet him.
‘The news is mixed, good and bad, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘For your father is grievously ill.’
Alice tried to look dismayed but it was so long since she had seen her father that she could not remember what he looked like.
‘So sick,’ went on Henry, ‘that it seems he will not last long. That is the bad news. The good is that while he is in this condition there can be no question of a marriage between you and Richard.’
‘It is as though God looks after us,’ said Alice, forgetting that while He cared for them He was being rather unfair to the pious Louis.
‘I know that St Thomas a Becket is my friend. Now, sweetheart, we can put aside our fears.’
He wished that he could put her into Rosamund’s Bower, but that was not possible, for she was a princess and recently there had been so much talk of her marriage.
He stayed with her awhile and when he left to make a tour of Oxfordshire a messenger came to tell him that his son was in the country and on his way to see him.
Father and son met at Reading and there young Henry told the King why he had come in such haste.
‘The Queen of France is asking your advice, Father. The King lies near to death and young Philip is in the hands of the Count of Flanders who seeks to rule France through him.’
‘The foolishness of youth!’ said Henry in a way which made his son redden. ‘No doubt the Count is flattering young Philip as he well knows how to.’
Remembering it was the Count who had been responsible for his dismissal of William the Marshall which he now saw was folly, he said: ‘The Count is in fact ruling France at this moment, for Philip obeys him in all things and now that Philip has filched the seal he is in command.’
‘This cannot be allowed to go on,’ said the King. ‘For all I know they may be planning an invasion of Normandy. It is just the thing which would occur to them. Philip of Flanders would doubtless like Normandy. By God’s eyes, the upstart shall never have it.’
‘The Queen of France asks for your help.’
‘She shall have it.’
‘She will be very grateful to you if you go to her aid.’
‘She should be, for Flanders will make of young Philip nothing but a puppet to serve his ends. It is a sorry thing when a son flouts the authority of his father.’ Young Henry looked uncomfortable because it was a similar state of affairs which had arisen in France to that which had existed in England when the sons of Henry Plantagenet sought to take the power which their father would not give them while he lived. So was Philip taking power while his father was still on his sick bed.
The King was determined to bring home the lesson.
‘When my sons turned against me,’ he said, ‘they went to the King of France for aid and he gave it to them. Yet when the son of the King of France seeks to rob him of his authority, his wife the Queen asks my help. I am prepared to give it.’
‘It is noble of you, my lord,’ said young Henry.
His father burst out laughing. ‘Noble! Kings cannot afford to be noble. Kings must consider what is good for their kingdoms and if nobility is, then so much the better. If not, then that king who served his country ill in order to be noble would be a fool. Nay, I shall go to the aid of Louis and Adela, because I am determined to curtail the power of the Count of Flanders and his minion the King of France. I am going to make sure that Normandy is safe. So I will go to the aid of my erstwhile friend Louis and forget the ill service he did me when I was in like case. Your hold on the crown must be your first consideration, my son. Keep it firm. Then you will be a good king and however noble you are, consider it not.’
‘Shall we set out at once then?’
‘We shall. Alas, you will not be accompanied by your good friend, William the Marshall. You sent him back to England when you could ill afford to lose his services.’
Young Henry was silent. As usual his father succeeded in humiliating him.
When Philip of Flanders heard that the King of England had landed he took fright. This was not what he had wanted. He knew very well that he and young Philip could not stand out against that doughty warrior. Another thing he knew was that Louis’s ministers were becoming a little uneasy and that if it came to war they would not be ready to support him.
The Count cursed young Henry for going to his father; it was some sort of revenge he supposed, because he had advised him to get rid of William the Marshall. Ill luck again. He had failed to dominate young Henry and if he were not careful he would fail with Philip. Once Henry Plantagenet arrived with his armies in defence of Queen Adela and her brothers, he would find no one ready to face them with him. One thing was certain, the Count must not lose his influence over Philip.
The boy was foolishly blustering when he heard that the King of England had set sail.
‘Let him come,’ he cried. ‘He will find my armies waiting for him.’
The Count nodded but he was very uneasy. But he did see a way in which he could keep his influence over the King.
There was never any event which secured an alliance more firmly than marriage. Count Philip had often cursed the barren state of his wife but never more than at this time. If only he had a daughter whom he could marry to Philip. Then he would be the father of the Queen of France and could in truth call himself the King’s father.
He did, however, have a niece. She was only a child but then Philip was not very old.
‘Now you are indeed King of France you should have a queen,’ he suggested.
Philip considered the idea. It appealed to him.
‘My niece Isabel is a very charming girl. What would you think of such a marriage? You would have Flanders in due course and Vermandois.’
Philip said he would like to see Isabel.
‘You shall,’ said the Count.
When the meeting was arranged, Philip expressed himself agreeable to the prospect, for Isabel had been well primed by her uncle to behave in a manner to please the young King, which was of course to be overawed by him and behave as though she were in the presence of a young god.
It was not difficult then for the Count to arrange an early marriage and coronation.
Here there was a difficulty, as naturally the one to perform the ceremony should be the Archbishop of Rheims, Queen Adela’s brother, who was in the same position in France as the Archbishop of Canterbury was in England.
Count Philip found himself getting deeper into a troublesome situation. With the two Henrys of England on the march, and the people of France becoming restive, young Philip might soon begin to realise that he had not been as wise as he thought he had in placing his fate in the hands of the Count of Flanders.
The Archbishop of Sens must be made to see that it would go ill with him if he did not perform the coronation of Queen Isabel and no sooner had he done so than the Archbishop of Rheims saw his chance of breaking the influence of the Count of Flanders. The right to crown the Queen of France was his and although his sister Queen Adela and his brothers were being treated so badly, the Pope could not fail to support him over this last piece of folly.