by Jean Plaidy
‘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.
Within a few months of her arrival in England friends began to come from Provence and Savoy. Eleanor was so delighted to receive them that Henry had to be too; and when she suggested that they should be given posts, how could he disappoint her by refusing?
It seemed at that time that there was only one shadow on their happiness: Eleanor’s inability to become pregnant.
Henry soothed her. ‘You are but a child my love,’ he told her. ‘We are apt to forget your youth because of your wisdom, but it is true. Don’t fret. We shall succeed in time. Then I’ll swear you will have the finest sons and daughters. They must be so … if they resemble you.’
Such devotion seemed somewhat fatuous to the Court. Some sought to take advantage of it and one of these was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester. Simon had decided to try his fortunes in England which, because of the lands which his father had held, and which the King had allowed him to retain, and because of the title of Earl of Leicester which had come to him, he felt might be more profitable than France. Twice he had sought advantageous marriages – and both with wealthy middle-aged widows, the Countesses of Boulogne and Flanders. On both occasions the King of France had frustrated his hopes. So it was understandable that he had turned his back on France. Henry had been kind to him; under the influence of the Queen Henry was becoming more and more inclined to smile on foreigners, especially those who could ingratiate themselves with the Queen. Simon was considered a foreigner by those Englishmen who were eager not to have strangers poaching on their land. Recently he had started to have very high hopes. His rather prominent dark eyes glistened at the thought. Of course it would be frowned on. It would not be easy; but the King’s sister Eleanor was a very determined young woman and once she had made up her mind it would be hard to divert her. It was a wild dream perhaps … but who could say that it might not come true. In the meantime he must join William de Valence and show that he would be a good supporter – because if he were to advance it would more likely be through the foreign influence than that of the English.
William de Valence had already a following in the country but his ambitions were growing rather too big for him to control. It was not possible for this state of affairs to pass unnoticed. There were whispers. ‘What is happening at Court?’ ‘Is it true that there are secret meetings between William de Valence and his friends?’ ‘Can it be that these foreigners are trying to rule our country? This is due to the Queen. The foreigners came with her. The King receives them to please her and they are making a puppet of him.’
When the Queen rode out in the streets sullen looks came her way. Someone daringly shouted at her: ‘Go home. We don’t want foreigners here.’
It was shattering to her. She had believed that everyone must be charmed by her good looks.
The King had not been with her when it had happened and she had gone at once to him, almost in tears.
He had soothed her. ‘It must have
been a madman,’ he said. ‘People of good sense must love you.’
‘It was not only what was shouted. It was the way they looked at me … as though they hated me.’
‘Oh, the people are fickle. Hosanna one day … crucify Him the next.’
‘I don’t want them to crucify me. I want them to love me.’
‘I shall command them to,’ declared the uxorious husband.
But it was not as easy as that.
Richard called on his brother. He said that he wished to speak to him entirely alone.
‘You do not realise it, Henry,’ he said, ‘but there is growing unrest throughout the country. I have had it from several of the barons. They don’t like what’s happening.’
‘I fail to understand,’ said Henry coldly.
‘That is why those who wish you well must enlighten you. If you do not stop this pampering of foreigners the barons will be in revolt. It will be our father’s troubles all over again.’
‘I will not have it.’
‘Alas, it is a matter in which one has no choice. The barons are meeting … as they have done before. They are talking about Magna Carta and you know what that means. It is even said that William de Valence is gathering together a council of foreigners in secret and that they are your advisers.’
Henry turned pale. It was true that he did discuss matters of state with William and some of those friends of whom he was growing fond. He scarcely saw Hubert de Burgh now, nor the leading earls and barons. He knew that Edmund of Canterbury was displeased with him, and he was always afraid of antagonising the Church. He could picture Richard’s placing himself at the head of his critics; and he knew from what had happened in his father’s case that they were capable of desperate acts to get rid of a King who displeased them. And there was Richard – the barons’ friend, ready to serve them if they should decide to take the crown from one brother and place it on the head of the other.
He had been rather foolish. He had been so happy with his fair Eleanor, he had welcomed her friends and her relations and they were more interesting to him than many of the English barons. They liked poetry and music; they liked discussion and subtle conversation; and could it really be that while they charmed him with these, they wrung concessions from him which were the cause of dissatisfaction?
Richard said: ‘There is much to occupy you, brother, and the English will never be ruled by others than themselves.’
‘That was not so when our father was on the throne. Didn’t they invite the French to come over and rule them?’
‘Henry, let us look the truth in the face. There was never a King such as our father. He committed every known folly. They were determined to be rid of him. But when you came to the throne how long did it take England to rid herself of foreigners?’
‘They went willingly.’
‘Because they knew they must. The English will not have foreigners on this soil, Henry. If you permit it, they will find some means of ridding themselves of you as they did our father.’
‘I wish people would not talk constantly of our father.’
‘He is a lesson to any King … how not to behave. Henry, I stand with you, and I am warning you. Trouble could rise … quickly. Moreover it is about to rise.’
‘Then what must I do?’
‘Get rid of William de Valence.’
‘But he is the Queen’s uncle. She loves him dearly!’
‘I hope she loves you more dearly. The price of keeping William de Valence here could well be your crown.’
‘You talk rashly, Richard.’
‘I talk for your good, brother,’ Richard shrugged his shoulders. ‘You will not heed me. Very well, I have done my duty. You will see what happens. Within a few weeks …’
‘I simply don’t believe it.’
‘No, I am sure you do not. You haven’t noticed the sullen looks of the people … the murmuring … And the barons, I warn you, Henry, are making ready.’
Richard turned and was about to leave when Henry called him back.
The brothers looked at each other steadily and Richard said slowly: ‘Get rid of William de Valence … or there will be war as there was with our father … war between the crown and barons. I have no more to say.’
Henry paced up and down. What could he do? In his heart he knew that Richard was right. He had been aware of the discontent. He had been warned by others. Hubert had hinted but Hubert never said much now. After his persecution he no longer trusted the King. He could imagine what they were saying, what they were doing.
Yet how could he tell Eleanor that her uncle must go? She would weep and entreat and he could not stand out against her tears.
He was saved from this by the appearance of William de Valence himself.
He was alarmed. He had heard rumours. He believed that some of the barons might take him prisoner.
‘I should never allow that,’ cried Henry.
‘No, but they might attempt it all the same.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I shall go back to Savoy. My dear nephew, do not try to persuade me. I can see this is what I must do.’
‘Eleanor will be distressed.’
‘Dear child! Come with me to her apartment. I would speak to you both.’
They went to Eleanor who, when she heard of her uncle’s decision, threw herself into his arms.
‘My dearest child,’ said William, ‘do not grieve. I can see that I am in danger and no good could be served by my staying here. I will go immediately … I shall leave with stealth … disguised perhaps. But I tell you this: ere long I shall be back.’
‘Oh, Henry,’ cried Eleanor, ‘what shall we do without my dearest uncle?’
‘We have each other,’ replied Henry.
‘Ah, my dear children, I rejoice in that. I shall go now … and come back. Then perhaps Henry will have some office in the Church to give me which would be a good reason for my living here. I am determined to come back. This is but a temporary farewell.’
He embraced them both and with some speed left them for his residence.
In a few days many people were delighted to learn that William de Valence had left the country. They were less pleased when it was revealed that he had taken with him all the treasure he had accumulated since he had come to England.
It was a warning. Neither Eleanor nor Henry talked much of it, but it was in their minds. His leniency with her friends and relations, although it pleased her, had the opposite effect on his people, and she had learned enough to know that they must not be too blatantly offended.
It was therefore comforting to turn to more domestic matters.
Henry confided in her that Eleanor his sister wanted to marry Simon de Montfort. ‘I never heard such nonsense,’ he said. ‘He has a high opinion of himself … imagining he can marry into the royal family! I am deeply disturbed, my love.’
Eleanor was thoughtful. She tried to put herself in the place of her sister-in-law. It was difficult. The marriage of the sister of the King of England with a mere Earl of Leicester could not be considered a very brilliant one and she could not imagine herself wanting to make it; but suppose she did, well then, undoubtedly she would bring it about and she fancied that the Princess was as strong-minded as she was herself.
‘You are thoughtful, my dearest,’ said Henry.
‘I believe she will marry him whatever you say.’
‘She dare not.’
‘She is a woman who would dare a great deal. She was married once for state reasons when she was but a child. I have a fancy that now she will marry to please herself and it is only necessary to see them together to realise that Simon de Montfort is her choice.’
‘You have a high opinion of my sister.’
‘I recognise her nature.’
‘She has grown into a determined woman during her widowhood, it is true. So my little Queen noticed that.’
‘Yes, your little Queen did and she thinks that it might be interesting for you to agree to
the marriage of these two.’
‘Eleanor. My dear!’
‘Simon de Montfort is a man of strength. You see that at once. Remember how he got the better of Norfolk at the coronation. He is a man, I believe, whom you should have on your side.’
‘What are you suggesting? That I should give my consent to this marriage?’
She nodded. ‘Something tells me that they will marry even if you do not.’
‘But they dare not!’
‘I have said she would dare a good deal, and so would he. We have too many enemies. Would it not be well, my lord, to have them on our side?’
‘My love, there would be great opposition to a marriage like that. De Montfort is disliked for being a foreigner. The English are an insular race. They think there is something divine in being born an Englishman. If a man they called a foreigner was married to my sister there would be trouble, I do assure you.’
‘And there will be trouble if they do not marry.’
‘You see,’ said Henry fondly, ‘there are many trials in being a King.’
She put her arms about his neck. ‘But you will always overcome them, Henry … with me to help you.’
He kissed her fondly. How he dotes on me! she thought. It had been every bit as easy as she had always believed it to be to charm him, to rule him. He was a man who had been deprived of affection, and a little display of it moved him deeply, particularly from her.
‘I have a plan, Henry,’ she said. ‘Send for your sister and tell her she may marry.’
‘There would be some angry barons in England if I did. I do not think my brother Richard would be very pleased for one.’
‘You are the King. Let it be secret. Then Simon de Montfort will be your friend for ever more.’
‘What a wise little creature you are.’
‘You are teasing me.’
‘Nay. I mean it.’
‘Then show it by taking my advice on this.’
‘By the saints, I will.’
‘I know they will be on your side for ever if you do, and I fancy Simon de Montfort will be a man to reckon with.’
He slipped his arm through hers and they walked to the window and stood there together. ‘Can you guess,’ he asked, ‘what it means to me to have you beside me? Never was a king so contented in his marriage as this one.’