I demanded to know in whose name they dared obstruct us. Then a man rode up to me. He was obviously the leader—a very handsome, elegant person. He bowed low and said that he was Hugh le Brun de Lusignan and he would offer me hospitality for the night.

I thanked him and said I had a long journey before me and I must ride on.

He smiled at me in a rather impish fashion and said: “My lady, I am afraid you have no choice. I shall insist on giving you the comforts due to your royal person.”

With horror I realized that he intended to abduct me.

This would be for a different motive than in the past. They were not now attempting to force me into marriage. This would doubtless mean ransom. I looked around at my retinue. We were in no position to repulse them. We had been foolish to ride into Lusignan country without sufficient protection. I saw there was no help for it. To my fury I was forced to ride beside my abductor, Hugh le Brun, to his castle.

There I was housed in the finest apartments. He was determined to treat me with the utmost respect. At the table he insisted on serving me himself.

I said: “You are a bold man, Hugh le Brun. Has it occurred to you that, though you have the advantage now, it will not always be so?”

“I wish your ladyship no harm.”

“Then why behave in this uncouth manner?”

“Because I wish myself much good.”

“You mean you will demand a ransom. Since King Richard was held by his jealous enemies there have been those who have developed a taste for this sort of thing. Do you intend to ask a ransom from my son the King?”

“No, my lady, from you.”

“Then you had better tell me.”

“What I want is the county of La Marche.”

I was astounded by his impudence. Henry had seized La Marche from the Lusignans some years earlier. Richard had fortified it. It was an important stretch of land.

“You are talking nonsense.”

Hugh le Brun lifted his shoulders and smiled. “It seems that Your Ladyship likes my castle.”

“I find little to admire in its owner.”

“Perhaps time will change my lady’s views.”

“I believe that would only strengthen my dislike.”

“Then it is a pity, for if you do not give me La Marche you will be here a very long time.”

I was dismayed. I lay awake at night thinking of the implication of this. How should I reach Castile? What would happen to the match I so desired? One must settle this matter quickly for when matrimonial arrangements are allowed to hang fire they have a way of evaporating.

I was frustrated and angry. For two days I fumed against Hugh while he remained charming and unmoved.

At length I saw that I could be here for a very long time unless I gave way to his demands. So, cursing the fate which had brought me into Lusignan country, deploring the wily tactics of my kidnappers, while admiring them, I began to see that the difficulties of freeing me in the long run would be more costly than giving up La Marche.

So at length I agreed.

Hugh le Brun took, as he said, a reluctant farewell of me when the transaction was made; and thinking regretfully of what the incident had cost me, I continued my journey.

Everything seemed worthwhile when I arrived in Castile. I was enchanted with my daughter Eleanor. She was beautiful still, even though she had borne eleven children. Hers had been a successful marriage. She was one of those women almost certain to enjoy a happy marriage providing her husband is not a monster. Her nature was gentle, kindly, while she herself was highly intelligent and accomplished. She was the perfect wife and mother.

When I had spent a few moments with her, I thought what a tragedy it was that we had lived so much of our lives apart.

The Court of Castile reminded me of that long-ago one over which my grandfather and father had reigned. Everything was comfortable and elegant. It was wonderful to hear the troubadours again; to be with my daughter was such a pleasure that I felt happy as I had not thought to be ever again after Richard’s death.

We talked of the old days when she with the others had been in the nursery. She told me how the children had looked forward to my visits. They had all sought to win my favor, she told me, for they had loved me dearly even though they were a little afraid of me. They had not loved their father and as soon as they sensed—as children do—that there was trouble between us they were all prepared to defend me, and hated him the more ... all except Geoffrey the Bastard, who thought his father was the most wonderful being on Earth.

It brought it all back ... incidents which I had forgotten. I was back there in the nurseries when they were all about me ... my dear children ... and towering above them all, my golden boy, my Richard, whom I should never see again.

Then there were my granddaughters—the purpose of my visit. The eldest, Berengaria, was already spoken for. She was affianced to the King of Leon. The next was Urraca and then came Blanca.

I studied them intently—two beautiful and enchanting girls.

I said to my daughter: “This is a great opportunity. There could scarcely be a better match than the future King of France.”

My daughter replied: “I have spoken to Urraca and told her what a wonderful match this is and that she is the luckiest girl in the world for one day she will be Queen of France.”

“You have a family to be proud of,” I told my daughter. “What great good children can bring us ... and what sorrow.”

“Dearest Mother, life has been cruel to you.”

“When Richard went, I thought I had nothing to live for.”

“I know he was always your favorite. In the nursery we thought it was natural that this should be so. There was something magnificent about Richard.”

I could scarcely bear to speak his name, and she knew it and reproached herself for reminding me, but I told her she was not the one who had reminded me, for he was always in my thoughts.

“I am so happy to be with you, my dear,” I said. “I think of all my children you have been the most fortunate.”

“I have a good husband. We live happily here in Castile. And then there are the children, of course.”

“I want to get to know them well while I am here. It might be that I shall never see them again.”

“Dear Mother, you must visit us and next time stay ... stay a long time.”

“The years are creeping up on me. Sometimes it is hard to remember how old I am.”

“Then forget it, for, dear Mother, you can never be old.”

“Ah, if only that were true.”

So the days passed and I spent hours with my granddaughters.

Urraca was a charming girl, but it was Blanca in whom I was more interested.

Blanca was beautiful—not more so than her sister, but she glowed with an inner light. Was it intelligence or character? I was not sure. All I knew was that Blanca had some special quality. There was a determination in her nature, an alertness; she loved music, and she was quick to reply in discussion and very often right on the point. Perhaps I am a vain old woman but I thought I saw something of myself in Blanca; and as the days passed I began to realize that she was the one I must take with me as the future Queen of France.

It was difficult explaining to her parents. They had planned that it should be Urraca. They had prepared her for the part she must play. They had impressed on her what a great honor it was to be chosen. There could be few such grand titles as Queen of France in the whole world.

But in my heart I knew it had to be Blanca.

I broached the matter with my daughter.

“It will have to be Blanca, you know,” I said. Eleanor looked at me in astonishment.

“She has all the qualities,” I went on.

“For what, dear Mother?”

“For marriage with Louis of France.” My daughter was silent with shock.

“I know,” I went on, “that we have thought of Urraca, but I am convinced it will have to be Blanca.”

“But we cannot change now.”

“Why not? I am to take back one of my granddaughters, and I say that one must be Blanca.”

“What of Urraca? She is the elder.”

“You will find a good husband for her, particularly if her sister is to be the future Queen of France.”

“Dear Mother, for what reason?”

It was difficult to explain. I supposed she loved both her daughters dearly and perhaps could not see the bright jewel she had in Blanca.

I sought to explain. It was not that there was anything wrong with Urraca. It was just that Blanca was endowed with very special qualities ... a strength which I recognized clearly, as I had it myself, courage, resourcefulness. I said: “The French would never like a woman called Urraca.” My daughter looked at me disbelievingly.

I elaborated the theme. “No. They would never get used to it. She would be a foreigner to them all her life.”

“You mean because of her name ...”

“Whereas Blanca,” I said, “...that will become Blanche. That is a very beautiful name. The French will love it. My dear, don’t look so taken aback. One of your daughters will be Queen of France. What does it matter which one?”

“Blanca,” she murmured. “I hadn’t thought of Blanca. She is younger than Urraca.”

“That is no obstacle. She is twelve, is she not? Old enough to go to her future husband. I shall take Blanca.”

My daughter was silent. She remembered from the old days that people did not argue with me. When I said something should be so, it was.

The girls were amazed, of course. Urraca, who had been very apprehensive about going to France, was now dismayed because she was not going. Blanca was surprised, but she took the announcement as I knew she would. She hated to displace her sister but could not fail to be excited by the brilliant prospect which was opening before her.