‘I fear,’ Louis told Blanche, ‘that there will be war.’

‘And if there is, will you go?’

‘My father has always been anxious that I should not engage in war, partly because of his concern for me, partly because he fears I might be killed in battle and France die without an heir.’

They looked at each other covertly. The moment when they must consummate their marriage was growing nearer.


* * *

It was due to this conflict that Blanche and Isabella first became aware of each other. Philip had invited King John to Paris that they might confer together and thence he came with his bride.

Blanche would always remember that first meeting with the young Queen of England and the effect she had had on all present. As she entered the great hall by the side of her husband it was not on John that every eye came to rest. She was sumptuously clad; she glittered with jewels; but it was not that. There was something in the bold wide eyes fringed with heavy black lashes, the languorous manner, the graceful catlike movements which proclaimed Isabella apart from other women. Only to look at her was to understand why John having seen her was ready to discard poor Hadwisa of Gloucester, his longsuffering wife, to abandon his honour and give himself no rest until he had abducted Isabella and she became his wife.

She displayed great pride, a certain haughtiness which demanded homage for her rare qualities. Blanche had never seen a member of her sex quite like her.

During their stay at the palace, the King feted the pair from England with great pomp and ceremony, because he was eager to placate John and to lull his suspicions that Philip would one day rob him of his possessions.

Isabella showed an interest in Blanche and that meant that now and then she sought the company of the girl who would one day be Queen of France.

Isabella made no effort to hide the fact that she was a little contemptuous of Blanche. Blanche was handsome enough to claim her attention but Isabella showed clearly that she was aware of her virginity and despised it.

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.