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Then ther com most wykke tydyng

To Quer de Lyoun Richard our kyng,

How off Yngelonde hys brother Ihon,

That was accursyd off flesch and bon,

… …

… wolde with maystry off hand

Be crownyd kyng in Yngeland.

Richard Coer de Lion, ll. 6267–70, 6273–4.

1189

On July 6 Henry died; on the 8th he was buried at Fontevraud. Richard attended the burial; John did not, but immediately afterwards, either at Fontevraud or on the way northward, he sought the presence of his brother. Richard received him graciously, and on reaching Normandy “granted him all the lands which his father had given him, to wit, four thousand pounds’ worth of lands in England, and the county of Mortain with its appurtenances.”[112] These words, and similar expressions used by two other writers of the time,[113] would seem to imply that John had been count of Mortain before Henry’s death, and that Richard merely confirmed to him a possession and a dignity which he already enjoyed. John, however, is never styled “count” during Henry’s lifetime;[114] and the real meaning of the historians seems to be that Henry had in his latter days reverted to his early project of making John count of Mortain, but had never carried it into effect, probably because he could not do so without Richard’s assent. Richard’s grant was thus an entirely new one, though made in fulfilment of his father’s desire. It set John in the foremost rank among the barons of Normandy, though the income which it brought him was not very large. The grant of lands in England, said to have been made to him at the same time, can only have been a promise; Richard was not yet crowned, and therefore not yet legally capable of granting anything in England at all. On his arrival there in August, one of his first acts was to secure the Gloucester heritage for John by causing him to be married to Isabel. The wedding took place at Marlborough on August 29.[115] Five days later the king was crowned; John figured at the coronation as “Earl of Mortain and Gloucester,” and walked before his brother in the procession, carrying one of the three swords of state, between Earl David of Huntingdon and Earl Robert of Leicester, who bore the other two swords.[116]

At the end of the month, or early in October, Richard despatched John at the head of an armed force, to secure for the new king the homage of the Welsh princes. They all, save one, came to meet John at Worcester, and “made a treaty of peace” with him as his brother’s representative. The exception was Rees of South Wales, who was in active hostility to the English Crown,[117] being at that very time engaged in besieging Caermarthen castle. John led “the host of all England” to Caermarthen, the siege was raised,[118] and Rees accompanied John back to England for a meeting with Richard at Oxford; Richard, however, declined the interview.[119] His refusal may have been due to some suspicion of a private agreement between Rees and John which is asserted in the Welsh annals;[120] but his suspicions, if he had any, did not prevent him from continuing, almost to the eve of his own departure from England, to develope an elaborate scheme of provision for John. The very first step in this scheme had already led to trouble, though the trouble was easily overcome. John and Isabel had been married without a dispensation and in defiance of Archbishop Baldwin of Canterbury, who had forbidden, as contrary to canon law, a union between cousins under such circumstances. After the marriage had taken place he declared it invalid, and laid an interdict upon the lands of the guilty couple. John, however, appealed to Rome, and got the better of the primate; in November the interdict was raised by a papal legate.[121]

IV.

Stanford’s Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. London.

London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.

The Pipe Roll drawn up a month after John’s marriage shows him as holding, besides his wife’s honour of Gloucester, the honours of Peverel, Lancaster and Tickhill, two manors in Suffolk, three in Worcestershire, and some lands in Northamptonshire, together with the profits of the Forest of Sherwood in Nottinghamshire and of that of Andover in Wiltshire. All these grants were construed as liberally as possible in John’s favour; he was allowed the profits of the two forests for a whole year past, and the revenues of the other lands for a quarter of a year, while the third penny of Gloucestershire was reckoned as due to him for half a year—that is, from a date five months before his investiture with the earldom.[122] The grants of Peverel’s honour and Lancaster included the castles[123]; in the cases of Tickhill and Gloucester the castles were reserved by the king, and so too, apparently, was a castle on one of John’s Suffolk manors, Orford.[124] Four other honours appear to have been given to John at this time—Marlborough and Luggershall, including their castles; Eye and Wallingford, seemingly without their castles.[125] The aggregate value of all these lands would be about £1170; but a much greater gift soon followed. Before the end of the year six whole counties—Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Dorset, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall—were added to the portion of the count of Mortain. The words in which this grant is recorded by the chroniclers convey a very inadequate idea of its real importance; taken by themselves, they might be understood to mean merely that Richard gave his brother the title and the third penny of the revenue from each of the counties named.[126] That what he actually did give was something very different we learn from the Pipe Rolls, or rather from the significant omission which is conspicuous in them for the next five years. From Michaelmas 1189 to Michaelmas 1194 these six counties made no appearance at all in the royal accounts. They sent no returns of any kind to the royal treasury; they were visited by no justices appointed by the king. In a word, just as Chester and Durham were palatinates in the hands of earl and bishop respectively, so John’s two counties in mid-England and four in the south-west formed a great palatinate in his hands. He received and retained their ferms and the profits of justice and administration within their borders, and ruled them absolutely at his own will, the Crown claiming from him no account for them whatever.

The total revenue which the Crown had derived from these six counties in the year immediately preceding their transfer to John was a little over £4000.[127] But their money value was a consideration of trifling importance compared with the territorial and political power which accompanied it. Such an accumulation of palatine jurisdictions in the hands of one man was practically equivalent to the setting up of an under-kingdom, with a king uncrowned indeed, but absolutely independent of every secular authority except the supreme king himself; and that exception, as every one knew, was only for the moment; Richard was on the eve of his departure for the Holy Land, and as soon as he was out of reach John would have, within his little realm, practically no superior at all. Moreover, his “lordship of Ireland” had changed its character at his father’s death. Until then it had been, save during his five months’ visit to that country in 1185, merely titular. Most of the few known charters and grants issued in his name during his father’s lifetime are dateless, and it seems possible that, with one exception, all of them may have been issued during that visit.[128] On Henry’s death, however, John’s lordship of the English March in Ireland became something more than a name. In virtue of it he already possessed a staff of household officers whose titles and functions reproduced those of the royal household itself. Henry had had his seneschal, his butler, his constable for Ireland as well as for England; and this Irish household establishment had apparently been transferred to John, at any rate since 1185. No doubt the men of whom it consisted were appointed by Henry, or at least with his sanction, and were in fact his ministers rather than the ministers of his son; but to the new king they owed no obedience save the general obedience due from all English or Norman subjects; from the hour of Henry’s death their service belonged to the “Lord of Ireland” alone, and John thus found himself at the head of a little court of his own, a ready-made ministry through which he might govern both his Irish dominion and the ample possessions which Richard bestowed upon him in England, as freely as the rest of the English realm was governed by Richard himself through the ministers of the Crown.[129]

Of the way in which John was likely to use his new independence he had already given a significant indication. Shortly after Richard’s accession the wardship of the heiress of Leinster, Isabel de Clare, was terminated by her marriage with William the Marshal.[130] Her great Irish fief, as well as her English and Welsh lands, thus passed into the hands of a man who was already one of the most trusted friends and counsellors of Richard, as he had been of Henry, and whose brother had once been seneschal to John himself.[131] No sooner had William entered upon the heritage of his wife than John disseised him of a portion of Leinster and parcelled it out among friends of his own. The Marshal appealed to Richard; Richard insisted upon John’s making restitution, and John, after some demur, was compelled to yield, but not entirely; he managed to secure the ratification of a grant which he had made to his butler, Theobald Walter, out of the Marshal’s lands, although, by way of compromise, it was settled that Theobald should hold the estate in question as an under-tenant of William, not as a tenant-in-chief of John.[132] On the other hand, John did not at once displace the governor whom his father had set over the Irish march four years before, John de Courcy. He had no thought of undertaking the personal government of his dominions in Ireland. To do so he must have turned his back upon the opportunities which Richard’s misplaced generosity was opening to him in England—opportunities of which it was not difficult to foresee the effect upon such a mind as his. As William of Newburgh says, “The enjoyment of a tetrarchy made him covet a monarchy.”[133]

1190

That Richard presently awoke to some consciousness of the danger which he had created for himself and his realm maybe inferred from the fact that in February 1190 he summoned John to Normandy, and there made him swear not to set foot in England for the next three years. The queen-mother, however, afterwards persuaded her elder son to release the younger one from this oath;[134] or, according to another account, to leave the decision of the matter to the justiciar and chancellor, William of Longchamp, bishop of Ely. John was to visit the chancellor in England, and either remain there or go into exile, as William might choose.[135] It is clear, however, that William had no real choice. He was legate in England, and therefore absolution from him was necessary to protect John against the ecclesiastical consequences of a violated oath; but as the violation was sanctioned by the king to whom the oath had been sworn, no ground was left to William for refusing the absolution.

1191

In the course of the year 1190, therefore, or very early in 1191, John returned to England.[136] In February 1191 the sole remaining check upon both John and William of Longchamp was removed: Queen Eleanor went to join her elder son at Messina.[137] As soon as she was gone, the results of the concession which he had made to her wishes in John’s behalf began to show themselves. On Mid-Lent Sunday, March 24, the count of Mortain and the chancellor had an interview at Winchester “concerning the keepers of certain castles, and the money granted to the count by his brother out of the exchequer.”[138] What passed between them we are not told; but it is clear that they disagreed. Three months elapsed without any overt act of aggression on either side. Then, all at once, about midsummer, it became apparent that a party which for more than a year had been seeking an opportunity to undermine the chancellor’s power had found a rallying-point and a leader in the king’s brother. The sheriff of Lincolnshire and constable of Lincoln Castle, Gerard de Camville, being summoned to answer before the justiciars for having made his great fortress into a hold of robbers and bandits, defied their authority on the plea that he had become John’s liegeman, and was therefore answerable to no one except John.[139] The chancellor deprived Gerard of his sheriffdom and gave it to another man, and laid siege to Lincoln Castle.[140] While he was thus occupied, the castles of Nottingham and Tickhill were given up by their custodians to John.[141] Thereupon John sent to the chancellor a message of insolent defiance. If William did not at once withdraw from Lincoln and leave Gerard in unmolested possession, the count of Mortain threatened to “come and visit him with a rod of iron, and with such a host as he would not be able to withstand.”[142] With a cutting allusion at once to the chancellor’s humble origin and to the readiness with which the commandants of Nottingham and Tickhill had betrayed the fortresses committed to their charge, he added that “no good came of depriving lawful freeborn Englishmen of the offices of trust to which they were entitled, and giving them to unknown strangers; the folly of such a proceeding had just been proved in the case of the royal castles which William had entrusted to men who left them exposed to every passer-by; any chance comer would have found their gates open to him as easily as they had opened to John himself. Such a state of affairs in his brother’s realm he was resolved to tolerate no longer.” The chancellor’s retort was a peremptory summons to John to give up the two castles, and “answer before the king’s court for the breach of his oath.”[143] William probably hoped to get John expelled from England, on the plea that Richard had never really consented to his return and that his absolution was therefore invalid, as having been extorted on a false pretence. The summons appears to have been carried by Archbishop Walter of Rouen, who had come from Messina charged with a special commission from Richard to deal with the crisis in England.[144] John, on receiving the chancellor’s message, burst into one of the paroxysms of fury characteristic of his race. “He was more than angry,” says a contemporary; “his whole body was so contorted with rage as to be scarcely recognizable; a scowl of wrath furrowed his brow; his eyes flashed fire, his colour changed to a livid white, and I know what would have become of the chancellor if in that hour of fury he had come within reach of John’s hands!” In the end, however, the archbishop persuaded both John and William to hold another conference at Winchester on July 28.[145]

John secured the services of four thousand armed Welshmen, whom he apparently brought up secretly, in small parties, from the border, and hid in various places round about the city. No disturbance, however, took place; some of the bishops, under the direction of Walter of Rouen, drew up a scheme of agreement which, for the moment, both John and William found it advisable to accept. The castles of Nottingham and Tickhill were surrendered by John to the king {1191 July 28} in the person of his special representative the archbishop of Rouen, who was to give them in charge, one to William of Venneval—a liegeman of the king, but a friend and follower of John—the other to William the Marshal; these two custodians were to hold them for the king till his return, and then “act according to his will concerning them”; but if he should die, or if meanwhile the chancellor should break the peace with John, they were to restore them to John. New custodians were appointed, on the like terms, to six royal castles which stood within John’s territories,[146] and also to two castles which Richard had expressly granted to him—Bolsover and the Peak. Any new castles built since the king’s departure were to be razed, and no more were to be built till his return, save, if necessary, on the royal demesnes, or elsewhere in pursuance of special orders, written or verbal, from himself. No man was to be disseised either by the king’s ministers or by the count of Mortain, save in execution of a legal sentence delivered after trial before the king’s court; and each party was pledged to amend, on complaint from the other, its own infringements of this rule, which was at once applied to the case of Gerard de Camville. Gerard, having been disseised without trial, was reinstated in his sheriffdom; but his reinstatement was ordered to be immediately followed by a trial before the Curia Regis on the charges brought against him, and the decision of the Curia was to be final; if it went against him, John was not to support him in resistance to it; and John was further bound not to harbour any known outlaws or enemies of the king, nor any person accused of treason, except on condition of such person pledging himself to stand his trial in the king’s court. The archbishop of Rouen received a promise from John and from the chancellor, each supported by seven sureties, that they would keep this agreement. After it was drawn up, a postscript appears to have been added: “If any thing should be taken or intercepted by either party during the truce, it shall be lawfully restored and amends made for it. And these things are done, saving always the authority and commands of our lord the king; yet so that if the king before his return should not will this agreement to be kept, the aforesaid castles of Nottingham and Tickhill shall be given up to Lord John, whatever the king may order concerning them.” The last clause is obscure; but its meaning seems to be that if the arrangement just made should prove to be, in the judgment of the king’s ministers, untenable, it was to be treated as void, and matters were to be restored to the position in which they had been before it was made.[147]

The contingency which seems to have been contemplated in this postscript very soon occurred. Some mercenaries whom the chancellor had summoned from over sea landed in England, and he at once repudiated the agreement, declaring there should be no peace till either he or John was driven out of the realm.[148] Hereupon it seems that Venneval and the Marshal, in accordance with the clause above quoted, restored the castles of Tickhill and Nottingham to John. On the other hand, an outrage on John’s part, which is recorded only as having occurred some time in this year (1191), certainly took place before October, and most likely before the middle of September. Roger de Lacy, the constable of Chester, who was responsible to Longchamp for the safe keeping of these two castles, made a vigorous effort to bring to justice the subordinate castellans to whom he had entrusted them, and who had betrayed them to John. Of these there had been two in each castle. Two managed to keep out of Lacy’s reach; the other two he caught and hanged, although one of them offered to swear with compurgators that he had never consented to the treason of his colleague, and even brought a letter from John requesting that the compurgation might be allowed—the chancellor, to whom the question had been referred, having remitted it to the decision of Lacy. While this man’s body was hanging in chains, his squire drove the birds away from it; whereupon Roger de Lacy hanged the squire. Then John took upon himself to avenge them both, not only by disseising Roger of all the lands which he held of him, but also by ravaging the lands which Roger possessed elsewhere.[149]

Some time in August or September another assembly was called to endeavour after a pacification between John and the chancellor. Three bishops and twenty-two laymen were appointed arbitrators—the laymen chosen by the bishops, eleven from the party which had hitherto adhered to William, eleven from the followers of John. The terms which these twenty-five laid down amounted to a decision wholly in John’s favour. They did, indeed, again require him to restore the two royal castles of Nottingham and Tickhill; but they made the restoration an empty form. They decreed that the chancellor should put these castles under the control of two men whom they named, William of Venneval and another friend of John’s, Reginald de Vasseville. These two were to hold the castles for the king and give William hostages for their fidelity; but if Richard should die before reaching home, they were at once to surrender the castles to John, and William was to restore their hostages. The arbitrators further confirmed Gerard de Camville in the constableship of Lincoln castle; they ordered the chancellor to remove the constables of royal castles situated within the lands of the count of Mortain, and appoint others in their stead, “if the count showed reason for changing them”; and they added that “if the king should die, the chancellor was not to disinherit the count, but to do his utmost to promote him to the kingdom.”[150] This last clause was pointed at a negotiation which William had been carrying on with the Scot king, for the purpose of obtaining his recognition of Arthur of Britanny as heir-presumptive to the English Crown. The negotiation was secret; but John had discovered it,[151] and the discovery was a useful weapon in his hands. William’s dealings with Scotland were most probably sanctioned by Richard; their object was certainly in accord with Richard’s own plans for the succession at this time; but Richard’s choice of Arthur as his heir was probably unknown as yet to the majority of his subjects, and if it was known to them, it could not commend itself to their ideas either of policy or of constitutional practice. In their eyes the king’s next-of-kin and natural successor was not his boy-nephew, but his brother. It was therefore easy for John to win their sympathies by representing the scheme as part of a plot contrived against himself by the chancellor.

The new agreement lasted no longer than its predecessor. Scarcely was it drawn up when there occurred an excellent opportunity for John to secure for himself a new and valuable ally in the person of his half-brother Geoffrey, the eldest son of Henry II. and the predecessor of Longchamp in the office of chancellor of England. Geoffrey, like John, had in the spring of 1190 been sworn to keep out of England for three years; but, like John too, he had obtained from Richard a release from his oath.[152] His election to the see of York had been confirmed by the Pope on May 11, 1191,[153] and it was known that he intended to return to England immediately after his consecration.[154] Richard had given him a written release from his vow of absence,[155] but had neglected to apprise the chancellor of the fact; William therefore no sooner heard of Geoffrey’s purpose to return than he issued, on July 30, a writ ordering that the archbishop should be arrested on landing.[156] Geoffrey had written to John, begging for his help; John in reply promised to stand by him.[157] On August 18 Geoffrey was consecrated at Tours,[158] and John then urged him to come over at once.[159] On September 14 Geoffrey reached Dover; he escaped from an attempt to arrest him as he landed, but four days later he was forcibly dragged from sanctuary in S. Martin’s priory and flung into prison in the castle.[160]

John immediately wrote to the chancellor, demanding whether these things had been done by his authority. According to one account, William answered that they had.[161] A letter from William himself to the chapter of Canterbury, however, declares that he had merely ordered his officers to administer to Geoffrey the oath of fealty to the king (which it was usual for a bishop to take before entering upon his see), and if he refused it, to send him back to the Continent.[162] However this might be, it is clear that, outwardly at least, the chancellor had put himself in the wrong. He was already the most unpopular man in England; now, all parties in Church and State joined hands against him at once; and it was inevitable that they should rally under the command of John. John sent another letter or message to William, bidding him release the archbishop, and swearing that if this were not done immediately, he, the count of Mortain, would go in person “with a mighty hand and a stretched-out arm” to set his brother at liberty.[163] On September 21 or 26 Geoffrey was released.[164] Meanwhile John, with his confidant Hugh of Nonant, the bishop of Coventry, hurried down from Lancaster to Marlborough and invited all whom he thought likely to take his side to join him there. Three of the co-justiciars—William the Marshal among them—answered his call; three bishops, one of whom was the venerated Hugh of Lincoln, did likewise; and so did Archbishop Walter of Rouen. From Marlborough the party moved on to Reading; thence John despatched a personal invitation, or summons, to Geoffrey,[165] and at the same time issued, in conjunction with the three justiciars, letters calling the rest of the bishops and barons to a council to be holden on October 5 at the bridge over the Lodden between Reading and Windsor, and a summons to the chancellor to appear there and answer for his conduct.[166] William retorted by issuing counter writs, summoning all those who had joined the count of Mortain to withdraw from him, “forasmuch as he was endeavouring to usurp the kingdom to himself.”[167]

John and all his party came to the Lodden bridge on the day which they had appointed; the chancellor, who was at Windsor, sent the bishop of London and three earls to excuse his absence on the plea of illness. The outcome of the day’s discussion was that the assembly, by the voice of Walter of Rouen, pledged itself to depose William from the office of chief justiciar. Their warrant was a letter from the king which Walter had brought from Messina, and in which the subordinate justiciars were bidden to obey Walter’s guidance in all things. The party then returned to Reading; there, next day (Sunday, October 6), the bishops among them excommunicated Longchamp and his adherents; at night a message was sent to him, bidding him appear at the bridge next morning without fail; and this he promised to do.[168] John and his friends were resolved to make sure of their game this time. On the Monday morning they took care to be first at the bridge; but instead of waiting for the chancellor, the heads of the party rode forward along the Windsor road as if to meet him, and sent their men-at-arms and servants towards London by way of Staines. Tidings of these movements reached William just after he had set out from Windsor. He at once turned back and rode towards London with all speed, and reached the junction of the two roads at the same time as the men-at-arms of John’s party. A skirmish took place in which John’s justiciar, Roger de Planes, was mortally wounded.[169] While the chancellor made his way into the Tower, John and the barons were following him to London. Next morning (Tuesday, October 8) they assembled at S. Paul’s, renewed their resolution to depose the chancellor, and, in the king’s name, granted to the Londoners their coveted “commune”;[170] whereupon the citizens joined unreservedly with them in voting the deposition of Longchamp and the appointment of Walter of Rouen as chief justiciar in his stead.[171] According to one account, the assembly went still further, and proposed to make John “chief governor of the whole kingdom,” with control of all the royal castles except three which were to be left to the chancellor.[172] As a token that all this was done “for the safety of the realm,” every man present, John first of all, renewed his oath of fealty to the king; and this ceremony was followed by a second oath of fidelity taken by all the rest to John himself, “saving their fealty” [to the king], together with a promise that they would acknowledge him as king if Richard should die without issue.[173]

The barons, the bishops, the justiciars, all London, all England, save a handful of Longchamp’s own relatives, personal friends and followers, was on John’s side; Longchamp himself, besieged in the Tower by overwhelming forces, could not possibly hold it for more than a day or two, and there was no hope of relief. There was, however, still one chance of escape from all his difficulties—John might be bribed. The project seemed a desperate one, for William had already tried it without success, two days before;[174] yet he tried it again on the Wednesday, and this time he all but succeeded. “By promising him much and giving him not a little, the chancellor so nearly turned the count of Mortain from his purpose that he was ready to withdraw from the city, leaving the business unfinished, had not the bishops of Coventry and York recalled him by their entreaties and arguments.”[175] Next day the chancellor submitted. On the Friday {Oct. 11} he gave up the keys of the Tower and of Windsor; within another fortnight he was reduced to surrender all the other royal castles except the three which had been nominally reserved to him, Dover, Cambridge, and Hereford.[176] Hereupon John ordered him to be released, and allowed him to sail on October 29 for France.[177]

1192

The truth of Longchamp’s assertion that John was “endeavouring to usurp the kingdom for himself” was soon made evident. Just before Christmas Philip Augustus of France came home from Acre. After a vain attempt to entrap the seneschal of Normandy into surrendering some of the border fortresses of the duchy to him, he opened negotiations for Richard’s damage in a more likely quarter; he invited John to come over and speak with him immediately, proposing to put him in possession of “all the lands of England and Normandy on this (i.e. the French) side of the sea,” on one condition, that he should marry the bride whom Richard had refused, Philip’s sister Adela.[178] To this condition John’s existing marriage was a bar, but not an insuperable one; it would be easy for him to divorce Isabel on the plea of consanguinity if he were so minded. He responded eagerly to Philip’s invitation, and was on the point of sailing from Southampton for France, when his plans were upset by his mother’s landing at Portsmouth on February 11.[179] The French king’s treachery had come to Eleanor’s knowledge, and she had hastened back to England to do what lay in her power for the protection of her elder son’s interests. The justiciars, who seem to have already had their suspicions of John’s loyalty, rallied round her at once. She was in fact the only person whose right to represent the absent king was treated by all parties as indisputable, although she had never held any formal commission as regent. She and the justiciars conjointly forbade John to leave the country, threatening that if he did so they would seize all his lands for the Crown.[180] For a while John hesitated, or affected to hesitate; he had indeed at least two other secret negotiations on hand beside that with France, and he was probably waiting to see which of the three most required his personal superintendence, or was likely to prove most profitable. Another proposition besides Philip’s had come to him from over sea: Longchamp had offered to give him five hundred pounds if he would get him reinstated as chief justiciar of England.[181] John cared very little who bore the title of justiciar, if he could secure the power for himself; his main object in England was to gain possession of the royal castles; with these in his hands, he could set any justiciar at defiance. The arrangement made in the previous July had been terminated by the chancellor’s fall, and the castles of Nottingham and Tickhill had therefore, in accordance with the last clause of the July agreement, been restored in October to John. The very rash project of placing all the royal castles under John’s control, said to have been mooted in London at the same time, had evidently not been carried into effect;[182] but John himself had never lost sight of it, and, as a chronicler says, “he did what he could” towards its realization. He began with two of the most important fortresses near the capital, Windsor and Wallingford. He dealt secretly with their commanding officers, so that they were delivered into his hands and filled with liegemen of his own.[183] This would be easy to manage in the case of Wallingford, which stood within an “honour” belonging to John himself. The custody of Windsor castle seems to have been, after the chancellor’s fall, entrusted for a time to the bishop of Durham, Hugh of Puiset,[184] a near kinsman of the royal house. In spite of the fact that Hugh was under sentence of excommunication from his metropolitan, Geoffrey of York, John had chosen to spend the Christmas of 1191 with him at Howden; thereby of course rendering himself, in Geoffrey’s estimation at least, ipso facto excommunicate likewise, till he made satisfaction for his offence.[185] Hugh of Durham had once hoped himself to supersede Longchamp as chief justiciar, and it is perhaps not too much to suspect that John may have so wrought upon the old bishop’s jealousy of Walter of Rouen as to induce him to connive at a proceeding on the part of his representatives at Windsor which would more than compensate his wily young cousin for the temporary ecclesiastical disgrace brought upon him by that otherwise unaccountable Christmas visit.

The actual transfer of these two castles to John probably did not take place till after a council held at Windsor by the queen-mother and the justiciars, towards the end of February or beginning of March. This council was followed by another at Oxford. After Mid-Lent (March 12) a third council was called, to meet this time in London, and for the express purpose of “speaking with Count John about his seizure of the castles.”[186] John, however, had taken care that another matter should come up for discussion first. He had answered Longchamp’s proposal by bidding him come over and try his luck. Thus the first piece of business with which the council had to deal was a demand from the chancellor, who had just landed at Dover, for a trial in the Curia Regis of the charges on which he had been deposed. Eleanor inclined to grant the demand. One contemporary says that Longchamp had bribed her. In any case she probably knew, or suspected, that Longchamp now had John at his back; she certainly knew in what regard he was held by Richard; and she urged, with considerable reason, that his deprivation must be displeasing to the king, if it were not justified by process of law. The justiciars and the barons, however, represented the chancellor’s misdoings in such glaring colours that she was reduced to silence.[187] But she was evidently not willing to join the justiciars in driving William out of the country; and in the face of her reluctance the justiciars dared not act without John. He was at Wallingford, “laughing at their conventicles.” Messenger after messenger was sent to him with respectful entreaties that he would come to the council and lend it his aid in dealing with the chancellor. He took the matter very composedly, letting them all go on begging and praying till they had humbled themselves enough to satisfy him and he had got his final answer ready for every contingency; then he went to London. The council, originally summoned to remonstrate with him for his misconduct, now practically surrendered itself wholly to his guidance. Of the castles not a word was said; the one subject of discussion was the chancellor. All were agreed in desiring his expulsion, if only the count would declare himself of the same mind. The count told them his mind with unexpected plainness. “This chancellor will neither fear the threats nor beg the favour of any one of you, nor of all of you put together, if he can but get me for his friend. Within the next seven days he is going to give me seven hundred pounds, if I meddle not between him and you. You see that I want money; I have said enough for wise men to understand”—and therewith he left them.[188] The justiciars saw that unless they could outbid the chancellor, their own fate was sealed. As a last resource, “it was agreed that they should give him or lend him some money, but not of their own; all fell upon the treasury of the absent king.” John’s greed was satisfied by a gift, or a loan, out of the exchequer; when this was safe in his hands, he gave the justiciars his written sanction to their intended proceedings against the chancellor;[189] they ordered William to quit the country, and he had no choice but to obey. They had, however, purchased his expulsion at a ruinous cost to themselves; its real price was of course not the few hundreds of which they had robbed the exchequer for John’s benefit, but their own independence. John had outwitted them completely, and they had practically confessed themselves to be at his mercy. Before the council broke up, every member of it, including the queen-mother, took another oath of fealty “against all men” to the king “and to his heir”—in other words, to John himself.[190]