Guillaume de Longchamp’s return to England had so far been even more of an ordeal than he’d expected. After his ship docked in the estuary of the River Orwell at Ipswich, he’d sent word to Samson, Abbot of St Edmundsbury, letting him know as a courtesy that he would be traveling through lands held by the abbey. He was determined that none could accuse him of arrogance, a sin he now acknowledged he’d been guilty of in the past. Samson was not a friend. Longchamp was shocked, nonetheless, when the abbot responded by ordering a suspension of divine service in any town he passed through, and he’d endured the humiliation of entering a church only to have the priest halt the celebration of the Mass and stand mute at the altar until he’d departed. Longchamp’s outrage was even stronger than his mortification, for he was no longer under a sentence of excommunication, which had been passed by the Archbishop of Rouen soon after he’d been sent into exile. Not only had the Holy Father the Pope absolved him, but Queen Eleanor had convinced the archbishop to lift his sentence of anathema. There was nothing he could do, though, except to push on toward London.
He’d hired mercenaries to see to his safety, but he decided he needed moral support, too, in light of the difficult task he faced; he could not deny that he felt very vulnerable in what he saw as a nest of vipers. All of his brothers had benefited greatly from his rise to a position of such power. He’d made Osbert and Henry sheriffs of Yorkshire and Herefordshire, secured for Stephen a post in Richard’s own household, named another brother as Abbot of Croyland, and made Robert the Prior of Ely, with an even greater prize in mind—the abbacy of Westminster. His downfall had dashed that dream, but at least Robert had not been deprived of his church post, unlike his brothers, who’d been stripped of their shrievalties by his enemies. His family remained loyal and, upon getting his urgent message, Robert had hastened to join him on his journey from Ipswich to London, bringing some good news. Their brother Henry had been arrested in the wake of Longchamp’s disgrace and imprisoned at Count John’s Cardiff Castle, but Robert was able to assure him that Henry was finally at liberty.
Worse was to come, though, for when they reached London, Longchamp found the gates barred to him. The hostility of the Londoners stung all the more because he’d given those ungrateful English dolts the right to elect their own sheriffs. Listening as they hooted and jeered him from the city walls, he thought he could right gladly turn his back on this accursed isle, never to set foot on its soil again—but not until he fulfilled his mission for his lord, the king.
HAVING LEARNED THAT QUEEN ELEANOR was meeting with the justiciars and the great council at St Albans, Longchamp headed north, girding himself for an encounter that he knew would be acrimonious. Robert glanced at his brother’s profile as the Benedictine abbey of St Albans came into view. “Is there even one here who’ll not want your head on a pike, Guillaume?”
“Well . . . the earls of Arundel and Surrey were my friends once, so they’d likely offer up a prayer for my soul as my head was separated from my body,” Longchamp said dryly. He kept his eyes fastened upon the Norman tower, soaring well over a hundred feet into the Hertfordshire sky. “Whilst I’d not presume to call her a friend, the queen is not my enemy. She did me a great service last year.”
Robert had not seen his brother since he’d been forced to flee England, and he welcomed this chance to learn the details of Longchamp’s failed effort to regain power. “I’d heard that she supported your attempt to return from exile. Was that because she knew King Richard trusted you?”
“I think it was because she knew I’d tried to bribe Count John,” Longchamp said, smiling at his brother’s startled expression. “John had thought he’d be able to have his own way once I was eliminated. He was outmaneuvered by the Archbishop of Rouen, though, who produced a letter from King Richard, authorizing him as chief justiciar if I had to be removed from office. John had not bargained on that, and I hoped he might be amenable to an alliance with me rather than see Gautier de Coutances reign supreme. I was right, too. He agreed to back me if I paid him five hundred marks.”
“But . . . but you detest and distrust Count John, Guillaume!”
“Yes . . . it was a Devil’s deal, Rob. I convinced myself that I could better protect King Richard’s interests if I were back in England, even if it meant making noxious concessions to John. I truly believed that I was doing it for the king, but I can see now that I was also loath to relinquish the power I’d enjoyed as his chief justiciar. Queen Eleanor’s greatest fear was that John would be tempted into treason by the French king now that he’d returned from the Holy Land, and I suppose she saw me as a lesser evil than Philippe. With the queen and John on my side, I thought I could regain at least some of my authority.”
“But . . . but John did not support your return!”