those days for kings to arrange marriages for the royal children in
order to increase their own power and dominions, or for other reasons
connected with the welfare of the country. Thus Henry II., by this
marriage, obtained possession of lands in France, and the City of
Gisors, given by Louis as a dower to Alice. The little girl and her
lands were placed in the hands of Henry to be guarded for Richard until
the boy should be old enough to claim his bride.
Doubtless the tiny bride of three and her little groom played together
happily after their marriage, with little thought of the imposing
ceremony; for it meant nothing to them then, though destined to have sad
consequences for both in later years. But not for long were the married
children together. Alice was taken to England, while Richard spent most
of his early life in France. He was destined to be duke of his mother's
French province of Aquitaine; and it was thought best that he should be
educated in the country of which he would be ruler.
Richard was a sturdy, bold, and adventurous lad. He engaged in all the
boyish sports of the day, and later in those chivalric pastimes that
formed part of the training of a noble youth. He was taught every
accomplishment deemed necessary for a knight,--to ride like a centaur,
to cast a lance, to wield the sword, and to swing the battle-axe. He
even learned to bend the great cross-bow, the weapon of the English
peasant, and could send an arrow straight to the mark. These exercises
were severe training for the young prince, but they developed the
prodigious strength and skill in arms that later made him the greatest
warrior of his age.
In addition to these knightly accomplishments, Richard learned to read
and write,--not such common acquirements in those days as now. From his
brilliantly educated mother the prince inherited a taste for literature,
poetry, and music. It was an age of poetry, and poets were held in much
honor, influencing men to great deeds by their stirring songs. Richard
took great delight in the songs of the troubadours of Aquitaine and
Anjou. Several of these poets, especially Blondel de Nesle, were his
warm friends, and taught him the arts of verse-making and music, in
which Richard acquired admirable skill.
In the rich land of Aquitaine, with its gay, pleasure-loving people,
Richard was surrounded by luxury and splendor, but, alas! not by an
atmosphere of peace or love. His mother was a frivolous woman, and his
father, Henry, a violent-tempered, despotic, and wicked man. The two
did not love each other, and when together quarreled continually in the
most violent manner. So Richard and his brothers--Henry, Geoffrey, and
John--passed their youth in an atmosphere of strife; and all that was
violent and contentious in their natural dispositions was fostered by
their home life and the bad example of their parents.
The princes quarreled among themselves, and as they grew older,
naturally took part in the bitter disputes continually taking place
between Henry and Eleanor. As Geoffrey once said, it was their
inheritance _not_ to love one another. The princes were all proud,
headstrong, and selfwilled, and hence little disposed to obey their
imperious father; and Henry, though in some ways weakly indulgent to his
sons, was most autocratic in disposition. As his sons became young men,
he gave them certain provinces in France to rule. But he would allow
them no real power, and the proud young princes were determined not to
submit to their father's authority, but to be rulers in fact as well as
in name. So they rebelled against Henry time and again, and fierce wars
took place between the father and his sons.
Their mother, Eleanor, encouraged the princes in their attitude of
rebellion against Henry, for he had long treated her with great
indignity. He neglected his wife for other fair ladies, and at last put
her in prison, where she remained nearly sixteen years. This severe
treatment of Eleanor served to enrage her sons and to alienate them
still more from Henry; for they loved their mother dearly in spite of
all her faults. So the strife continued in the royal family until two
sons, Henry and Geoffrey, died while at enmity with their father. Then a
reconciliation took place between the other members of the family; but
it lasted only a short time.
Richard, who was then of age, wished to claim and really marry his
child-bride, Alice; but Henry made excuse after excuse for not giving up
Alice to his son, though he maintained that Richard was legally bound to
her and could not marry any other woman.
It is said that the wicked old man had himself fallen in love with
Alice, and intended to obtain a divorce from Eleanor and marry the young
princess. Whether this be true or not, it is certain that Richard's
demands to be given his bride, or else to be declared free to marry whom
he pleased, were treated with contempt by the old king. Meanwhile the
gallant and handsome young prince had met at the court of Navarre the
Princess Berengaria, daughter of King Sancho, and had been much charmed
by her beauty and grace; but the entanglement with Alice prevented a
serious love affair.
At last Richard became weary of his absurd position,--supposed to be
married and yet without a wife.
He appealed to the brother of Alice, Philip of France, who readily
consented to aid him. The two demanded of Henry that he give up Alice to
Richard, and also acknowledge him as heir to the English throne, for
they feared that Henry purposed to leave that kingdom to John. During an
interview between Henry and Richard, at which Philip was present,
Richard demanded that his father recognize him, the elder son, as the
future King of England. Henry made an evasive reply, whereupon,
referring to the rumor that _John_ would be heir to the English crown,
Richard exclaimed passionately,--
"Then I am compelled to believe that which I before had believed
impossible!" and ungirding his sword and handing it to Philip, he knelt
to him and said,--
"To you, Sire, I commit the protection of my rights, and to you I now do
homage for all my father's dominions in France!"
Philip accepted his homage, and gave to Richard all the cities taken
from Henry. Naturally, that king was enraged when his son thus haughtily
renounced allegiance to him, and war soon followed. Henry was defeated
several times, and many of his barons left him to join the cause of
Richard. Finally, the king was forced to make peace with his rebellious
son on very hard conditions; and this mortified his kingly pride so
sorely that he fell ill of grief and rage. During this sickness, he
could think of nothing save his own defeat, and raved constantly,
"Shame, shame on a conquered king!" When he learned that his
best-beloved son, John, had been a party to Richard's rebellion, the
blow was too severe for the old king's broken strength. He died of
grief, cursing his rebellious sons with his last breath.
No sooner had the fierce but affectionate Richard heard of his father's
death at Chinon than he was overcome with sorrow and remorse. He came to
take leave of the king's body, but as he drew near the bier, blood
gushed from the eyes and mouth of the dead man. Richard was
horror-stricken, and rushed away, exclaiming,--
"I have murdered him; his blood accuses me!"
The repentant son caused the corpse to be buried with due ceremony at
Fontevraud, the ancient burial-place of the Norman kings, and he showed
many signs of penitence for his unfilial conduct.
As soon as the unhappy old king had been laid away, Richard's thoughts
turned to his mother, Eleanor, who had been for many years a state
prisoner in Winchester Castle. Sending at once to England, he ordered
that the queen be released, and appointed regent of the kingdom. Indeed,
Richard was always a tender and dutiful son to his mother, who calls
him, "My brave, my generous, my high-minded, my all-worthy son,
Richard." If he were not a good son to his father also, it is some
excuse that Henry was a most unpleasant, tyrannical man, whose treatment
of his wife and children was not such as to beget love and dutiful
conduct.
After tarrying some months in France, attending to matters in his
provinces of Anjou, Poitou, Normandy, and Aquitaine, Richard crossed
over to England. There he was received most joyfully by his new
subjects.
In Westminster Abbey, on Sept. 3, 1189, his coronation took place with
great splendor. It is the first coronation ceremony of an English king
fully described by eye-witnesses.
The Archbishop of Canterbury and other bishops, richly robed, and
carrying the cross, holy water, and censers, led the stately procession
that escorted the king from his palace to the Abbey. After these
dignitaries of the Church, came four barons in court dress, bearing each
a golden candlestick; then four earls, carrying the king's cup, the
golden spurs, the scepter of state, and the royal rod of majesty--a mace
adorned with a golden dove. Four great earls walked next, brandishing
aloft their glittering swords; and behind these noblemen marched six
more, as bearers of the royal robes and regalia. William, Earl of Essex,
proudly carried the gold and jeweled crown immediately before Richard
himself, who walked beneath a magnificent canopy of state, upheld by
richly clad nobles.
Before the brilliant assemblage of lords Richard took the solemn oath to
be a just and righteous ruler. Then after the archbishop had anointed
him with holy oil, shoes of golden tissue were put on the king's feet,
the golden spurs were buckled on, and he was clad in the vestments of
royalty and led to the high altar. There he promised to be faithful to
his kingly oath, and was crowned with the royal diadem and given the
scepter and rod of office.
So Richard Plantagenet became King of England. No one beholding the
proud bearing of the new monarch would have supposed that his family
emblem, the lowly broom-plant (_Planta genista_), from which came the
name Plantagenet, had been adopted by an ancestor of Richard's in token
of humility. For, in very truth, the Plantagenets were an arrogant race,
and Richard was the proudest of his line.
As he strode down the aisle of Westminster in all the glittering and
jeweled splendor of his coronation robes, Richard's appearance was truly
royal. He looked every inch a king. The people gazed with delight on his
tall, powerful frame, graceful and strong as that of Mars himself; on
his proudly poised head, whose red-gold curls waved beneath the jeweled
crown; on the fair, haughty face with its square, determined jaw,
aquiline nose, full, proud lips, and fierce, restless blue eyes.
Heartily the multitude admired Richard's manly beauty, his lordly air;
and with a right good-will they shouted joyously: "Long live the king!
Long live our Richard Lionheart!"
Before his accession to the throne, Richard had determined to go as a
Crusader to the rescue of the Holy Land. From his mother, who had
herself taken part in the Second Crusade, he had heard many stories of
the East,--that land of wonders and marvelous adventures. Richard was by
nature a rover, a warrior, a knight-errant. So it seemed to him a most
delightful prospect to travel, to see strange lands and peoples, to
fight in a holy war; and thus to indulge his own love of adventure and
of battle while advancing the glory of God. Nay, to do him justice,
Richard was religious too, in the strange fierce fashion of those
days,--days when one could be pious without being good; when the warrior
prayed and fought with equal zeal, deeming both acts of equal merit in
the sight of heaven; when the Christian believed the slaughter of
infidels well-pleasing to God; when the knight of the Cross was
confident that Christ pardoned all sins to the warrior who did battle
for His Holy Sepulchre. So Richard, though far from pious or exemplary
in his daily life, was moved by a genuine and fervent desire to deliver
Jerusalem from the infidels, into whose hands it had fallen again after
its conquest by Godfrey de Bouillon.
When all the tedious and costly preparations necessary for the Crusade
had been completed, Richard sent his fleet around by the Strait of
Gibraltar. He himself crossed over to France with the troops, intending
to march through that country to meet his ships at Marseilles, and there
to embark for Palestine.
At Vezelai, Richard met Philip of France, who had agreed to join him in
the Crusade. The two kings and their great armies marched together for
some distance, but finally separated, and proceeded southward by
different routes,--the French to Genoa, the English to Marseilles.
When Richard reached that seaport, he was much disappointed to find that
the fleet had not arrived. Leaving the main body of troops there to
await the arrival of the vessels, he procured a ship, and proceeded on
his way by sea, sailing along the coast of France and Italy. He stopped
at many cities, and sometimes traveled on land with only a few
attendants, like a simple knight-errant.
When he reached the Gulf of Salernum, Richard was joined by his fleet,
and sailed toward Messina, a coast town of Sicily, where he was to meet
Philip. On approaching the city, Richard ordered every trumpet to be
sounded. The people, rushing to the walls, beheld with surprise the
great fleet of England, manned by thousands of steel-clad warriors, and
flying the red cross of Saint George, the lion-emblazoned banner of
Richard, and hundreds of gay baronial flags. The arrival is thus
described:--
"O Holy Mary, no man ever saw
Such galleys, such dromonds, such transports before;
Rowing on, rowing on, across the deep sea,
Rowing on, rowing on to fair Sicily!
"What pennons and banners from the top of the spears
To the fair winds are streaming all graceful and proud;
What a great host of warriors, whose breasts know no fears
Pace the decks, whilst the oarsmen are chanting aloud--
Row on, lads, row on, lads, across the deep sea;
Crowd the sail and row on, lads, to fair Sicily!
"Hark, hark to the voice of the trumpets so clear
As they enter the harbor and make for the pier;
See what bright gilded beaks, what finely wrought bows,
And what thousands of shields hang out on the prows.
Oh! such a staunch fleet never sailed on the sea
As this armament anchored off fair Sicily.
"And now from his trim galley, named Cut-the-Sea
The proud Richard lands midst uproarious glee;
Clad in bright scale-linked mail with axe in his hand,
He, the chief of his hero band, paces the strand,
Whilst the people and warriors in wild ecstasy,
Shout hurrah for King Richard and fair Sicily!"
Such was the brilliant spectacle of Coeur-de-Lion's arrival in Sicily.
When Richard had landed and camped near Messina, he sent envoys at once
to Tancred, the King of Sicily, who had usurped the throne and
imprisoned Richard's sister Joan, widow of the former king. These envoys
were bidden to demand of Tancred the instant release of Joan, the
payment of her dowry, and the delivery of a rich legacy which Richard
asserted had been left by her husband to Henry II. This bequest included
a gold table twelve feet long, twenty-four gold cups and saucers, a
large silk tent, and a hundred fine galleys. On receiving King Richard's
peremptory message, Tancred at once sent Joan to her royal brother with
a large sum of money, but denied any knowledge of the rich legacy that
Richard claimed.
Now the French king had previously arrived in Sicily, and the forces of
both kings were encamped about Messina. There was much jealousy between
the two monarchs. Philip was envious of Richard's greater fame as a
warrior, and Richard resented the fact that as Duke of Normandy he was a
vassal of the French king. This feeling of ill-will extended to the
soldiers of the two armies, hostile from birth, and gave rise to much
quarreling and continual brawls. The French contrived to arouse in the
people of Sicily a suspicious dread of the King of England. So when
these natives saw Richard building and fortifying strongholds, they
concluded that he intended to take possession of their island. Then
fierce disputes arose between them and the English soldiers.
At length, the trouble ended in an open fight; and Richard promptly
attacked the city of Messina. Though the French sided with the natives,
who were fifty thousand strong, "King Richard got possession of Messina
quicker than any priest could chant matins. Aye, and many more of the
citizens would have perished had not the King in his compassion ordered
their lives to be spared."
After the capture of the city, King Tancred agreed to give Richard forty
thousand ounces of gold in lieu of all claims against him in behalf of
Joan. Richard accepted this offer, and peace was restored. One-third of
the money he gave to Philip, and the two kings made a new compact of
friendship, solemnly swearing to be faithful to each other in all things
during this Crusade.
A period of peace followed, during which the kings and nobles amused
themselves in various ways while awaiting a favorable season for their
voyage to Palestine.
One day while riding, Richard and Philip met a peasant bringing a load
of tough canes to town. The two kings and all their knights took each a
reed, and using it as a lance, began to tilt against one another.
Richard and a French knight, William des Barres, charged each other. The
reeds were shattered, and the headpiece of Richard was broken. Enraged
at this mishap, the king dashed furiously on William, but his own saddle
was upset, and he fell to the ground "quicker than he liked."
Hastily mounting a fresh horse, Richard again attacked Des Barres, but
could not unhorse the knight, who stuck fast to his saddle. Then the
Earl of Leicester attempted to aid Richard, but the king cried, "Let be,
Robert; hold off and leave us alone!" But when, after many vain efforts,
he had failed to overthrow the stout French warrior, Richard flew into a
terrific rage, and cried, "Get thee hence, and appear no more before me,
for I shall be thine enemy hereafter!" Whereupon William des Barres
withdrew in much distress of mind, and asked the intercession of the
King of France. Not until Philip, all the bishops, and the chiefs of the
army had repeatedly besought Richard for grace, would the mortified king
consent to the peaceable return of the knight. So unwise is it to
successfully combat a king!
Soon after this episode fresh trouble arose between Richard and Philip.
The King of France was brother to Alice, the betrothed bride of Richard.
When he heard that Queen Eleanor was on her way to Sicily, bringing
Berengaria, daughter of the King of Navarre, as a bride for the English
king, Philip was enraged. He insisted that Richard was legally bound to
Alice and could not marry any one else. Richard, who had been much
charmed with Berengaria some years before while visiting her father's
court at Pampeluna, now flatly refused to marry Alice. He accused her of
most wicked conduct, such as rendered her unworthy to be his wife.
Probably these charges were well founded, for Philip finally agreed, on
certain conditions, to release Richard from the engagement with Alice.
The French princess, then held prisoner in England by Eleanor, was to be
returned to France, and Philip was to receive a large sum of money. An
ecclesiastical court was then held, and it adjudged that Richard was no
longer bound to Alice, but was free to marry as he pleased.
These matters settled, Philip set sail for Palestine on the very day
that Eleanor arrived with Berengaria. The two royal ladies received a
joyful welcome from the king, who went to meet them in his gayly
decorated galley, _Trenc-le-Mer_.
He found Berengaria even lovelier than the young girl he had admired so
long ago in Navarre. His heart yielded at once to the charms of the
dark-eyed Spanish beauty, and the princess could not help loving such a
handsome, brave, and eloquent prince; for Richard was no less ready with
his tongue than with his sword, and won hearts as easily as battles. He
had long before won the devotion and friendship of Berengaria's brother
Sancho, a renowned warrior and poet; and this friendship doubtless
commended him to Berengaria. At any rate, the betrothed pair were soon a
pair of lovers and as happy as humbler sweethearts.
As it was then the solemn season of Lent, they resolved to postpone the
wedding until after Easter. Richard, however, in token of his joy, gave
a sumptuous betrothal feast, at which he instituted a new order of
knights, vowed to deeds of valor in the Holy Land. Queen Eleanor, after
remaining a few days with her dearly loved daughter and son, gave
Berengaria into the care of Queen Joan, and herself returned to England.
Richard then made final preparations for the voyage. Before leaving, he
gave Tancred, to whom he had become reconciled, "that best of swords,
which the Britons call Caliburne (Excalibur), formerly the sword of
Arthur, once the noble King of England."
At length the great fleet of busses, dromonds, and galleys set sail for
Palestine. Berengaria and Joan sailed first in a large ship under the
care of Stephen de Turnham, and Richard embarked last on _Trenc-le-Mer_.
Erelong a storm arose, and the fleet was dispersed. Berengaria was very
much alarmed for her lover's safety.
"She sighed not for her own,
But King Richard's safety;
And kept crying, 'Oh! look out,
For sore is my fright,
Whilst the King and his galleys
Are all out of sight!'"
Two ships escorting the vessel of the princess and Joan were wrecked on
the coast of Cyprus. Isaac, the emperor of that island, plundered the
ships and imprisoned the survivors. He also refused to allow the vessel
of the royal ladies to take shelter in the harbor of Limasol (now
Limoussa).
Meanwhile, Richard's galley had taken shelter at Rhodes. As soon as the
king learned of the straits in which the princesses were, he came to
their aid with many war galleys. When he found them outside of the
harbor, exposed to the violence of wind and sea, he was greatly
enraged. But restraining his anger fairly well for so passionate a man,
he sent messengers thrice to Isaac, "humbly begging him for the love of
God and reverence for the life-giving cross" to free the captive
Crusaders, and to restore their goods. The emperor, evidently not
knowing with whom he had to deal, returned a haughty refusal.
Then Richard, very wroth, called his men to arms, and said: "Follow me,
and we will take vengeance for the wrongs which this villainous emperor
has done to God and to us in thus unjustly keeping our pilgrims in
chains!" Without delay the forces rowed to the shore, where Isaac had
drawn up his army to oppose them.
The English archers landed first, and their arrows fell upon the enemy
"as a shower upon the grass." The doughty King Richard and his knights
then rushed in, and quickly drove the Greeks before them like a flock of
sheep. After Isaac's affrighted army had taken refuge in the mountains,
he tried to make peace, but could come to no agreement with Richard, and
fled from Limasol. The English king then stormed the town and took
possession. Here he first used his famous battle-axe, for the old rhymer
tells us:--
"The valiant King Richard, as I understand,
Before he departed from old England,
Made an axe to slaughter that infidel band,
The Saracen dogs in the Holy Land.
The head in sooth was wondrously wrought,
Of steel twenty pounds, the best to be bought.
And when that he landed in Cyprus land,
He first took this terrible axe in hand;
And he hewed and he hewed with such direful slaughter,
That the blood flowed around him like pools of water."
With such a valiant leader, it is small wonder that the English were
soon masters of the whole island of Cyprus. Isaac, after making a treaty
with Richard and immediately breaking it, was captured by the English
king, who bound him with silver fetters, kept him in prison, and gave
his beautiful daughter to Berengaria as an attendant.