The Queen from Provence Page 8

  ‘And is the son like the father?’

  ‘Nay, but he is a man of good sense, I believe. He will climb through a shrewd mind rather than a sword. There is a battle of sorts going on now between him and Norfolk. This office of Seneschal which he now fulfils he insists belongs to the Earls of Leicester. He, through his grandfather’s marriage into the Leicester family, has claimed the title. The Earl of Norfolk declares the office belongs to him.’

  ‘So they have fought over the honour to serve us?’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘And Simon de Montfort won. That does not surprise me.’

  It had occurred to her that he was a man to watch so she would learn all she could of him. At this moment the King was a little restive to see her interest in another man so she dismissed the subject of de Montfort and asked Henry to explain the formalities of the banquet. This he was happy to do.

  He told her that Walter de Beauchamp, who had laid the salt cellar and the knives would claim them, after the banquet, as his fee. The Lord Mayor, Andrew Benkerel, was officiating in the butlery with the three hundred and sixty gold and silver cups which had been brought so ceremoniously through the streets.

  All those who served would take away some item from the table – it might be a gold or silver knife, one of the Seneschal’s robes, or the cup from which the King and Queen had drunk … whatever it was, they fought for what they considered their rights and Eleanor commented that perhaps it was out of the desire for gain rather than loyalty which made them so eager to serve the King.

  But it was a merry banquet and the new Queen was very conscious of her uncle’s eyes upon her. It delighted her to be so admired. She was not only beautiful but she was wise. Uncle William had suggested that she could do much to help her country – and Savoy in which he was naturally mainly interested.

  The future seemed very bright to her. She had wanted to vie with Marguerite. But she had done more than that.

  It was true that many would say Louis was the more handsome husband of the two. He was nearer Marguerite’s age and Henry was double Eleanor’s. Never mind. What cared she? There was no dominating mother-in-law to be grappled with here. It seemed to Eleanor that in England she had a clear field.

  After the banquet the tables were cleared away and the company sat about the hall – some on the stone seats cut out of the wall; others on chests which contained some of the King’s gold and silver; some sat on stools. The King and Queen were close to the fire in their chairs of state; and the minstrels and jongleurs were brought in to amuse the company while the squires served sweetmeats and hot spiced wine.

  On a stool close to the Queen sat the Princess Eleanor, the King’s sister, a young woman of about twenty-one, and she was joined by her brother Richard who never lost an opportunity of being near the young Queen.

  Richard asked Eleanor what she thought of English hospitality to which she replied that it was the most lavish she had ever encountered.

  ‘A Queen is not crowned every day,’ Richard reminded her.

  ‘A mercy,’ retorted Eleanor. ‘A country needs only one Queen and once she and her husband are crowned there is an end to coronations for many years to come.’

  ‘Amen,’ murmured Richard.

  The Princess Eleanor looked at her brother with some amusement, the Queen noticed.

  She studied Eleanor – her namesake. In nothing else did they resemble each other.

  The Queen asked her sister-in-law if she would remain at Court for she believed she had recently come from the country.

  The Princess replied that the Queen was right. She had been staying at the house of her sister-in-law. She looked at Richard. The Queen had heard that Richard was married to an ageing wife of whom he was tired. News travelled swiftly round courts and Uncle William had already discovered this. He had said that it was well that she should be kept informed of all matters concerning the country and her new family. It made her feel like a conspirator.

  ‘That must have been pleasant,’ said the Queen and there was a question in her voice.

  The Princess hesitated. ‘The Countess of Cornwall is very sick, my lady. She is often downcast because of this …’ another look at Richard … ‘and other matters.’ The Princess was of a rebellious nature. She was clearly fond of the sister-in-law and deplored her brother’s attitude – nor did she hesitate to show it. Interesting! thought the Queen. She threw a slightly coquettish glance at Richard for she knew he admired her, and she guessed that he would have delighted to have her as his bride in place of this ageing woman he had married.

  The Princess Eleanor went on: ‘But she has a most beautiful boy. That’s true is it not, brother?’

  Now there was animation in his face. He doted on the boy at least. ‘He is a fine little fellow,’ said Richard. ‘Advanced for his age. Is that not so, sister?’

  ‘I thank God for him for Isabella’s sake,’ said Eleanor, and that was a reproach again.

  That the Princess Eleanor was an outspoken and forthright young woman was becoming clear and being about seven years older than the Queen she was inclined to regard her as a child.

  No matter, thought the Queen. As yet that would be well enough. She glanced about the room and saw coming towards the royal party, the Seneschal of the banquet, the man who had been pointed out to her as Simon de Montfort.

  He made his obeisance to the King first, then to the Queen.

  Henry said: ‘Have you settled your differences with Norfolk, Simon?’

  ‘My lord, I had right on my side. He could not dispute that.’

  ‘I knew you would be the victor, Simon,’ said the King.

  Clearly, thought Eleanor, her husband had a feeling of friendship for this man.

  Richard, who had noticeably been a little depressed by his sister’s reference to his marriage, began to talk to Simon de Montfort and as the King turned to one of the barons on his right – the Queen and Princess Eleanor with Simon and Richard formed a small group.

  They talked of the banquet and the richness of it and how the various servers would demand their reward in the gifts they would carry off from the King’s table. Richard had seated himself at the Queen’s feet and discussed with her the crusade on which he intended soon to embark. Simon was talking to the Princess.

  Richard asked if the Queen had heard from Provence and said he would never forget sitting in the great hall there and listening to the minstrels and the content he had found in the home of the Count and Countess, and their three beautiful daughters.

  ‘Each one worthy to be a Queen,’ he said. ‘The Queen of France … the Queen of England … What awaits the lovely Sanchia, think you, my lady?’

  ‘I can only hope that she is as fortunate as her two elder sisters.’

  ‘The Queen of France … do you think she is as content with her lot as the Queen of England with hers?’

  ‘I do not think that would be possible. Besides, she has a very domineering mother-in-law. I fortunately have escaped that.’

  ‘By the skin of your teeth. It would have been a different story if my mother had not decided to marry out of the country.’

  ‘Ah, but she did. So we need not consider her.’

  ‘She is a woman one would always have to consider while she lived.’

  ‘But at least she is not here to order me … as Mar …’

  She paused. Uncle William had said that she must be diplomatic and never forget that she was no longer merely a child in a nursery. She was a queen … and so was Marguerite.

  ‘Madam,’ said Richard smiling into her eyes, ‘me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’

  ‘I think you may be right.’

  ‘You know I am right.’

  The Princess Eleanor had undergone a change; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed and she looked very pretty. Simon de Montfort had had his effect on her.

  There is so much to learn, thought the Queen, and although I am clever, I am very young and inexperienced. Fortuna
tely she had Uncle William at hand to help her.

  She kept thinking of Richard’s words. ‘Me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’ Admiration was there, but speculation too. Yes, Uncle William was right. She had a great deal to learn; she must curb the impulse to say what pleased her. She must be watchful of everyone around her.

  The coronation and the state banquet had been a revelation and the importance of her position had been brought home to her. It was due to all those fierce-looking barons assembled to do their homage to her and the King; but she knew something of the history of England and it was many of these very barons who had turned against Henry’s father, King John, and forced him to sign Magna Carta and then because he failed to keep his word, brought in the French to take the throne.

  Uncle William was right. She needed him.

  How much did Henry wish to please her? she wondered. In the intimacy of their domestic life it appeared that there was nothing he would not do. But she was wise enough to know that a King’s private life and his public one were two very different matters.

  During the last few days she had been presented with girls of her own age whose fathers performed some service at the Court and she knew that these girls wished to take service in her household. It was the custom when a royal bride came from a foreign country to send back those attendants whom she had brought with her and to select others from her new country, to make the newcomer realise that she now belonged to her new land.

  Every Princess protested at this and of course she would. How could she be expected to say good-bye to old friends and welcome strangers? But it was the custom, and she would be expected to submit to it.

  It would be a test. If she succeeded she would know that there would be no difficulty. It would be an indication of whether she was as skilled as she believed herself to be.

  They were at last alone and in their chamber.

  He turned to her and taking her hands drew her towards him.

  ‘Well, little bride,’ he said, ‘what think you of your King and his country?’

  ‘I think I am the luckiest Princess in the world.’

  ‘Then I am happy.’

  ‘I have a King,’ she said, ‘who shows his love for me by his indulgence. What more could I ask than that?’

  ‘You are right, my little love. There is nothing I would not give you.’

  Now was the moment. Her heart was beating fast. Dare she? Was it too soon? Perhaps she should have asked Uncle William first.

  ‘You must not make rash promises, Henry, which you might not be able to keep.’

  ‘I … not be able to keep my promises! Why, my dearest, have you forgotten that I am the King?’

  She understood him. He was very anxious that everyone should remember that. He was one to assert his royalty which must mean that within him he sensed some weakness. Henry was no fool. He was clever, but sometimes such cleverness as his was a hindrance rather than a help. In his heart he would know of his inadequacies and would do his best to hide them or deceive people into believing they did not exist. Hence his desire that all should recognise his royalty; hence his sudden quick temper when he thought himself slighted, his affability when he thought he needed a man’s friendship.

  ‘No, I do not forget,’ she answered. ‘But your barons are formidable men.’

  ‘Did you think so?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Were any disrespectful to you?’

  ‘None. They accept me as their Queen, I know well. I shall be happy here when I am used to it. I am thankful that I have some friends about me.’

  ‘They will soon be longing for the blue skies of Provence.’

  ‘They would never wish to leave me … never.’

  ‘My dearest!’

  She put her arms about his neck. ‘Henry, will you do one thing for me?’

  ‘Anything … but do not make it little.’

  ‘Perhaps it is not little. My women are a little afraid, Henry. They have heard rumours.’

  ‘Rumours? What rumours?’

  ‘That they may be sent away.’

  ‘Oh … in due course. When they go you shall select those you would like to replace them.’

  ‘Yes … that is what they feared. I reassured them, Henry. I told them that you were so good and kind to me, and that was why I loved you so dearly. I said you would never make me unhappy by sending them away.’

  Silence. Her head against his chest so that she could not see his face. She waited with trepidation. This was more than sending away a few attendants.

  At last he spoke, stroking her hair as he did so.

  ‘My dearest, it is the custom you know. The people do not like foreigners at Court. Oh, I know they are not foreigners to us, but they consider them so.’

  ‘You mean … you would send them away!’

  She broke free from his arms and sat down on the bed, and covered her face with her hands.

  He was beside her, his arm about her.

  ‘Eleanor, understand this …’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘There is no need to say more. I was wrong. It is not as I thought. I must tell them that I was mistaken …’

  ‘Mistaken? What do you mean?’

  ‘I told them that I could never be really happy if they went and that when I told you, you would let them stay.’

  ‘Oh, my dearest child …’

  Henry’s expression was wretched. He could hear Hubert’s voice. ‘It is time the foreigners left. The people do not like to see them in the country. There are many who look for the posts …’

  But she wanted it. It was necessary to her happiness.

  ‘Come,’ said Henry, ‘it is a matter which we need not decide yet.’

  She shook her head. ‘You cannot deceive me, Henry, I know. It is already decided. I will have to tell them tomorrow that I have spoken to you … and you are against us.’

  ‘No … no … you do not understand.’

  ‘Alas, I do.’

  She stood up sadly. He was beside her.

  ‘Eleanor, you want this very much, do you?’

  ‘I want it more than anything. It was all so wonderful … to be here with you … happy … your Queen. Well, now it is not so … That is all.’

  ‘Nay,’ cried Henry, ‘they shall stay, I promise you. My love, you shall keep them as long as you wish.’

  Her face was illumined with joy as she flung her arms about his neck.

  ‘Careful,’ said Henry. ‘Would you strangle the King of England?’

  ‘Nay. I would comfort him, cherish him and love him for ever.’

  It was the first victory for the Queen of England.

  Chapter IV

  MARRIED BLISS

  When Eleanor told her Uncle William that the King had promised her she should keep her Provençal attendants as long as she wished to, he was amazed and delighted.

  ‘You surprise me,’ he cried. ‘This is unheard of.’

  She laughed at him. ‘Henry is anxious to please me. He says there is nothing he can deny me.’

  ‘My dear child, you have great power in your hands. We must make sure that you use it in a proper manner.’

  ‘Have I not done so?’

  ‘Perfectly. Perfectly. There will be a great test … soon.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle?’

  ‘I wish to stay here. You need me. There is much good we can do … to Provence and Savoy. Our family are going to bless you, Eleanor.’

  ‘I shall do everything I can.’

  ‘Imagine their pride in you at your father’s Court. I believe this could mean the end of poverty for him. I am sure Henry would be eager to help him. Look how he gave up the dowry he was asking for. He does not regret it. I know. There are so many of us there who could do well in England. Your Uncle Boniface might come. Who knows … Here there are innumerable opportunities for those who know how to take them. We must take them, Eleanor.’

  ‘Naturally I wish to do everything I can to help.’

  �
��You have not done badly so far, dear child. But it is a beginning. If I could stay here … perhaps there would be some appointment … some high office in the Church.’

  ‘That would be wonderful, Uncle.’

  ‘Well, let us see what we can do. Do not mention my staying here just yet to Henry. There will be opposition, you can depend upon that. But you and I together will overcome that. Do you not agree?’

  She was flushed with success. It had been so easy to get Henry to agree to her attendants remaining. Of course a high post for her uncle would be a more delicate matter … but it was a challenge she would enjoy.

  It was amusing, exhilarating and gratifying to show everyone what influence she already had over her husband and it would be her aim to gain more and more.

  * * *

  When Henry saw her delight in the company of her uncle he determined to share it. He was so happy in his marriage that he wanted everyone to know how he appreciated his Queen. Not only was she very beautiful but her love of literature, her ability to write, to sing and understand music accorded so well with his own nature that he assured himself that he had found the perfect wife.

  Like him, she wanted children and he was certain that before long such a union as theirs would be fruitful. In those first months he was in a state of such euphoria regarding his marriage that he was completely happy. He wanted to give her everything she asked.

  Eleanor, basking in the approval of her husband and the uncle whom she had been brought up to respect, was very pleased with her lot; and when she thought how it had been brought about by the cleverness of Romeo de Villeneuve – and herself of course – she never failed to marvel. There were frequent communications with her family and Romeo wrote to her too. She and Uncle William read these despatches and what she wanted more than anything was to bring good to her family which meant not only Provence but Savoy, the home of her ambitious uncles.

  Between the doting of her husband and her uncle Eleanor felt herself to be a very cherished person indeed. It often happened that when Eleanor and Henry were alone together Uncle William would join them. Then they would discuss state matters, so close to Uncle William’s heart, and he would put forth his point of view to which Henry listened with something like reverence.