In many ways she was not discontented with her life. She was close to her native Angoulême, and indeed spent much of her time there; she had children without much difficulty, although she did deplore the mild discomfort that must be endured before their arrival. She was very fruitful, which seemed natural in view of her insatiable sexuality, and she accepted her children with a certain amount of pleasure. Children could be very useful. In six years of marriage she had had five; and she guessed there would be more. Hugh, the eldest, was a fine boy who was very like his father in appearance and manners – a child as yet but one of great promise. Then there was Guy, only a year younger, and Isabella, William and Geoffrey. Four boys – all strong, all healthy. And a girl was useful. Young Isabella was a charming creature but Hugh declared she would never have the beauty of her mother. But then whoever had and whoever would?

But there was one thing Isabella could never forget and that was that she was a queen. It was all very well to be the centre of Hugh’s life and domain, to be admired wherever she went, to have every whim respected, but in Lusignan she was merely the Countesse of La Marche. With John she had been Queen of England and even when she was his prisoner, that fact had remained. In England she would still be Queen – though Queen Mother. She grimaced at the expression, but still with a son who was young and had not yet found a queen of his own she would have had considerable standing.

So there was always the need to remind everyone that she was a queen, to bestir Hugh to actions which would let everyone know how important he was.

Of course he was a lord of a great deal of territory. There were many who owed allegiance to him; but one fact remained and it irked her more than anything she had ever known – and that was that Hugh must swear allegiance to the King of France.

How she hated that cold-eyed queen who had regarded her with such distaste. She would like to see her brought low, her and her stupid Louis who doted on her. He was completely faithful to her. People were constantly commenting on it. Well, he was scarcely a man – and what of her? Did she have lovers? Although no scandal had touched her, all knew that the fat troubadour made songs about her. Isabella despised them all – Louis, Blanche and Thibaud of Champagne.

Messengers arrived at the castle with letters for the Count. She had gone down to the hall with Hugh to receive them, and when she saw that they came from the Queen she could not conceal her impatience.

She dismissed the messenger to the kitchens where he would be refreshed and said: ‘Let us go to the bedchamber where we can be quite alone to read what this means. It is important. Rest assured.’

She took the packet from Hugh, who meekly allowed her to do so, and when they were in the bedchamber it was she who broke the seals.

He came and looked over her shoulder.

‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Louis … dead.’

‘Always a weakling,’ she said. ‘You know what this means. She will be the sovereign now.’

‘It is young Louis …’

‘Young Louis! A boy of twelve. This is what Madame Blanche has been waiting for.’

Hugh was well aware that Blanche would be desolate at the death of her husband and no woman as wise as she clearly was would want to see her son of twelve years on the throne, but he had learned not to contradict Isabella.

‘She is the mistress now.’ She turned to Hugh. ‘It is to this woman that you will have to bow the knee.’

It was a familiar theme and Hugh would like to ignore it.

‘Why look,’ he said, ‘We are summoned to the coronation.’

Isabella’s eyes were narrow. She was thinking back to ten years before when the news had been brought to her of John’s death and she had then been in a similiar position to that in which Blanche found herself now. What had she done? She had instinctively known that her young son must be crowned without delay. Blanche was realising the same thing now.

‘We must make ready at once,’ said Hugh. ‘There is little time.’

‘Hold!’ said Isabella. ‘I am not sure that we are going to this coronation.’

‘Isabella, my dearest, this is a command.’

‘Hugh, my dearest, you married a queen. She does not take orders from that woman … even though she also is a queen. We are equal in rank and she does not command me.’

‘She commands us as Count and Countess of La Marche and as such we are vassals of France.’

‘Oh Hugh, you madden me sometimes. It is well that I love you. If I did not I should quarrel most surely with you and leave this place and go back to England.’

Hugh turned pale at the thought of such a disaster.

‘Now, my love. What are we going to do?’ she asked.

‘Prepare to leave. If we are going to be in Rheims …’

‘We are not going to be in Rheims.’

‘Isabella, what do you mean?’

‘We are setting out at once to call on our neighbour of Thouars.’

‘He too will be summoned to Rheims.’

‘Then we must reach him before he commits the folly of going there.’

Hugh stared at her aghast. She put her arms about his neck and laid his cheek against hers. ‘My dearest husband,’ she said, ‘where would you be without me? I am going to make you the most powerful man in France.’

‘Isabella, the King …’

‘That soft-cheeked infant. Do not talk to me of him. My Henry is a man in comparison. You see, my love, you are in a very good position. You are the husband of the mother of the King of England. I have been thinking for some time that we might be happier supporting him than this woman who now sets herself up as our ruler.’

‘But I have sworn allegiance …’

‘Oaths! What are oaths? Oaths are for vassals … We should not allow ourselves to be fettered by such.’

‘Isabella, much as you mean to me, I have my honour, my duty …’

She laughed softly. ‘And I would not have you other than you are. But before we go to Rheims I want you to come with me to visit our neighbours. I will send a messenger immediately to Thouars and Parthenay to tell them we are on our way.’

‘This is the coronation of our King …’

‘Oh, come, Hugh. There is no time to waste. That child is not ready to be crowned. He will merely be the mouthpiece for his mother.’

He made a mild effort to detain her; but laughingly she thrust him aside, and the next day they set off for northern Poitou.

Guy de Thouars, Hugh and the Lord of Parthenay were the most powerful lords of this part of the country and they had begun to realise that linked together they were a formidable force.

Guy received them eagerly when they arrived. Hugh by this time had allowed Isabella to override his doubts and had convinced himself that what she had suggested was indeed the truth.

Louis had been no friend to them; there was now a king who was only a minor; and Isabella was convinced that Blanche worked deviously against them.

It was Hugh who began the explanations. Isabella had primed him in what he had to say and she knew that Guy and Parthenay must be convinced that Hugh was not merely upholding her views.

Hugh pointed out that the late King had not served them well. He had suddenly decided to fight in the Albigensian war instead of continuing to wage war against the English. As soon as the Earls of Salisbury and Cornwall had shown they were not without military skill he changed wars.

‘Now,’ said Hugh, ‘we have a child as our King and we know full well that our true ruler will be the Queen.’

‘It seems likely,’ agreed Guy.

‘She will have able counsellors,’ put in Parthenay.

Isabella interrupted them: ‘We know the Queen, my lords; she is not of a temper to consider advice. She will have her say and expect all to follow her wishes.’

‘It would seem,’ said Hugh, glancing at Isabella, ‘that we should offer our allegiance elsewhere.’

The two men looked aghast, and Isabella said quickly: ‘I am not without influence in other quarters. I happen to be the mother of the King of England.’

‘My lady … my lord …’ began Guy.

‘Yes,’ said Isabella. ‘I can promise you lands and riches. When my son comes here and regains that which has been lost to England, he will not be ungrateful to those who helped him. I can promise you that.’

‘We have sworn an oath of allegiance …’

‘To King Louis VIII,’ cried Isabella. ‘He is dead.’

‘His son is now our King.’

‘His mother hastens to crown him, to have you all kneel before him and swear allegiance, but you have not done that yet, my lords. Will you be foolish enough to go to Rheims and mildly bend the knee to the Spanish woman?’

‘The coronation of our King is to take place on the twenty-ninth of this month.’

‘But three short weeks after the old King’s death! Well, we will say this for the lady. She knows how to move fast.’

‘I would say,’ put in the Lord of Parthenay, ‘that the Queen will be an able regent with good men to help her. We shall not find her ill-prepared for the task.’

Isabella was stung into sudden fury. Little enraged her more than to hear praise of Blanche.

‘Prepared! Indeed she is prepared. I’ll vow she was waiting most impatiently for this day. She … and her plump paramour.’

‘Isabella!’ cried Hugh. The others regarded her with amazement.

‘Oh, come,’ cried Isabella. ‘We know of these matters, do we not? She is a woman … for all that she shows a frozen face to the world. Have you read those verses written to her by her fat count? They are the words of a lover, my friends, a satisfied lover. Should we blame her? Louis was scarce a man. She has her needs like the rest of us. If she took him openly I could like her better. It is this mock purity which galls me.’