by Rachel Bard
She sat thinking this over. Then in one of her sudden shifts she pounced on a new subject.
“When we are married, Hugh, where will we live? Here, at this castle?”
“Sometimes. But it needs a lot of work to make it suitable for the Count of La Marche and the Countess of Angoulême. All these improvements Ralph and I have been talking about will take some years. No, I expect at least at first we’ll spend most of our time at Angoulême. Your father told me we’d always be welcome at his palace there.”
“Well, it’s more suitable than Lusignan but it’s not very grand, in fact it’s quite small. I think it needs a new tower, Hugh. I want to be the grandest countess in France, and live in the grandest castle!” She jumped up and paraded around the room, chin high, eyes half-closed, hands held stiffly at her sides, looking as haughty as she could.
I laughed. Apparently my little bride-to-be had high ambitions.
Soon after that I had to leave. If war should break out again, I needed to make sure all my new lords in La Marche would support me.
The day I left was one of those sunbright days when the deep heart of France basks in the soft warmth of early summer. Isabella came out to the courtyard to say goodbye. Ralph and Alice had tactfully left us alone. She stood looking at me while tears streamed down her cheeks. I was amazed to feel the sting of tears in my own eyes. I put my arms around her—she came just to my shoulder—and held her close, then turned brusquely to mount my horse, not trusting myself to speak.
I knew then she’d begun to truly care for me. As for me, leaving her was one of the hardest things I’d done in my life. I rode down the hill and onto the plain. The wheatfields were green and shimmering in the sun. But for me it might as well have been gray, icy winter.
Chapter 5
John
1200
In early July of 1200 I had alarming news: Hugh le Brun and Count Aymer of Angoulême had agreed to some sort of alliance. Though Hugh had recently pledged me his fealty I wasn’t sure of him. If he was in league with Count Aymer anything could happen. That slippery count could switch masters as easily as a weathervane swings with the wind. There was nothing for it: I’d have to interrupt my tour of Aquitaine, call on Hugh and remind him who his king was.
On a fine midsummer day I set out with my entourage from Poitiers to Lusignan. In spite of the heat I wore a long velvet cape, black as is my custom, that fell over my horse’s flanks almost to the ground. I wore my crown. I wore a gold chain with a ruby pendant about my neck. My horse was as well dressed as his master, with a scarlet rump-robe embroidered with the three gold lions of the Plantagenet coat of arms. The gilded bells on his bridle made a pleasant tinkling sound. My herald rode ahead of the procession, ready to sound his horn to warn off any heedless herdsman who might bar the royal passage with a flock of bleating, unruly sheep. Behind me twenty knights rode two abreast. The hoofbeats of their horses on the hard-packed roadway were like the rat-a-tat of tabors accompanying the jingle and clank of armor and harness. Small wonder that when we met other riders they’d draw deferentially aside and bow. Sometimes if they appeared highborn I’d nod graciously and raise my hand in acknowledgment. The moment I’d passed they’d begin whispering excitedly while my knights and I swept along.
In just one year as King of England I’d learned what was important: dress in your finest, let the people see you, keep moving about your realm.
As we neared Lusignan our road followed the banks of the Vonne. I watched the river’s lazy flow and brooded about the Portuguese princess I might have to marry. What if she proved as dull a creature as the woman I’d just divorced? What a dough-faced, silent, barren stick Isabel of Gloucester had been! I was well out of that marriage. I wasn’t eager to embark on another. There wasn’t much I could do about it, though. My mother had seen to that. And when Eleanor of Aquitaine made up her mind it took a brave man to argue with her.
“John,” she’d said when I called on her in Poitiers, “you’ve wasted ten years without producing any heirs. Now that you’re king and rid of that worthless wife, you must remarry. I’ve sent envoys to Lisbon—an alliance with Portugal would be extremely desirable.”
She’s right, of course, I thought gloomily. It’s a king’s duty to procreate. But I’m just not quite ready to tie myself down again. I’d have liked to be footloose a little longer, free to chase any skirt that took my fancy.
I brightened when we came to an inn between the road and the river. I suddenly felt a powerful thirst.
“Sir Robert, we’ll stop here. We’ve earned a rest and a drop to drink,” I called to the leader of the knights. While we were dismounting another party arrived. The small courtyard was soon a confusion of dismounting riders, hostlers leading off the horses, the innkeeper bowing and scraping and asking us in, and servants standing about gawking at these lordly guests stopping at their humble inn.
Amid the bustle I saw a pretty girl still on her horse, looking around and taking it all in. She saw me staring at her and smiled.
“What a luscious little morsel,” I thought. I longed to get my hands on her, though she looked as though she’d barely reached puberty. Those days I was powerfully attracted to pretty young things, the younger the better.
“Sir Robert, who is that lass?”
“I’ll find out, sire.” He went to speak to the man who was helping the girl dismount. The three of them made their way through the crowd to me.
“This is Ralph de Lusignan, Count of Eu, and his ward Isabella. She is the daughter of the Count of Angoulême.”
She’d let down her hood and I saw the cloud of ash-blond hair that fell to her shoulders. I couldn’t take my eyes off the lovely face, all youth and innocence.
Sir Robert went on, “And this, Sir Ralph and Lady Isabella, is King John of England.” For just a flash her eyes met mine. I thought I saw a sauciness that hinted at an eagerness to grow up.
“Well, shall we go in and refresh ourselves? I would be pleased if you and the Lady Isabella would join us, Sir Ralph.”
I was glad of this chance encounter. The Count of Eu was influential in Normandy, where most of my strength on the Continent was concentrated. Even more important, he was brother to Hugh le Brun. I hoped I could get Ralph to give me some inkling of Hugh’s intentions.
When we were settled in the big, dark public room of the inn, which smelled not unpleasantly of spilled ale and roasting fowl, the innkeeper brought refreshments from his cellar. The cider was so cold it misted the pewter flagon. I drank gratefully.
I began questioning Ralph. Yet at the back of my mind, like the vision of the last ripe plum on the tree that you put off the pleasure of plucking, was the consciousness that Isabella was sitting across from me. Soon I could talk to her and look my fill.
It wasn’t easy to pry information out of Ralph.
“I’m on my way to Lusignan. Is that your destination as well, Sir Ralph?”
“It is.”
“And have you been traveling long?”
“We’ve been two weeks on the road, all the way from my castle in Normandy.”
I couldn’t imagine why these two were traveling together. Ralph’s thin, beak-nosed face disappeared briefly as he raised his mug and took a long draught.
“And the Lady Isabella, do her parents have lands in Normandy too?”
“Not that I know of.”
Isabella broke in. “No, I begged Uncle Ralph to take me with him because I’d never been to Normandy.”
More mystification. Why “Uncle” Ralph?
“And Sir Ralph, you think Sir Hugh will be at Lusignan when you arrive?”
“I’m sure he will.”
Isabella spoke up. “We know he’ll be there because he sent word that he’d expect us on this day or the next. He promised he’d be there to meet us. He’s my fiancé, you know.”
I put my goblet down with a thud. I couldn’t hide my surprise. I had no idea the alliance between the two houses had gone this far. The girl looked
sideways at me with an impish little grin. Part of me wanted to slap her, part wanted to press my lips against that adorable mouth.
“So you’re to be the Countess of La Marche? When will the happy event take place?”
“That’s yet to be decided,” Ralph interceded gruffly.
Isabella told me, “When we get there and my father comes we’ll set the date for the wedding. My mother told me I’d be a countess twice over—of Angoulême and La Marche.” When she was excited she was a little girl; her voice rose and her words tumbled out.
Then her smile faded. She turned to Ralph. “Oh, how I hope my mother will come too! Do you think she will, Uncle Ralph?”
“You’ve asked me that a dozen times, and I still have no idea. We’ll have to wait and see.”
He banged down his mug and rose.
“Now we must be on our way, Isabella. We wouldn’t want Hugh to get there and wonder where we were.”
I rose too, hoping to delay them. Before I could say a word he flung some coins on the table, whisked her out the door and shouted to their attendants. The door banged behind them.
I finished my cider, considered briefly and told Sir Robert, “We’ll spend the night here at Le Breuil, instead of pressing on to Lusignan. I believe it would be better to arrive in the morning instead of late at night.”
At first Robert looked alarmed. Where would he find lodging for twenty knights in this mean little village? But he rallied.
“Very wise, my liege. That gives them all night, after Sir Ralph arrives, to prepare a proper welcome for you.” Good lieutenant that he was, he went off to make arrangements.
That night I sat up late in my room with a jug of wine and my thoughts.
I was pleased that I’d have a chance to see Aymer as well as Hugh. But I was worried about this new coming together of the Lusignans and the Taillefers, Count Aymer’s clan. I told myself I’d have to break it up somehow.
By the time I finished the wine my mind was made up.
“Never mind what my mother thinks I should do,” I said to the empty jug. “This time I’m going to be my own man. To the devil with the Portuguese princess. I’ll marry the sweet little Isabella instead.”
Chapter 6
John
1200
“It’s not much of a castle,” I said to Robert de Thorneham when we rode into the bailey at Lusignan the next day.
He surveyed the scraggly gardens, the gaps in the stone walls, the stables and hencoops looking as though a strong breeze would flatten them into so much firewood.
“Right you are, my liege,” he boomed. His deep bass voice made even his most trivial remarks sound important. “Can’t compare with ours in England. I’d say what they need here is a good steward.” Sir Robert, as my chief steward, knew whereof he spoke.
The servingman who had been lolling against the weathered door of the main tower came to attention as we approached and leaped to seize the brass handle—in need of polishing, I noted. He ushered us into the great hall. As he was taking my cloak and hat Ralph de Lusignan came to meet me. I asked him if Hugh le Brun had arrived.
"No. He sent word he’d be here before sunset. But Count Aymer and Countess Alix are expecting you," he said, grumpy as ever. “The count is waiting in the tower room.”
So Count Aymer was here! Good. I’d have time to talk to him and assess his commitment to his new alliance with the Lusignans before broaching my plan to marry his daughter. Once that was settled I could deal with Hugh. Everything was falling into place.
Before Ralph led me up the stairs I cast a look around the dim hall, hoping to glimpse Isabella. But in vain. I supposed she was with her mother, whom she'd so longed to see.
I found the count settled in Hugh's private chamber. It was pleasantly cool after the heat I'd been riding through, but that was about all that could be said for it. Furnishings were sparse and utilitarian: a narrow bed with dull gray curtains, a chest, a table, a few chairs. No rugs or tapestries, no stools for weary feet, no woman's touch.
Aymer invited me to sit in a tall armchair beside the table. He was a big man, thickset but muscular, elegantly groomed, self-confident.He stood until I motioned to him to sit down. I felt more at ease when we were eye to eye.
"Sir Aymer," I said, "I’m very glad to find you here. I would have called on you later in Angoulême, but this is much more convenient. You’ll understand that in my first year as King of England and ruler of the lands I inherited from my late brother, King Richard, I am anxious to meet my vassals in France and assure myself of their loyalty."
I'd been making the same speech all over Aquitaine. Usually it was just a formality, but not this time. "I’ll be frank with you. I know that some time ago you swore allegiance to King Philip. Fortunately Philip and I are at peace, since our truce last May. However, hostilities may well resume when the truce period expires. If that should happen I would not like to think of you in the ranks of my enemies."
He looked mildly questioning, waiting to see where this was leading. I remembered what my mother had once said: “In negotiation, John, when you ask for something you must be prepared to offer something in return, but not right away; lead up to it.”
I went on. “First, let me ask you: Is it true you’ve forged an alliance with Hugh le Brun of Lusignan? And you’re planning to marry your daughter, your only child, to Hugh?”
“That is true.”
“I’ve recently granted to Hugh the lands of La Marche, to add to his already considerable possessions. I expected that would insure his continued loyalty to England. But when you two are allied by this marriage, and between you control such a large and rich territory, you'll surely do fealty to the same lord. Will it be Philip, or John?"
Before replying he poured each of us a small goblet of a pale, sweet wine from a pitcher on the table. He took a sip. "You are right. Hugh and I will control a very large area. Our joint domains will in fact be larger than the Ile de France where Philip reigns. We've discussed the matter of fealty. I think Hugh would agree with me when I say that we wish to make no commitments until the need arises. Why seize the oars when the seas are calm?”
There was more arrogance in this than I cared for. And just as I’d guessed, he would need a good reason to declare himself in my camp. He looked down and fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, as though bored and waiting for the interview to be over.
"I may be able to offer you an inducement to ally yourself with the King of England, who is also Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Normandy, and Count of Poitou, and whose possessions surround yours on three sides."
He inclined his head to indicate he had heard me and was waiting for more.
"Consider this. Isabella marries me instead of Hugh. An alliance with England is certainly preferable to one with a mere Lusignan, don't you agree?"
It took only a moment for him to grasp the situation. His eyes met mine and for the first time he smiled, with what I took to be admiration for my clever scheme.
“Indeed, my liege, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”
The detached adversary became the enthusiastic collaborator. Within half an hour we had settled on a course of action.
After Hugh arrived, I would meet with him and ask him to reaffirm his loyalty. Then, as though to test it, I would send him off to take messages to some of my most distant vassals. That would keep him out of my way while we proceeded with the rest of our plan.
I would go on with my royal progress through Aquitaine. Aymer and his countess would tell Isabella that her wedding to Hugh was to take place in August. They’d take her back with them to Angoulême to prepare for it. They’d send out invitations to their noble friends and vassals. Everything would ostensibly be in preparation for the wedding of Isabella and Hugh. I would appear at the end of August, and the ceremony would be held in due course--but with a different bridegroom.
There was, of course, one glaring hole in this fabric of intrigue: the bride’s consent.
"Now as to y
our daughter Isabella. I had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday. I could see, even on such brief acquaintance, that she is a girl of some spirit.” He sent me a knowing glance. I surmised he guessed she had captivated me.
“She appeared to be looking forward eagerly to seeing her fiancé and preparing for the wedding. It may not be easy to persuade her of the wisdom of the change in plans.”
He placed the fingertips of his hands together and studied them pensively, as though considering whether to wear the blue doublet or the brown. He looked up with a faint smile.
"Not at first, perhaps. It may take some dissembling. But I think I can find a way to bring her around."
"I hope you can dissemble credibly, my friend?" I asked him. By now, after our plotting and a few more glasses of wine, I felt that we were, if not exactly friends, at least men who understood each other perfectly.
"I am a past master at dissemblance."
I raised my glass to him. I liked this man’s smooth craftiness.
“Just one thing, my liege, before we quit the subject. Isabella’s mother and I had made it a condition of Hugh’s marriage agreement that he was not to take Isabella to his bed until she is sixteen. We would expect you to hold to the same condition.”
Before I could reply—I would have to agree, of course, dismaying as this wasthe door opened. At the threshold stood Countess Alix, bringing a burst of color into the drab room. She was all in scarlet, even to the lacy scarf over her golden hair. I’d thought my mother the champion of dressing for the occasion, but here was someone who could rival even Queen Eleanor. She was perfectly poised and strikingly beautiful for a woman who must be in her forties. I thought I could see how Isabella might look in twenty years or so.