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A.D. 1142] opportunity of punishing her husband by any means at their command, and they therefore welcomed the new quarrels which had arisen between the sons and their father.

Henry and his son Richard marched against Limoges, which was in the possession of Henry the younger and Geoffrey. Within a few weeks the eldest brother deserted the cause of the men of Aquitaine, and gave in his submission once more to his father. Geoffrey, however, remained firm, and, supported by the people, continued his possession. Prince Henry communicated with his brother through Bertrand de Born, and arranged that a meeting should take place between his father and Geoffrey, for the purpose of arranging terms of peace. When the king arrived at Limoges to attend this conference, he was surprised to find the gates of the town shut against him; and on presenting himself with a small escort before the walls, and demanding admittance, he was answered by a flight of arrows, one of which pierced his armour. An explanation ensued, when this occurrence was declared to be a mistake, and the king entered the town, and was met by Geoffrey in an open place, where they began the conference. During the interview a second flight of arrows were discharged from the walls of the castle adjoining, one of which struck the king's horse on the head. Henry ordered one of his esquires to pick up the arrow, and, taking it in his hand, he presented it to Geoffrey, with words of sorrow and reproach.

These attempts at assassination, as revolting in themselves as they were in defiance of the laws of chivalry, have been attributed by some historians to Geoffrey himself; but there is no sufficient reason for supposing that they occurred by the son's command. The hot-tempered soldiers of the south, probably, were little pleased at the prospect of a reconciliation between Geoffrey and his father, which would be made without regard to their interests; and it is not improbable that of their own accord they took this means of putting an end to the conference. It is stated that the archers who made the attack upon the king were not hired soldiers, but volunteers, who had recently joined the army of Geoffrey.

Henry the younger, finding his attempts at mediation frustrated, declared that the men of Aquitaine were obstinate rebels, with whom he would never more make peace or truce, but that he would remain true to his father at all times. And yet a month had scarcely elapsed before he again quitted his father, and entered into a league with his adversaries. The Pope now interposed, and by his command the Norman clergy excommunicated the disobedient son—a penalty which the perjuries of the prince had once before called down upon him. It seems improbable that Henry the younger was in the least disturbed by being under the ban of the Church; but he was induced by some cause to return to his father, who received him once more with forgiveness. The prince promised, in the name of the insurgents, to surrender the town of Limoges; but if he had their warranty for doing so, they soon repented of their determination. The envoys of the king, who were sent to take possession of the town, were butchered within the walls, and the people, whose national spirit was thoroughly aroused, showed themselves resolved to put down all measures of reconciliation.

Not long after these events, the king received a message that his son, having fallen dangerously ill at Chateau-Martel, near Limoges, was anxious to see him. The king, who remembered the former attempts upon his own life, as well as the recent assassination of his soldiers, feared to trust himself again among these conspirators. He took a ring from his finger, and giving it to the Archbishop of Bordeaux, desired him to convey it immediately to the prince, with the assurance of his father's love. The arch-bishop executed his mission, and Prince Henry died with the ring pressed to his lips, confessing his undutiful conduct, and showing every sign of contrition. The younger king was twenty-seven years of age at the time of his death, which took place June 11th, 1183.

The stern Plantagenet is said to have been struck with, grief at his son's death; but he was not of a nature to waste time in brooding over the irrevocable past. With his sorrow were associated feelings of anger against the rebels of Aquitaine, whose hostile attitude had prevented him from attending the deathbed of the prince. The king immediately collected an army, and on the day after the funeral of his son, he took the town of Limoges by assault, and followed up this success by seizing many castles of the insurgents, which he razed to the ground. Above all the confederates he pursued Bertrand de Born, to whose evil counsel he attributed the numerous acts of rebellion on the part of the princes. Henry besieged the castle of Haute-Fort, and within a short time it fell into his hands; and the chief, Bertrand, was conducted as a prisoner to the royal tent.

Bertrand, as has been already related, was not only a warrior, but a troubadour of renown, as eminent for gaiety and wit as for valour. He had made satirical poems upon the great King Henry, whom he had boasted that he held neither in respect nor fear. Henry now called him into his presence, to see how this gallant song-maker would comport himself in the face of death. "Bertrand," he said, "thou hast been heard to declare that thou newer requiredst to use more than half thy wit, but now the time has come when thou wilt need it all." "My lord," the troubadour calmly replied, "I did, indeed, say so; and I said the truth." "And yet I think that thy sense has deserted thee," rejoined the king. "You are right, sire," Bertrand said, in slow and grave tones. "I lost it on the day that the valiant youth thy son expired; then, indeed, I lost all sense and reason." At the mention of his son, the king gave way to a passion of grief; and, to the astonishment of the court, the judge fainted away at the words of the prisoner. When Henry recovered, all thoughts of vengeance had passed away: the man who stood before him, whatever might be his crimes, had been his son's old friend, and for this cause the king spared his life. "Sir Bertrand, Sir Bertrand!" said he, "thou didst well to lose thy senses for my son's sake, for he loved thee better than any man in the world; and I, for love of him, give thee thy life, thy wealth, and thy castle."

The death of the younger king caused a reconciliation between the several members of this dissevered family. Even the Queen Eleanor was once more taken for a while into favour; and in her presence, the Princes Geoffrey and Richard, as well as their younger brother, Prince John, swore to a solemn bond of final peace and concord (A.D. 1184). The king, distrusting the untamed disposition of