“Didn’t King Henry nominate an heir?” Philip said.

“Yes, he chose Maud. She has a son, also called Henry. It was the old king’s dearest wish that his grandson should inherit the throne. But the boy is not yet three years old. So the king made the barons swear fealty to Maud.”

Philip was puzzled. “If the king made Maud his heir, and the barons have already sworn loyalty to her… what’s the problem?”

“Court life is never that simple,” Francis said. “Maud is married to Geoffrey of Anjou. Anjou and Normandy have been rivals for generations. Our Norman overlords hate the Angevins. Frankly, it was very optimistic of the old king to expect that a crowd of Anglo-Norman barons would hand over England and Normandy to an Angevin, oath or no oath.”

Philip was somewhat bemused by his younger brother’s knowing and disrespectful attitude to the most important men in the land. “How do you know all this?”

“The barons gathered at Le Neubourg to decide what to do. Needless to say, my own lord, Earl Robert, was there; and I went with him to write his letters.”

Philip looked quizzically at his brother, thinking how different Francis’s life must be from his own. Then he remembered something. “Earl Robert is the eldest son of the old king, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and he is very ambitious; but he accepts the general view, that bastards have to conquer their kingdoms, not inherit them.”

“Who else is there?”

“King Henry had three nephews, the sons of his sister. The eldest is Theobald of Blois; then there is Stephen, much loved by the dead king and endowed by him with vast estates here in England; and the baby of the family, Henry, whom you know as the bishop of Winchester. The barons favored the eldest, Theobald, according to a tradition which you probably think perfectly reasonable.” Francis looked at Philip and grinned.

“Perfectly reasonable,” Philip said with a smile. “So Theobald is our new king?”

Francis shook his head. “He thought he was, but we younger sons have a way of pushing ourselves to the fore.” They reached the farthest corner of the clearing and turned. “While Theobald was graciously accepting the homage of the barons, Stephen crossed the Channel to England and dashed to Winchester, and with the help of baby brother Henry, the bishop, he seized the castle there and-most important of all-the royal treasury.”

Philip was about to say: So Stephen is our new ruler. But he bit his tongue: he had said that about Maud and Theobald and had been wrong both times.

Francis went on: “Stephen needed only one more thing to make his victory secure: the support of the Church. For until he could be crowned at Westminster by the archbishop he would not really be king.”

“But surely that was easy,” Philip said. “His brother Henry is one of the most important priests in the land-bishop of Winchester, abbot of Glastonbury, as rich as Solomon and almost as powerful as the archbishop of Canterbury. And if Bishop Henry wasn’t intending to support him, why had he helped him take Winchester?”

Francis nodded. “I must say that Bishop Henry’s operations throughout this crisis have been brilliant. You see, he wasn’t helping Stephen out of brotherly love.”

“Then what was his motivation?”

“A few minutes ago I reminded you of how the late King Henry had treated the Church as if it were just another part of his kingdom. Bishop Henry wants to ensure that our new king, whoever he may be, will treat the Church better. So before he would guarantee support, Henry made Stephen swear a solemn oath to preserve the rights and privileges of the Church.”

Philip was impressed. Stephen’s relationship with the Church had been defined, right at the start of his reign, on the Church’s terms. But perhaps even more important was the precedent. The Church had to crown kings but until now it had not had the right to lay down conditions. The time might come when no king could come to power without first striking a deal with the Church. “This could mean a lot to us,” Philip said.

“Stephen may break his promises, of course,” Francis said. “But all the same you’re right. He will never be able to be quite as ruthless with the Church as Henry was. But there’s another danger. Two of the barons were bitterly aggrieved by what Stephen did. One was Bartholomew, the earl of Shiring.”

“I know of him. Shiring is only a day’s journey from here. Bartholomew is said to be a devout man.”

“Perhaps he is. All I know is that he is a self-righteous and stiff-necked baron who will not renege on his loyalty oath to Maud, despite the promise of a pardon.”

“And the other discontented baron?”

“My own Robert of Gloucester. I told you he was ambitious. His soul is tormented by the thought that if only he were legitimate, he would be king. He wants to put his half sister on the throne, believing that she will rely so heavily on her brother for guidance and advice that he will be king in everything but name.”

“Is he going to do anything about it?”

“I’m afraid so.” Francis lowered his voice, although there was no one near. “Robert and Bartholomew, together with Maud and her husband, are going to foment a rebellion. They plan to unseat Stephen and put Maud on the throne.”

Philip stopped walking. “Which would undo everything the bishop of Winchester has achieved!” He grasped his brother’s arm. “But, Francis…”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Suddenly all Francis’s cockiness left him, and he looked anxious and frightened. “If Earl Robert knew I’d even told you, he would hang me. He trusts me completely. But my ultimate loyalty is to the Church-it has to be.”

“But what can you do?”

“I thought of seeking an audience with the new king, and telling him everything. Of course, the two rebel earls would deny it all, and I would be hanged for treachery; but the rebellion would be frustrated and I would go to heaven.”

Philip shook his head. “We’re taught that it’s vain to seek martyrdom.”

“And I think God has more work for me to do here on earth. I’m in a position of trust in the household of a great baron, and if I stay there and advance myself by hard work, there’s a lot I could do to promote the rights of the Church and the rule of law.”

“Is there any other way…?”

Francis looked Philip in the eye. “That’s why I’m here.”

Philip felt a shiver of fear. Francis was going to ask him to get involved, of course; there was no other reason for him to reveal this dreadful secret.

Francis went on: “I can’t betray the rebellion, but you can.”

Philip said: “Jesus Christ and all the saints, preserve me.”

“If the plot is uncovered here, in the south, no suspicion will fall on the Gloucester household. Nobody knows I’m here; nobody even knows you’re my brother. You could think of some plausible explanation of how you came by the information: you might have seen men-at-arms assembling, or it might be that someone in Earl Bartholomew’s household revealed the plot while confessing his sins to a priest you know.”

Philip pulled his cloak closer around him, shivering. It seemed to have turned colder suddenly. This was dangerous, very dangerous. They were talking about meddling in royal politics, which regularly killed experienced practitioners. Outsiders such as Philip were foolish to get involved.

But there was so much at stake. Philip could not stand by and see a rebellion against a king chosen by the Church, not when he had a chance to prevent it. And dangerous though it would be for Philip, it would be suicidal for Francis to expose the plot.

Philip said: “What’s the rebels’ plan?”

“Earl Bartholomew is on his way back to Shiring right now. From there he will send out messages to his followers all over the south of England. Earl Robert will arrive in Gloucester a day or two later and muster his forces in the West Country. Finally Brian Fitzcount, who holds Wallingford Castle, will close its gates; and the whole of southwest England will belong to the rebels without a fight.”