Richard I, Richard the Lionheart - a photo on Flickriver

Henry II built the keep at Dover Castle, and it was the same King that crawled in rough cloth from Westgate to Canterbury Cathedral in penitence as a result of the murder of Thomas Becket.

With such local links to events and structures, I wondered where is was buried.

And that turned out to be France.

At Fontevraud Abbey. And that is why we stayed and ate in caves the night before, so that we would be a ten minute drive from the Abbey.

Dawn broke and the overnight rain had stopped. Sorry, paused, we had showers, got dressed and went to breakfast at half eight to find all other guests were arriving or eating.

A fine spread of local produce had been provided, and so we ate and drank well.

That done we loaded the car, settled the bill for local taxes, and drove to the Abbey, by which time it was raining again, and would only get heavier.

So much so that by the time we reached the Abbey and parked the car, it was hammering down.

We put on coats and sheltered under an umbrella as we hurried to the entrance, to find, as expected, chaos.

However, 90% of those hoards were on tours and waiting for their guides to collect them, we went to the front of the queue, though in reality there wasn't one, paid and the guy let us in through the outdoor.

We walked quickly down the slope to the entrance of the cathedral, to find just one group in the building, and very few others.

The Abbey is very plain, with four tombs laying at the Nave end of the Chancel, no other furniture, pews or seats.

The tombs are for two kings and their wives, Henry II and Richard I, aka Richard the Lionheart. History made real if I'm hones.

I took shots, then to the tombs, took those, and snap a few details, and I was done, and we were walking back to the car at quarter to eleven, the rain finally having stopped.

We programmed the sat nav for home, and it told us we had 387 miles to go.

We drove back through the town square, down to the main road, and re-crossed the Loire, heading to the autoroute.

The sides of the road have been lined with Verbascums and Common Toadflax since we left Roccastrada, and this continued as we headed north into Britanny.

Rain fell again, and as the road threatened to flood, I slowed down and we made our way at a slower, but safer speed.

We Drove to Le Mans, by which time the rain had stopped, and I could put the hammer down, and really begin to eat the miles up. I mean going away is always wonderful, but its still great to come home, and we both wanted to be home now.

The hours slipped by, and the road just went on, but at least mostly empty, so it was stress free driving.

And then we got to Rouen. On the road to Rouen. Ahem.

At Rouen, to get to the Channel ports, you have to turn off the autoroute and go through, if not the centre of the city, then the industrial heart, on narrower roads than is healthy, mixing it with lorries and trucks.

It is here we cross the Seine, and turn onto an autoroute again, passing through a long tunnel then out into the countryside, one the last long leg home.

The forecasted clouds built, as did the winds, though little rain fell.

And just before five, we saw the coast, though the White Cliffs were hidden in mist and rain, we knew it was there.

One last call at Calais Vin for fizz and Belgian beer, then next door for some stinky cheese and finally to the boulangerie for some traditional bread to go with wine and cheese.

We were set.

Its just two junctions back to the tunnel, we checked in and were allowed to take an earlier train free.

A half hour wait to six, then onto the train, wait until loading was complete, and after the announcements, it slid out and went under the sea.

Back to Blighty.

Off the train and instead of going on the M20 north, we take the little used off ramp to the A20, then turn back towards Folkestone and Dover.

And home.

Not sure what time we got back, but we unloaded the car, put on the kettle and had a brew.

The first load of washing was put in the machine, I cut a loaf of bread and poured wine.

We let out a big sigh,

We were home.

In 14 days, we had done 2,952 miles, with the leg on the first day being the longest in distance at 508 miles, but the next day with the two Alpine passes we drove for just about 11 hours for 496 miles.

No wonder we were glad to arrive in Tuscany.

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Richard I (8 September 1157 – 6 April 1199), known as Richard Cœur de Lion (Norman French: Quor de Lion)[1][2] or Richard the Lionheart because of his reputation as a great military leader and warrior,[3][4][5] was King of England from 1189 until his death in 1199. He also ruled as Duke of Normandy, Aquitaine, and Gascony; Lord of Cyprus; Count of Poitiers, Anjou, Maine, and Nantes; and was overlord of Brittany at various times during the same period. He was the third of five sons of Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine and was therefore not expected to become king, but his two elder brothers predeceased their father.

By the age of 16, Richard had taken command of his own army, putting down rebellions in Poitou against his father.[3] Richard was an important Christian commander during the Third Crusade, leading the campaign after the departure of Philip II of France and achieving several victories against his Muslim counterpart, Saladin, although he finalised a peace treaty and ended the campaign without retaking Jerusalem.[6]

Richard probably spoke both French and Occitan.[7] He was born in England, where he spent his childhood; before becoming king, however, he lived most of his adult life in the Duchy of Aquitaine, in the southwest of France. Following his accession, he spent very little time, perhaps as little as six months, in England. Most of his reign was spent on Crusade, in captivity, or actively defending the French portions of the Angevin Empire. Though regarded as a model king during the four centuries after his death,[8] and seen as a pious hero by his subjects,[9] from the 17th century onward he was gradually perceived by historians as a ruler who preferred to use his kingdom merely as a source of revenue to support his armies, rather than regarding England as a responsibility requiring his presence as ruler.[10] This "Little England" view of Richard has come under increasing scrutiny by modern historians, who view it as anachronistic. [11] Richard I remains one of the few kings of England remembered more commonly by his epithet than his regnal number,[citation needed] and is an enduring iconic figure both in England and in France.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_I_of_England

Taken on: September 26, 2024

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