Some years before the king had acquired the treasures of the bishop of Salisbury, and, despatching a large sum of money to Louis, king of the French, had married his son Eustace to Constance, Louis’ sister, planning by a match with so great a prince to strengthen his son’s chance of succession against the count of Anjou and his sons; and Constance was in London with the queen, her mother-in-law. When the queen would have gone elsewhere with her daughter-in-law, the aforesaid Geoffrey, then master of the Tower, prevented her, and seizing her daughter-in-law out of her hands, in spite of her stout resistance, kept her, permitting the queen to depart with ignominy. Afterwards at the king’s demand he reluctantly resigned his noble booty to her father-in-law, who for the time dissembled his just indignation. Now this wrong seemed to have been at length forgotten, when the barons assembled at the royal summons at St. Albans, and among them appeared this bandit; whereupon, forthwith seizing the opportunity, the king gave vent to his righteous anger and putting Geoffrey in bonds, extorted from him the Tower of London with the two other fortresses which he held. Stripped of his defences, but released, his incapacity to rest, his mighty spirit, his almost incomparable resource, and his extraordinary genius for evil, led him to gather together an impious crew, at whose head he burst into the monastery of Ramsey; without fear, he drove out the monks, and turned the famous and holy place into a den of thieves, and the sanctuary of God into the home of the devil, ravaging the country round with constant sallies and expeditions. Success increased his confidence, and going further afield, he harassed and menaced king Stephen with the boldest assaults. During this wild outburst it seemed as if God was asleep and took no thought for human affairs, or even his own, that is, the church; and pious men cried out of their trouble, “Arise, why sleepest thou, O Lord?” But, as the apostle says, after God endured with much patience vessels of wrath fit for destruction, “he arose,” as the prophet says, “as from sleep, and smote his enemies in their hinder parts,” that is, in the latter years of those whose earlier career seemed prosperous. In a word, shortly before the destruction of that impious wretch, as is proved by the true testimony of many, the walls of the church into which he had burst, and of the adjacent cloister, sweated with real blood, by which, as afterwards appeared, was signified both the enormity of his crime and the now imminent judgment upon the enormity. But since the evil men, given over to a reprobate mind, were in no wise frightened by a portent so horrible, their abandoned leader, while storming a castle of his enemies among the serried ranks of his followers, was struck on the head by the arrow of a common footman; and from that wound the reckless fighter, though at first he made light of it, died after a few days, and took with him to hell the burden of the church’s anathema, from which he could never be absolved.
His two most cruel followers, of whom one was over the knights and the other over the footmen, are reported to have perished by diverse mishaps. The one died by a fall from his horse, his head being crushed on the ground and his brains scattered; the other, Rainer by name, the chief destroyer and burner of churches, when crossing the sea with his wife, brought the ship to a standstill in mid ocean by the weight of his sins. The sailors and others who were crossing at the same time were reduced to stupefaction, but, following the ancient example, cast lots, and the lot fell upon Rainer; and when, to prevent the possibility of accident, they cast lots a second and a third time with the same result, it was declared to be the judgment of God. So, in order that all might not perish with him and on his account, he was put out in a boat with his wife and his ill-gotten wealth. The ship immediately leapt forward and was borne on its usual course. But the boat sank under the weight of the sinner, and was overwhelmed in the waves.
THE TREATY OF PEACE BETWEEN KING STEPHEN AND PRINCE HENRY (1153).
Source.—Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, ed. Arnold, p. 289. (Rolls Series.)
Meanwhile archbishop Theobald urgently treated with the king, to induce him to come to terms with the duke, speaking often with the king in person and with the duke by messenger.
His efforts were seconded by Henry bishop of Winchester, who before had woefully disturbed the realm by conferring the crown upon Stephen his brother; now, stirred to repentance and seeing the whole country ruined by plunder, fire and slaughter, he shared in the negotiations for peace, to put an end to the awful evils. Above all, the providence of God, which makes peace and permits evil, purposing to stay the scourge that smote England according to her deserts, prospered their work until their efforts were blessed by the calm of peace and a treaty confirmed by oaths. Oh! priceless joy, oh! blessed day! when the illustrious prince, led by the king himself, was received with honour in the city of Winchester at the head of a splendid procession of bishops and warriors, amid the acclamation of a numberless throng of the people. For the king received him as his adopted son and acknowledged him heir to the throne. Thence the king brought the duke with him to London, where he was received with equal joy by a numberless multitude of people and magnificent processions, as so great a man deserved. So did the mercy of God shed a halo of peace and lighten the darkness of the ruined realm of England.
This accomplished, king Stephen and his new son parted in joy and affection, to meet again, for this treaty was confirmed before Christmas. But on the octave of the Epiphany they met once more at Oxford, after the duke had spent almost a year in the conquest, or rather the resurrection of England. There then the chief men of the English, by the king’s command, did to the duke the homage and fealty due to a lord saving to the king due honour and fealty during his life. From this brilliant gathering they joyfully departed to their own homes, blessed by a new peace. Again after a short interval of time they met at Dunstable. There a brilliant day was somewhat clouded. The duke was displeased that the castles, which had been everywhere built after the death of king Henry and put to the worst uses, were not destroyed, as had been determined and confirmed by the solemn treaty of peace between them; a great part had now been razed, but the castles of some had been spared either by the clemency or the connivance of the king, whereby their mutual adherence to the compact seemed to be impaired. The duke, on complaining hereon to the king, suffered a repulse, but, deferring to his new father, reluctantly postponed the question, that the light of their harmony might not seem to be extinguished by him; they parted peaceably, and not long after, by the king’s licence, the victorious duke returned to Normandy.
BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD