The Wolf Time by George Shipway

Author:George Shipway [Shipway, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Publisher: CNPosner Books
Published: 2015-07-12T23:00:00+00:00

Part 2

The king rode on progress to Rockingham, a castle in Northamptonshire. Duke William had built the donjon and extended the ward to a sluggish stream which flowed beneath the height. You guessed vainly the Conqueror’s motive: the place lacked tactical vantage, commanded no prosperous town, no strategic pass or ford. But Rockingham stood in a forest’s heart, and the forest was full of game.

Rufus enjoyed this wild retreat, both because of the hunting and the jousts he arranged on a meadow beside the stream. Only urgent affairs of state pursued him here; he regarded Rockingham as a haven from his duties. So Anselm’s arrival from Canterbury displeased the king intensely - he was leaving for a tourney where the knights already waited.

‘Can’t Anselm leave me in peace? Tirel, go and find out what he’s after. Meulan, tell the marshal we’ll have to delay the courses - there’s nothing but trouble whenever that man casts up!’

I greeted the archbishop, inquired after his health, the travails of his journey, and came gradually to the point - you cannot be abrupt with a quiet man like Anselm.

He answered, ‘I seek the king’s permission for a journey to Rome for the pallium.’

And here was trouble. That paltry strip of embroidered cloth was an emblem of papal authority and a scarlet rag to the bull that was William Rufus.

I said earnestly, ‘My lord, you know that request will anger the king. Must you rend a half-healed scar and poison the wound afresh? You’re Canterbury’s archbishop, recognized by king and people as England’s Father in God. Why do you need Rome’s credentials?’

The watery eyes showed mild surprise. ‘None has held Canterbury’s throne without the pallium. He fluttered his fingers. ‘Except Stigand - whose example I cannot admire.’

I pleaded and cajoled, for this was a sticking-point, a condition Rufus would never accept. The old man’s face grew obstinate, the pallid lips closed firmly.

‘I beg you, my lord, to convey my request to the king.’

I told Rufus, expected an explosion, and saw instead the ruddy face grow thoughtful. ‘With a little preparation I’ll toss Anselm on the horns.’ Mailed as he was for the tourney, Rufus clanked to the chapel where Anselm waited with his monks, and stood before the archbishop, hands on hips.

‘I hear what you propose, and understand your ruse: you’re trying to make the English Church a vassal of Rome. I tell you now, as I’ve told you once before, that the pope’s recognition in England requires the king’s agreement. I do not agree, my lord of Canterbury, and there’s an end to it!’

‘You’re unreasonable, sire. I want merely to follow the pattern my predecessors set. Lanfranc brought his pallium from Rome with Duke William’s full permission.’

‘Lanfranc,’ Rufus gritted, ‘bowed to my father’s will, and put his interests before the pope’s. Can you say as much?’

‘I have plighted you my troth, my lord,’ said Anselm placidly.

‘Yet to Rome you also swear obedience! How may a man obey two masters?’

‘I made my vows to Urban long ago, when abbot of Bec.

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