Текст книги "The Queen From Provence"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Chapter XII
THE KING AND SIMON DE MONTFORT
Simon de Montfort had returned to England.
He was weary and disillusioned. He had constantly asked Henry for help to govern but Henry seemed to think that funds for this were not necessary. He himself was in constant need of money to govern his kingdom; that Simon de Montfort should ask for it in Gascony seemed an affront.
It was Henry’s nature that if he had wronged someone he could not like them again. He had a conscience of a kind which reproached him and while he tried to pretend it did not exist it continued to worry him. He would not admit the real cause of his grievance against a man or woman which was of course that he had wronged them and this made him uneasy so he always tried to find fault with their actions so that he could give himself another reason for disliking them.
Thus he began to criticise Simon’s governorship of Gascony and although Richard pointed out that no one could govern any place without the necessary finance, still he found fault with Simon.
Simon at length found the position impossible. The Gascons were rebellious and he had no means of quelling them. Dispirited, realising that he could not carry on unless he was able to get support from England, he came home to plead in person with the King.
He found Henry in a melancholy mood. He had just said good-bye to his young daughter and he knew that the Queen was grieving. Eleanor felt that before she went to Scotland, Margaret should have waited until she was old enough to consummate the marriage, and she was reproaching herself … and Henry … for allowing the child to be taken from them, and Henry could not bear to do anything that seemed wrong in her eyes.
So when Simon de Montfort arrived Henry was in an ill temper and Simon received a bleak reception.
‘I find it impossible to keep order in Gascony, my lord, without the financial help I need,’ he attempted to explain.
‘I have heard,’ retorted Henry, ‘that much of the trouble is of your own making.’
‘That is false!’ cried Simon angrily.
Henry replied: ‘I will dispatch commissioners to Gascony that they may report on what is going on there.’
‘My lord,’ he said vehemently, ‘these Gascons are troublemakers. They know the King of France is ready to woo them. Give me arms, give me money, and I will subdue them.’
‘Our expenses here in England are great,’ said Henry.
Yes, thought Simon, jewels for the Queen, fine garments and feasting for the Scottish wedding. Pensions for the Queen’s friends and relations, for your half brothers, for all those foreigners who are here for pickings.
There was, thought Henry, something formidable about Simon. When he was in his presence he was aware of a certain power in the man. He vaguely sensed that Simon was a man of whom he must be wary.
‘I will give you three thousand marks,’ said the King.
‘It is not enough, my lord.’
‘It is all I can give. Can you raise more?’
‘From my own estates I could find a little. I need men too.’
‘Then return with this money and the men you need. I shall then hope to hear better news from Gascony.’
Simon left the King. He had heard much talk of the dissatisfaction among the barons and he was wondering whether in time the King would be facing trouble not unlike that which had beset his father.
Simon returned to Gascony where the people led by rebels were in revolt. They had gathered at Castillon, where Simon besieged them and achieved a victory. Temporarily he brought peace to Gascony – though an uneasy one. He returned to England and told the King that he had made peace, subdued the rebels and now had decided to ask leave to remain in England.
Meanwhile the Gascons had set out their complaints against Simon and these were presented to the King, and because of his attitude to Simon, Henry preferred to believe his accusers rather than to believe Simon.
This seemed such gross ingratitude that Simon’s disgust with Henry filled him with anger. He declared that the accusations should be brought to light and he would be judged by his peers as to who was making trouble in Gascony.
Henry agreed and made it clear on whose side he was. He was cool to Simon whenever they met and made much of his Gascon enemies.
Simon’s wife, the King’s sister Eleanor, was furious with her brother.
‘Henry has never forgiven himself for that accusation he made against you,’ she told her husband. ‘He knew it was untrue and is ashamed. Therefore he seeks to lay the blame for everything on you as he tries to convince himself that he was in the right.’
‘Sometimes I wonder what will happen to our land under your brother,’ said Simon.
‘I wonder too. The trouble with Henry is that he is so weak. What of this trial? Do you think that they will prove a case against you?’
‘Not if they adhere to the truth.’ Simon turned to her. She had been a good and faithful wife to him, and neither of them had ever regretted their rash marriage. ‘My dear Eleanor,’ he went on, ‘the barons are powerful … as powerful as they were when they forced King John to sign Magna Carta. They are with me … you may depend on that … and are determined not to allow the country to slip back into tyranny … and so am I. I have a feeling that I have but to offer myself as their leader and they will be with me … to a man.’
‘You mean rebellion against the King?’
‘I mean the preservation of liberty in this land. The barons would soon be ready to do with Henry what they did with his father. They deplore the increasing numbers of foreigners on whom the King dotes. His extravagance, and mostly that of the Queen, offends them. They hate the Queen as few Queens have been hated because they see the trouble stemming from her. It is her relations who are sucking the exchequer dry. She is a proud and arrogant woman. But have no fear, Eleanor, I can tell you this: The barons are with me. I will serve the King your brother while it is possible to do so … but if it should become impossible … then I … and the barons … would consult together and I doubt not some action will be taken.’
‘Should not Henry be warned?’
‘He is constantly warned. Richard at one time was well aware of what was happening. The barons believed that he was ready to place himself at their head. But since his marriage with the Queen’s sister he has become the King’s man. The sisters are so close. The Queen is a forceful woman. She guides her sister and she in turn influences her husband. The barons would no longer look to your brother Richard, Eleanor.’
‘I know,’ she answered. ‘They would look to you. You are the strong man of the country now, Simon.’
‘It may be so. But rest assured I shall do my best to placate the King and bring about a peaceful settlement of our differences. Civil war is a disaster for any country, no matter who is the victor.’
‘These Gascons are foolish. They have no case against you.’
‘’Tis true. But the King wants there to be a case and he will do all he can to hold one up.’
‘How ungrateful he is! When I think of those years in Gascony … when we would rather have been at home in England …’
‘I know. Kings are by their very office ungrateful. Rest assured, Eleanor, I shall not accept the King’s injustice.’
‘Henry is a fool.’
‘Hush. Remember he is the King. Remember how we were forced to fly by river when he was threatening us with the Tower.’
‘I shall never forget it. I shall never feel the same about my brother again.’
‘I know that you will be a firm supporter of your husband always … and that could mean one day that you may be in opposition to the King.’
He gripped her hands and looked into her eyes.
‘There are no regrets then?’ he went on. ‘The daughter of a king is happy in her marriage with the foreign adventurer?’
‘She has no regrets and will stand by him in whatever campaign he finds himself compelled to make.’
‘God bless you, Eleanor,’ said Simon de Montfort.
The trial was over and Simon acquitted. It had to be so because there was no case against him. It was clear that he had done all that was humanly possible to keep order in Gascony and everyone knew that without arms, men and money he could do very little. What he had done was little short of a miracle.
Henry was furious with the result of the trial. Desperately he had wanted to see Simon brought low, and when Simon was before the Council Henry could not contain his anger. He glared at his brother-in-law and with that lid over one eye – it always seemed more in evidence when he was angry – he looked really formidable, to all who did not know his weak nature.
He said: ‘So you will go back to Gascony I doubt not?’
Simon replied: ‘I would go if all the promises you made to me were kept this time. You know full well, my lord, that the terms of my vice-royalty were not adhered to.’
Henry’s temper burst out. ‘I keep no covenant with a traitor.’
Simon, usually calm, decided that was something he could not accept. He was deeply conscious of those about the council table watching while they almost held their breath.
‘When you use that word of me, you lie,’ he said coldly. ‘And were you not my sovereign, an ill hour would it be for you that you dared utter it.’
The blood rushed into Henry’s face. He tried to speak but he could only splutter. This upstart … to insult him at his own council table with so many looking on!
At last the words came. ‘Arrest him. Arrest this man!’
Several of the barons had risen and put themselves between the King and Simon.
‘My lord,’ they said, ‘the Earl has done nothing but defend himself which he has a right to do. He cannot be arrested for this.’
Henry lowered his eyes. He was uncertain. In moments such as this he always wondered what his great ancestors would have done.
The moment passed. Simon had turned and left the chamber.
Simon prepared to return to Gascony and before he left he went to see the King.
Henry received him with the utmost coldness. The heat of anger had passed and he felt only a burning resentment against this man who had behaved with greater dignity than he had in the council chamber. There was a cool determination in Simon which disconcerted the King.
‘Well, so you will go back to Gascony then,’ said Henry. ‘I have ordered that the truce shall remain so you will be able to work peacefully.’
‘I doubt it, my lord,’ was Simon’s rejoinder. ‘The Gascons are determined on trouble.’
‘They are determined on trouble? I think not. Your father did very well in his war with the Albigensians, I have heard. Much treasure fell into his hands. Go back to Gascony then, thou lover and maker of strife, and reap the reward as your father did before you.’
Simon looked steadily at the King, and although hot words of protest at this slight on his father and contempt for the man who had made it rose to his lips he said calmly: ‘Gladly will I go. Nor do I think to return till I have made your enemies your footstool – ungrateful though you are.’
Henry glared at him. He felt very uneasy.
On reaching Gascony Simon found that it was impossible to serve the King, for it seemed as though Henry was fighting with Simon’s enemies, who were in truth his own also.
Far from respecting the truce they had made with the King, the Gascons were besieging towns and taking castles and there was nothing to do but defend these.
But it was not long before messengers arrived accusing Simon of breaking the truce.
‘The King is impossible!’ cried Simon. ‘He allows his personal enmity to come between himself and reason.’
Next came dispatches from the King telling him he was removed from office. Simon replied that his appointment had been for seven years, a fact which the King appeared to have forgotten. Henry then sent to say he would buy him out and this offer Simon accepted.
He went to France where he was warmly received by the French. Louis had watched events in Gascony with great interest and was amazed at Henry’s treatment of a man like Simon de Montfort.
If Simon would care to remain in France some high office should be found for him, he was assured.
Simon shook his head. ‘I am the servant of the King of England,’ he replied, ‘and if he is an ungrateful King, still I am his servant.’
But he remained at the Court of France.
Eleanor was not with him. As she had been pregnant she had remained in England and while he was in France Simon had news that she had given birth to a daughter whom she had named Eleanor after herself.
It seemed that he would in due course go home to England. The King would never be his friend, and if he continued to act in this irresponsible way who knew what would happen.
The barons would endure only a certain amount before they rose as they had during the reign of John; and when they did they would look to a leader.
It could well be that, if the King would have none of Simon de Montfort, the barons might.
The King decided that since Simon de Montfort had, as he said, ‘deserted’ he would give young Edward Gascony. Edward was thirteen, a fine healthy boy grown out of his childish ailments completely, full of life and energy, the delight of his parents and the people, who were already saying that in Edward they would have a strong King, which England had discovered through bitter experience, it needed.
So in Westminster Edward was declared ruler of Gascony and received the homage of the Gascons in London. And just as the Court was in the midst of rejoicing over this dispatches came from Rome to the effect that there was some doubt as to the validity of Henry’s marriage to Eleanor.
Henry read the dispatches through and trembled.
This was direct from the Pope. It had been brought to the notice of His Holiness that the King had been betrothed to Joanna of Ponthieu and it might well be that that betrothal was binding, in which case the marriage with Eleanor of Provence was no marriage.
Eleanor found him with the documents in his hands. She snatched them from him and read them.
‘How dare they suggest such a thing! Our marriage not legal! Our children then would be bastards! Edward would not be the true heir to the throne!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Henry. ‘I shall set this matter right. I shall make this malicious person eat his words … no matter who he may be.’
But Henry was shaken. Horrible ideas crept into his mind. What if they were going to prove he was not truly married? He thought of Philip Augustus of France who was excommunicated for living with a woman whom he had declared was his wife and whom the Church maintained was not.
Couriers went back and forth. If Eleanor and Henry were not truly married, neither were the King and Queen of Castile, for Joanna who had been jilted by Henry had married the King of Castile.
Eleanor was frantic. Her babies, she cried, what of them? She would not allow them to be proclaimed illegitimate. Anything must be done to stop that.
Henry said that he believed it was a trick of Innocent’s to make him pay for expensive bulls and dispensations.
‘So it is only money,’ cried Eleanor immensely relieved.
‘I’ll swear it is.’
‘We shall settle that then.’
Of course they would settle. There were always the people to be taxed; there were always the Jews.
In due course the matter was settled, but most expensively and as usual it was the people of England who paid for the bulls and dispensation.
Each month they grew more restive. It could not go on. Why should it? Experience and that not so long ago had taught them that kings rule by will of the people.
There was bad news from Gascony. Simon de Montfort was no longer there and the Gascons were taking advantage of the situation. Their thirteen-year-old governor was in England and they would not in any case have been much in awe of him. The Gascons were making overtures to the King of Castile and the fact was the King’s presence was urgently needed there.
Henry was disconsolate. He was beginning to see how foolishly he had acted with Simon. He had dismissed the very man who, with support, would have held Gascony for him. Now there was nothing he could do but take out an army led by himself.
What was so upsetting was the fact that Eleanor was pregnant and could not accompany him.
When he told her what had happened she shared his dismay. To be separated was what they most dreaded.
‘I must come with you, Henry,’ she said.
‘Nay,’ he replied, ‘I could not permit it. Think of the crossing alone, which could be rough. I should not have a moment’s peace if I thought you were over there in danger. No, you must stay at home with the children. I shall have to be content with that. It will be better than the continual anxiety.’
‘Henry, when the child is born I shall come out to you.’
He embraced her. ‘That is the answer. Have the child and when it is safe for you to travel you must come. The hardest thing I have to face in my life is doing without you and the children.’
He delayed as long as he could but finally was forced to leave. The Queen with her sister Sanchia and Richard of Cornwall and all the royal children accompanied the King to Portsmouth.
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.
