She asked him questions about little Philip and Mary, his half-sister and brother and discovered that they were the children of Agnes, the lady on whose account the King had been excommunicated.

She told him of Castile and her sisters and how she had believed, almost until it was time for the journey to begin, that it would be her sister who was coming to France.

Louis touched her hand lightly.

‘I am glad,’ he said, ‘that it was you who came.’

A few days later the marriage ceremony took place in the Abbey Port-Mort. It was as grand an occasion as it could be, considering that the King of France was not present to see his son married. Many people thronged the Abbey however and although there was much shaking of heads over the quarrel of the King of France with the Pope, all agreed that the bridal pair looked suitably matched – a good-looking youthful couple with a look of happiness in their faces which indicated that, young as they were, they were happy to be united.

There was to be no consummation. The King of France had indicated that that was to come about naturally which it would if the young people were often together.

And so Blanche of Castile was married to Louis of France and together they left Normandy for Paris.

As they rode along by the Seine, Blanche was conscious of a silence in the villages and little towns. It would have been natural to suppose that when the heir to the throne passed through with his bride there would have been some sign of rejoicing; it was surely customary to ring the church bells to announce such a joyous occasion.

‘It is the Interdict,’ said Louis. ‘The people feel it deeply. All church services and benefits are forbidden by the Pope. They are longing for it to end, but it can’t end until my father gives up Agnes and that is something he will not do.’

‘So it will go on and on and there will cease to be a church in France.’

‘They say it cannot go on, that no one can hold out for long against the Pope. The people fear that God will turn against them. As you see there is a certain sullenness in their manner. They blame all their ills on the Interdict and say that it is my father’s lust for Agnes which has brought them to this state.’

‘And he loves her dearly.’

‘He loves her dearly,’ repeated Louis. ‘As you will see.’

‘It is a terrible position for him.’

‘They would say he should never have put Ingeburga away, for he did so before he saw Agnes. None of us know why he so turned against Ingeburga. He married her and they say seemed content enough and then the next morning he was pale and trembling – so I heard – and declared he would have no more of her.’

A faint twinge of fear came to her then. He had liked his bride before the mysterious happenings in the bedchamber. Louis liked her now but what if he should later feel towards her as his father did towards Ingeburga?

She had a momentary vision of herself being sent from convent to convent, castle to castle, without ever knowing in what way she had offended; and Louis taking another wife and her family appealing to the Pope and the Pope’s saying: ‘I will put the Interdict on your kingdom until you take back Blanche.’

That was folly. Louis liked her. She liked Louis. She did not know how she would come through the bedchamber ordeal, but when it came she would exert all her powers to make it a success. She was relieved that she had time to find out something about it. In the meantime she rode on through a France which resentfully suffered under the Pope’s Interdict.

At last they crossed the Seine and came to the Isle of the Cité which Caesar had called Lutetia – the City of Mud – because he declared there was more mud to be found there than in any city he had known.

Louis grew voluble as he regarded the city. It was clear that he loved it and greatly admired his father.

‘My father has done much for Paris,’ he said. ‘It has changed more in the years of his reign than it did in centuries. He told me once that when he was at the window of his palace looking down on the town – which he loved to do – he saw some peasants riding below in their carts and as their wheels churned in the mud there rose such a fetid smell that my father was sickened. The idea came to him that if the streets were paved with stone there would be no mud, so he called together the burghers of the city and told them it would be his endeavour – and they should join him in this – to rid Paris of the name of Mud Town by paving the streets so that the mud would disappear and he needed their help in the matter. They saw how right he was, for there was much disease in the city and the people had begun to realise that it could be due to the obnoxious mud, the smell of which attracted flies and other vermin. There was one rich merchant – I have heard my father speak of him often – he was Gerard de Poissy and he contributed eleven hundred silver marks to the making of pavements, and now as you will see Paris is a most agreeable city.’

‘The people must be grateful to your father.’

Louis smiled. ‘Ah, you know how it is. When it is first done they can talk of nothing else but the change in their city and after a while they forget the foul mud and cease to be grateful for their stone pavements. My father cares greatly for his kingdom. His one dream was to enrich it and bring it back to what it was in the days of Charlemagne. So you see how he loves Agnes when he says that he would rather lose half his dominions than lose her.’

‘I like him the better for loving her so much,’ said Blanche.

‘When you meet him you will not realise the kind of man he is. He does not show his feelings but they are there … for all his family. He has ever been a kind father to me. He can lose his temper quickly but he can as quickly forget his rage. And he is a great king, I tell you that. He has been to the Holy Land.’

‘I know. He was there with my uncle Richard,’ replied Blanche. ‘My grandmother told me that at one time there was a great friendship between them.’

‘That is true. He ever had a fondness for Richard, although they were natural enemies – as all kings of France and England must be … while England holds territory which once belonged to France.’

‘Perhaps they will not always be enemies.’

‘They will be until all these possessions come back to the French crown. That is something we must accept, Blanche. Look at the wall of the city. My father had that built before he went off on his crusade. He wanted to fortify all his cities and particularly Paris. When we take our rides I will show you what he has done for the city.’

They came to the Palace of the Cité and there Blanche met for the first time her formidable father-in-law.

He was tall with a fine figure and an air of great dignity so that she would have known him immediately for the King. There was a russet tinge to his hair and beard; it showed in his eyes and suggested quick temper. There was a look of hardness about him which, she imagined, would have made anyone think twice about displeasing him.

He regarded her steadily and seemed to like what he saw. Then he embraced her and calling her daughter said he welcomed her to the Court of France. He said that he believed she would be a good wife to his son and if she was she would have nothing to regret.

Beside him was his Queen – Agnes, the gentle and beautiful young woman for whom he had placed himself and his country in a precarious position. She greeted Blanche warmly but Blanche could see that although she adored her husband she was too sensitive not to realise that she was at the core of the uneasy state of affairs which existed.

Because there were no church ceremonies it seemed a strange introduction to her new home; but the King was determined that she should receive a good secular welcome.

In the great hall he had her sit on one side of him and Agnes on his other, Louis was seated beside his wife and showed by his manner that he was eager to look after her.

The table was full of dishes of food, some of which she had never seen before; the serving men and women hurried to and fro; while minstrels played soft music throughout the feast.

Among the dishes was that rich delicacy, lampreys, in which her ancestor Henry I had fatally indulged; they were served differently here from the manner in which they were in Castile. The French used rich sauces containing herbs unknown to Blanche; there were also salmon, mutton, beef, venison and great pies the contents of which she could only guess at. Much flavouring of onions and garlic was put in the food which was new to her. She liked the cheeses and the sweetmeats and all these were washed down with wines – some drunk sweet, some dry. ‘None can make wine as the French can,’ Louis told her.

King Philip made much of her and talked constantly to her of the customs of his country and made it clear to everyone present that he was greatly pleased with his new daughter.


* * *

She quickly adjusted herself to life at the Court of France where Louis was her constant companion. They were in the schoolroom together for Philip was a firm believer in education and was constantly reminding his son that a king must study history above all subjects, for he would in due course play a part in it; geography must be mastered too, for events in various parts of the world might well be his concern some day. Literature and music must also not be neglected, for a king should be able to express himself not only with skill but with grace.

Because they learned together they learned quickly. They were two children growing up side by side and Louis supplied the companionship which she had enjoyed with her sisters. She heard from home frequently, for her parents were eager for her to know they thought of her constantly; Berengaria also wrote to her; and she was pleased to learn that Urraca was going to marry into Portugal where she would in due course become Queen.