Виктория Холт - The Battle of the Queens

‘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.

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.’