Виктория Холт - The Battle of the Queens

‘I do,’ she answered fervently. ‘You are so good to me.’

‘And you can be happy here?’

‘I can be happy if you do not take Margaret away from me.’

‘So Margaret remains.’

The Emperor grew so enchanted with his wife that he wanted nothing but to be with her all the time. He took her to his palace at Hagenau and surrounded her with all the luxury he knew of. The furnishings of her apartments were as rich as anything she had ever seen. He brought her more jewels than she could possibly wear. There were silks and fine clothes for her servants to make into any garments she fancied, and there were rich meats and wines to suit her taste. But he could not bear that anyone should see her lest they take her from him.

She and Margaret were together as they had been at her brother’s court; and the Emperor’s fondness for her was remarked on throughout the land.

In due course she was pregnant and merchandise was sent to her that she might choose what she fancied for her child. Margaret liked to make most of the garments herself and it was their pleasure to sew and talk together of the child.

It was pleasant to be so petted by her loving husband; and at this time Isabella was content to be shut off from the world in her silken cave. Margaret was with her and they played the guessing games they had played during her girlhood. It was all so like her childhood – apart from visits from the Emperor – that she did not feel in the least like a prisoner.

When her child was born it was a girl. If the Emperor was disappointed he did not say so, but she knew he would have preferred a boy. When she jokingly told Margaret that she would name the child after her and mentioned it to Frederic he made no protest. If that was what his little darling wanted, so should it be.

So the child became Margaret and so did the nurse dote on her namesake that Isabella declared the baby was taking her old nurse away from her.

‘What nonsense!’ cried Margaret. There’s enough love in this old body of mine for you both.’

So the pleasant life went on – except that one cage was changed for another. The Emperor had to visit his Italian subjects so he moved her to Lombardy and there she with Margaret and her baby and the few maids who attended on their needs lived once more in a luxurious palace, with their beautiful gardens – high-walled where no one came but the Emperor.

He rarely let anyone see his bride.

And there Isabella’s son was born. She called him Henry after her brother. And the Emperor said he had never known such joy.

It was a strange life, but one which was not unhappy.

The old ageing Emperor and his beautiful young wife had become something of a legend in the land.

Eleanor was in love.

The most interesting, exciting man at her brother’s court was Simon de Montfort. Henry liked him, she was glad to notice; but he had many enemies. She lived in terror that one day they would harm him.

He had said to her once: ‘I am considered to be French by the English and English by the French. It does not make either side over fond of me.’

When she rode out with a party she would invariably find him beside her; and on one or two occasions, greatly daring, they would slip away from the others. How she enjoyed those rides, galloping over the grass with Simon a little behind, allowing him to catch up, when he would say: ‘Halt a while, Princess. I would talk with you.’

Then they would walk their horses and talk. It was mostly about themselves.

He was an adventurer, he said. She was the King’s sister. Was it not strange that they should have so much to say to each other, such understanding?

‘I am an adventurer too, I sometimes think,’ she told him.

‘You … a princess!’

‘Why should a princess be doomed to a dull life?’

‘Not all princesses are,’ he reminded.

‘I am determined to live my life as I wish.’

‘I knew there was something unusual about you from the moment I first saw you.’

He told her about his life and she told him about hers.

If his grandfather the Lord of Montfort and Evreux had not married the sister and co-heiress of the Earl of Leicester he would never have come to England. ‘Think of that. But for that marriage you and I would not be riding together here now.’

‘I am glad of that marriage,’ said Eleanor.

He laughed; his eyes gleaming with pleasure. It seemed to her that there was deep meaning behind everything they said to each other.

‘Their second son, Simon, led the crusade against the Albigensians and to him came the title of Earl of Leicester and half the estate.’

‘And you are the son of that crusader.’

‘I am he. My brother Amaury resigned his rights in the estate to me and I came to England to claim them.’

‘It seems you have not been unsuccessful here.’

‘Your brother has been good to me.’

‘He took a fancy to you. I understand why.’

‘The fact that his sister understands why means more to me than the King’s favour.’

‘Then I must change my opinion of you. You are not as wise as I thought.’

‘That, my dear lady, remains to be seen.’

‘How long must we wait for this revelation?’

‘I hope not long.’

Eleanor was exultant. What could he mean? She knew her feelings. What were his?

‘Your brother has given me a pension of four hundred marks,’ he told her. ‘When I recover my estates I shall be rich. But I shall not forget the help I have received.’

‘My brother’s pension must be of great importance to you.’

‘Not so important as the sympathy I see in his sister’s eyes.’

‘Surely to a man of good sense a pension should be of more use than sympathy.’

‘Nay, not so,’ he contradicted. And it was at moments like this that she spurred her horse and galloped away because she had never been so happy in her life before and she knew that it meant she was in love.

She tried to explain to him what her life had been.

‘As a child I was married to old William Marshal. It had to be, because they were afraid he would go over to the French. I was only a child. After the ceremony he went away to Ireland.’

‘Poor little girl!’

‘I stayed in the palace with my sister Isabella and our old nurse Margaret Biset. Isabella is an empress now and Margaret is with her.’

‘They will find a husband for you.’

‘I will not take him … unless he is of my choice.’

‘Ah, when the moment comes shall you be strong enough, think you?’

‘I know I shall be strong enough.’

‘Kings, archbishops, barons, lords … they can be very strong.’

‘I can be strong too. A princess who marries once for state reasons has the right to take her second husband when and from where she pleases.’

‘You think that would be permitted?’

‘I should decide.’

‘Oh, you are a bold princess as well as a beautiful one. You have the qualities I admire most in women – beauty and independence.’

‘I am glad that I please you, my lord.’

‘I hope that the pleasure I find in your company will never give you cause for regret.’

No one had ever talked to her in this way before. She knew that he was telling her he loved her. Was it possible for her to marry a man without a fortune? For he had none and had still to regain his estates. All he had at the moment was a claim to them. What else had he? The King’s friendship; the love of the King’s sister.

And yet because he was Simon de Montfort it seemed that he had a power within him to accomplish what would have been impossible in another man.

She wondered what Henry would say and do if she told him that she wished to marry Simon de Montfort.

Henry would be more inclined to be lenient now because he had a bride of his own. This time he had actually achieved marriage and there was a queen at court. Eleanor – named as she was – was very young and very beautiful and had come from Provence to be Henry’s queen. She was a little spoilt and petulant, demanding her own way, but Henry was so delighted to have a bride and so enchanted by her beauty that he had mellowed considerably and because of this would have some understanding and sympathy for his sister.

It was when they were in the forest and had evaded the rest of the party – a habit which was becoming too frequent not to go unnoticed – that Simon broached the subject.

There could not be many men at court who would dare suggest marriage to a princess, but Simon of course was no ordinary man. He had complete confidence in himself. He was going to make his mark in the world. He was so distinguished. That was clear to himself and Eleanor. So he could therefore do what other men would never dare to.

He said: ‘You know that I love you.’

She was too forthright to pretend. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know it.’

‘And you love me,’ he stated; nor did she deny it.

‘When people love as we do there is one thing they must do, and that is marry. Do you agree with me?’

‘I do,’ she answered.

‘What then?’ he asked.

‘We should marry.’

‘Would you be ready to, Eleanor?’

She held out her hand and he took it. How his eyes gleamed. He was looking to the future.

‘Then one thing is certain,’ he said. ‘We shall marry.’

‘That is certain,’ she agreed.

‘How I love you!’ he said. ‘You and I were meant for each other. We are bold, are we not? Ready to take what we want from life?’