The Queen from Provence Read online

  ‘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.

  When Henry and the Queen were alone she took his hands and kissed them. Had it not been wonderful to see the happiness of those two? How could they who were so happy themselves fail to delight in it? The Princess Eleanor and Simon her husband would thank them for ever.

  ‘Unless,’ said Henry, ‘they come to regret the marriage.’

  ‘People in love as they are do not regret their marriages,’ replied the Queen sternly.

  She enchanted him. He had never believed married bliss could be like this. He often thought of poor Richard tied to his ageing wife whom he visited as infrequently as he could. Since this enchanting little Queen of his had come to England he had ceased to envy Richard. As for Richard he not only coveted his brother’s crown but his wife as well.

  It was a very satisfactory state of affairs, thought Henry. So did his Queen, for it was becoming more and more clear that she had only to ask for what she wanted and the King could not resist giving it to her.

  Two months after the secret marriage the Queen was seated in the solarium surrounded by some of her Provençal attendants when a serving man came to her to announce that there was a visitor to see her.

  ‘Who is it?’ she demanded.

  ‘He asked that no name should be given, my lady.’

  The Queen was puzzled.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He waits in the guardroom, my lady. He said to tell you first before the King.’

  ‘Where is the King?’

  ‘He is in the state chamber with the Earl of Cornwall and the Earl of Chester, my lady.’

  Eleanor nodded and said she would go at once to solve the mystery.

  In the guardroom a cloaked figure came towards her and took her into his arms.

  ‘Uncle … William!’ she cried.

  ‘Yes, you see me returned.’

  ‘It is wonderful to see you. When did you arrive?’

  ‘But a day or so ago. I came straight here.’

  ‘Without warning. We should have known.’

  ‘I thought I would test the climate first. Remember I was all but driven away.’

  ‘The barons are stupid … jealous … always afraid that someone who in any case is cleverer than they are, will take something from them. This time, dearest uncle, you must not go away.’

  ‘Perhaps it was well that I went when I did,’ said the Bishop Elect of Valence; and he smiled secretly. It had been a profitable retreat. He had now in safe keeping all the treasure he had taken with him; and if he could garner so much in one short year, it showed what a treasure there was in this land waiting to be taken.

  ‘Now you are here, dear uncle, you will see that there is no lack of welcome from me or from Henry.’

  ‘You think Henry will be pleased to see me?’

  ‘If I am, he will be.’

  ‘Oh, so it is still thus, is it?’

  ‘It is thus now and shall always be so.’

  ‘My clever little niece!’

  ‘I hope, dear Uncle, that you will not be forced to run away again.’

  ‘I shall do my best to consolidate my position and the best way of achieving that is for me to have some high post in the kingdom … the Church of course since I am trained for it.’

  Eleanor was silent. She knew that she could persuade Henry, but her uncle had been forced to fly the country because of the animosity of the barons.

  ‘I will explain why I have returned now. I have heard that Peter des Roches, the Bishop of Winchester, since his return to England has become so enfeebled that he is not expected to live much longer. The See will soon be vacant. I want Henry to be persuaded to give it to me.’

  ‘The See of Winchester! It is one of the most important in the country. Why, it vies with Canterbury.’

  ‘I know, my dear. That is why I want it.’

  ‘You are asking a great deal, Uncle.’

  ‘But I have the utmost confidence in your help. I know you will get it for me. You see, my dear, your marriage has been so good for us at home, as you know. There is no reason why it should not be better still. When I have the See of Winchester your Uncle Thomas must come over. I am sure we could do something for him, eh?’

  ‘We will,’ said Eleanor firmly. It was most gratifying to be considered of such importance.

  Henry was delighted that William de Valence had returned to England.

  ‘The fact that I do not want to blazon your presence throughout the country does not mean that you are not welcome,’ he told him. ‘I should be most distressed if you were shown that inhospitality once more from which you suffered such a short time ago.’

  Uncle William said he had the best niece and nephew in the world and he was sure that the unkindness shown to him had hurt them more than it had hurt him.

  He did realise the wisdom of keeping his return as quiet as possible and it was not until the month of June when Peter des Roches died, that he emerged from hiding.

  Then Henry, prompted by Eleanor, announced that he had the very man to take over the See of Winchester. A man of wide experience, of saintly habits, and one who had the good of the Church at heart; his wife’s uncle William de Valence.

  The response was immediate.

  Richard came to see him. ‘Henry, do you know what people are saying? Do you want a return of the old days?’

  ‘I beg of you,’ said Henry coldly, ‘do not once more remind me of Magna Carta. I know it exists and I know I have to keep a wary eye on the barons. But I am not our father. We have left those evil times behind us. I am a King who will rule.’

  ‘I tell you this,’ cried Richard angrily, ‘if you continue to favour these foreigners you will find your subjects rising in protest all over the country.

  ‘Please remember that they are my subjects … and so are you.’

  Richard bowed his head. He was beginning to wonder whether the royal marriage was as beneficial as he had thought it would be. True, Eleanor was a lovely girl, but she was exercising too much power over the King and her family was becoming a nuisance. The fact was, she was too strong-minded and the King was too besotted. Trust Henry to become uxorious to the brink of folly.

  Richard said: ‘I have heard another rumour which makes me very uneasy. I do not believe it … and yet there must be some attachment for it to be talked of. It is said that Simon de Montfort is hoping to marry our sister.’

  ‘Well?’ said Henry sharply.

  ‘It could not be so, of course …’

  ‘Could it not? Why not?’

  ‘It would be too unseemly.’

  ‘Who says so? You, brother? You do not rule this land. If I agree to a marriage between Simon de Montfort and Eleanor a marriage there should be.’

  ‘You would never be so rash.’

  Henry felt a familiar tingling in the back of his neck which he had always had when he was afraid.

  He cried suddenly: ‘Then let me tell you this, brother. They are married and I gave my consent.’

  Richard stared at him in horror. ‘You have given your consent and they are married! This will never be forgiven. Who is this man … this foreigner?’

  ‘He is now our brother-in-law.’

  ‘Henry! You are following in the footsteps of our father.’

  ‘What nonsense!’

  ‘What do you think the barons’ reaction will be to this?’

  ‘I know not. Nor do I care. I shall tell them that I am the King and who shall marry whom and who be e
lected to what See is my affair.’

  ‘Nay, brother, that is something to which they will never agree. You forget Magna Carta.’

  ‘If you mention that again to me …’

  ‘Henry, for God’s sake don’t forget it. A king always has his enemies, and you have yours. There will always be those to say that no son of John could ever rule them well. You know that.’

  ‘I know this,’ retorted Henry, ‘I am the King and will see that it is remembered.’

  Richard looked at him sorrowfully and Henry was so stricken with fear that he said: ‘The marriage was necessary.’

  ‘Necessary? To whom was it necessary?’

  ‘To our sister,’ he blustered. ‘He had seduced her. She could not for that reason have been married to anyone else. I agreed because of the necessity to make an honest woman of her.’

  ‘The scoundrel!’

  ‘Ah, you – the seducer of many – are shocked I see.’

  ‘Our sister is a royal princess.’

  ‘And that intensifies the crime?’

  ‘It does indeed. Henry, you will hear more of this. Think not that it is an end of the matter. There is something else. The people will never accept William de Valence as the Bishop of Winchester.’

  ‘If I bestow the See on him, they will accept it.’

  Richard said, ‘You will excuse me, brother.’

  And with that he turned and left the apartment.

  Henry was uneasy. Richard’s warnings kept ringing in his ears. He despised himself too for the calumny he had uttered about Simon de Montfort. It certainly was not true, but it had seemed a way out, an excuse for acting as he did. It was better than saying: My wife wanted it and I could not refuse her.

  Hating himself he began to hate Simon de Montfort. This was a trait of his. He wanted to be good, to do right; but when he was caught he would make excuses for himself no matter how he falsely accused others in doing so; he despised himself and soothed his vanity by hating the people who made him dislike himself.

  He tried to forget the unfortunate matter of the See of Winchester, which in spite of his efforts, he feared he might not be able to give to Uncle William, in disliking Simon de Montfort and assuring himself that Simon was in truth the seducer of his sister.

  He waited in some trepidation for consequences. They were not long in coming. The barons were loudly expressing their disapproval, and Richard had placed himself at the head of them.

  Henry fumed with rage. ‘What is he doing now?’ he demanded. ‘Why does he not go on his pilgrimage?’

  The answer was that he had domestic difficulties at this time. His wife was ailing.

  ‘Much he cares for her,’ sneered Henry. ‘If he stays it is only because he hopes she will die and leave him free to marry elsewhere.’

  Then he laughed with pleasure, for he knew that Richard would have liked to marry Henry’s Eleanor. He could not, however, have all his own way.

  So while the barons were in revolt against what they called the King’s folly in allowing the marriage of a foreign outsider to his sister and granting too many favours to his wife’s family, Henry doted more and more on his wife, finding great joy in her, and granted her every wish so that the whole world should know how he esteemed her.

  Chapter V

  THE MAD PRIEST OF WOODSTOCK

  The barons were in revolt, and at their head was Richard. They were implying that the King was not giving his people the satisfaction they demanded. If we deposed him we might set his brother Richard on the throne was the theme of their discourse. There was a real danger of this happening, and Eleanor was dismayed.

  ‘It could never come to that,’ Henry soothed her. ‘You do not know my brother Richard.’

  He sent for Simon de Montfort and commanded him to make his peace with Richard.

  ‘Offer him gifts,’ said Henry. ‘He will not be able to resist taking them. He never could.’

  And how right he proved to be, for Richard did allow himself to be persuaded that Simon would be his good friend if only he would stop persecuting him. The marriage had taken place, had been consummated, and nothing could change that now. Was it not in the best interests of all to accept it?

  Richard saw this, and characteristically accepted Simon’s explanation, along with his gifts, and declared himself his friend. He then shrugged off the matter of the See of Winchester. Henry would simply not be allowed to give it to William de Valence and there was an end of it.

  Henry laughed. Was this not typical of his brother? His enthusiasms had always been short-lived. Richard had ever tired of an enterprise before he had completed it.

  The monks would not allow Winchester to pass into Uncle William’s hand. Very well, he would wait. In the meantime he would go to one of his favourite palaces, Woodstock, with his sweet Eleanor. Perhaps there his dearest wish – that he should have a son – would be granted.

  Woodstock, this beautiful palace in the heart of Oxfordshire, had always fascinated Henry. It was as though his mighty ancestors had left something of themselves behind in this place, and when he was there a little of their grandeur seemed to fall on him.

  The forests surrounding it provided good hunting ground; and there was the deer-fold put there by his great great grandfather Henry I which he had filled with strange beasts from foreign lands. There lived lion, leopard, lynx and what had been a wonder at the time and still was, a porcupine. The deer-fold was protected by a high stone wall to prevent the animals escaping. These animals had given great delight to that wily ancestor of his; and it was comforting to hear that he often indulged in his pleasures, mostly hunting – animals but chiefly women – and in spite of this he had been known as the Lion of Justice because of the good laws he had introduced into the country. Then there was his grandfather Henry II whose name was often mentioned in connection with Woodstock. Here he had kept his mistress Rosamund Clifford, about whom many ballads had been made. Henry liked to consider the troubles in the lives of those men who were always held up as an example for him to follow. His grandfather had kept Rosamund in a bower close to the palace which was approached through a maze of trees. That maze was still here; so was the little dwelling known as Rosamund’s Bower. Henry II was a notorious lecher. His wife, the forceful Eleanor of Aquitaine, had hated him for it. She had discovered the existence of Rosamund in her bower because she had seen attached to the King’s spur the end of a ball of floss silk. She took the ball and holding it loosely she was able to track him through the maze and thus she learned the way to his mistress’s abode. When the King left Woodstock she remained behind and Queen Eleanor having discovered the way through the maze visited Rosamund on whom she was determined to be revenged.

  He walked with his own Eleanor through the maze and showed her Rosamund’s Bower. How charming it was, yet full of shadows and if the legend was true what terror the beautiful young woman must have suffered within those walls.

  Henry shivered as he put his arm around his wife.

  ‘Here my grandfather kept his mistress and here his wife discovered her. According to some her revenge was terrible.’

  ‘She was a very jealous woman doubtless.’

  ‘Indeed she was. She did not love the King herself but resented any other woman doing so.’

  ‘It is understandable that a wife should resent her husband’s mistress.’

  ‘Yes, but to take such a revenge as some said she did! I often wonder how true these stories are. One was that the Queen came to her with a dagger and a bowl of poison. “You may take your choice,” she said.’

  ‘And which did she choose?’

  ‘It is not known. Indeed I do not think she was ever presented with such an alternative. There is an even more gruesome story of how the Queen stripped her naked, tied her hands and feet and had her beaten until the blood ran; then two toads were set at her breasts to suck her blood; and when she died the Queen had her thrown into a filthy ditch with the toads. This is completely false I am sure.’

 
‘Poor Rosamund, she should never have become the King’s mistress.’

  ‘It was said that she truly loved him. Should she not have some mercy for that?’

  Eleanor was silent, asking herself what she would do if she discovered she had a rival for the King’s affections. Perhaps she would be as ruthless as her namesake.

  Henry was still brooding on the love of his great ancestor for the Fair Rosamund.

  ‘One poet says that she was not buried in a ditch but put into a chest and taken to Godstow where the Queen said she should be buried but on the road the cortège was met by the King who demanded to see what was inside the chest and when he was shown fell into a deep swoon. When he recovered he swore vengeance on his wife and sent the body of his mistress to Godstow Nunnery where it might be buried with all honours. The facts are that Rosamund herself decided to go into the nunnery and repent for the life she had led, and there she stayed with the nuns until she died.’

  ‘And that,’ said the Queen, ‘is the story of another Eleanor and Henry. Remember it, husband. If you take a mistress, be wary of your wife.’

  ‘That could never happen to me. How could I ever look at another woman?’

  ‘I believe you now.’ She sighed. ‘But perhaps the day will one day come …’

  ‘Never!’ he declared. ‘But it amuses me. These ancestors of mine are held up as examples and yet are they such heroes?’

  ‘Many men become heroes when they are dead. I should prefer you to stay alive and be a normal man.’

  ‘All my life as King I have heard my grandfather and my great great grandfather spoken of with awe. As for that other ancestor, The Conqueror, they speak his name with a hushed reverence they do not give even to the two Henrys. They imply that I cannot be a great King because I am not like them. Yet my father they hate and abhor and constantly they watch me to see how like him I am growing.’

  She laughed at him. ‘They are perverse indeed. But what care we, Henry? We are well content with each other. Is that not enough?’