William de Braose was an Angevin noble of high rank, and Lord of Bramber, who unfortunately involved himself in a dispute with the crown about a debt which he would not or could not pay. At first De Braose was exiled to Ireland; but, having obtained the king’s sanction to travel through the country to make up the sum, which was forty thousand marks, he availed himself of his liberty to escape to the Continent. His wife and children, however, were not so fortunate. While at Galway, endeavouring to embark for Scotland, they were arrested, brought as prisoners to Windsor, and confined in the castle. While in captivity the whole family died, and it was generally rumoured that they had been inhumanly starved to death.
Robert Fitzwalter was one of the proudest nobles in England, and Lord of Baynard’s Castle, in London; and he had a daughter so celebrated for her beauty that she was called Maude the Fair. On this damsel John cast his eyes with evil intent. His advances were repelled. Maude the Fair died soon after, and the king was accused of having caused poison to be given to her in a poached egg.
Among Anglo-Norman barons, hardly one was more powerful than Eustace de Vesci, Lord of Alnwick, where he maintained great feudal state. Eustace had wedded Margery, daughter of William the Lion, King of Scots, and the Lady de Vesci was famous for her grace and beauty. Hearing of her perfections, the king contrived to get possession of her husband’s ring and sent it with a message that she was immediately to repair to court if she wished to see her lord alive. Not having the slightest suspicion, the lady at once set out in haste; but, when on her journey, she accidentally met her husband, and, with the utmost surprise on her countenance, told him of the ring and the message she had received. Comprehending the whole, De Vesci sent his lady home, and took such measures that the king in a violent rage vowed vengeance, and the Northern baron, fearing for his life, fled from London.
Naturally enough, such scandals tended to deepen the resentment which the barons of England felt towards their king; and when affairs approached a crisis, the foremost and most resolute among John’s enemies were Robert Fitzwalter and Eustace de Vesci.
It was in the summer of 1213 that matters began to assume such an aspect that the wise and prudent shook their heads and predicted a civil war. At that time John, bent on retrieving his disasters on the Continent, embarked for Jersey, after summoning the barons to follow. Instead of obeying, they assembled in London, and held a meeting at St. Paul’s with the primate, who was devoted to their interests. On this occasion Stephen Langton produced the charter which Henry Beauclerc had promised to grant at his coronation, and which was understood to embody the laws popularly known as “The Laws of King Edward.”
“My lords,” said the primate, “I have found a charter of King Henry, by which, if you choose, you may recall the liberties of England to their former state.”
Langton then read the document, and the barons responded with acclamations.
“Never,” exclaimed they with one voice, “has there been a fitter time than this for restoring the ancient laws.”
“For my part,” said Langton, “I will aid you to the uttermost of my power.”
And the primate having administered an oath by which they bound themselves to conquer or die, they dispersed.
Meanwhile John, having learnt what had taken place, landed from Jersey, and, with characteristic imprudence, began to ravage the lands of the malcontents with fire and sword. On reaching Northampton, however, he was overtaken by Langton, who protested loudly against the king’s conduct, and threatened him with retaliation.
“Archbishop, begone!” said John, sternly. “Rule you the Church, and leave me to govern the State.”
And, heedless of the warning, he carried the work of destruction as far as Nottingham.
But ere long events occurred which made John somewhat less confident. The defeat of his ally, the Emperor of Germany, at Bovines, ruined all his projects for recovering the ground he had lost on the Continent; and he was fain to conclude a peace with Philip Augustus on terms the reverse of flattering to his vanity, and return to England, where his enemies were every day becoming more determined to bring all disputes to a decisive issue.
No sooner, indeed, had the Christmas of 1214 passed, and the year 1215 begun its course, than the barons came to London with a strong military force, and demanded an interview with the king. At first John was inclined to ride the high horse, and refuse them an audience; but, learning that they were strongly attended, he deemed it politic to temporise, and met them at the house of the Knights of the Temple. On finding himself face to face with his adversaries, and on being handed a petition embodying their demands, which were by no means trifling in extent, John attempted to intimidate them; but finding that his attempts were ineffectual, he asked them to allow the business on which they had come to lie over till Easter, that he might have time to give it his deliberate consideration. The barons hesitated. At length, however, they consented to the delay on condition that Archbishop Langton and the Earl of Pembroke were sureties for the king’s good faith. The primate and the earl pledged themselves as was wished; and the king and the barons parted, each party distrusting the other, and vowing in their inmost souls never, while they had life and breath, to bate one jot or tittle of their pretensions.
CHAPTER IX
A BLOW IN SEASON
OLIVER ICINGLA did not particularly relish his quarters in the Tower of London. At first, indeed, the sullen scowl with which he had been received by John, and the evident antipathy with which the king was disposed to regard him as a kinsman of Hugh de Moreville, rendered his residence in the great fortress of the metropolis the very reverse of agreeable. Even after he had made friends among the squires and gentlemen of the royal household, and began to feel more at home, he still found it impossible to think of himself otherwise than as a captive whom any outbreak on De Moreville’s part might have the effect of consigning to the jailer or the hangman.
At length public affairs, which every day assumed a more menacing aspect, and everywhere excited the utmost interest and speculation, brought William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, to the court; and Oliver Icingla, encouraged by the patronage of the great earl, who told him to “fear nothing, for no evil should befal him,” took heart, and learned to bear his lot with more patience. His position, however, was irksome; and, while all around were talking of the great events that were on the gale, and of the part which they expected to play therein, he durst not even calculate what the future might bring to him. Nevertheless he kept up his spirits, and indulged in the hope of fortune proving favourable; and he was coming to the conclusion that life in the Tower was not on the whole absolutely insupportable, when one morning, when winter had gone and spring had come, while walking in the gardens within the walls of the fortress he was met by Robert, Lord Neville, a young nobleman of great possessions in the North, and a strong adherent of the royal cause.
“Master Icingla,” said Neville, kindly, “I grieve to see that you are more gloomy in your present position than your friends could desire, and I would fain do something, if I could, to make your life more cheerful. Now the king is about to ride forth to recreate himself with such sport as can be got in the forest of Middlesex; and, if it would pleasure you to be of the company, I doubt not my power to take you as my comrade.”
“My lord,” replied Oliver, to whom the invitation was a very pleasant surprise, “I