A drawn battle, however, could not possibly be the end of a struggle between two such men as John of Mortain and William of Longchamp. In the autumn a new element was added to the strife by the return of Archbishop Geoffrey of York. For thirty-five years Geoffrey had been the eldest living child, if indeed he was not actually the first-born, of Henry Fitz-Empress;[1508] but of the vast Angevin heritage there fell to his share nothing, except the strong feelings and fiery temper which caused half the troubles of his life. As a child he had been brought up at court almost on equal terms with his half-brothers;[1509] he seems indeed to have been his father’s favourite, till he was supplanted by the little John. When he grew to manhood, however, Henry could see no way of providing for him except by forcing him into a career for which he had no vocation. At an early age he was put into deacon’s orders and made archdeacon of Lincoln;[1510] in 1173, when about twenty years of age, he was appointed to the bishopric of the same place.[1511] The Pope, however, demurred to the choice of a candidate disqualified alike by his youth and his birth; and when the former obstacle had been outlived and the latter might have been condoned, Geoffrey voluntarily renounced an office in which he would have been secure for life, but which he had never desired and for which he felt himself unfit,[1512] in order to become his father’s chancellor and constant companion during the last eight years of his life. It was Henry’s last regret that this son, the only one of his sons whose whole life had been an unbroken course of perfect filial obedience, had to be left with his future entirely at the mercy of his undutiful younger half-brother. Richard received him with a brotherly welcome;[1513] when, however, he nominated him to the see of York, he was indeed carrying out their father’s last wishes, but certainly not those of Geoffrey himself. Richard seems to have thought that he was held back by other motives than those of conscience or of preference for a secular life; he suspected him of cherishing designs upon the crown.[1514] It can only be said that Geoffrey, so far as appears, never did anything to justify the suspicion, but shewed on the contrary every disposition to act loyally towards both his brothers, if they would but have acted with equal loyalty towards him. As soon however as the tonsure had marked him irrevocably for a priestly life,[1515] Richard’s zeal for his promotion cooled. The bishop of Durham, who was striving to make his see independent of the metropolitan,[1516] and a strong party in the York chapter with whom Geoffrey had quarrelled on a point of ecclesiastical etiquette, easily won the king’s ear;[1517] it was not till the very eve of Richard’s departure from England that Geoffrey was able to buy his final confirmation both in the see of York and in the estates which his father had bequeathed to him in Anjou;[1518] and in March he was summoned over to Normandy and there, like John, made to take an oath of absence from England for three years.[1519]

According to Geoffrey’s own account, he followed his brother as far as Vézelay, and there won from him a remission of this vow.[1520] It is certain that by April 1191 Richard had so far changed his mind again as to be desirous of Geoffrey’s speedy consecration. The Pope’s consent was still lacking; and the negotiations for obtaining this were undertaken by the person who, from Geoffrey’s very birth, had been his most determined enemy—Queen Eleanor. When she went from Messina to Rome to plead his cause with Clement III. or his successor Celestine,[1521] it is plain that natural feeling gave way to motives of policy. She could now see that an archbishop of York might become very useful in England, in holding the balance between Hugh of Durham and William of Ely. His canonical authority and personal influence might furnish, not indeed a counterpoise, but at least a check to the now unlimited powers of the legate. On the other hand, it was the long vacancy of York which more than anything else had tended to Hugh’s exaltation. For ten years the bishop of Durham, with no metropolitan over him, had virtually been himself metropolitan of northern England. He strongly resented the filling of the vacant see, and had actually obtained from Clement III. a privilege of exemption from its jurisdiction.[1522] If the archbishop of York could be reinstated in his proper constitutional position, his own interests would lead him to use it for those of the kingdom and the king.

Geoffrey’s qualifications and disqualifications for such a task may be very easily summed up. He had the Angevin fearlessness, energy, persistence and thoroughness, with a fair share of the versatile capabilities of the family; he had all their impetuosity, but very little of their wariness and tact. Mingled with the Angevin fire, there seems to have run in his veins the blood, and with it the spirit, of a totally different race. If we may credit on such a point the gossip of his father’s court, Geoffrey was through his mother a child of the people—seemingly the English people—and of its very lowest class.[1523] This consideration has more interest at a later stage of Geoffrey’s career, when he stands forth as a champion of constitutional liberty. Until then, there is, so far as we can see, no evidence of any special sympathy between him and the English people. Yet the plebeian and probably English element in him existed, or was believed to exist; and if it did not become, as it easily might have done, an important element in his political career, it was at any rate not unlikely to have exercised some influence upon his character.

Eleanor’s mission to Rome succeeded. Geoffrey’s election and his claim to the obedience of the bishop of Durham were both confirmed by Pope Celestine;[1524] he was consecrated at Tours by Archbishop Bartholomew on August 18, and received his pall on the same day.[1525] He at once put himself in communication with John, to secure a protector on his return to his see;[1526] for William of Longchamp, having had no notice from Richard of the remission of Geoffrey’s vow of absence, refused to believe in it,[1527] and had not only issued orders for the archbishop’s arrest as soon as he should land in England,[1528] but had agreed with the countess of Flanders that no Flemish ship should be allowed to give him a passage. The countess, however, evaded her agreement by letting him sail from Wissant in an English boat.[1529] He landed at Dover on Holy Cross day,[1530] having changed his clothes to avoid recognition.[1531] The constable of Dover, Matthew de Clères, was absent; his wife Richenda was a sister of William of Longchamp; her men-at-arms surrounded the archbishop the moment he touched the shore, recognized him in spite of his disguise, and strove to arrest him, but he managed to free himself from their hands and make his way to the priory of S. Martin, just outside the town. Here for five days Richenda’s followers vainly endeavoured to blockade and starve him into surrender.[1532] On the fifth day a band of armed men rushed into the priory-church, and in the chancellor’s name ordered Geoffrey to quit the country at once. Geoffrey, seated by the altar, clad in his pontifical robes and with his archiepiscopal cross in his hand, set them and their chancellor at defiance.[1533] They dragged him out of the church by the hands and feet; and as nothing would induce him to mount a horse which they brought for him, they dragged him on, still in the same array, still clinging to his cross and excommunicating them as they went, all through the town to the castle, where they flung him into prison.[1534]

This outrage roused up all parties alike in Church and state. England had had quite enough of persecuted and martyred archbishops. Protests and remonstrances came pouring in upon the chancellor from the most opposite quarters:—from the treasurer and bishop of London, Richard Fitz-Nigel[1535]—from the aged bishop of Norwich, John of Oxford,[1536] and from the Canterbury chapter,[1537] both of whom had had only too much experience, in different ways, of the disasters which might result from such violence to an archbishop. The most venerated of living English prelates, S. Hugh of Lincoln, at once excommunicated Richenda, her husband and all her abettors, with lighted candles at Oxford.[1538] John remonstrated most vehemently of all,[1539] and his remonstrances procured Geoffrey’s release,[1540] but only on condition that he would go straight to London and there remain till the case between him and the chancellor could be tried by an assembly of bishops and barons.[1541] This of course satisfied nobody. John had no mind to lose his opportunity of crushing his enemy once for all. From Lancaster, where he was laying his plans with the help of Bishop Hugh of Coventry—a nephew of the old arch-plotter Arnulf of Lisieux—he hurried to Marlborough, and thence sent out summons to all the great men whom he thought likely to help him against the chancellor. He was not disappointed. The co-justiciars hastened up from the various shires where they were apparently busy with their judicial or financial visitations—William the Marshal from Gloucestershire, William Bruère from Oxfordshire, Geoffrey Fitz-Peter from Northamptonshire; the bishops were represented by Godfrey of Winchester and Reginald of Bath, and the sovereign himself by Walter of Rouen; S. Hugh of Lincoln joined the train as it passed through Oxford to Reading. From Reading John sent to call his half-brother to his side. Geoffrey, who was beginning to be looked upon and to look upon himself as something like another S. Thomas, had made a sort of triumphal progress from Dover to London; tied by his parole, he was obliged to ask the chancellor’s consent to his acceptance of John’s invitation, and only gained it on condition of returning within a given time.[1542]

The chancellor meanwhile was at Norwich;[1543] and thither John and the justiciars had already sent him a summons to appear before them and answer for his conduct towards both Geoffrey of York and Hugh of Durham, at an assembly to be held at the bridge over the Lodden, between Reading and Windsor, on Saturday October 5.[1544] William retorted by a counter-summons to all who had joined the count of Mortain to forsake him as an usurper and return to their obedience to the king’s chosen representative.[1545] He hurried, however, to Windsor in time for the proposed meeting; but when the Saturday morning came, the earls of Arundel, Warren and Norfolk appeared at the trysting-place in his stead, pleading ill-health as an excuse for his absence.[1546] As Saturday was accounted an unlucky day for contracts or settlements of any kind,[1547] no one regretted the delay; John and the barons, sitting amid a ring of spectators in the meadows by the Lodden, spent the day in discussing all the complaints against the chancellor, and also, apparently, in looking through such of the Norman primate’s bundle of royal letters as he chose to shew them, and deliberating which would be most appropriate to the present state of affairs. On one point all were agreed; the chancellor must be put down at once.[1548] Early next morning he tried to bribe John into reconciliation, but in vain.[1549] At the high mass in Reading parish church the whole body of bishops lighted their candles and publicly excommunicated all who had been, whether by actual participation, command or consent, concerned in Archbishop Geoffrey’s arrest;[1550] and at nightfall the chancellor was compelled to swear that, come what might, he would be ready to stand his trial at the bridge of Lodden on the morrow.[1551]

Scarcely had he set out on the Monday morning when he was met by a report that his enemies were marching upon London.[1552] The report was true in substance; John and the barons, instead of waiting for him at the Lodden bridge, crossed it, and then divided their forces into two bodies; the smaller, consisting of the bishops and barons with John himself, proceeded towards Windsor to meet the chancellor; the larger, comprising the men-at-arms and the servants in charge of the baggage, was sent on by the southern road to Staines.[1553] Such a movement was quite enough to justify William in hurrying back to Windsor and thence on to London as fast as horses could carry him.[1554] Before he could reach it he met John’s men-at-arms coming up by the other road from Staines; a skirmish took place, in which John’s justiciar Roger de Planes was mortally wounded, but his followers seem to have had the best of the fight,[1555] although they could not prevent the chancellor from making his way safe into London. Here he at once called a meeting of the citizens in the Guildhall, and endeavoured to secure their support against John.[1556] He found, however, a strong party opposed to himself. On the last day of July[1557]—three days after the second award between John and William at Winchester—the citizens of London had profited by the king’s absence and his representative’s humiliation to set up a commune. They knew very well that, as a contemporary writer says, neither King Henry nor King Richard would have sanctioned such a thing at any price;[1558] and they knew even better still that Richard’s chancellor would never countenance it for a moment. With John they might have a chance, and they were not disposed to lose it by shutting their gates in his face at the bidding of William of Longchamp. William, seeing that his cause was lost in the city, shut himself up in the Tower.[1559]

By this time John and his companions were at the gates; a short parley ended in their admittance.[1560] Next morning barons and citizens came together in S. Paul’s.[1561]. One after another the chancellor’s victims, with the archbishop of York at their head, set forth their grievances.[1562] Archbishop Walter of Rouen and William the Marshal then produced the king’s letter of February 20, addressed to the Marshal, and accrediting Walter to him and his fellow-justiciars, and bidding them, in case of any failure of duty on the chancellor’s part, follow Walter’s direction in all things.[1563] John and the barons agreed to act in accordance with these instructions; they won the assent of the citizens by swearing to maintain the commune;[1564] the whole assembly then swore fealty to Richard, and to John as his destined successor.[1565] According to one account they went a step further: they appointed John regent of the kingdom, and granted him the disposal of all the royal castles except three, which were to be left to the chancellor.[1566] Upon the latter they now set out to enforce their decision at the sword’s point. His forces were more than sufficient to defend the Tower; they were in fact too numerous; they had had no time to revictual the place, they were painfully overcrowded, and before twenty-four hours were over they found their position untenable.[1567] On the Wednesday William tried to bribe John into abandoning the whole enterprise, and he very nearly succeeded; Geoffrey of York and Hugh of Coventry, however, discovered what was going on, and remonstrated so loudly that John was obliged to drop the negotiation and continue the siege.[1568] In the afternoon, at the chancellor’s own request, four bishops and four earls went to speak with him in the Tower.[1569] Five days of intense excitement had so exhausted his feeble frame that when they told him what had passed at the meeting on the previous day, he dropped senseless at their feet, and when brought to himself could at first do nothing but implore their sympathy and mediation.[1570] The brutal insolence of Hugh of Coventry,[1571] however, seems to have stung him into his wonted boldness again. With flashing eyes he told them that the day of reckoning was yet to come, when they and their new lord would have to account for their treason with Richard himself; and he sent them away with a positive refusal to surrender either his castles or his seal.[1572] Late at night, however, as he lay vainly endeavouring to gain a little rest, his friends came and implored him to abandon the useless struggle with fate; and at last his brother Osbert and some others wrung from him an unwilling permission to go and offer themselves as hostages for his submission on the morrow.[1573]