MY FAIR LADY: A Story of Eleanor of Provence, Henry III's Lost Queen

by J. P. Reedman

  “Your father bade you protect me and help me in his absence,” I said sternly. “Is that not enough for a fourteen year old boy?” I would curb my son’s tongue a bit before he said too much.

  “No, it is not enough! I will do my duty, for I am sworn to it, but soon I shall not be held back, nursing babes and weak women!”

  He stormed away from me, and I stared after him in shock, my heart hammering, unnerved by his insolence.

  A weak woman…

  That I was not.

  Before he sailed, Henry had broken with English protocol.

  He had given into my keeping the Great Seal.

  I was the Regent of England.

  Chapter Five

  “Money, we need more money.”

  At Westminster, I conferred with Richard of Cornwall, who Henry had appointed to assist me in running the country. Richard was seated at a long table, maps and documents spread before him, while I paced the room, holding my huge belly, uncomfortable and ill at ease, fearing the strain of these uncertain days might bring my unborn child some harm.

  “I know, your Grace, I know it well,” said Richard peevishly. “But as ever, it is in short supply within this land. I will do my best.”

  Hard eyed, I gazed at him. He had not fared abroad with Henry, despite his military experience, and that irked me—he was punishing his royal brother over his own thwarted desire for Gascony. Edward’s Gascony.

  “How is Sanchia, my sister?” I asked, changing the subject. “Could you not have brought her to court with you?”

  “Sanchia…” He looked startled by the change of conversation.

  “Yes, I would like to see her as Sanchia seldom comes to court these days. The people hardly know her, for all that she is married into the Plantagenet line. They do not even get her name correct. They call her Cynthia. Her little son Edmund…my nephew and your son, Richard, also calls for his mother, although he is happy living with his royal cousins in the Windsor nursery.”

  “Sanchia has spells of illness and besides that, she is busy, Eleanor. As we speak, she is consumed with works at Hailes abbey in Gloucestershire, which we plan as our eventual family vault. As for Edmund, when he reaches the age of his elder brother Henry I shall take him…”

  “Ah Henry, your eldest boy from Isabella Marshal…You two are more like brothers than father and son when you are together and away from the niceties of Sanchia’s household. I know what you two get up to; it is common knowledge. How is Joan de Valletort, your mistress? ”

  I folded my arms. Richard was notorious for his affairs with various women; he had bedded others all through his marriage to the older Isabella Marshal, and he did the same with my sister, despite her radiant beauty. It saddened me. I was sure the King was faithful to me, and I knew poor Sanchia was unhappy about her husband’s behaviour.

  Richard scowled. “I came here to help you, as my brother decreed. Not to be scolded for my sins.”

  “Just remember that you have a wife and that she is my sister. If you must slake your urges…be discreet, Richard. Find a path for yourself on the continent and put a crown upon Sanchia’s head, and maybe she will overlook your indiscretions.”

  He looked at me with startlement.

  “Is that not your desire? A crown? There are many kingdoms where kings are not necessarily upon their thrones by right of blood but through having been chosen. Think on it… and be nice to Sanchia. She doesn’t warrant your disdain. Now, about that money.”

  “The Jews,” said Richard. “It will have to be the Jews again.”

  “They will not be pleased. What will you say to them…this time?”

  “That they have caused the King displeasure, and that they must come up with ample monies…on pain of death or imprisonment. What else can I say? They are hardly going to hurl bags of gold at me willingly.”

  I bowed my head. “If threats are the only way, it will be done. I myself will contact Florentine bankers regarding loans, and even take money from my own allowance if necessary. And…we can of course fine the unwilling, with my right of Queen’s Gold. Richard, we will win Gascony.”

  Richard merely shrugged. He would do his duty, of that I was certain, but, having no stake in it himself, he clearly did not care overmuch if we should hold Gascony or not.

  News came from Henry, news pleasant to my ears. He had swallowed his pride and asked Simon de Montfort to return to his side and aid him. He apologised for having him dragged to England on charges of inappropriate actions while on campaign. Surprisingly, Simon had agreed to aid him, leaving Paris with a large, armed force to join Henry in the siege of La Reole. Of course, he did demand payment of various monies still own him by the crown…but he was there with his sword.

  The rebels began to weaken. De Montfort was a fierce warrior and much feared in France. Disreputable lords were brought to heel, and soon they began to renew oaths of allegiance to Henry.

  During this tumultuous time, I gave birth to my daughter, Katherine. She was the most beautiful of all my children, even more lovely than Edward—round and rosy, with abundant red-gold curls and eyes the hue of a summer sky. I was glad the birth was over; going into my confinement when the country was at war had placed great strain upon my mind and body. It was difficult to sit for days on end in a shuttered room, with women trying their best not to bicker, the windows closed and the whole place smelling of sweat and close-packed bodies, even though herbs were sprinkled around. Nothing to talk about, no business that could be accomplished, and the lingering thought in my head that I might, as many mothers did, die in childbirth or shortly after.

  But now Katherine was here and settled in with her wet-nurse, and I, after a glorious churching that I arranged myself, having none other to do it for me, was back to dealing with matters of state as regent of England.

  Over the months that followed, interesting news arrived from Henry. Hearing of English victories, Alfonso of Castile had agreed that the marriage between his half-sister Eleonora and Edward would go forward. There were conditions, naturally—Edward had to be given lands as befitted a prince, and he would have to travel to Burgos in Spain on the day Alfonso specified and none other. I suspected the Spanish king was taking a petty revenge on Henry, who had rejected the girl’s mother Joan of Ponthieu in order to marry me.

  Henry had been gone a year. Hostilities were ceasing. It was time to join my husband in Gascony. The royal party had to fare forth in style, to appear as conquerors to the defeated. In order to do this, I tasked the shipwrights of Yarmouth with providing my son Edward a mighty warship, while those of Winchelsea would provide a smaller ship for my household and me.

  Gathering my retainers, and both of my sons, we departed Windsor for the port of Dover. The entourage trundled on slowly, unmolested. However, as we approached the seacoast, on the horizon I noticed black clouds of smoke rising into the sky, staining the blue dome of heaven with lurid streaks. Leaning from the window of my chariot, I called out anxiously, “Halt! Halt! Something is amiss at the port. Look, there is a great fire. It is as if the whole town is alight!”

  The entourage halted, waiting in the muddy fields beyond the town. The captain of the guard ordered outriders to go and assess the situation, while keeping the two princes and I ringed by a wall of steel. It was an anxious time…I feared the town had been attacked by sea pirates or even the Gascons themselves in retaliation for their losses.

  Before long, the riders returned. Their faces were gloomy and filled with shock but not fear. The captain marched toward me, dour, mouth pursed, his boots squelching in the mud.

  Quizzically I glanced at him; a fine haze of rain was blowing in my eyes, making me blink. “What is it? Are we safe to journey on?”

  “Aye, your Grace, the road ahead is safe,” he answered. “There is no invasion, no uprising. But there has been trouble in town. It might be best to turn back, for now.”

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble? My ships are waiting; I will not be delayed by fire, flood or fool
s. We press on.”

  The man shifted uneasily. “So be it, your Grace. Perhaps her Highness must see for herself. ”

  Mounted on his white destrier, Edward drew up next to my chariot. He was wearing armour with a surcoat bearing the Arms of England, and looked less a fifteen year old lad than a stern young warrior. “Go on, man, let’s get this train moving,” he said forcefully. “I will deal with whatever lies over the hill.”

  Our retinue marched onwards into the town. People buzzed like flies in the streets and there were signs of fighting; over-turned market stalls, patches of spilled blood, shattered doors and windows, smouldering houses, men with broken heads who sat on street corners, moaning.

  Beside me in the chariot, Edmund stared out at the scene of devastation with wide, frightened eyes. Passing by this appalling panoply of wreckage, we came to the harbour, where our ships were waiting for our embarkation…or should have been.

  One vessel was in utter ruin, half sunk in the bay, the turgid waters slapping at its half-submerged prow. A fire had been kindled on deck and was still burning cheerlessly where the timbers stuck up out of the deeps. The mast had been torn down and seemed to have been clumsily fitted onto the smaller ship moored in the next berth. Far too large and heavy for the ship it was now attached to, the pilfered mast shook and swayed in the rising wind, dangerously close to tumbling into the waves.

  “What am I looking at, my lords?” I asked the advisors and nobles who gathered around me, stunned into silence as they view the ransacked harbour, the ruined vessels.

  “Your Grace,” said Uncle Boniface, who was journeying to Gascony with us, “I fear that the sunken ship was the one intended for the Lord Edward; the other one is yours.”

  Astounded, I gazed ahead. “And what has happened? By Christ, what has gone on here?” I felt my temper rise, flare. “What is the meaning of this outrage?” I gestured to the wreckage of my son’s ship, sinking lower into the bilge even as we viewed it. I could now see dead bodies bobbing in the water—the crew, slaughtered.

  A local man was dragged before my chariot, shaking and shivering as he bowed before me. It was the harbourmaster. “Your Grace, the shipwrights of Winchelsea grew jealous when Lord Edward’s ship pulled into port, as they deemed it much fairer than the one they crafted for you. In a jealous rage, they attacked the crew before they even came ashore, slaying many in their anger. Not content with killing their rivals, they then destroyed the vessel, carrying the mast away as some kind of trophy.”

  “This is madness!” I tried to control the wave of despair that washed over me. I had readied myself to leave England, and now there was no transportation.

  “They must be punished, all of them!” I heard my son’s voice behind me, deepened by anger, strangely mature and commanding. “I want them brought before me so that I may administer punishment myself!”

  “Peace, Edward!” I gave him a hard stare; the last thing we needed was a young royal prince flexing his authority. I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back. For a moment, I thought he would cast my hand off; he was trembling with rage. But after a second or two, he took a deep breath and stepped away from me.

  “What is your will, my mother?” he said, his tone sullen.

  “That we find a way to reach Gascony—that is more important than teaching these wretches a lesson,” I retorted, trying to sound confident.

  But in my heart, I felt only dismay.

  The next morning, I had gathered my wits after the shock of the sinking of Edward’s ship and the ruination of mine. The instigators of trouble were rounded up and arrested and several more ships requisitioned for the use of the Crown. They were not new vessels and not particularly beautiful to gaze upon, battered by many storms and crusted with glittering salt, but they would suffice for my urgent purpose. Appearances would have to be thrust aside.

  While we waited for our supplies to be loaded on the ships, a messenger arrived from Henry, sailing in on the morning tide. He went on his knees before me. “Your Grace, news from Gascony. A letter from the King.”

  I stretched out my hand to receive my husband’s missive, uncurling the battered parchment with trepidation. My dearest wife, he had written, I bid you stay in England with Edward. I have had word that Alfonso plays us false and is set to lead an army into Gascony against us. Do not risk yourself and out sons.

  My breath railed between my teeth. What was I to do? My newly acquired ships lay in the harbour, waiting for our departure, manned by doughty seamen with years of skill. If I went to Gascony, I might be in danger and the boys too. But if I did not, there was every chance the territory would be lost forever, and England seen as a weak nation.

  I glanced over at Edward, staring with his eyes full of longing at the waves. Such an intense young man, so eager…

  I cleared my throat, raised my voice so all could hear me above the rush of the tides and the mewing of the gulls. “Troubles have arisen, but nothing we cannot deal with; we are ready to set sail. The wind is in the west—it is favourable for travel; we shall depart upon the morning tide.”

  A sigh of relief passed through the assembled throng. Edward’s face filled with an almost luminous joy. I saw him finger the hilts of the dagger he wore at his belt.

  As trumpets rang out and banners were unfurled, we processed in majesty onto our ships.

  We sailed, unafraid, into the sombre morning.

  The King was ecstatic when we arrived safely in Gascony. Forgetting his royal dignity in a burst of enthusiasm, he ran to embrace Edward, Edmund, and me. “I am so glad you have arrived. I thought you would not come due to my earlier message. As it turns out, there is nothing to fear,” he said excitedly, taking my hands in his own. “The intelligence I received about Alphonso’s ambitions was proven wrong, God be praised! King Alphonso was not intending to attack Gascony as was believed, but rather Navarre! The wedding of our son to the Princess Eleonora is still viable, though Edward must journey to Spain as soon as possible to meet his bride.”

  I was dismayed, having assumed the marriage was off. “It is so soon, we’ve only just arrived…I need to prepare, need a wardrobe….”

  Henry stroked my hand. “I know you won’t like this, but I think it best, my dearest wife, that Edward carries on to Burgos in Spain on his own. We should stay in Gascony to keep the area under control. To leave it, would be to tempt fate. Edward’s councillors will go with him to make certain all goes well.”

  “But…but what of his knighting? You were to knight him, or have you forgotten? It will have to be postponed.”

  Airily Henry waved his hand. “I have taken care of it. I won’t knight Edward—King Alphonso will, in my place. In Burgos. I am sure that will be more exciting for Edward and raise him in the esteem of the Spanish people.”

  I bit my lip, displeased that my eldest son would travel alone into areas so recently hostile, even more displeased that I would not be able to wear my best gowns and jewels before the Spanish nobles. And Edward…knighted by a former enemy! Then I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. The whole idea was to make Alphonse an ally. I could say nothing against my husband’s plan. “So be it. I cannot hold on to Edward and protect him forever. He must go on to get his knighthood and his little bride on his own, while I wait here, sighing.”

  “Let little Princess Eleonora shine, Eleanor.” Henry looked at me, and I could see desire in his eyes. We had been long apart. “I want you here with me. If you went to Spain, your beauty would blot out that of the bride…and we cannot have that, can we?”

  Edward’s cavalcade left the next day, resplendent beneath a riot of banners and pennants. Hiding the fear in my heart, I waved my kerchief madly like a ninny, held back a tear or two…but Edward did not seemed at all bothered by departing without his parents; indeed, he seemed excited at the prospect of faring into unknown territories alone. He was, of course curious about his bride too, as one might expect of a young man in his teen years.

  Little Edmund was as worried a
s I; after Edward had gone and his entourage a mere dusty blot on the distant horizon, he warily slid up beside me and clutched my hand. “He will be all right, mother? The Spanish king isn’t wicked, is he? He won’t cut off Edward’s head if he doesn’t like him?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Edmund,” I retorted, laughing, but my laugh sounded forced and brittle. “He is going to be Edward’s father by marriage. He wouldn’t dare harm him. As for liking him, what’s not to like? You couldn’t find a better match for his daughter.”

  Edmund said, “Oh,” but sounded dubious. I turned and looked for the nearest spire of a church. Bordeaux was full of them. If I had to, I would have masses said in each and every one for my elder son’s safe return.

  Within three weeks, Edward returned from Spain, a married man. The Infanta Eleonora, a girl of thirteen summers, travelled with him in a magnificent litter decked in cloth of gold and covered in vast canopies bearing the insignias of her house, gules and a three-towered castle.

  Henry and I waited on a high dais in our castle at Bordeaux to greet the wedding party. I was greatly relieved to see my son return, his face darkened by the strong Spanish sun, a new air of maturity wrapped about him.

  Clad in damson robes, he swaggered into the castle’s great hall. “I am a knight now and a man,” he said proudly. “I would present you to my wife, the Infanta Eleanora. I am most pleased with her, father.”

  Surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, Eleonora entered the great hall. She was a small, slender girl, with rich red-brown hair, and a pretty, oval face with greyish green eyes and a small curved mouth. She wore a gown of stiff blue brocade, embroidered with the Castilian coat of arms, and a jewelled circlet over a long, diaphanous white veil. Coming before me, she affected a deep curtsey with a great deal of grace for one so young.