Виктория Холт - The Queen from Provence

Henry took a tender farewell of them all and it was most touching when it came to Edward’s turn to embrace his father, for the boy broke down into bitter weeping.

‘Edward my dear son,’ cried the King, ‘you must not. You unnerve me.’

‘My place is with you, father,’ said Edward. ‘I want to fight beside you … to protect you … I want to make sure that you are safe.’

‘Oh my son,’ said the King, ‘this is the happiest and saddest moment of my life. Beloved boy, take care of your mother. I leave her in your hands. Soon we shall be together. Rest assured that at the earliest moment I shall send for you.’

They stood there watching the ship sail.

The King was on the deck, his eyes fixed on his family. He told himself that he would carry the memory of Edward’s tears to his grave.

* * *

The Queen was compensated for the loss of her husband by the Regency. Power was hers. She had often secretly thought that Henry was too lenient with his subjects and did not exert his royal power enough. It was true the people groaned under taxation but as she said to Sanchia, they must have had the money otherwise they would not have been able to pay it.

Sanchia agreed. She was happy to be in England and to settle under the domination of her elder sister just as she had as a child. She now had a little boy, Edmund. Her firstborn had died a few months after his birth but Edmund was a sturdy child. Richard was devoted to him but she suspected none could compare with his son by his first wife, Isabella. Henry was indeed a noble boy and a great friend of the heir to the throne. He and Edward went everywhere together.

Sanchia worried a little about the Queen’s unpopularity which was manifested every time they rode out into the streets. They were accustomed to sullen looks but now and then there would be a hostile cry and when the guards looked for the offenders they could never find them. Sometimes Sanchia wondered if they tried very hard. She had an uneasy feeling that they did not like the Queen very much either.

Richard had said once or twice that much of the unpopularity directed against the King was due to the Queen.

‘One of these days …’ he began.

But Sanchia laughed. ‘Eleanor always had her own way when we were children. She will continue to get it all her life.’

Richard was uneasy. He had been annoyed when Henry had bestowed Gascony on young Edward. That seemed a stupid thing to do. Edward was after all only thirteen. How much more sensible it would have been to bestow it on him, Richard. The quarrel with de Montfort was stupid also. There was a man Henry should have kept on his side.

Now Richard was co-Regent with the Queen and his main task was to keep Henry supplied with arms and money which he needed for the campaign – not an enviable task for it meant imposing taxes and that was about the most unpopular thing a ruler could do.

Richard had momentary bouts of an undefined illness. He had no idea what is was – nor had the doctors, but every now and then he would be overcome by such lethargy that he did not care to bestir himself. It would pass and his old energy would be back with him.

At this time he did not feel inclined to support Simon de Montfort although his common sense told him he should be on the side of his brother-in-law. Now he should take a firm hand with the Queen and explain to her the mood of the country. Sanchia could not see it any more than the Queen could. They seemed to have the idea that anything that their family did must be right. Eleanor was supreme – the one they all bowed to. They appeared to think that any injustice Eleanor cared to impose would pass simply because Eleanor had imposed it.

There will be trouble, thought Richard. People will be taking sides.

And which shall I be on? Before his marriage there could have been no doubt. The barons had looked to him then but he believed that now they had their eyes on Simon de Montfort.

The King was writing from Gascony. He was finding the task of subduing the Gascons almost impossible. Gaston de Bearn was a traitor. He was trying to get Alfonso of Castile as his ally. ‘If he does,’ wrote the King, ‘that could be disaster. I have sent to Simon de Montfort, who knows the country and the people, and commanded him to come to my aid.’

Richard shook his head.

Henry would never be a great soldier. He would never be a great King.

But if Simon de Montfort was ready to forget his grievances and help the King, there was a hope of victory.

* * *

The hatred between the Queen and the citizens of London was mutual. She must raise money. The King needed money for his campaign. She needed money for her wardrobe and household expenses. There was never enough money, but the merchants of London knew how to make it.

First of all she revived the aurum reginae – the Queengold which was a percentage of the fines which had been paid to the kings for their good will. This had been reasonable enough in small sums, but as the King had inflicted heavy fines to pay for his campaign abroad, the citizens were furious when Eleanor demanded a payment on these.

The citizens stood firm. They would not pay. Eleanor imperiously ordered that the sheriffs should be sent to the Marshalsea Prison.

A deputation presented itself to Richard of Cornwall. The Queen must be told that the City of London was separate from the rest of the kingdom. It had its own laws and dignities and it would not submit to the Queen’s orders. The sheriffs should be released at once or the entire city would rise up and free them. It would not see its ancient privileges swept away by foreigners.

Richard talked to the Queen.

‘You must understand,’ he said, ‘that the City stands apart. If you offend the City you have a strong enemy at your throat. Queen Matilda was never crowned Queen of England but she might well have been if she had not offended the City of London.’

‘So I must release these men?’

‘You must indeed and without delay. If you do not the City will be on the march. Heaven knows where that would end. Henry would be overcome with anxiety, for the country would be in danger and so would you.’

‘It angers me to give way to them.’

‘There are times, Eleanor, when we all have to give way.’

She saw his point and trouble was averted.

But the Londoners’ hatred of the Queen was intensified, and even when she gave birth to her child at Westminster it did not abate. The baby was a little girl and because she was born on St Katharine’s Day the Queen called her Katharine.

* * *

There was a letter from Henry.

Simon de Montfort had come to his aid and he had subdued Gascony. One of the reasons for this was that he had formed a new ally in Alfonso of Castile.

It had been necessary to cultivate this friendship, for if he had not done so Gaston de Bearn would have made Alfonso his friend. Gaston had promised Alfonso lands and castles but Henry had been able to offer more.

‘It is time our son had a wife,’ he wrote. ‘Oh, he is young yet but this was necessary if I was going to hold Gascony. I know you will agree with me, my dearest wife, when I tell you that there was nothing to be done but to agree to a betrothal between him and the half-sister of Alfonso of Castile. She is a beautiful girl. Her father was Ferdinand III and her mother that Joanna of Pontheiu whom I thought I would marry until I knew of the existence of the only Queen for me. She is very young and docile. I think she will suit Edward very well. I hope you will be pleased but remember it was this betrothal or the loss of Gascony. Alfonso insists that Edward comes out here and marries her. He will not hear of her coming to England until after the ceremony. I have agreed to his request. Now, my dearest, it is for you to tell Edward what I have arranged for him and to bring him out here. How I long to see you.’

Eleanor was excited. Katharine was old enough to be safely left. She would take the other children with her. How she wished Margaret was with them. She was a little uneasy about Margaret and yearned for news of her. Scotland was so far away and by all accounts a cold and desolate country. Sanchia should come too. How wonderful it would be if they could travel to Provence and see her mother, or to the Court of France.

It was exciting. She needed new gowns … beautiful gowns. Henry would expect her to look magnificent and she must not fail him. Foreigners must never say the Queen of England lacked the money to buy herself fine clothes.

To be with Henry again. How delighted the family would be! But she was selfish, keeping the news to herself. She would go and tell them all that they were going to join their father.

There was of course a little more to tell Edward.

He was to have a wife as well.

Edward was now fifteen years old. Lusty, healthy, he was a natural leader. That had been obvious from the time he was five years old. He it was who had taken on the role among his playmates. His cousin Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, was a brave boy who excelled at all sport, but he was more thoughtful than Edward, more fond of his books. Edward could have been a scholar; he had the ability to learn and did to a certain extent, but there was so much out of doors to tempt him. He wanted to ride the fastest, to shoot an arrow farther than anyone else; his falcons must be the best. He must devise the games they played and take the principal part.