The Battle of the Queens

by Виктория Холт

  The story was that John was unable to drag himself away from Isabella’s bed and that he was restless and bad-tempered when he could not be with her even for a short time.

  It seemed incredible that Isabella was but a year or so older than Blanche for she seemed wise in the ways of the world and Blanche suddenly realised that she did not want to understand what this was that Isabella managed to convey.

  ‘You are very very young,’ Isabella told Blanche. ‘Yet you have a husband.’ That fluttering of the eyelids, that sly secret smile, what did it mean? ‘How is Louis?’ asked Isabella.

  ‘He is well, thank you, and no longer delicate you know.’

  At which Isabella laughed.

  ‘I did not mean his health. Of course he is but a boy. John is very … experienced, very skilled. Far more so than Hugh would have been, I am sure.’

  ‘Skilled … in ruling. Well so should he be. He is a king.’

  ‘You follow me not. You are a child yet, Blanche.’

  ‘Louis does not think so. We discuss affairs and even the King talks to me sometimes of state matters.’

  Isabella nodded mockingly. ‘And do they so indeed. Then forsooth I am wrong and you are no longer a child … in all matters.’

  She turned to Louis. She embarrassed him with her languishing looks and her beautiful white hands which she would lay on his arm while she stroked him gently.

  ‘Why, Louis,’ she would say, ‘how very handsome you are! I trow they will call you Louis the Handsome some day.’

  ‘I hardly think so,’ replied Louis uneasily. ‘They would not call me so, for I should not merit it. I would rather be the Brave … or the Good.’

  ‘Perhaps you will be all three. Who knows?’

  She laughed a great deal and made allusions to matters which they did not entirely understand. She talked of her husband and how he would be seeking her this moment. ‘If he saw me touch your arm like this, my lord … yes, even your arm … he would be ready to kill you.’

  ‘Then he would be possessed of madness,’ retorted Blanche, ‘and he should save his anger for his enemies.’

  ‘He would count your husband one if he saw my interest in him.’

  That she was goading them in some way, they both realised. Blanche thought she was trying to tempt Louis, and that she wanted him to admire her.

  She said to him when they were alone: ‘I think she wanted you to say that she was beautiful … more beautiful than I am.’

  ‘That I should never say.’

  ‘Well, she wanted you to think it.’

  ‘I couldn’t, Blanche, because you are my wife.’

  She smiled at him tenderly. ‘Will you always think that, Louis?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I always shall,’ he vowed.

  He took her hands suddenly and kissed her in a manner which he had not used before. It startled her and yet in a way she had expected it.

  The presence of Isabella, her innuendoes and her sly allusions had changed them in some way, had awakened something in them.

  It was while Isabella and John were visiting the court that they became lovers.

  * * *

  Now they were no longer children. The magnitude of their new relationship absorbed them. Philip and Agnes watched them indulgently.

  ‘They have fallen in love,’ said Agnes.

  ‘It is perhaps over soon to expect an heir to the throne,’ said Philip.

  ‘And they perhaps are over young to be parents as yet,’ replied Agnes.

  ‘My dear Agnes,’ said the King. ‘Princesses are old enough as soon as they are able.’

  Agnes herself was sorrowful. When she rode out she saw the silent looks of people and she knew that they blamed her for bringing upon their country this evil state of affairs. To be denied the Church was a great hardship for them; and if there was war, she wondered how Philip’s armies would fare.

  And there would be war. How she detested the King of England and his precocious little bride. John was a wicked man, she sensed; he was capable of any cruelty, any treachery. The manner in which he had behaved to Hugh de Lusignan was unforgivable and as for his bride – she was ready to give herself wherever there was the greater advantage.

  Hugh would raise his friends against John, and Philip had always been a man to seize his opportunities. She could see war coming close. Philip had told her that he had little respect for John. ‘He is a man who will find it hard to keep a grip on a slippery crown,’ he said. ‘His father did not find it an easy task and he was a great soldier and clever ruler. He had had his faults and they had betrayed him. His family was against him and in particular his wife … and it was largely these personal relationships which undermined him. If he had had the good sense to remain friendly with his wife and sons his story would have been different. But they were a treacherous band … except Richard.’ His face softened always when he spoke of Richard. ‘Richard was never false. Yea and Nay, we would call him, for if he meant yea it was yea and if nay it was nay and he told you straight. Richard was a fool in many ways but a braver man never lived. I remember him when we were young. By God, there was a handsome man! I never saw a finer. But it is all long since and what have we now but this brother of his … this evil man who was not worthy to unlatch his shoe. If Richard had lived … Richard should have lived … But now we have to deal with John.’

  ‘You think he will make war?’

  ‘He will have to defend his claims to the throne, because Arthur is going to find men rallying to his cause and Hugh de Lusignan will stand beside Arthur, I can promise you.’

  ‘And you, Philip … ?’

  ‘When the time comes I’ll not stand aside. You know it has always been a dream of mine to bring Normandy back to France where it belongs. I would make my country great as it was under Charlemagne.’

  Agnes said, ‘I know.’

  He took her hand and smiled. ‘And talk of war disturbs you, and I will not have you disturbed. Come, we will be happy. I will make you happy as you have made me.’

  And she thought: But not France. Our happiness in each other has not been the contentment of France.

  She brooded a great deal and without telling the King she sent a message to the Pope in which she pleaded with him to withdraw the Interdict. ‘I love my husband,’ she wrote, ‘and my love for him is a pure love. When I married I was ignorant of the laws of the Church. I believed that I was truly Philip’s wife. I beg of you, Most Holy Father, to raise the Interdict and give me leave to remain at the side of the man I call my husband.’

  Innocent replied that he believed in her innocence, and that he had sympathy with her, but the truth was that Philip was in fact married to Ingeburga and for that reason while he lived with Agnes the Interdict could not be lifted.

  Agnes was in despair. She wrote again to the Pope that she had two children, her young Philip and Marie, and if she left Philip she would be acknowledging those children as illegitimate. That was something she could not do. She would die with all her sins on her rather than harm her children.

  The Pope’s reply was prompt. He believed her to be a good and pious woman who had been caught up in all innocence in this matter. He understood her loyalty to her children and if she would leave the King and go into a convent, he would declare her children legitimate since she had believed them to be so when they were born.

  But remove the Interdict he would not, until Agnes and Philip had parted.

  * * *

  The palace was plunged in gloom. The King shut himself in his apartments and would not speak to no one. Agnes had left Paris.

  She had made up her mind that she must save France from the disaster which she was sure the continuance of the Interdict would bring her to. War was imminent. No army could believe in victory when the approbation of Heaven was turned against it.

  Agnes had made the great sacrifice.

  Philip pacing up and down his bedchamber knew that she had done that which was best for France. He had dreaded going into ba
ttle with an army which would have decided before the fighting began that it was defeated. And yet … he had lost Agnes.

  He cursed his fate. He was doomed to lose those he loved. Had he loved Isabella of Hainault, Louis’s mother? Not greatly but she had been an amiable spouse – a lovely creature; sometimes Louis looked very like her. She had been sixteen years old when he was born – not much older than he was now and she had died when the boy was two. So theirs had been a brief married life; and he had mourned her. He had lost Richard Coeur de Lion, whom he had loved more passionately than he had loved Isabella. He often thought of Richard now … moments of tenderness, moments of anger. Love and hatred had played strong roles between them. And he had lost him … But perhaps when he had almost lost his son he had suffered most. It was shortly after Isabella’s death when the child had come near to dying too and he had come home from the Holy Land, leaving Richard for the sake of his child. Louis had been preserved and how he had loved the boy. He still did. He could not explain what joy it was for him to be near this son of his. That Louis was gentle both delighted and dismayed him. He often wondered what sort of king he would make. He was like his grandfather really, too sensitive for kingship. But he was a lovable boy and Philip thanked God that Blanche showed signs of strength. He would talk to Blanche some time. He would make her understand how she must grow stronger and always support Louis, for Louis would need her. Thank God they had taken to each other. He had not wanted to spoil it. That was why he had let them live innocently together until that time when they should mate naturally. If it was, as it appeared, that the time had come, he rejoiced. It would mature them both and then he could talk to Blanche and make her understand.

  But now he had lost Agnes.

  The Interdict would be raised and there would be rejoicing throughout the land, but to gain the contentment of France had cost him Agnes.

  He supposed he could have ridden to Poissy whither she had gone, could have implored her to come back, and he knew that she would not have been able to resist him.

  But a king is a king, he told himself.

  He had not thought that in the heat of his passion for her. Had he not known that he was in truth married to Ingeburga and because she was a princess the Pope would not allow her to be set aside.

  Ingeburga. He shivered. Never never again …

  Then he thought of Agnes and wept. But there would be war.

  He was going to finish John – that foolish, reckless braggart. Brother of Richard … son of great Henry! God in Heaven, how did Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry Platagenet get such a creature?

  But thank you, God, for bringing him into this world. Thank you for making him King. This is my chance. I shall bring back all that France has lost. I shall be as great a king as Charlemagne. And Agnes, dearest Agnes, I could not have done it without you beside me.

  And while the King of France made plans for war, in the convent of Poissy Agnes wept and tried to forget the past. This was the best … for the King her lover, and for their children. This was the sacrifice demanded of her.

  She grew listless. She could eat nothing. She spent hours in prayer.

  There was no happiness left in life. She longed for the peace of Heaven. She prayed for it.

  ‘Oh Holy Mother of God, my life is over. There is nothing left to me now. In your mercy let my sorrows pass away. In death I shall find peace.’

  Her prayers were granted. A few months after she had entered the convent of Poissy, Agnes was dead.

  * * *

  The Interdict was lifted but Philip refused to have Ingeburga back. That was one thing he stood firmly against. The Pope might have parted him from the woman he loved but he could not make him live with one he loathed. So Ingeburga continued her peregrination from castle to castle, convent to convent; she might go where she pleased as long as it was not where Philip was.

  To soothe his unhappiness he plunged into preparations against John, for John was gathering enemies fast which was a matter for rejoicing; and the prospects for France had never looked so bright. Philip was not an old man – not yet forty. He had time before him and he wanted to leave a flourishing country for Louis.

  He liked to talk with his son, to train him, as he called it, for future kingship, and at the time of Agnes’s death he grew closer and closer to his son.

  He walked with him in the gardens and there he would speak to him as he said in secret, which made a pleasant intimacy between them.

  He studied Louis anxiously. Ever since that terrible illness he had been concerned for his health. He set his doctors to watch his son without letting Louis know it. ‘For,’ he said, ‘I do not wish him to imagine he is ill, which he is not. But in view of the fact that he has a delicate constitution, I want to be absolutely sure that if he should need attention it be promptly given.’

  It was important for France that the heir be strong, he was often telling himself. And if anything should happen to Louis he could see great conflict, for Agnes’s boy would not be accepted by some even though the Pope had made him legitimate. He knew in his heart that one of the factors in the case from Agnes’s point of view had been the legitimisation of young Philip, for if she had remained with him, it was certain that the Church would have upheld the point of view that the child was a bastard.

  Philip was angry with fate, the Pope and the circumstances which had led to his marrying Ingeburga before he had found Agnes. But it was no use. Louis was left to him and he had to guide him in his role; and he fervently hoped that before long Louis would give him grandsons and he could thankfully know that the line was secure.

  Now, in the gardens, he talked to his son of the need to recapture all that France over the centuries had lost.

  ‘We shall never be truly at peace,’ he said, ‘until Normandy is ours. William the Conqueror brought it to England … or England to Normandy which you prefer. But before his day there was strife between us. The Franks should never have given that part of France to the Norsemen. It happened centuries ago and who knows it may be our glory to bring it back. We have a heaven-sent opportunity in John. Think of him. You have seen him. What is your opinion of him, Louis? Would men ever follow such a one? Only those who sought their advantage … and a few to whom loyalty to the crown is a way of life. Nay, son, there never was such an opportunity as now lies in our hands and we shall take it.’

  Louis listened intently, but he was not a warrior; that much was clear. He reminded Philip very much of his own father … another Louis, and a good man, a man who was pestered by his ability to see two sides to every question, a man who was haunted by the cries of innocent men and women slaughtered during the course of a battle. Philip respected such men, but did they make good kings?

  He went on: ‘The time is at hand. The Lusignans are ready to rise against him. He took Hugh’s bride.’ Philip laughed. ‘There is a woman for whom men would go to war. I thank God that our dear Blanche is not of her kind. Isabella will bring John to ruin, I don’t doubt. Though his own nature will do that and it will only be necessary for her to help the process. The Lusignans are a powerful clan. They are waiting to get at him. Then there is Britanny. Arthur and his adherents believe that he should be on the throne.’

  ‘Do you believe that, father?’

  ‘I shall support Arthur, my son, because he is against John and my eyes are on Normandy. Your wife Blanche has a strong claim to the English Crown, you know, Louis.’

  Louis smiled. ‘But John is the King and he will have children.’

  ‘From what we hear he is making every effort to get them,’ retorted Philip. ‘Kings lead precarious lives, Louis. If John should die in battle and Arthur too, why then who would be next in the line of succession? What of Blanche, daughter of Eleanor, sister to John and Richard – the Kings of England?’

  ‘There is of course the connection but it is unlikely that John will die before he gets an heir and then there is Arthur. And do you think the people would accept Blanche?’

  ‘With Fr
ance behind her – yes. Think of it, Louis. The whole of France in our hands – and the Crown of England thrown in.’

  ‘How should we hold such vast territory?’

  ‘That is what we would think of when the time comes. It is a king’s duty to take the events as they arise, but if possible to be prepared for them and to act one step ahead of his enemies. You will work with me closely on this campaign.’

  ‘You mean I am to go into battle.’

  ‘God forbid. You are far too young. I would not dream of allowing that. But this will be a war of strategy – as all wars are; and it is the man who is cleverest at that wily game who is more likely to defeat his opponent, even though the latter has the bigger army. That is something Richard Coeur de Lion never realised. He was the greatest, bravest fighter in the world but no strategist. If he had been, with his courage and generalship he would have brought Jerusalem back to Christendom and, given time, conquered the world. Now I never cared for battle as I did for strategy. It is a wise policy, for countries perpetually at war grow poor, the people dissatisfied and prosperity elusive. So we should try to let others fight our wars.’

  ‘Is that what you propose to do?’

  Philip nodded. ‘As far as I can. I want John brought low, and because he is as he is, I do not think it will be an impossibility. His enemies are numerous. The Lusignans are raring to get at him. Arthur believes he is the rightful King of England. I shall give them my support – my moral support. Though of course if necessary I shall have to offer practical help. But let them work for us first. I am going to offer your half-sister as a bride for Arthur.’

  ‘Marie. She is but a child.’

  ‘That’s true. But she is legitimate. The Pope has agreed on that. Marie is not ready for marriage. As for Arthur he is but a boy … your age, Louis. He can wait for Marie – and if he has the Crown of England by that time I shall be happy to see my daughter Queen.’