Henry, who hung on Hubert’s words, agreed immediately that they must send for Richard and he duly arrived at court, where the two brothers confronted each other with a certain admiration and suspicion. Henry had acquired a regality since he had ascended the throne; as for Richard he had always been aware that he had been named after his uncle Coeur de Lion and as he had often been reminded of this he had developed a determination to be like that warlike hero. He naturally thought it was a pity that fate had been so unkind as to make him the second-born instead of the first, but the second son of a king was of great importance, so he was looking forward now to dispensing with the tiresomeness of childhood and coming out into the world to make his name.

Hubert had said to Henry: ‘In a year or so when your brother is sixteen, it will be necessary to knight him, and present him with land and titles. It is important for there to be complete amity between you. A good brother can be of inestimable value; a bad one, the greatest menace a king can know.’

Henry was remembering this as he received Richard and it was easier than he had believed, for Richard was delighted to be at court. The brothers had seen each other only once since the death of their father and that had been at the time of Henry’s coronation three years before. A boy grows up a great deal in three years and this was particularly so in the case of Henry.

They rode together and talked of the old days which Richard could not remember well, but Henry reminded him of how their mother had hastened him to be crowned with her throat-collar because there was no crown. That was why it had all to be done again in the proper manner four years later.

‘How strange,’ said Richard, ‘that our mother should have taken Joan to Lusignan and then married the man Joan was betrothed to.’

‘We don’t like it,’ said Henry importantly. ‘You see, Hubert and many of them think that if the King of France persuades Hugh de Lusignan to fight for him, our mother will be with her husband, not with us.’

‘Does Lusignan matter so much? He is only a count. We can fight him.’

‘He owns a great deal of land and is the overlord of many. Our father, you remember, thought it wise to marry Joan to him to secure his allegiance.’

‘Well, if we have secured it through our mother, what difference? Poor Joan. So she lost her husband.’

‘I found another for her, so what matters it?’ said Henry.

Richard looked at his brother with amusement. He found a husband for her. I’ll wager, thought Richard, he was told whom Joan should marry.

‘How likes Joan her new husband?’

‘You may ask her.’

‘She is coming here?’

‘She is on her way with her husband from Scotland, so you may ask her yourself. She must be content, for she has brought about an alliance between us and the Scots. And as Hubert married Alexander’s sister Margaret, we have very good relations with that country.’

‘It is said that Hubert de Burgh knows how to feather his own nest.’

‘Who says that?’ demanded Henry fiercely.

‘Oh, I have heard it said. And you must admit that marriage with the sister of the King of Scotland is somewhat higher than a … commoner should look.’

‘Pray do not speak of Hubert in that way. He is a great man. There is no one of more importance to me in the whole of my kingdom.’

‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘that is what I have heard. The King is in leading strings to his Justiciar.’

Henry flushed scarlet. ‘Have done,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll not have such accusations made in my hearing.’

Oh, thought Richard, very much the King! He should have been the first-born. It was obvious.

‘If I were King,’ he said, ‘I would rather such things were said within my hearing than outside it.’

Henry hesitated. There was wisdom in that. It was galling, though, that his younger brother should have to point it out to him.

He changed the subject. ‘I have decided,’ he said, ‘that it would be good for you to make a pilgrimage. You have recently been in bad health and need perhaps a little humility and forgiveness of your sins.’

‘My ill health was due to the cold of Corfe … not to my sins.’

‘Are you so virtuous then, brother? This is what I wish to tell you. Alexander, your brother-in-law, is going to Canterbury to pray at the shrine of St Thomas, and I think it would be an excellent plan if you accompanied him.’

You think, was Richard’s inward comment. You mean Hubert de Burgh thinks.

But the idea was not displeasing to him.

He had spent too long away from affairs and it would be interesting to meet his brother-in-law.


* * *

It seemed strange to Joan to be back in the schoolroom in the Palace of Westminster. Two years had passed since her marriage with Alexander. She had then been eleven years old – a child in years but her stay at the castle of Lusignan had brought her abruptly out of childhood and had taught her the emotions of an adult.

She felt very experienced compared with her sisters: Isabella who was now nearly ten years old and Eleanor who was nine.

They had greeted her warily. Poor little girls, thought worldly-wise Joan. What did they know of life?

She had a husband of two years standing. Alexander. He was not unkind and he had made her a queen. He was twelve years older than she was, an experienced warrior at the time of their marriage; he had frightened her a little at first, with his rather sharp features and the tawny tinge in his eyes and hair. But she was beautiful, she knew; and seemed to grow more so when her mother was far away. Everyone commented on her charm and that pleased Alexander. He was glad too of the alliance with England which she represented.

When he found that she was intelligent he talked to her a little about state matters. He was a man who while he excelled in battle was yet a lover of peace, and he told her he wanted a prosperous Scotland and no country was prosperous in war, and though he would defend his boundaries with his life he preferred to make them safe through marriages such as theirs than through battle.

She could agree with him on this and as she had learned meekness at Lusignan she accepted her lot.

He was not Hugh, of course; and she supposed she would go on thinking of Hugh all her life. He would always live on, as an ideal of what one had failed to achieve sometimes did.

She did not want to think of her mother with Hugh. She had now become aware of what such a relationship meant, for she would be expected soon to provide Scotland with an heir. She was not too young for that; she had been sickened when she had heard that her mother had already given Hugh two children. She supposed in time she would get used to the idea. Often she pictured them together. Of course she had subconsciously known that there was something different about her mother when compared with other women. She would never forget the way in which Hugh’s eyes had followed her as she moved around and now that she knew the meaning of those smouldering looks which passed between them she understood a great deal. She would remain here while Alexander took the journey to Canterbury in the company of her brother Richard. She remembered Richard but vaguely. He had been more forceful than Henry, always trying to push himself forward and pretending that although he was the younger he was the more important.

Her sisters Isabella and Eleanor wanted her to tell them about Scotland. They looked at her with awe – their elder sister who was widely travelled. First she had gone miles away to Lusignan and then she had come back and had a marriage. This made her a very important person.

But Eleanor, the younger of her sisters, had a very special question to ask.

‘Tell us what it is like to be married,’ said Eleanor.

Joan was embarrassed. ‘My dear sister, you will discover soon enough.’

‘Very soon,’ said Eleanor. ‘Did you know, Joan, that I am going to be married ?’

‘When?’ cried Joan. ‘You are far too young.’

‘It is true, is it not, Isabella?’

Isabella nodded gravely. ‘I heard Margaret Biset talking about it.’

‘Margaret Biset had no right to talk before you,’ said Joan.

Isabella was quick to defend her nurse-governess. ‘But she did not know she was talking before me for I was hidden where she did not think to look for me.’

‘Eavesdropping. Oh Isabella!’

‘It is to be forgiven,’ retorted Eleanor, ‘when plans are made for us and we are not told for a long time.’

‘And what did you hear?’ asked Joan.

‘That someone called William Marshal is claiming me,’ said Eleanor.

‘She means he is going to marry her,’ said Isabella.

‘Why, you are not nine years old yet!’

‘He had another child wife, Margaret said,’ put in Isabella. ‘She said he must have a fancy for them.’

The two young girls giggled but Joan stopped them.

‘You are being foolish. Tell me all you know of this.’

‘It is just that William Marshal was promised Eleanor and is now claiming her. She will go away to him as you went to Lusignan. But you came back, did you not, Joan?’

Joan nodded.

‘But not for long. Then you went to Scotland.’

‘Your Hugh married our mother instead. He wouldn’t have been able to do that if our father had been alive,’ said Eleanor.

‘Of course he wouldn’t, you foolish girl,’ put in Isabella. ‘Do you remember him?’

Eleanor nodded. ‘He used to shout,’ she said, ‘and scream.’