Виктория Холт - The Battle of the Queens

‘All the more reason why they should.’

‘Do you think Isabella will allow Hugh to pay that homage?’

‘If we are watchful, yes,’ said Blanche.

Louis looked quizzically at his mother and she said, ‘Our man from Rochelle is a good servant to us.’

It was while Isabella had gone to her castle of Angoulême that the summons appeared for Hugh to attend the court at Saumur in order to pay the homage required of him by his suzerain Alphonse.

Hugh could not but be relieved that Isabella was away. He knew that she would have been furious at the summons, but as a law-abiding man and one who had been brought up to study his honour and to do without question what was demanded of him in that respect, he realised that he should in duty bound obey the summons.

When Isabella was not there he could reason with himself. She was wrong, but he understood her anger. She was the Queen Mother of England and as such the equal of the Queen Mother of France, and it was humiliating for her to have to play a humble part in France. He could not imagine his life without Isabella. It had been empty of excitement before he had married her. He never regretted for one moment that marriage. Violent scenes there were, but there always would be where Isabella was. He was a man of peace, but he was only half alive without her; and the truth was he could not live without her. Virago she might be, but she was, to him, the most attractive woman in the world.

And now this summons. He knew he should obey it. It was his duty to. Isabella would be enraged. He would have to try to explain to her that it was his duty to pay homage to his liege-lord and even if he did think the title should not have been bestowed on Alphonse, it would be tantamount to an act of war to refuse to pay homage.

Through years of living with Isabella he had learned that if something should be done it was better to do it first and suffer for it afterwards, for not to do it would mean that he would be persuaded against his judgment; and in this case such an act could plunge him into a war for which he was not ready.

After a good deal of consideration he rode to Saumur and there paid homage to Alphonse.

There was no doubt that Louis and his mother were pleased to see him. They had been afraid that he would not come, but thanks to the man from Rochelle, the summons had been sent when Isabella was absent, which had meant that the sober Hugh had made his own decision, which, of course, was the right one.

Hugh took part in the jousts and tourneys and even though he was no longer young, carried himself through with skill and dignity.

If he had never married Isabella, thought Blanche, how much happier we should all have been. Isabella would have remained in England to plague her son – which would have been good for us too. Alas! But at least we have outwitted her this time.

When the royal party left, Hugh was with them and as they passed through Lusignan, it was natural that they should stay at the castle there.

With what trepidation Hugh had led them through the gates.

Blanche had caught sight of the man from Rochelle among those who came out to pay their respects to the King.

The Lady Isabella was not in the castle, for she had not yet returned from Angoulême.

Blanche was amused. She was indeed scoring over her enemy. And she was showing Hugh how much easier life would be for him without his wife.

There was merriment in the castle. The minstrels sang and there was feasting; and the next day when the royal party left, Hugh rode some way with them to speed them on their way.

* * *

When he returned to the castle he was dismayed, for Isabella had returned and discovered that not only had Hugh been to Saumur to pay homage to Alphonse, but also that the royal party had stayed in the castle.

Her fury possessed her, and Hugh feared she would do herself an injury.

She – a queen – had been slighted. Her husband had done homage to a mere count and that meant that she must take second place to his wife … a countess when she was a queen. It was unendurable. It was better that she was dead.

She stormed into the castle calling to her servants to do her bidding. The furnishings of those rooms which had been put at the service of the royal party must be torn down and thrown out. Everything they had used must follow. She stood in the midst of the turmoil, her hair unbound – for it had escaped from her head-dress – and fell about her shoulders in glorious confusion. The colour flamed into her cheeks seeming to add to the depth and beauty of her violet eyes. Even the humblest servant was impressed, though conscious that her fascination flowed from something evil.

‘My love,’ cried Hugh, ‘what do you intend to do with these things? If you need them at Angoulême I can buy more …’

‘Out of my way,’ she cried. ‘I want nothing of one who so demeans himself and me.’

‘Tell me,’ wailed Hugh. ‘Tell me what you wish.’

‘I wish this,’ she shouted, ‘that I had never come here to be insulted thus.’

She leaped on to her horse and casting a disgusted look at the goods which had been thrown out, she galloped off.

Hugh was bewildered. Two of his sons, Hugh and Guy, came to join him.

‘She will have gone back to Angoulême,’ said young Hugh.

‘I do not understand …’ began his father.

‘She was in a fine fury when she knew what had happened. She said she would go back to Angoulême.’

Hugh sighed and ordered the servants to carry the furnishings back into the castle and set them up in their old places.

Then he went sorrowfully into the castle.

He tried to explain to his sons. ‘There was nothing else I could do. I was duty bound to pay homage to the Count of Poitiers. Honour demands it of me.’

His sons agreed with him.

But that was small comfort. The quiet of the castle was unendurable to them all.

‘I must bring her back to us,’ said Hugh.

So he set out for the castle of Angoulême.

* * *

The castle was barred against him.

‘My lord,’ said the man at arms, ‘my lady has given orders that none shall be let in … and especially you, my lord.’

Some men might have forced their way in and subdued her. Not Hugh. He was overcome with sorrow. He heartily wished that he had refused to pay homage to Alphonse. It would have been an act of war, but anything was better than that Isabella should leave him.

He asked one of her servants to tell Isabella that her husband was at the gates humbly begging to see her.

The answer came back: ‘My lady will not receive you, my lord.’

Miserably he waited outside the castle until night fell and then he had no recourse but to take a lodging in the Knights Templars’ Hostel which was close by.

The next day he was back at the castle. More messages were sent in and more refusals brought out.

It was three days before she consented to see him.

She stood in the hall, her beautiful hair unbound; her gown of soft blue velvet open at the throat to show her magnificent bosom across which her white hands were folded almost symbolically as though she were withholding herself from him.

‘Well, my lord,’ she cried.

‘My dearest wife …’

‘Nay,’ she interrupted. ‘Not your dearest wife. You cannot count me so. I am not dear to you. Have you not allowed me to be humiliated … insulted …’

‘Nay, ’tis not so. I would never allow that.’

‘But you have. You have bowed the knee to my enemies.’

‘I will do everything you ask of me. Only listen, Isabella. Come back to me …’

She looked at him from under the thick dark lashes. ‘Well, she said, ‘you will listen to reason then? And let me tell you this, Hugh: if you do not do as I wish I shall never lie beside you again. I will not suffer you in my sight.’

‘Do not say such things. You are my wife. You know my feelings for you.’

‘At this time I know that you have betrayed me. You will have to show me that you have some concern for me.’

‘You are my concern … you are my life …’

She laid her hand on his arm, her expression softened.

‘So thought I,’ she said. ‘But that woman came … that Spanish woman. I wish she would come back to my castle. I would see that she never left it. I would deliver her such a draught which would send her writhing in agony … and this should be long lasting that she might not die easy.’

‘Isabella, have a care …’

She laughed loudly. ‘Poor frightened Hugh! I tell you this: you will have no need of fear if you listen to me. We are going to regain that which has been taken from us. We are going to have Spanish Blanche on her knees begging before us …’

‘Isabella, let us plan carefully … quietly …’

She looked at him with shining eyes.

‘So you will do as I wish, Hugh?’

‘I will do anything for you,’ he answered. ‘The only thing I cannot bear is that we should be apart.’

Gently she touched his cheek.

‘I knew you would come to me, Hugh. I knew you would help me to revenge.’

* * *

Together they rode back to Lusignan. The first plan was to gather together all those barons who were hostile to France.

They would invite them to the castle and lay their plans.

Isabella had an idea which she had decided she would not set before them. In time they would realise that she was more capable of bringing about the defeat of the French than any of them. This was her quarrel. This was obvious when the humiliating subservience of Hugh was considered. As she saw it – two women rode at the head of their forces – one was the Dowager Queen of France and the other of England. Blanche was her enemy. Blanche was the one she wished to see brought low. Blanche who had hated her but not as much as she hated Blanche. Blanche who had contrived to make Hugh bend the knee to her son – and not even her first-born – by bestowing the Poitiers title on him and thus setting him above the Count and Countess of La Marche.