The Queen From Provence - Plaidy Jean - Страница 21

‘They went willingly.’

‘Because they knew they must. The English will not have foreigners on this soil, Henry. If you permit it, they will find some means of ridding themselves of you as they did our father.’

‘I wish people would not talk constantly of our father.’

‘He is a lesson to any King … how not to behave. Henry, I stand with you, and I am warning you. Trouble could rise … quickly. Moreover it is about to rise.’

‘Then what must I do?’

‘Get rid of William de Valence.’

‘But he is the Queen’s uncle. She loves him dearly!’

‘I hope she loves you more dearly. The price of keeping William de Valence here could well be your crown.’

‘You talk rashly, Richard.’

‘I talk for your good, brother,’ Richard shrugged his shoulders. ‘You will not heed me. Very well, I have done my duty. You will see what happens. Within a few weeks …’

‘I simply don’t believe it.’

‘No, I am sure you do not. You haven’t noticed the sullen looks of the people … the murmuring … And the barons, I warn you, Henry, are making ready.’

Richard turned and was about to leave when Henry called him back.

The brothers looked at each other steadily and Richard said slowly: ‘Get rid of William de Valence … or there will be war as there was with our father … war between the crown and barons. I have no more to say.’

Henry paced up and down. What could he do? In his heart he knew that Richard was right. He had been aware of the discontent. He had been warned by others. Hubert had hinted but Hubert never said much now. After his persecution he no longer trusted the King. He could imagine what they were saying, what they were doing.

Yet how could he tell Eleanor that her uncle must go? She would weep and entreat and he could not stand out against her tears.

He was saved from this by the appearance of William de Valence himself.

He was alarmed. He had heard rumours. He believed that some of the barons might take him prisoner.

‘I should never allow that,’ cried Henry.

‘No, but they might attempt it all the same.’

‘What will you do?’

‘I shall go back to Savoy. My dear nephew, do not try to persuade me. I can see this is what I must do.’

‘Eleanor will be distressed.’

‘Dear child! Come with me to her apartment. I would speak to you both.’

They went to Eleanor who, when she heard of her uncle’s decision, threw herself into his arms.

‘My dearest child,’ said William, ‘do not grieve. I can see that I am in danger and no good could be served by my staying here. I will go immediately … I shall leave with stealth … disguised perhaps. But I tell you this: ere long I shall be back.’

‘Oh, Henry,’ cried Eleanor, ‘what shall we do without my dearest uncle?’

‘We have each other,’ replied Henry.

‘Ah, my dear children, I rejoice in that. I shall go now … and come back. Then perhaps Henry will have some office in the Church to give me which would be a good reason for my living here. I am determined to come back. This is but a temporary farewell.’

He embraced them both and with some speed left them for his residence.

In a few days many people were delighted to learn that William de Valence had left the country. They were less pleased when it was revealed that he had taken with him all the treasure he had accumulated since he had come to England.

It was a warning. Neither Eleanor nor Henry talked much of it, but it was in their minds. His leniency with her friends and relations, although it pleased her, had the opposite effect on his people, and she had learned enough to know that they must not be too blatantly offended.

It was therefore comforting to turn to more domestic matters.

Henry confided in her that Eleanor his sister wanted to marry Simon de Montfort. ‘I never heard such nonsense,’ he said. ‘He has a high opinion of himself … imagining he can marry into the royal family! I am deeply disturbed, my love.’

Eleanor was thoughtful. She tried to put herself in the place of her sister-in-law. It was difficult. The marriage of the sister of the King of England with a mere Earl of Leicester could not be considered a very brilliant one and she could not imagine herself wanting to make it; but suppose she did, well then, undoubtedly she would bring it about and she fancied that the Princess was as strong-minded as she was herself.

‘You are thoughtful, my dearest,’ said Henry.

‘I believe she will marry him whatever you say.’

‘She dare not.’

‘She is a woman who would dare a great deal. She was married once for state reasons when she was but a child. I have a fancy that now she will marry to please herself and it is only necessary to see them together to realise that Simon de Montfort is her choice.’

‘You have a high opinion of my sister.’

‘I recognise her nature.’

‘She has grown into a determined woman during her widowhood, it is true. So my little Queen noticed that.’

‘Yes, your little Queen did and she thinks that it might be interesting for you to agree to the marriage of these two.’

‘Eleanor. My dear!’

‘Simon de Montfort is a man of strength. You see that at once. Remember how he got the better of Norfolk at the coronation. He is a man, I believe, whom you should have on your side.’

‘What are you suggesting? That I should give my consent to this marriage?’

She nodded. ‘Something tells me that they will marry even if you do not.’

‘But they dare not!’

‘I have said she would dare a good deal, and so would he. We have too many enemies. Would it not be well, my lord, to have them on our side?’

‘My love, there would be great opposition to a marriage like that. De Montfort is disliked for being a foreigner. The English are an insular race. They think there is something divine in being born an Englishman. If a man they called a foreigner was married to my sister there would be trouble, I do assure you.’

‘And there will be trouble if they do not marry.’

‘You see,’ said Henry fondly, ‘there are many trials in being a King.’

She put her arms about his neck. ‘But you will always overcome them, Henry … with me to help you.’

He kissed her fondly. How he dotes on me! she thought. It had been every bit as easy as she had always believed it to be to charm him, to rule him. He was a man who had been deprived of affection, and a little display of it moved him deeply, particularly from her.

‘I have a plan, Henry,’ she said. ‘Send for your sister and tell her she may marry.’

‘There would be some angry barons in England if I did. I do not think my brother Richard would be very pleased for one.’

‘You are the King. Let it be secret. Then Simon de Montfort will be your friend for ever more.’

‘What a wise little creature you are.’

‘You are teasing me.’

‘Nay. I mean it.’

‘Then show it by taking my advice on this.’

‘By the saints, I will.’

‘I know they will be on your side for ever if you do, and I fancy Simon de Montfort will be a man to reckon with.’

He slipped his arm through hers and they walked to the window and stood there together. ‘Can you guess,’ he asked, ‘what it means to me to have you beside me? Never was a king so contented in his marriage as this one.’

‘There is one thing we lack … a son.’

‘He will make his appearance … in time. You will see.’

‘I trust so,’ she answered fervently.

It was a cold January day when Simon de Montfort was married to the King’s sister in the royal chapel at Westminster, and, although the ceremony took place with the utmost secrecy, Henry himself gave the bride away. As soon as it was over his misgivings were great. The bride and groom however were delighted and as the Queen had prophesied showered him with thanks and protestations of loyalty.