The Battle of the Queens

by Jean Plaidy

‘Now that I have seen you, my lady, I could do nothing but serve you with my life.’

  ‘Even though that meant serving your King to whom you owe allegiance?’ she asked cynically.

  ‘If that were your command.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Then it shall be.’

  ‘You change sides quickly.’

  ‘I was never on any side but yours, my lady. I suffered momentary pique. I had planned to offer myself to you completely. To be your humblest slave if you so wished. And then I was turned away …’

  ‘I see that I acted unwisely in that. I ask your pardon for it.’

  His face was illumined with a joy which almost made him handsome.

  ‘My lady, I swear I shall serve you with my life.’

  ‘At this time all I ask is that we make some agreement with the King’s enemies.’

  ‘They are powerful, my lady. Peter Mauclerc is bent on mischief. Hugh de Lusignan is in leading strings to his wife. Her son, Richard of Cornwall, is now in France; these rebels are planning to join with him.’

  ‘I know it well. And you are one of them?’

  He said quickly: ‘No longer so, my lady.’

  ‘Are they bent on war?’

  ‘They could be. Mauclerc’s daughter is betrothed to the King of England. He must need support here badly to have agreed to that. But ’tis my belief that before that marriage becomes a fact the King of England will find reasons why the marriage shall not take place.’

  ‘But at this time Mauclerc believes it will.’

  ‘Mauclerc is not with our camp in Thouars at this time. It would be well to make a treaty before he joins it.’

  ‘Would that be possible?’

  ‘My lady, we could make it possible.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘You have good bargaining counters, my lady. Ah, forgive me. It is not meet to speak thus of the children of France. There is nothing like a betrothal, an alliance, between families to bring them together.’

  ‘You believe this would be acceptable?’

  ‘If my lady would try, she would see. And no harm done if it failed. If it succeeded time would be won … time to let the young King become not so young … time to prepare for any conflict that might follow later …’

  ‘You give good advice, Count.’

  ‘I would give everything I possessed to you, my lady, and ask nothing more than that you allow me to your presence.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘I will return to my camp now,’ he said. ‘And you will see that I shall serve you with all my heart.’

  When he had gone she sat brooding for some time. Her thoughts were in a turmoil. He disturbed her. He really was enamoured of her – this strange plump poet who did not look in the least romantic yet wrote such beautiful verses.

  In some ways she hated to make use of him. Her impulse was to dismiss him, to tell him that she wished to hear nothing of him.

  But that would be folly. She had seen how her actions at Rheims had been disastrous.

  She must use the devotion of the Count of Champagne as well as she could. It was most important to make a truce with the rebel barons in order to strengthen her son’s hold on the crown.

  Isabella came to Thouars where Hugh had asked her to join him. She knew that something important had happened and that he was afraid to make a decision without her.

  The rebels were conferring with the Queen of France and her advisers. Blanche must be alarmed to condescend to do so. She must be learning that she could not flout the mighty knights and barons of France, Queen though she might be.

  ‘What news?’ she demanded imperiously when she was alone with Hugh.

  He looked at her longingly and wonderingly. ‘You are even more beautiful than I have been remembering,’ he said.

  She laughed, pleased but impatient.

  ‘That is good hearing,’ she replied, ‘but it would please me even more to hear that we had got the better of our enemy.’

  ‘We have been negotiating.’

  ‘Ah, and I trust have good terms. You must have realised the strength of your position since mighty Blanche herself has come to see you.’

  ‘I think the terms are excellent … for us. Blanche has offered her son Alphonse for our Isabella and our Hugh for hers.’

  ‘Our daughter is a child yet!’

  ‘But she will grow up. The King’s brother for our little Isabella and Hugh for the King’s sister. What think you of that?’

  Isabella nodded slowly. ‘Fair enough,’ she said.

  ‘Mauclerc’s daughter Yolanda is for the King’s brother John.’

  ‘She was betrothed to my son Henry of England.’

  ‘Blanche fears us. That much is clear. Since she is ready to take Yolanda for her son to save her from an English alliance.’

  ‘And these are the terms of the treaty?’

  ‘They are, my dearest, and I think we have come well out of them.’

  ‘It is a good match for our Hugh,’ she admitted.

  ‘And for Isabella.’

  ‘These matches have a way of never being made.’

  ‘We shall see that they are.’

  ‘Will you, my strong warrior?’

  ‘I swear it.’

  ‘You see what she has done, do you not? She is making it impossible for us to side with my son. She is winning us to her side with these alliances.’

  ‘My dear, this is our home. Henry is far away. Do you not think we have more to gain from France than from England?’

  ‘That we shall discover. For the moment, it amuses me to see the Queen of France begging our favours. How was she when you spoke with her?’

  ‘I did not. It was not I who was the mediator.’

  She turned on him fiercely. ‘It should have been you.’

  ‘We thought it better that it should be the Count of Champagne.’

  Isabella stared at him; then she broke into loud laughter.

  ‘The fat troubadour! The Queen’s lover!’

  ‘You must realise that he is not that, Isabella. Blanche is a virtuous woman. She has always been.’

  ‘You believe that … like the rest. And you sent him to her.’

  ‘It was well. He made good terms.’

  ‘How I should love to have seen them together. How she must have laughed when he arrived. Mayhap it was a ruse on their parts … to be together. It may be that they sweetened their parley with other matters.’

  ‘You are quite wrong about the Queen.’

  She turned a cold malicious glance on him. ‘So you think I am a fool.’

  ‘Never that … but … the Queen you know is …’

  ‘Let me tell you this, Hugh. I know the Queen’s sort. They are no different from the rest of us. Thibaud of Champagne has told us of their love affair, has he not? What if he murdered Louis to rid her of him?’

  Hugh was clearly aghast.

  ‘Oh, she could not be involved in that, could she?’ went on Isabella. ‘She is too good … this pure white Queen.’

  Hugh could not answer, nor could he completely hide his horror; but there must be no disagreement with Isabella. He did not want the time they could be together spent in quarrelling.

  Blanche considered what she had done. The trouble had been thrust aside and there was peace temporarily.

  That was what she had sought. Just a short respite while Louis grew up a little and understood what it meant to be a king.

  Marriage-alliance with the family she hated since Isabella of Angoulême had become the head of it. Such betrothals, she consoled herself, so often came to nothing.

  My children marry hers! She felt sickened by the thought of that. What if they had inherited their mother’s ways!

  But there could be no question of any of these marriages taking place for years. She was safe. Before then she would find reasons why they never should.

  She needed all her wits to keep the peace; to keep the kingdom intact until that time when Louis should be
old enough to take over, and whatever was needed she would do, even if it meant feigning friendship with her enemies.

  She heard that when Peter Mauclerc was told of the terms of the treaty he had cursed. He wanted war, that man, because he was going to make an attempt on the crown.

  They did not tell her exactly what he had said but when she knew that he had declared vengeance on Thibaud of Champagne for betraying them, she knew too that he had coupled her name with that of the troubadour.

  It was such as Peter Mauclerc who would sow the seeds of scandal all over France. Men such as he was; women such as Isabella. Such were her real enemies. Not men like Hugh who was led this way and that by a wife who had bewitched him.

  But for a while there was peace. She must not be lulled into a feeling of security. She had to be ready. She knew that sooner or later the threat would come … if not from her enemies here, from those across the Channel. Henry would be furious. His mother was ready to support the French! His promised bride Yolanda was to go to a Prince of France!

  It could not be long before the enemy from across the Channel decided to make war. When he did, could she rely on those men with whom she had just made her treaty?

  Who could say? All she could do was be prepared.

  ENGLAND 1226–1242

  Chapter XII

  HUBERT IN DANGER

  Richard, Earl of Cornwall, went straight to his brother at Westminster on his return from France. They embraced with real affection. Richard had proved himself an able general and he immediately told Henry that this was but a beginning. He had had some success and now had experience to know that everything would not be won back in one short campaign.

  He studied his brother carefully. Henry was now nearly twenty years old – very conscious of his position and determined that everyone should be aware that he was the King. Richard could not help thinking that he himself would have been more suited to the task. Henry was too easily persuaded and if rumour did not lie he was completely in the hands of Hubert de Burgh, the Justiciar.

  They talked of troubles in France and of the family. Joan was apparently content in Scotland with Alexander. There had been one or two matters of contention on the Border but thanks to the alliance nothing serious had developed.

  ‘There is no heir then?’ asked Richard.

  ‘None.’

  ‘There surely should be by now.’

  ‘She is young yet – barely seventeen. She complains a great deal about the Scottish climate. It is a pity she ever went to Lusignan. She seemed to pine for the warmth after that.’

  ‘A pity she did not stay there and marry Hugh.’

  ‘Oh, our mother will watch over our interests better than Joan ever could.’

  ‘I am not sure of that,’ said Richard. ‘She has another family now.’

  ‘Hugh’s. But that does not mean she will forget us. I am the King, remember.’

  ‘I heard that Hugh dotes on her and that it is she who makes the decisions.’

  ‘So much the better for we can rest assured that we have a good friend there. I am all eagerness to get over there and I shall do so as soon as we are ready.’

  Richard felt mildly annoyed. Was his brother suggesting that he only had to cross to France and immediate victory would be his? If so, he would have a rude awakening.

  ‘And Isabella and Eleanor?’

  ‘Isabella is with the court. Eleanor is with her husband.’

  ‘Is William Marshal a good husband to our sister?’

  ‘I have heard no complaints. But I doubt she is a true wife to him yet. She is but twelve years old, you know.’

  ‘I suppose ere long a husband will be found for Isabella.’

  ‘Negotiations failed with the King of the Romans. I would prefer a marriage between her and the young King of France.’

  ‘A fine match. That would put an end to our wars. Why, if our sister’s son inherited Normandy, how could you fight him for it?’

  ‘Before our sister would be of an age to get a son I intend that the whole of Normandy shall come back to the English Crown.’

  Richard looked sardonic. This brother of his had no idea of the difficulty of that task. Their father had done such disservice to the Crown of England that it was doubtful whether it would ever be put right.

  It was no use trying to explain what it was like over there to Henry. He would have to find out for himself.

  Richard would go off and see his sister Isabella and tell her about his wonderful deeds in battle. He would frighten old Margaret Biset out of her wits with his gruesome tales. She had always tried to protect her charge from the world. It was no good when poor Isabella would very shortly be shuffled off somewhere to be the wife of a man she scarcely knew.

  It had happened to Joan and it had happened to Eleanor. It was only due to chance that young Isabella remained in the nursery with Biset brooding over her.

  Hubert de Burgh, Justiciar of England, who had the complete confidence of the King, came to see him in some dismay. It was some months after Richard’s return from France and after a brief stay at court he had gone to his estates in Cornwall of which he was very proud, for the tin which was found in the mines there had made him rich.

  Hubert de Burgh was not discontented with his lot either. He had succeeded in persuading the King to banish his great enemy Peter des Roches from the country and Peter had joined Frederic II, Emperor of Germany, on a crusade to the Holy Land, so he was well out of the way. Since then Hubert had consolidated his position and although Henry was striving to be more independent he could not govern without Hubert, so Hubert was becoming richer and more influential every day. He knew that resentment against him was rising among those who sought to take his place; but that he recognised as the inevitable result of power. He must accept it, while being wary of it. But with Peter des Roches so happily disposed of, he had begun to feel very confident.

  Now he came to the King with a complaint against Richard of Cornwall and he had no doubt that his advice would be acted on.

  Richard was becoming truculent and too sure of himself since he had led an army. Hubert did not doubt that it was in truth his enemy, the now defunct Earl of Salisbury, who had been the genius behind that campaign.

  ‘My lord,’ said Hubert, ‘I have to bring to your notice the conduct of your brother who has acted in a manner which I know will give you little pleasure. You may not remember that your father gave to Waleran le Tyes, the German, a manor for his services. Waleran fought well for your father, and although he was but a mercenary the King wished to reward him. Richard has now seized this manor.’

  ‘For what reason?’ demanded Henry.

  ‘He says it once belonged to the county of Cornwall and as Earl of that county it is in fact his.’

  ‘I will tell him to give it up without delay. Send for him, will you, Hubert?’

  Hubert said he had already anticipated the King’s feeling in the matter and had sent a messenger to Richard commanding him, in the King’s name, to present himself at once.

  Henry frowned slightly. Now and then people hinted to him that Hubert de Burgh took too much upon himself. One had actually said: ‘Does he think he is the King?’ But he did want Richard to come to him, so how could he complain?

  Hubert was quick to notice the expression which passed across the King’s face and he said: ‘I am sure, my lord, that you will deal with this matter in the right way.’

  ‘I intend to,’ replied Henry.

  ‘I do not know, my lord, whether you consider your brother has perhaps become too much aware of his importance and feels that his relationship to yourself should give him especial privileges.’

  ‘I think this may be so.’

  ‘Ha, you will know how to deal with that,’ said Hubert.

  When Richard arrived at court Hubert was with the King and when he asked if the King would wish him to leave, Henry had replied: ‘No, you may stay.’

  Richard looked haughtily at his brother and demanded to know w
hat all the bother was about.

  ‘This manor which you have taken from the German …’ began Henry.

  ‘It belongs to Cornwall,’ retorted Richard, ‘and therefore belongs to me.’

  ‘I command you to give it back,’ said Henry in his most regal manner.

  Richard hesitated for a moment while he regarded his brother through half-closed eyes. Henry, thought Richard, not quite two years older than he was and imagining he had the right to command him! What a tragedy that he had not been the first-born. And what was Hubert de Burgh doing there? Was Henry afraid to move without his wet nurse?

  Richard spoke coolly and calmly. ‘That I shall not do. The manor is mine by right.’

  ‘But I command it,’ cried Henry.

  ‘Then there is one thing for me to do. I shall take the matter before the King’s Court and the magnates whose judgment must be in my favour. Only if they decide against me would I consider giving it up.’

  Henry saw this as a direct insult to that which he was eager to stress, his royal dignity.

  He clenched his fists and approached his brother. He was beginning to betray a hot temper, Hubert noted, which could rise suddenly and result in somewhat impulsive actions.

  ‘You will either give up the castle or leave the country,’ he said.

  ‘So you would banish me! You give yourself airs, Henry.’

  ‘Airs. I the King.’

  ‘There was a charter, have you forgotten? Our father was forced to give his name to it. There is, as a consequence, some justice in this country. I shall go now to the barons and insist on justice and abide by the judgment of my peers.’

  With that he turned and strode from the chamber.

  Henry was too taken aback to speak for a moment. His rage choked him.

  Hubert watched him and waited for him to speak. He was realising that Henry was not so easy to handle as he had once been, and he himself would have to tread carefully. Those sudden rages were alarming and if he could turn so on his brother for whom he was supposed to have some affection, how much more easily he could do so on his Justiciar.

  At last Henry spoke. ‘Well, Hubert de Burgh, what think you of that?’