Текст книги "The Queen From Provence"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Alexander was clearly amazed at this change in their fortunes and Reginald listened intently to the young King’s corroboration of Margaret’s story.
He would certainly have something to report to Queen Eleanor and King Henry.
The next morning he left and shortly after his departure Robert de Ros and John Baliol arrived at the castle. They had come with all speed on receiving Matilda’s communication and were furious because the doctor had already left.
They made Matilda tell them everything that had happened. They realised that she could not have kept him away from Margaret but they deplored the fact that she had not remained with them to hear what was said.
How long had he gone? They must be after him. He must not be allowed to take his report to England.
Reginald, with his small party, was riding south, well pleased with his work. The mission was successful. He had found out what he had come to seek and he would have the royal approval for what he had done.
He had confirmed their suspicions. All was not well in Edinburgh. Some action would have to be taken for it was clear that the treatment Margaret was receiving in Scotland was, as Queen Eleanor had feared, affecting her health.
A day after he had left the castle his party fell in with some travellers on the road who were making their way south. They were pleasant companions and explained that they were frequent travellers along this road and would be delighted to give their English friends the benefit of their experience. They could guide them in the making of short cuts for they could see that their friends were intent on speed.
They came to an alehouse and were received warmly by the landlord. He could as it happened provide them with some good meat and drink and his wife had just baked fresh bread. His home-made ale was renowned throughout the neighbourhood and he would be proud if the distinguished travellers would sample it.
They talked together and during the conversation Reginald somehow revealed that he was a doctor and that he came from Bath. He was a well-known doctor in England, he could not help hinting, and served the great.
The ale was good and after he had drunk well of it he began to feel very sleepy. His bed was a pallet on the floor in the gallery above the alehouse parlour. He slept heavily but awakened in the night feeling rather strange. He was beset by violent pains which his medical knowledge suggested had been brought about by something he had drunk or eaten.
By the morning his friends were alarmed for he could not get up from his pallet. Their new friends who had brought them to the inn departed as they said they must and wished them good speed on their journey.
Before that morning was out Reginald of Bath was dead.
Eleanor, impatiently awaiting news from Scotland, was filled with foreboding. She had come to accept Katharine’s dumbness. The child was so pretty and appealing and she could forget her affliction in her charm.
Now her thoughts were all for Margaret. She knew that something was amiss. She could not imagine what was keeping Reginald. But perhaps she expected too much. Henry kept reminding her that he had not been gone very long and as he had impressed on him her deep anxiety he was sure the good doctor would make all possible speed.
When the party returned without the doctor and she heard that he was dead, she was in great dismay.
She fired questions at his attendants and wanted to know what he had found in Edinburgh Castle. They had not seen the Queen of Scotland, but they did know that Reginald had been horrified by the condition of the young Queen and he had said that she was more or less a prisoner of the Scots.
‘It is because he was bringing this news to us that he has been poisoned! Oh Henry, what are we going to do? We must bring our little girl home.’
Henry was horrified but talking the matter over with his brother Richard he realised that he could not make war on the Scots. Money would be needed for such an operation and he was already committed to helping the Pope in Sicily – a matter which was causing considerable complaint from his subjects who were being taxed to find the money needed.
Henry decided that he would send the Earl of Gloucester to Scotland with a suitable retinue and there arrangements must be made to give Margaret an establishment in keeping with her position, the regency disbanded, and Alexander and Margaret to rule as King and Queen.
This should be done, said the Queen, but it was not enough. She must see her daughter. Nothing would satisfy her until she had.
Since Eleanor was so determined that they must go to Scotland, go they must.
The Earl of Gloucester reported that the King and Queen of Scotland were now living together in their own establishment which was very different from their quarters in Edinburgh Castle. They would be travelling to Wark and Roxburgh and there they would meet Eleanor and Henry.
How delighted Margaret was! There was no ceremony. She must fling herself into her mother’s arms while they wept together.
‘I knew you would come. I knew you would never forget me,’ sobbed Margaret.
Eleanor laughed. ‘Forget one of my children! My darling, that I never would.’
‘Oh I knew everything would be all right if only I could reach you.’
‘It must never happen again,’ said Eleanor sternly, looking at her husband; and he assured her that it never would.
The mother and daughter would not be separated. Eleanor must hear everything that had happened since her daughter had parted from her. She told Margaret of their adventures in France, how she had met her sisters and her mother and how pleasant that had been – marred only because her darling daughter was not with her.
She told about Edward’s little bride.
‘A charming creature. Very young and she adores him already.’
‘Anyone would adore Edward,’ said Margaret; and Eleanor agreed with her.
‘You would like her. We must all be together before long. She has brought with her some tapestry which it seems in Castile they hang on walls and use on furniture. It is very pleasant and we are already using it in England.’
‘Oh, my dearest mother, how happy it makes me to be with you,’ cried Margaret.
They were going to make sure that there was no return of this monstrous behaviour, Eleanor assured her daughter. Those villains de Ros and Baliol had already been dismissed. They would regret the day they had made the Queen of Scotland a prisoner. Young Alexander was acknowledged as King and no petty little lords were going to prevent that.
‘Edward is coming to see you soon,’ said Eleanor, ‘and my love, we shall expect you at Woodstock before long. I tell you this; if you do not come, your father and I will come and fetch you.’
Margaret gazed at her parents with loving wonder. Hadn’t she always known they could put everything right?
Chapter XV
MY SON! MY SON!
Richard had been watching events with a certain bitterness. He was angry with his brother for having bestowed the crown of Sicily on young Edmund without consulting him. He could have told Henry that that crown would have to be won and that it would be a costly matter winning it. Henry seemed to have no financial sense at all. He thought his coffers were magical and refilled as a matter of course as he emptied them. Heaven knew he had been in enough difficulties and should have learned that one of the reasons for his increasing unpopularity was his continual demand for money. Richard was different; he was rich … very rich. He respected money; he rarely gave it away though sometimes he lent it if it was profitable to do so. The foreigner-hangers-on had quickly learned that they could get nothing from Richard.
Since he had been on his crusade he had had some reputation in Europe. He was looked up to as a man of courage and importance, and the Pope had already offered him the crown of Germany. He declined this offer which he knew would have offended his brother-in-law Frederick II; but now Frederick was dead and so was the son Henry he had had by Richard’s sister Isabella.
The situation had changed and Richard did not greatly care for the way events were drifting in England. He could see trouble ahead, if Henry could not. Richard would not take sides in the conflict between Henry and the barons. His loyalty prevented him from siding with the barons and his common sense would not let him agree with Henry. Henry was a fool and his doting fondness for his wife made him eager to give her relations anything they asked; he seemed to have a fondness for foreigners for he showered gifts on them and showed this absurd generosity to his half-brothers and sisters.
He now let it be known that if the office of King of the Romans was offered to him he would stand for election.
There was another candidate for this honour. This was Alfonso of Castile, half-brother of the Infanta who was now Edward’s wife, and Alfonso had the support of the French who did not care to contemplate more English influence in Europe.
Richard’s reputation however carried him through. His valour in the crusade; the wealth he had amassed; his skill in keeping clear of the troubles which beset his brother, won the day for him.
He was elected King of the Romans.
He was exultant. This was his great opportunity. He had always wanted a crown and had resented the fact that he had been born too late to have attained that of England. Now he was a King in his own right.
Sanchia was delighted to be a Queen, of equal rank with her two elder sisters. Romeo had not been far wrong when he had said he would make them all queens.
Richard talked long and earnestly to her of their future. There would be certain trouble with the German Princes. It was fortunate that Alfonso’s half-sister was married to Edward; that would make it difficult for him to show hostility. They must prepare now to leave England.
‘And,’ he confided in her, ‘it could not be at a better time. Trouble is coming very near. The murmurings through the country are growing to a rumble. You should remonstrate with your sister. She could do a great deal to show the King the folly of his ways.’
‘It is impossible to advise Eleanor. She has always believed she knows best.’
‘This I fear is one of those occasions when she does not,’ said Richard.
He sent for his son Henry and when he came he told him to make his preparations for he wanted him to be present at his coronation at Aachen.
Henry could see how elated his father was and rejoiced with him. It would be a great pleasure to witness his triumph. He was a little sad at the prospect of leaving Edward, for their friendship had deepened since the mutilation of the youth and Edward’s genuine repentance had touched him.
‘This has come at the best of moments,’ Richard said. ‘Any man of sense must see the way things are going. There will be trouble in England sooner or later, Henry. That much is clear.’
‘The King has a way of avoiding it simply by pretending it does not exist,’ said Henry.
‘It is a method which can work for a while, but sooner or later the truth has to be faced.’ Richard shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well now, we must make ready for our departure.’ He laid his hands on his son’s shoulders. ‘This will further our fortunes, my son, and nothing gives me greater pleasure than to contemplate what I can do for you.’
On a warm May day Richard with wife and son set sail for Dordrecht in a splendid company of fifty ships.
At Aachen he and Sanchia were crowned King and Queen of the Romans.
There was sorrow at Windsor. Little Katharine was dangerously ill.
Nothing could upset the Queen as much as threats to her children. Their health and well-being had been a constant cause of anxiety to her, and even when there had been no cause to worry she had been uneasy.
But there was no doubt that little Katharine was very ill. She had always been a strange child – aloof from the rest because she was dumb. The Queen had loved her the more for her affliction and had taken great pains to ensure that she felt no lack because of it.
Katharine had been exceptionally pretty and Henry used to say that more than any of the girls she had inherited her mother’s beauty.
And now they were going to lose her.
The Queen would not leave the child’s bedside and the King hovered over the Queen.
‘You will make yourself ill, my darling,’ he admonished her, but she only shook her head. It was as though she had some belief that while she was there death would not dare to take her child.
The little girl’s eyes pleaded with her to stay; the hot little hand clung to hers.
But it was no use. Not even the Queen’s fierce determination could save her daughter’s life.
On a bleak May day Katharine slipped away from life as quietly as she had lived it.
Soon after Katharine’s death it became clear that the patience of the barons was becoming exhausted.
Simon de Montfort – the King’s brother-in-law, who never failed to arouse uneasy thoughts in his mind – was back in England and it seemed that the discontented barons were looking to him as a leader.
There had been an outcry when Aymer of Valence, the King’s half-brother, had been given the See of Winchester. This meant that Boniface of Savoy, the Queen’s uncle, had Canterbury, the King’s half-brother Winchester and the most powerful member of the foreign party was William of Valence, another half-brother of the King.
Conferring together the barons decreed that soon not a single position of authority would be left to the English and the King’s penchant for foreigners must be blunted.
There was no doubt that the foreigners were a greedy company of men. The more the King bestowed on them the more they tried to get. Trouble began when William de Valence tried to extend his lands and in so doing encroached on those of Simon de Montfort.
Simon was determined not to let this pass; knowing that he had the backing of most powerful English barons he took the matter up with the council.
William de Valence, arrogant in the belief that he had his half-brother the King behind him, declared before the assembly that he had no desire to parley with a traitor.
Simon cried out: ‘I am no traitor … nor traitor’s son.’ This was a reference to the father of William de Valence, Hugh de Lusignan who had taken up arms against his King. ‘My father,’ added Simon, ‘was not like yours.’
William rushed at Simon; his hand on his sword.
They had to be parted.
The quarrel in itself might have been insignificant. Such quarrels did arise now and then between barons. But this was the leader of the foreign party against the man to whom the barons were looking more and more to lead them.
As Simon left the council chamber he was joined by Roger Bigod, the Earl of Norfolk.
‘My lord,’ said Roger, ‘a halt must soon be called to the arrogance of these foreigners.’
‘I am in complete agreement,’ replied Simon.
‘Praise God. There are thousands like us. What shall be done in the matter?’
‘We must call a meeting of those who share our anxieties. We must make up our minds then what action to take.’
There was no lack of men to join them.
The next meeting of the King and the parliament was a stormy one.
The King began by telling the assembly of his financial difficulties. They knew that there had been a famine due to the poor harvest; the Welsh were giving trouble and he was none too sure of the Scots. He had incurred great expense in the service of the country and he now needed further grants.
He was answered that had he not bestowed great gifts on the Queen’s family, his half-brothers and sisters and their foreign friends, he would have had ample funds for dealing with the country’s needs.
The King’s friends immediately rose in his defence while those barons led by de Montfort insisted on putting their point of view, which was that it was impossible to impose further taxation on the people and that economy might start by sending some of the parasites back to their own countries.
The squabble between the opposing parties might have grown into a fight if the King had not called a halt to the proceedings.
A few days later at Westminster Hall the King was confronted by several barons all in armour. He was startled. He knew now that they were serious in their intentions to curb him.
He noticed that none of them carried a sword. Each man had left his weapon at the door of Westminster Hall to show that this was not an attack, merely a threat.
‘What means this?’ cried the King. ‘Are you trying to make me your prisoner?’
‘Not so, my lord,’ answered Roger Bigod. ‘We but come to tell you that the aliens must be sent away. They are draining the country’s resources. The people will not endure it. If something’s not done the whole country will be in revolt as it was in your father’s day.’
Henry was very serious. The people were becoming restive. He was aware of it. It shocked him when they regarded him sullenly. Worst of all was when they shouted after Eleanor. She pretended to despise them, but he knew she was upset.
‘What we ask of you,’ said Simon, ‘is that you promise to be guided by twenty-four elected magnates. There must be reforms.’
Henry looked at the stern faces of the barons. It was as though he saw the ghost of his father at Runnymede lurking behind them.
He agreed.
Simon moved into action supported by men such as Roger Bigod. Twenty-four men were selected – half by the King, half by the barons. This community was to meet three times a year to bring about reforms in State and Church.
Then the Parliament selected another twenty-four members. Thus it consisted of forty-eight men. From these were chosen a Justiciar, a Chancellor and a Treasurer. It was made clear that the assembly was to be of temporary duration. At the end of one year they would answer to the King and the Council for their actions.
The first act passed by the Parliament was that the aliens should surrender to the King those castles which he had bestowed on them. This brought a protest from William de Valence who refused to give up anything. ‘Your castle or your head,’ was the retort of Simon de Montfort. The answer of William de Valence was to take shelter in the castle of Wolvesey which had been bestowed on his brother Aymer.
Henry was in a quandary. He was now expected by his barons to besiege the castle and fight against his own half-brothers. He wanted to refuse but he dared not. He was forced to obey and in due course the castle surrendered to his army.
He felt completely robbed of his power. He discussed the state of affairs with Eleanor who wanted him to stand out against the barons. He was the King, she pointed out, and should make this fact known.
Gently he explained to her the power of these men and that he must be cautious. There was one man he feared more than any other and that was Simon de Montfort.
‘I should never have allowed him to marry my sister,’ he mourned. Yet he knew in his heart that there was nothing else he could have done. Simon had made up his mind to marry Eleanor, just as he had made up his mind to reform England, to bring rule through a parliament which meant of course curbing the power of the King.
His thoughts were heavy as one July day his barge carried him down the Thames. They matched the sky which had suddenly become overcast. In the distance he heard a rumble of thunder. It seemed prophetic.
‘There’s a storm about to break, my lord,’ said his boatman.
‘Aye,’ said the King. ‘I know it well.’
At that moment the clouds opened and there was such a deluge of rain that the boat seemed likely to sink and that moment the sky was illumined by a flash of lightning overhead and the roar of the thunder was deafening.
There had been some violent thunderstorms lately. A few years ago the Queen’s apartments at Windsor had been struck while she was in them. There had been another great storm when Eleanor had been visiting St Albans with the children and lightning had struck the Abbey. The laundry had been burned to the ground and it was said that the monks there had seen an angel with a flaming sword and a torch. It was believed by some that the angel was there to protect the Abbey but others were sure it was a warning against the Queen’s extravagance. Had she not come near to being killed at Windsor? And it seemed God’s vengeance had followed her to St Albans.
So between the barons and God Henry felt he was indeed being persecuted.
He could laugh at these superstitions when he was with the Queen, but the thought of her being in danger always sobered him; now looking up at that sky and knowing that the lightning was right overhead he was afraid, and when the boatman said they must take shelter he agreed.
By some ill chance they were closest to Durham House which was the home of Simon de Montfort and as the King’s barge drew up at the stairs, the Earl himself came down to greet him.
‘My lord,’ said Simon, ‘have no fear, the storm is already moving from overhead.’
Henry looked at him steadily.
‘I fear thunder and lightning exceedingly,’ he said, ‘but by God’s head I fear you more than all the thunder and lightning in the world.’
And as he followed Simon into Durham House where he might remove his sodden cloak and partake of some refreshment, he knew that in that moment he had spoken the truth and in doing so had betrayed himself to Simon de Montfort.
Edward was now twenty years of age. He had spent a great deal of time at the Court of France where he had distinguished himself in equestrian arts and because of his height, good looks and interesting personality he had become very popular.
He thought often of his wife but he had been unable to live with her as such on account of her youth and he had left her to continue her education while he perfected himself in the art of chivalry and knighthood.
Alarming reports were coming to France of the trouble which was brewing between the King and the barons, and Edward consulted the King of France, whose judgement was greatly respected throughout the world, and he gained very little reassurance by what Louis had to say. That trouble was coming to England seemed obvious, and as heir to the throne Edward must be there.
He hastened back to England and found his father at Winchester. Henry embraced him warmly, his eyes filling with tears to contemplate his handsome son. He must first be assured of his health and well-being. ‘Your mother will be beside herself with joy to see you,’ he said.
Edward thought his father looked far from well and he put this down to all the trouble of which he had heard.
‘I have heard reports of what is happening here,’ he said.
‘We have some tiresome men in this realm, Edward. They give me little peace.’
‘It is true that the barons have formed a parliament which dictates to you?’
‘It is not exactly so. I have some say in choosing the men. Of course it is all a question of money. They think of nothing else.’
‘A kingdom cannot run without it, my lord.’
‘Nay, that’s what I tell them. They think I can conjure it up out of nothing.’
‘Louis does not believe in harsh taxation, Father.’
‘So you have become one of Louis’ worshippers then?’
‘He is very wise and greatly admired. I have always believed he spoke good sense.’
Henry nodded. ‘A very serious man and dedicated King. I think he is less plagued by unruly subjects than I.’
Edward started to say that Louis had won the love and respect of his subjects, but realising that this seemed a criticism of his father, he desisted.
But he did feel this criticism and it shocked him a little. The family had always stood together. But what happened when one felt the head of it was leading it to disaster?
Henry then explained what had been happening during his son’s absence: the quarrels between William de Valence and Simon de Montfort, the sharp words which had been spoken in the council chamber.
Edward was very disturbed.
‘I am glad to say that there is a difference of opinion among the barons,’ went on Henry. ‘Gloucester seems to be falling out with de Montfort. If they quarrel among themselves perhaps they will disperse and we shall get back to normal. That would be a happy state of affairs.’
‘Father, are you prepared should there be trouble?’
Trouble! What do you mean, son?’
‘What if the barons should rise against you as they did against your father?’
‘That is a thought which is constantly in everyone’s mind. I have never been allowed to forget my father’s misdeeds. Am I responsible for them?’
‘I think it is feared that you might repeat them.’
Henry looked at his son with amazement. Was there just the hint of reproach there? Could it really be that one member of this family was not exactly behind another?
His son’s homecoming had given the King some uneasy qualms.
Simon de Montfort came to see Edward. He had heard of his arrival in England and believed that the young man was sensible.
It might be easier to convey the danger to him than to Henry, and surely he would want to do something about it, for the crown his father wore would one day be his.
‘My great desire,’ said Simon earnestly, ‘is to avoid an outright war.’
‘You think there is a real danger of that!’
‘I think there is an imminent danger.’
‘But now that you have this parliament …’
‘In which there is not agreement, I fear. Your father must abandon the Sicilian project. The title for your younger brother would be an empty one and very costly to this nation to acquire. It seems that the King and Queen are dazzled by this crown.’
‘Then if that is so there must be no more thought of Sicily.’
‘My lord, I knew you would see reason. There is much I have to tell you. You must join us and then you will understand what all this trouble is about and, pray God, help us to avoid it.’
‘I will with all my heart,’ Edward assured him.
It began to be noticed that the heir to the throne and Simon de Montfort were often in each other’s company and an understanding seemed to have arisen between them.
It was sad, said Eleanor, that all the children were growing up. Particularly so with daughters who must leave their home and family.
John de Dreux, the Duke of Brittany, had offered for Beatrice and as it was a good match and one which would be advantageous to England and it was time Beatrice was married, there could be no excuse for not accepting it.
What had happened to Margaret had made the Queen very apprehensive. She said she wished she had had all boys and then there would not have been the same need for them to leave the country.
However, the alliance was accepted and Beatrice prepared to leave for Brittany.
The King, who had business in France, was to accompany her but in view of the state of the country it seemed unwise that the Queen should go also.
‘You will have Edward to help you, my dearest,’ said Henry, ‘and rest assured that I shall return as soon as possible.’
The Queen was in a way not sorry to remain. By accompanying the party she would have had a little longer with her daughter but at least she was spared that harrowing moment when Beatrice was formally handed over to a stranger. That seemed to her most distressing and she would never forget seeing little Margaret married to Alexander of Scotland.
She said good-bye to the King and her daughter and went back to Windsor where she was finding pleasure in the company of Edward’s young wife, a docile, pleasant creature who adored Edward; and therefore they had something in common.
Soon after Beatrice’s wedding had taken place the Duke of Gloucester joined the King in Brittany. Gloucester was an ambitious man who had shown himself to be jealous of Simon de Montfort’s power in the barons’ party and had therefore set himself up in opposition to him.
He had come to the King with a special purpose and he lost little time in making Henry aware of the reason for his visit.
‘My lord,’ he began, ‘what I have to tell you fills me with distress for I know what pain it will cause you. I ask in advance for your forgiveness for bringing this to your notice but I believe it to be something you should know.’
‘Pray tell me without more delay,’ commanded Henry.
‘It is that your son Edward has allied himself with Simon de Montfort.’
‘That is impossible,’ cried Henry.
‘I fear, my lord, it is so.’
‘I will not believe it.’
‘Others will confirm it.’
Henry shook his head. ‘There is some mistake,’ he insisted.
‘No, Sire. The lord Edward is constantly in de Montfort’s company listening to what de Montfort tells about what are, in his opinion, the wrongs committed against the people.’
Henry covered his face with his hands.
This was more cruel than anything. He could endure the loss of his crown but not that of the love and loyalty of his family.
He would listen to no more. He dismissed Gloucester and sat alone.
There must be some mistake. Edward … his son, Eleanor’s son … to stand against him! It was not possible.
Oh God, he thought, is history repeating itself? His grandfather Henry II had likened himself to an eagle who, when he was old and weary, was attacked by the eaglets whom he had fathered. He, Henry III, had gloried in his own children, had thanked God for them and greatly pitied his grandfather. Now could it be that his son had turned against him?
It could not be true. It was a malicious lie. He would never believe it. Eleanor would never allow it. He would trust Edward with his life.
There was only one thing to do and that was to return to England.
How cruel it was. It was true. Edward was seeing de Montfort and had declared that he understood the reason for his grievances.
The King could not bear to see anyone. He went to the Tower of London and remained there. His grief was making him ill.
Richard, the King of the Romans, hearing rumours of England’s trouble, had come to see his brother.
He went to the Tower and when he saw Richard Henry broke down. He wept silently for a few moments and then he said sadly: ‘At least you have come to me, brother.’
‘Henry,’ said Richard, ‘I understand full well your feelings. Have I not a son of my own? I should be desolate if my Henry ever seemed to turn against me. But why don’t you see Edward? I hear you have refused so far.’
