The Queen from Provence (18 page)

‘I have learned how he so speedily acquired his dispensation. He offered bribes.’

‘Well, ’tis done often enough.’

‘By those who have the means mayhap. Simon does it in your name.’

‘What say you?’ cried the King.

‘Oh, he is your brother-in-law now. He uses your name. He is royal. Has he not been accepted into our family? His son could be an heir to the throne. He is proud of this.’

‘Heir to the throne! How could that be?’

‘A few deaths … That is all.’

‘That’s nonsense. But what is this about using my name?’

‘I can prove it to you. You may well find bills presented to you. It may be that you will be asked to pay for the bribes which gave Simon the dispensation.’

Henry’s face was crimson with anger. His anger was the greater because Richard had brought him this news and once more proved himself to be more cognisant of what was going on than he was himself.

When the King came face to face with Simon de Montfort his fury overwhelmed him and he was quite unable to control it.

Eleanor, beside him, waiting for the ceremony of churching to begin, laid her hand on his arm but for once he was less aware of her than his anger against this man.

Simon had made him look a fool. It was something he could not forgive.

‘You adventurer!’ he cried. ‘How dare you come back here? How dare you come into this church? Do you think I am not aware of what you are? So you have offered bribes, have you? This is how you repay my friendship to you! Where is the money to pay for those bribes? You think I shall pay them, do you?’

‘My lord,’ stammered Simon, taken completely by surprise, for at the baptism of little Prince Edward the King had shown him the utmost friendliness, ‘I understand you not …’

Henry laughed loudly and unpleasantly. The silence in the church was intense but he seemed to be unaware of the place and the unseemliness of conducting this family quarrel at the churching of his wife.

‘Nay, you understand not,’ he cried, and his voice echoed eerily. ‘Take care, Simon de Montfort who call yourself the Earl of Leicester. Yes, take care that that which has been given you may not be taken from you.’

‘Pray tell me, my lord,’ said Simon recovering a little from his surprise and dismay, ‘what tales have you heard? You have been good to me, giving me your sister’s hand in marriage … making a brother of me …’

‘You know why I consented to the marriage,’ interrupted Henry. ‘It was a mésalliance was it not? A Princess, a sister of the King given to a penniless adventurer. Why so? Why so? Many of my barons have asked that question. Now I shall give them the answer. Here in this holy place. You shamed my sister. You seduced her. You made her unfit for marriage to any other man. That is the only reason why I consented to this marriage.’

‘It is a lie,’ shouted Simon.

‘It is no surprise to me that even in a holy place you have little respect for the truth.’

‘It is you …’ began Simon.

His wife was laying a hand on his arm. ‘Let us go,’ she said. ‘Let us not stay here to be insulted.’

‘Yes, go,’ cried Henry. ‘Go … go … and never let me see your face again.’

Henry’s own face was scarlet with rage; his drooping eyelid completely covered the pupil. There was a twitch at the side of his face.

Many barons in the hall were remembering when he had drawn his sword on Hubert de Burgh, who had served him faithfully, and how he might have killed him had not the Earl of Chester stepped between them.

Perhaps it was the Queen who delayed him giving full vent to his anger then. She swayed a little and the thought that she might faint turned Henry’s thoughts momentarily from Simon. He caught her in his arms.

The Princess meanwhile was pulling at her husband’s arm.

‘Come away,’ she said, ‘while there is time.’

Simon turned and strode out of the church, his wife and their few attendants following him.

The ceremony was concluded, but back in the palace the King’s anger flared up again against Simon de Montfort. He knew that he had made an unfair accusation. The man might be an adventurer; he had undoubtedly bribed his way to the dispensation with very little to meet his commitments, but there was no evidence whatsoever that he had seduced Eleanor and Henry knew it. Yet ever since he had been reproached for consenting to the marriage, and even being present at it, he had had to have an excuse for his own conduct. He had fabricated this one and because it seemed a sound enough reason for his giving his consent he had stuck to it and even soothed his vanity by believing it now and then.

Simon made him uneasy, so he hated him; he wanted to be rid of him.

He decided to arrest Simon.

Richard, who had been present at the churching, came immediately to his brother’s apartments.

‘Henry,’ he cried, ‘that was an unpleasant scene in the church.’

‘When we have unpleasant people about us there will be unpleasant scenes,’ retorted Henry.

‘There are many who are saying that it was no place in which to conduct it.’

‘Who says this? Who dares pass judgement on the King?’

‘Brother, subjects have always passed judgement on their kings. What of our father … ?’

‘Pray spare me that. I am sick unto death of having my father’s mantle thrown about my shoulders.’

‘Simon de Montfort could be a dangerous man, Henry.’

‘That I know. That is why I shall have him under restraint.’

‘What of our sister?’

‘She committed the folly of marrying him. She must pay for it.’

‘It will not be wise, Henry.’

‘And who are you, pray, to tell me what is wise and what not wise? They have repaired to the inn where they were staying, I know. I shall give an order to have de Montfort taken to the Tower and that without delay.’

‘Henry, as one who serves you as a subject and a brother, I beg of you do not act rashly.’

Henry turned away impatiently and losing no time Richard made his way to the inn where he knew his sister and brother-in-law were staying.

He found them distraught, discussing the strange conduct of the King.

‘You should lose no time,’ said Richard. ‘Henry is determined to send Simon to the Tower.’

‘His temper gets quite out of control,’ cried Eleanor. ‘I never saw such an unkingly display. He has maligned me. I shall not quickly forgive him for that.’

‘My dear sister, it is not a matter of whether you forgive him or not. If you value your freedom get away immediately. There is a boat on the river now which will take you to the coast. Lose no time. At any minute the King’s guards may be here.’

‘You really think he means what he says …’ asked Simon.

‘He does. He may well relent in time. Remember Hubert de Burgh. Henry’s temper is such that if he feels he has been slighted it breaks into unthinking fury. He has too much power to make it wise to stand in the way of that rage. Come. Be gone. Farewell, sister. I’ll warrant it will not be a long exile.’

He went with them to the boat and took an affectionate farewell of them.

It was just in time. The King’s guards had arrived at the inn.

Henry was secretly relieved that his sister and brother-in-law had escaped; but when they reached France he was mildly uneasy. He had many enemies over there and Simon de Montfort would not easily forget the insults which had been flung at him.

Richard had hinted that it was unwise to make enemies of men such as Simon de Montfort. What was he doing now? Perhaps making contact with the King of France. Well, Louis should be Henry’s friend as his wife was Eleanor’s sister; but he would know, of course, that Henry would one day have to conquer all those possessions which his father had lost. His mother had remarried. He had believed that she and her husband Hugh de Lusignan would have stood for him; but he had been very disappointed in that, for the Queen Mother of France was a wily woman and she had made contracts and treaties which it had been advantageous for his mother and her husband to accept. So Isabella had forgotten her maternal feelings for the sake of advancement; and as she had a large family now from her second marriage she seemed entirely to have forgotten the children she had had by John.

For the moment he was going to forget the harm de Montfort might be doing in France. He was going to revel in his happy home life which now seemed to be dominated by that flaxen-haired wonder in his cradle.

Eleanor came to him in a state of great excitement. With her was a tall handsome stranger.

‘My dearest husband,’ cried Eleanor, ‘my uncle the Count of Flanders has come.’

Henry held out his hands and took those of the newcomer.

‘I have written so much of my happiness here in England that the whole of my family yearns to come here,’ she said.

The King glowed with pleasure and Thomas of Savoy, Count of Flanders, beamed on his niece and her husband. Eleanor had not exaggerated when she had told them how the King doted on her and how he would be ready to extend his generosity to them also.

They must drink wine together; Eleanor must hear all that was happening in Provence. She thought of them often. Dearest Sanchia and Beatrice, their parents. Were they missing her?

Indeed they were, her uncle told her, but their sadness was lightening by the glowing accounts of her life in England and they were happy for her sake. And now that she had her darling Edward her contentment was complete.

‘How are my sisters?’ she asked.

‘They are well and happy.’

‘They have not yet found a husband for Sanchia then?’

‘There is talk of a marriage into France.’

‘But whom would she marry there? One of Louis’ brothers, I dareswear.’

‘Nothing has been settled yet. You two elder girls made the two greatest marriages in Europe. Your father never tires of speaking of it.’

‘And Marguerite?’

‘Happy and well. A little plagued by her mother-in-law, I fancy.’

‘And Louis is very solemn, I believe.’

‘He is a good king and takes his duties seriously.’

‘I confess,’ said Eleanor, to Henry’s delight, ‘that I found him a little too stern. He believes that there is something wrong in fine garments and I daresay that means other pleasures. I am thankful that we do not think that way in England.’

‘Oh, it is easy to see who has made the
happier
marriage.’

And indeed it was, for neither Louis nor Blanche would allow Marguerite’s relations to come to their court to enjoy the pickings.

Louis might be a good husband but lacked the uxorious qualities of Henry. Marguerite was loved but she was not indulged as Eleanor was.

It was soon clear that Henry, seeing his wife’s delight in her newly arrived uncle, was determined to please her more by giving him what pleased him best.

He made a present of five hundred marks and for extra measure gave him a tax on English wool.

Little could have incensed the barons more. In fact at first the necessary seal on the document granting the concession was refused. Henry’s reply was to dismiss the men who had protested.

Having seen his conduct towards Simon de Montfort, they who had demurred decided that it would be better to give way; but although that seemed like an easy victory for the King, the murmurings of discontent had begun again.