The girls stood very still. Visitors to the castle always provided some excitement. There would be special feasting in the great hall which the girls would be able to attend; they would join in the singing and music though if the carousing went on into the night they would be sent to their chambers. Visitors were a great event in their lives and one to which they all looked forward.

‘They come from the Court of France,’ said Eleanor.

‘How do you know?’ asked little Beatrice admiringly.

‘Look at the standard. The golden lilies. That means France.’

‘Then they must be important,’ added Marguerite.

Eleanor was thinking of what she would wear. She had a gown of silk with a tight-fitting bodice and long trailing skirt; the sleeves were fashionable, tight to the wrists where they widened so much that the trailing cuffs reached to the hem of her skirt. These cuffs were decorated with the silk woven embroidery which she herself had worked with the aid of her sisters. It was a most becoming gown. Her mother had given her a girdle which was decorated with chalcedony, that stone which was said to bring power and health to those who possessed it.

She would wear her thick dark hair in two plaits and would refuse to cover it with either wimple or barbette which she had said to Marguerite were for older women or those who had not the luxuriant hair possessed by the sisters.

‘We shall soon hear doubtless,’ said Sanchia. ‘I wonder why they come?’

‘I trust it is not war,’ said little Beatrice, who had already learned that trouble in the neighbourhood could take their father away from them and make their mother anxious, and so disturb the peace of Les Baux.

‘We shall soon know,’ said Marguerite, putting aside her needlework.

‘Should we not wait in the schoolroom until we are summoned?’ asked Sanchia.

‘Nay,’ retorted Eleanor. ‘What if we were summoned to greet the visitors. I would be ready.’

It was significant that the younger girls looked to Eleanor rather than Marguerite for directions.

‘Come,’ said the forceful sister, ‘let us prepare.’


* * *

The visitors were led by Giles de Flagy who had come from Queen Blanche on a special mission.

When he heard what that mission was Raymond Berenger could scarcely believe his ears. It seemed that Romeo de Villeneuve was indeed a magician. Could it really be that the Queen of France was seeking a daughter of the Count of Provence to marry her son?

In the Count’s private apartments Giles de Flagy discussed the matter with the Count, the Countess and Romeo de Villeneuve.

The Queen Mother of France had heard much of the excellence of the Count’s daughters. She was well aware of the Count’s financial difficulties, but she had decided that these were not of major importance. The Count’s daughters were beautiful and had been well educated. These were the qualities she would look for in a Queen of France, and the last was of particular importance.

Louis IX was twenty years of age. It was time he married and Blanche had decided that the daughter of the Count of Provence might suit him very well. Terms of the marriage could be gone into later, but the Queen was eager that not too much time should be lost. She understood the Count’s eldest daughter was thirteen years old – young but marriageable. The King of France was a young man of immense ability. He would not want a foolish wife; and the Queen believed that if a girl was to be trained to be a great Queen the training in the royal household could not begin too soon.

Giles de Flagy hoped he would have an opportunity of meeting the Count’s daughters during his brief stay at Les Baux.

The Count and Countess, beside themselves with excitement, assured him that he should see the girls.

It was the Countess who sent for the two eldest, and Marguerite and Eleanor, deeply conscious of the air of tension throughout the castle, eagerly obeyed the summons.

‘We have a very important visitor,’ began the Countess.

‘From France,’ interrupted Eleanor. ‘I saw the lilies on the standard.’

The Countess nodded. ‘You girls will be presented to him when we sup tonight. I want you to look your best, and to behave with your best manners.’

Eleanor looked reproachful. ‘Of a certainty we shall,’ she said reprovingly.

‘My dear child,’ said her mother firmly, ‘I know it well. But this is a very important visitor and perhaps on this night it would be better for you to remain a little subdued. Speak only when spoken to.’

Eleanor lifted her shoulders in a gesture of resignation and the Countess turned from her to her eldest daughter.

‘Now Marguerite, be discreet but ready with your answer should the conversation come your way. Be unobtrusive and yet at the same time …’

Eleanor burst out: ‘Oh dear lady, what would you have us be … ourselves or puppets performing in a show?’

‘Perhaps I am wrong,’ said the Countess. ‘I should leave you to be your natural selves. But understand me. I do want you to make a good impression on the ambassador of the King of France. Now shall we decide what you shall wear?’

‘I have already decided on my blue and my girdle with the chalcedony,’ said Eleanor.

The Countess nodded. ‘A good choice. It becomes you well. And Marguerite?’

‘Oh my grey and purple gown with my silver girdle.’

The Countess nodded. ‘And I shall give you a diamond ring to wear, Marguerite. It will look well with the grey and purple.’

‘A diamond!’ cried Eleanor. ‘Diamonds are said to protect people from their enemies. What enemies have you, Marguerite?’

‘None that I am aware of.’

The Countess seemed suddenly overcome by emotion as she looked fondly at her eldest daughter. ‘I pray you never will have, but if you attain to a high position in the world there would assuredly be those who would not wish you well.’

‘Is that why you are giving her a diamond?’ asked Eleanor.

‘I give it to her because it will become her. She has pretty hands.’

Eleanor looked at her own which were equally pretty. Why should Marguerite be especially selected? Was it because she was the eldest?

Thirteen! It was a great age and she was but eleven. Could it really be that the ambassador from France had come with some proposition for Marguerite?

Later it became clear that this was the case. Although they were both presented to Giles de Flagy it was on Marguerite that his eyes lingered.

Eleanor could not help feeling somewhat piqued, particularly when she was not even asked to read her latest poem.

Giles de Flagy rode away but the object of his visit and its success was soon made clear.

The Count and Countess came to the schoolroom where the girls were working. Eleanor knew what it meant because their expression betrayed their feelings. There was pride, elation, wonder which showed that they scarcely believed what was happening to them and at the same time there was sorrow and regret.

The girls all rose and curtsied.

The Count came forward and took Marguerite by the hand.

‘My dearest child,’ he said, ‘the greatest good fortune has come to you. You are to be the Queen of France.’

‘Does it mean Marguerite will go away?’ asked Beatrice, her face beginning to pucker.

Her mother drew the child to her and held her against her skirts.

‘You will understand what this means in time, my child,’ she said.

The Count went on. ‘I would never have believed this could happen. King Louis is a young man of great qualities; he is clever, kind and good, determined to rule his country well. And he has decided that he will marry our Marguerite. My child, you must never cease to thank Heaven for your good fortune.’

Sanchia was watching Eleanor for her cue. Beatrice was clearly miserable at the thought of her sister’s leaving them. Eleanor kept her eyes to the ground. This was the greatest honour which could befall them and it had come to Marguerite, not because she was more clever or more beautiful – she was neither – but simply because she was the eldest.

Marguerite herself was bewildered. She knew that she should be grateful. She was aware of the great honour done to her but at the same time it frightened her.

For thirteen years she had lived in the shelter of her parents’ love. Now she was to leave that to go to … she knew not what. To a great King who would be her husband. She looked at Eleanor, but Eleanor would not meet her gaze lest she betray the envy she was feeling.

It is only because she is older, was the thought which kept going round and round in her head.

‘You will be very happy, I know it,’ said the Countess. ‘Queen Blanche will be a mother to you and you will be under the protection of a great King. Now why are we looking so glum? We should all be rejoicing.’

‘I don’t want Marguerite to go away,’ said Beatrice.

‘No, my dear child, nor do any of us. But you see her husband will want her with him and he has first claim.’

‘Let him come here,’ suggested Beatrice smiling suddenly.

‘That could not be, baby. He has a kingdom to govern.’

‘We would help him.’

The Countess laughed and ruffled Beatrice’s hair. ‘We are going to have a great deal to do, Marguerite, I want you to come with me now. We must discuss your clothes and I shall have much to tell you.’

The Count said: ‘This is indeed a happy day for us. It is like a miracle. I should never have believed it possible.’

Eleanor raised her eyes and said: ‘I have written a poem.’

‘That is good,’ said her father.