by Rachel Bard
“I suppose not. So, strange as it is, I don’t see how it can do our cause any harm.”
“In itself, no. Let’s only hope it isn’t a sign there may be other impulsive acts that could have more serious consequences.”
Our preparations for the invasion proceeded. Sir Peter urged me to hurry. He was impatient to go into battle. But I wanted to take every precaution and leave as little as possible to chance. I went over lists, inspected the knights and their equipment, and sent emissaries out to exhort bishops and barons, lords and laymen, to turn over every last penny to the cause.
Finally when I was satisfied that all was ready we set out for Portsmouth. My wife Eleanor accompanied me. Though we’d just learned she was pregnant, she was eager to come and be part of the triumph we all looked forward to. My brother Richard had come back from his Crusade in time to join us. He was keen to finish the task of conquest he’d begun ten years before. With us, also, were a half-dozen of my powerful barons, several hundred knights and many coffers of treasure.
We embarked to the cheers of crowds on the shore and with nothing between us and victory but a two days’ sail. Then we would land on the coast of France, find Hugh and an eager army waiting, and march on to vanquish King Louis. The Plantagenets would reclaim their lost dominion.
Chapter 57
Henry III
1242
The King of France gathered a formidable and overwhelming army, a multitude of men on horseback and on foot, who marched like a river flowing to the sea.
Matthew Paris, chronicler of the reign of Henry III
We landed at Royan, near Bordeaux, on May 13.
But no cheering armies met us. Instead, Terric Teutonicus and six other knights were waiting on the pier. I was surprised to see Sir Terric still in Isabella’s and Hugh’s service. He must have been seventy. He wasn’t quite as tall and terrifying as he used to be, but still bulging with muscle and combativeness.
He told us King Louis was on the march. In only a month he’d taken city after city in western Poitou. I pressed him to tell me more. Reluctantly, he admitted that as Louis advanced, barons who had pledged themselves to my stepfather and my mother had deserted their cause and gone to Louis. He said that Hugh de Lusignan was waiting for me at Saintes, a day’s journey to the east, and wanted me to join him as soon as possible.
I sent Eleanor, in the care of Richard and fifty knights, to wait in safety at Bordeaux, which was still ours. I promised Richard I’d send for him as soon as I had a better grasp of the situation. Then I led my troops to Saintes, worrying all the way at the turn things had taken, hoping Hugh would have better news.
Terric took me to the pilgrims’ hostel within the city walls where Hugh had made his headquarters. It was a tall narrow building, at the moment uninhabited by any pilgrims. I found Hugh pacing the floor in the big second-floor room where meals had been served. Dirty, rusty pots littered the floor and tables. Messages had been scrawled on the walls—some prayers to God to keep the pilgrims safe, others leaving word for those who would come later as to where the town’s best brothels were.
Hugh’s face looked drawn and as grim as the run-down hostel.
“So you’ve come at last. Thank God. We’ve just had word that Louis’s army is within sight. Some of the vanguard may already be in the city. I haven’t had time to inspect the defenses, and the citizens are surly and may turn against us.”
“How many men do you have?”
“About fifty knights on horseback, and another hundred foot soldiers.”
“That’s all?” In my shock I couldn’t keep the outrage out of my voice. “What about those thousands of loyal barons you said would rush to our sides?”
He didn’t answer. There was no point in berating him, facts were facts. “So. Even with my forces we hardly have enough men to make a successful attack. We’ll have to prepare to withstand a siege. How are your supplies—food, water, fodder?”
“Very low. And the shopkeepers refuse to sell to us even at the exorbitant prices we offer. I doubt if we could hold out more than a week.”
Sir Terric came in to report that Louis’s army was already surrounding the city. Even from our thick-walled hostel we could hear shouts, blaring trumpets and the rumble that might be siege engines being drawn up to the walls. We climbed the stairs to the rooftop in hopes we’d be high enough to get an idea of what was going on.
We were. It was a horrid sight. Far below and beyond the city walls a horde of tiny figures ran about. At first they looked as aimless as ants on an anthill. But we soon saw what they were up to. Amid the crowd the tall, ungainly trebuchets loomed, as men toiled to trundle them into place a stone’s throw from the walls. I counted six of the infernal contraptions, looking like huge wooden insects. Other men were urging on the mules that dragged carts laden with the stone balls that would soon be launched from the trebuchets toward the city. Toward us. We wouldn’t have a chance.
“With luck, it will be at least another hour before they’re ready to attack,” said Hugh. We looked at each other, both realizing what our course must be. “So do you agree that we’ll have to get out of the city before they have their men and machines in place?”
I nodded. Without another word we went down to assemble our forces.
Before we gave the order to our troops I asked Hugh to draw apart with me. I didn’t want to waste time arguing but I couldn’t repress my fury any longer.
“You promised me thousands of troops. You said King Louis would fall back before us and his forces would melt away. Yet here we are at the enemy’s mercy. I will continue to fight at your side, Hugh de Lusignan, for my mother’s sake. But from this day forward I will not trust your word.”
He looked surprised and in fact I’d surprised myself. I had no reputation for forthright speech. I knew men had called me Henry the Softspoken.
“I can only say I’m sorry things haven’t turned out as we’d hoped. I’m afraid Isabella may have misled you about how many from Poitou would join us. She sometimes lets her wishes outrun the facts.”
I didn’t dignify this with an answer and turned to mount my horse while he was still talking, his resentment growing. He had to shout to be heard over the noise of the men and the horses.
“But the blame’s not all on my side, by God. Nobody could have foreseen how few troops you would bring and how long it would take you to get here. Why did you delay so? That gave King Louis time to take the initiative. And how could we have guessed how cowardly our allies would prove?” He paused then went on, still angry but resigned. “But now we have only one choice--to fight on together. You are my liege lord, and my sons and I are here to serve you.”
I was furious that he blamed me for our situation and that he criticized my mother for deceiving me. But this wasn’t the time for recriminations. And he was right: Our only hope was to fight our way out of the city and take Louis by surprise.
We mounted and gave the order to advance. With heralds holding our banners high and with Hugh’s two sons close by, we led the charge. The trumpets blared the battle call. I heard cries of “To victory with King Henry!” and “Lusignan! Lusignan!” from the men behind us. We trotted in an orderly fashion through the town, heading for the bridge across the Charente that connected the two parts of Saintes.
We rode across the bridge unopposed, but the moment our vanguard reached the other side hundreds of mounted men pounded down the narrow streets to pursue our troops. We were almost deafened by the clangor of hoofbeats and shouts echoing off the stone walls. Somehow we managed to get out through the city gates. Just as we did, we heard, rather than saw, the frightful whir of the first missile from the trebuchets and the boom of its smash against the city wall. Then the crews manning the machines saw us and left their work to try to stop us. But we reached the fields and vineyards beyond the city. There we made a stand against an army that must have outnumbered us three to one. Many of our men were struck down by showers of arrows and by well-aimed lances. Many
were captured. Many were wounded, to lie moaning between the rows of vines.
Yet we too struck out vigorously. I saw young Guy de Lusignan charge at a huge French knight and strike such a blow that the man tumbled from the saddle, clutching his bleeding right arm with his left. Guy’s brother saw the action, wheeled his horse, grabbed the reins of the fallen knight’s steed and led it back to where one of his comrades had been unhorsed. I heard Sir Terric roaring horrible Germanic oaths and saw his sword arm flashing and slashing, like a scythe mowing a field of grain.
Despite such acts of bravery we couldn’t withstand the enemy’s superior numbers. I saw the horseman who bore Hugh’s standard fall from his saddle with blood gushing from his neck. The banner was trampled in the dust. The sun was sinking.
As it grew darker both sides fell back, exhausted. The French retired to the other side of the river. All through the battle I had looked in vain for King Louis. He must have been watching from a distance. Perhaps he’d seen this as such a minor, easily won encounter that he felt no need to be on the scene.
When night fell we brought in our wounded and made camp. We English kept to ourselves, a short distance from our Poitevin allies. The latter shouted taunts at our men for coming too late, for fighting too cravenly. From my tent I saw, across a field, Hugh and his sons huddled around a fire. When the flames shot up I could see how haggard and utterly discouraged they looked. I was glad that my two half-brothers were still alive, but I was too tired and depressed to want to speak to them, much less their father. What was the point? The campfires of the French army were blinking from the hillsides around the town like all the stars in the sky. It would plainly be hopeless to resume the fight against such superior forces.
During the night I gathered the remnant of my troops and rode toward Bordeaux. I didn’t know whether Hugh managed to escape. Nor did I care.
Chapter 58
Isabella
1242
While Hugh was waging war in the south I was trying to encourage our vassals in La Marche to rise up and march to the aid of my son and my husband. Even those who had vowed on their honor to join our battle were holding back now. They were alarmed at how King Louis had seized the high ground. As always, they saw which way the winds of war were blowing and adjusted their loyalties accordingly.
Nevertheless I felt optimistic. If things went well with Hugh and Henry, the wavering barons might discover the wind was blowing in their favor after all. I returned to Angoulême, hoping to find a message from Hugh.
The next day Terric Teutonicus arrived from the south. He’d come to resume his duties as my personal bodyguard. He looked even more sober than usual. After a brief greeting he handed me a letter from Hugh and excused himself while I was still unrolling the parchment.
To my dear wife, Queen Isabella: We have lost the battle to hold Saintes. King Louis has gained the city. King Henry and his paltry army have fled to Bordeaux from where they will undoubtedly take ship as soon as possible for England. Without the help we had hoped for from the barons of Poitou we can fight no longer. King Louis promises to be merciful, but he demands that you, our sons and I make a formal submission to him. He will receive us at Pons, on the River Seugne, on July 26. I beg you to come. Hugh de Lusignan.
I let out a scream so loud that my maid came running. When she saw me tearing the parchment to shreds she escaped as fast as she’d come. If Hugh had been there I would have rushed at him and clawed at his face. How could he have surrendered when there was still hope for reinforcements from the north? I was just as angry at Henry for deserting with his troops. Where was the courage I’d tried to instill in him? Was he a true son of his father after all, ready to turn tail when he felt threatened?
For a day and a night I kept to my rooms, weeping and pacing the floor. I alternated between wretchedness and desperate hope—perhaps I could think of a way to salvage something from the debacle. I sent for Abbot Vital of La Couronne and poured out the story. In the past when I’d sought his advice, he’d always counseled me to keep fighting for what I thought was right. He knew what I wanted to hear. This time, though his voice was as soothing as ever, his words were discouraging.
“My daughter, God has indeed dealt you a grievous blow. I can understand your wish to find a way to deflect it, to strike a blow in return for yourself and your family. But the time may have come to accept the fact that, at least for now, you must humble yourself and place yourself under the wing of God’s mercy. If that means submitting to your enemy, so be it. Trust in God and he will help you to survive your tribulations.”
I stared at his pink, plump face and at the fringe of white hair that encircled his pink, bald pate. How could he look so calm and sound so bland when my world had fallen apart?
“That’s easy for you to say,” I thought, clenching and unclenching my fists. “You aren’t about to lose everything you’ve been fighting for these past twenty years.”
But he’d made a crack in my assurance that I could prevail. Was this really a punishment sent by God that I’d have to accept? I’d never imagined God as anything but a distant deity who was generally on my side as long as I said my prayers and went to mass.
For the first time in my life I felt uncertain about what path to follow.
Maybe Abbot Vital was right. In any case, I’d have to go to Pons.
“Father, will you come with us? If King Louis sees that I’m befriended by such a respected churchman he may be more lenient.”
“Gladly.” He became even pinker. “I welcome the opportunity to meet the King, such a saintly man. I understand he intends to go on a Crusade very soon. It may be, my daughter, that you’ll find him kinder and more forgiving than you expect.”
I’d never been to Pons. I’d always tried to keep informed of the condition of our defenses in Poitou, but Pons was far to the south in Gascony, on the frontier that had so often been the battleground between the English and the French. I asked Sir Terric if he knew anything about it.
“As it happens, I do know a good deal about Pons.” Terric loved to be asked difficult questions and often had answers that tended to be more informative than one needed. “I was in Pons long ago, before I ever came to England. Your late husband’s brother, King Richard, had knocked down the keep during his battling in Aquitaine. When I was there, the lord of the city had just rebuilt it, and a big brute of a fort it was. Then I was with your son King Henry when he had the castle walls strengthened while he was battling in those parts back in 1230 or so. I haven’t seen it since then, but I expect it could withstand quite a siege.”
He sounded wistful, as though he’d like to be mounting a siege of Pons. He probably resented having to leave Hugh’s army and come back to dull Angoulême.
“Well, we’re not going to besiege it. On the contrary, we’re going to yield like cravens to the King of France as we’ve been ordered to do.”
When we reached the Seugne River and looked across at the castle I saw how accurate Terric’s description had been. A sheer rock cliff rose from the very edge of the river and the castle soared above it like a seamless continuation of the cliff. Assault from below would be impossible. High walls encircled the castle on the other three sides. The tall square keep in the center of it all looked impregnable. Yet with the afternoon sun full on the tawny stone it had an odd harsh beauty. My spirits rose a degree or so.
At the castle gates the King’s steward greeted us courteously. He led us to the rooms where we’d be lodged and said we’d be expected in the great hall as soon as possible. I’d hardly had time to take off my cloak when he reappeared to conduct us to the meeting place.
The great hall was not very great, about half the size of ours at Angoulême. It was dingy and not well lit, with only two narrow windows to let in some light. This castle, I had to remind myself, was designed for defense, not royal spectacles. The King’s people had obviously done their best to make it look regal. They’d spread blue-and-gold carpets on the grimy cold floor. The French fl
eur-de-lis blazed from banners hung on all four walls.
My eyes flew to King Louis, seated on an ornate gold-inlaid throne at the far end of the room. I wondered if he took his throne with him when he went to war. He was conferring with a man I took to be his secretary. He was surrounded by courtiers decked out in bright reds and purples and deep blues, cloaks with gold embroidery, ermine capes; the ladies hung with gold chains and flaunting their rainbows of jewels. I almost regretted my decision to wear a modest gray silk with discreet silver embroidery and no jewelry except a cross at my throat and my crown. But if it would help my case to forsake the finery I loved, I’d dress as a humble supplicant.
When the steward led Abbot Vital and me to the front of the crowd and I could see the King more plainly I felt better about my restraint. When I’d seen him a year ago at Saumur, he’d been so enveloped in satins and furs, gold and silver, that I could hardly make out the man within the wrappings. Today he wore an unadorned black tunic and leggings and a short red cape. His crown wasn’t the huge gleaming gem-laden one he’d worn then, but a simple gold circlet with only a few modest diamonds. His face, framed by gently waving yellow hair that was cut short just below his ears, was calm, judicious, almost kindly. Under other circumstances I might have liked this man.
“They say he wears a hair shirt all the time now, while he prepares for his Crusade,” Abbot Vital whispered to me.
A row of chairs had been placed directly in front of the King. Hugh and our sons Hugh and Guy were already seated.
The steward seated the abbot and me, bowed and left. Hugh was on my right. We glanced at each other. He tried a thin smile. When I didn’t respond he sighed, then took my hand. I snatched it away and looked straight ahead. He leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. Though the room was still noisy with conversation and movement, we were undoubtedly the center of attention.