Although the Young King and Queen Marguerite were in Normandy, the king and queen, the chroniclers tell us, quarreled furiously over their absent cub. Their son, nearly eighteen years old, was now demanding his heritage. He wanted someplace in the world that he could call his own—England, he suggested, and if not England then Normandy or Anjou. Had not Richard and Geoffrey nominal authority in their duchies? Why should he remain landless, a king without a kingdom, tied on a short leash by his father and forced to subsist on a meager allowance that he received at the king’s pleasure? His coronation had been a farce, he whined, his crown only a plaything signifying nothing. How could he hold up his head before his friends when his father treated him like a babe? He wanted to become king of England while he was still young. The Young King burned with grievances, and when reproached by Henry, he had given a remarkable demonstration of Angevin black bile. During the holiday, Eleanor must have pleaded vigorously on her son’s behalf.
