They were going into battle against each other. The conference had failed as Henry had feared it would. Philip had had no intention of doing anything but humiliate him. He had never wanted battle. He had always preferred to win through shrewd diplomacy. Louis had been of like mind; but how easy it had been to fob Louis off with promises he had no intention of keeping.

Philip, sly young Philip, how different he was!

God help me, he prayed. Forget my sins until the battle is over. Then I will go on a crusade to the Holy Land.

He smiled wryly. That was how he had wheedled his way out of difficult situations with Louis. Poor Louis, who had always been pious and could be deluded by such talk. Did he think that he could delude God as he had Louis?

Nay, he would never go on a crusade. How could he? He had lands to govern.

At least on this occasion he had his sons with him. Richard the fighter and John the beloved. That was a mercy. At least they stood together against the King of France.

Richard was uneasy. He had wondered lately what his father’s intentions were. There was so much talk about John, and John gave himself such airs of superiority even over his elder brother, that Richard wondered whether he was privy to some plan of his father’s. Always when Richard was in his father’s presence the antagonism was there. Both of them were aware of it; Richard continually wondered whether his father was deceiving him.

While Richard was brooding, one of his servants told him that a knight was without and asking to have word with him. To Richard’s surprise Philip of Flanders was brought into him. This ambitious, adventure-loving man who had at first sought to dominate the King of France and had later taken up arms against him, now served in his army, and this meant that he had risked considerable danger in coming into the enemy’s camp.

‘Hail, cousin,’ said Philip of Flanders.

‘What do you here?’ demanded Richard.

‘I came to have a word with you.’

‘You to come here!’

Philip laughed. ‘I was ever one to take a risk.’

‘What is it you wish to say to me?’

‘To warn you. You are preparing to fight against the King of France. Have you forgotten that the Duchy of Aquitaine is held under him? So … you would be fighting your suzerain.’

‘I stand with my father.’

‘With a father who is planning to disinherit you.’

‘That is not true.’

‘What of your brother on whom he dotes? I would have you take care, Richard. You are a better warrior than your brother or your father. Think. Do not be rash.’

‘What would you have me do? Turn on my father? Join the enemy?’

‘Nay, I would not ask that of you, but the King of France would see you and speak with you.’

‘Does he wish to make a truce?’

‘He wishes only to speak with you.’

‘When?’

‘Now.’

‘You have come to take me to him?’

‘Come as you are. In your armour. He does not ask you to come humbly. He would wish to receive you as a friend … a cousin.’

‘Should I tell my father?’

‘Nay, that is the last thing. He wishes you to come with me now.’

‘How do I know that I may trust him?’

‘He gives his word. As I give mine.’

Richard did not look for deceit in others. He said: ‘I will come.’

‘Then let us leave at once.’

Together on horseback they went through the lines and when they came to the French camp Philip of Flanders led Richard to the quarters of the King of France.

The King of France came out of his tent and looked up at Richard seated on his horse. Few men could sit a horse as Richard could. He looked magnificent, godlike almost in his shining armour seated on his splendidly caparisoned horse.

‘Richard,’ said the King of France. ‘Cousin, welcome.’

‘What would you have of me, Philip?’

‘Friendship,’ answered Philip.

‘Offer it to my father.’

‘I have none to offer him. Come into my tent. We will talk together.’ The King of France did him the great honour of holding his stirrup.

‘Why, Richard,’ said Philip, ‘how tall you are. You are a veritable Viking.’

‘So I have been told. It comes from my ancestor the Conqueror.’

‘And proud you must be of him.’

Together they went into the tent.

‘Take off that of your armour which encumbers you. You may trust me, Richard. See, I am unarmed.’

‘And I in the midst of the enemy’s camp.’

‘By God, Richard, I believe you would give a good account of yourself if the whole of my army came against you. But it will not. I have asked you here in good faith. I would not allow aught harmful to touch you.’

‘Smooth words,’ said Richard.

‘Spoken from the heart! Sit here where I may see you,’ said Philip.

Philip gazed at him intently.

‘Did you have some matter to discuss?’ asked Richard.

‘You and I should not be on opposite sides.’

‘How could it be otherwise?’

‘It would be otherwise if you did not fight beside your father.’

‘I would not wish to fight against him.’

‘It would not be the first time he has fought against you. He has betrayed you, Richard, again and again. What of my sister Alice? Why is she not your wife?’

‘My father has continually postponed the marriage.’

‘Why, Richard?’ Philip laughed. ‘There have been rumours. She is my sister, a daughter of France. She is going to marry you, Richard, and then you and I will be brothers in very truth. You are the heir to England and we shall be friends, you and I. Wars between us destroy us both. Your father is my enemy, not you, Richard, and I have brought you here to tell you that if he is not your enemy he is not your friend. You are fighting beside him. For what reason? That he may disown you and set up another in your place? He deceived my father … again and again he deceived him. He won the battle against Louis VII not with sword and lance but with sly cunning; he shall not win against Philip II. I ask you to consider this. Should you and I not be on the same side?’

Richard said: ‘If that is all you wish to say to me, I shall be going.’

‘Nay, sit awhile. Have no fear. You shall be safely conducted back to your father’s camp.’

‘I have no fear.’

‘’Tis true, Richard. You are a great warrior. Never have I seen you without my spirits being lifted. This is why I want you for my friend.’

Richard had risen to his feet and Philip stood up; Richard was the taller by far.

‘Noble Richard,’ murmured Philip. ‘I know that you are to be trusted. Richard Yea and Nay. If you said I will be your friend, I would know you meant it. There are not many men on whom one can rely. I am eight years younger than you Richard – yes, I have known but twenty-two winters and you thirty – but I am wise in the ways of the world and I respect you, Richard. I want you for my friend.’

‘You honour me,’ said Richard.

‘If you gave me your friendship I should be honoured.’

‘I will go now and think of what you have said.’

Philip lifted Richard’s hand to his and kissed it. Then he helped him on with his armour.

‘Such an honour,’ said Richard, ‘the King of France, my dresser!’

‘It is I who am honoured,’ said Philip softly.

They stepped out into the night. Philip of Flanders who had been waiting stepped forward.

‘Conduct my good cousin safely to his camp,’ said the King of France.

Richard thought of the strange interview and wondered what it meant. None could have appeared more friendly than Philip. And he was warning him against his father. Could it possibly be true that his father was planning to disown him? And why was Philip so eager to help him? Was it because Philip’s sister was his betrothed?

Richard was puzzled.

As soon as dawn broke he went to his father. Henry looked haggard and ill in the harsh light of morning.