Blanche withdrew her disapproval. She had long before known that this son of hers was a king who would have a great effect on his country.

He had a few of the weaknesses of young men – including a fondness for the opposite sex – and she decided that it would be a good idea to get him married early, and when she suggested this to him, he raised no objection.

It was not difficult to find a bride for the King of France; and when Blanche selected a princess who was said to have received the best of educations and was also noted for her beauty, Louis agreed to be married without delay.

So Marguerite of Provence became Queen of France, and the two young people took to each other, and when Louis had a wife he settled down at once to a sober domesticity. No more amatory adventures. No more extravagant clothes; he began to dress with the utmost simplicity; he became more reflective. He confessed to his mother that he had two great missions in life: to rule France well and at some time, when it was safe to leave the country, to go on a crusade to the Holy Land.

Blanche replied that ruling the country was his first duty and she believed that most kings found it a lifetime’s work.

He agreed but she could see the dreams in his eyes and she wondered whether he was not a little too serious. She wondered too whether he was growing away from her.

He was completely content in his marriage and Blanche, who had believed her son’s welfare was her ultimate desire, surprised herself at her growing resentment. She loved this son of hers too much, perhaps. Of course she wanted his happiness, but she could not bear to lose him. Yet, as his wife passed out of her girlhood he took her more and more into his confidence; and it seemed to Blanche that, even apart from this, they had little domestic secrets in which she had no share.

For the first time in her life Blanche felt alone. Her husband had loved her dearly and greatly respected her. She had helped him make decisions; she had ruled with him; and on his death she had ruled for Louis and then with him; and now this little girl from Provence was slowly but surely ousting her from her position. It was becoming Louis and his wife Marguerite – not Louis and Blanche his mother.

Because she was fundamentally wise, Blanche reasoned with herself. It was not an unusual situation. Mothers who had greatly loved their sons frequently resented their sons’ wives. The fact that, in their case, this meant a shifting of power made the situation even harder to bear.

Marguerite became pregnant and there was great rejoicing throughout the court. Blanche took charge and would not allow her to accompany the King on some of his journeys.

‘I shall be with him, my child,’ she told Marguerite. ‘It is for you to rest. You must take great care of yourself.’

Louis knew what was happening. He and Blanche had been so close that he understood her thoughts completely. He loved her dearly; he was appreciative of all she had done for him; but she would have to understand that his wife must come first with him. It was something to which he would have to bring her in time, but he would do it gently, for he had no wish to hurt Blanche, for whom he had such love and respect.

Moreover Marguerite was made very unhappy by Blanche’s treatment of her. Like most people she was decidedly in awe of Blanche and had tried hard in the beginning to win her approval. She saw that this was useless for the Queen Mother had no intention of allowing intrusion and could not bear to share her son with anyone.

So alarmed was Marguerite by her formidable mother-in-law that she warned her servants to let her know when Blanche was approaching so that she might have time to escape. Even Louis resorted to this subterfuge; and matters grew worse, for when Blanche was under the same roof, she made it difficult for the royal pair to be together at all.

Blanche was aware of her selfishness and hated herself for it, but she could not bear to relinquish her hold on her son. She realised that beyond anyone she loved this son; and never had she cared for any as she cared for him. To such an extent had her obsession grown that she could not endure it when his attention strayed from her; she wanted him all to herself; and gradually she had begun to look on his love for his wife as the biggest threat to her happiness.

Often she asked herself if she would have wanted him to have had an unhappy marriage. Of course she would not. What she wanted was for him to have married a nonentity, a silly pretty little wife who was good for nothing but bearing children. It had been a mistake to choose one of the most educated princesses in Europe.

In due course, Marguerite gave birth to a sickly child who died soon after and the Queen herself came near to death. Louis remained at her bedside, so much to his mother’s chagrin that she came to the sick room and told him how much it grieved her to see him stay there. ‘You can do no good, my son, by remaining here,’ she insisted.

Louis stood up and as he did so, Marguerite opened her eyes and looking full at Blanche said with unusual spirit: ‘Alas, neither dead nor alive will you let me see my lord.’

She had half raised herself in her bed and as she spoke these words she fell back, her face ashen pale, her eyes closed, and she appeared to have stopped breathing.

There was intense horror in that room. Louis fell on to his knees at the bedside and said quietly: ‘Marguerite, come back to me … I swear that we shall be together … if only you will come back.’

In those moments, when it seemed that the Queen of France was dead, Blanche suffered an overwhelming remorse.

She could not bear the sight of her weeping son kneeling by his wife’s bedside; she could not bear to think of what the future would be if Marguerite died.

She came to the bed. ‘Glory to God,’ she whispered, for Marguerite was still breathing.

‘She has fainted merely,’ she cried. ‘Go to the doctors, Louis. Bring them quickly. We will save her yet.’

And they did. During her convalescence it was Blanche who insisted that Louis should be with her. ‘Give me grandchildren,’ she told Marguerite, ‘and I shall be content.’

This was as near as she could get to an expression of contrition.

It was a bitter lesson she had learned for she knew that had Marguerite died Louis would never have been close to her again.

She accepted her own selfishness. She faced the truth; she had made him the centre of her life; but she saw now that her love had been selfish. His happiness, his victories were hers, and she must learn to rejoice in his marriage to a wife whom he loved.

Released from her determination to keep her son to herself, she was happier than she had been since his marriage. Marguerite quickly became pregnant again and accepted the new relationship between them with a sweetness which was characteristic of her.

There was so much evidence that Marguerite loved Louis truly, and as a good mother Blanche began to rejoice in their happiness together.

Rumours were coming to court constantly. There were always enemies, and she had never trusted the Lusignans. She talked of them with Louis and Marguerite.

‘Hugh would be a good and loyal vassal,’ she said, ‘but I would never trust Isabella of Angoulême. There is an evil woman.’

‘Hugh is too powerful to be lightly put aside,’ said Louis. ‘He could, if he had a mind to it, stir up great trouble.’

‘He has no mind of his own. That should be our concern. We have to deal with Isabella, and believe me, I know from the past, she is capable of any evil.’

Blanche had always had friends who travelled about the country and reported to her what was happening. Louis knew this and was interested to hear that in Lusignan Isabella made no secret of her determination to take revenge on the King of France and his mother. She greatly resented the desire of Princess Isabella to go into a convent and Alphonse’s marriage had even more infuriated her.

‘I hear that she is stirring up trouble,’ said Blanche.

‘Is that not a perpetual state of affairs?’ asked Louis.

‘Never more than now. I believe the situation is becoming more dangerous there. It is for that reason that I intend to send a man there … He is from Rochelle. He has no reason to love them and I believe him to be loyal to you. His duty will be to listen and to report what he hears.’

‘Another spy,’ said Louis.

‘Yes,’ replied Blanche, ‘another spy.’


* * *

The French Court had travelled down to Saumur in Anjou. There the King intended to hold a great display. It would be costly and luxurious although such extravagance was alien to his nature, for his mother had impressed upon him the need for this. It was, she had explained, to show not only the wealth of the King of France, but his power.

She admitted that she had been greatly disturbed by the accounts which had been sent to her by the man from Rochelle. There could be no doubt that Isabella of Angoulême was stirring up trouble. She was impressing on Hugh the need to show the Court of France that they could not be flouted. She was in touch with the powerful lords of Saintonge and the Angoumois and impressing on them the need to hold themselves in readiness to take up arms against the King, for it would soon be necessary to do so.

Louis realised this and agreed with his mother.

‘During the ceremonies,’ she said, ‘it would be well for Alphonse to receive the homage of those counts whose suzerain he is.’

‘Which,’ said Louis, ‘will include those who will be none too pleased to do so.’