Текст книги "The Queen From Provence"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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‘I could not see him. You know my love for him. If he stood before me now I should not be able to stop myself kissing him.’

‘Which would perhaps be good.’

‘What of the Queen?’

‘The Queen is torn between the two of us. She will hear no ill of Edward.’

‘Henry, Edward is no longer a boy. He is going to be a great King one day … though that will be far distant I hope. He has, it is true, listened to Simon de Montfort and, make no mistake, that man has a certain greatness in him. It is true that the people are in revolt against the immense taxation which has been levied upon them. You must agree to this. I am sure that is all Edward has done and he will be most distressed if you allow him to go on believing you think he is against you. It is the last thing he is. He is loyal to you, but there are certain matters which he wishes to reform. After all de Montfort is our brother-in-law.’

‘Would to God I had never allowed it.’

‘Our sister was determined on it and you would not have been able to stop her.’

‘I only gave way because he had seduced her.’

‘Both he and she have given the lie to that … and it is a matter of which they would have all the evidence. Nay, brother, they are married. You consented to the marriage. Let us forget that. It is not the issue. What I want is an end to this difference between you and your son. See him. Listen to him. He will tell you his feelings in the matter.’

‘It may well be that you are right, Richard, but when I see my son I know all feeling will desert me except the joy it will give me to look on his face.’

‘Then relish that joy … and talk afterwards. I am sure you will see that you have been mistaken.’

‘Oh, Richard, if I could believe that you are right in this.’

‘Give yourself the opportunity of finding out.’

Richard lost no time in sending a message to Edward.

Edward came to the Tower accompanied by his mother. Eleanor had been with her son trying to understand what this matter was which had come between them.

Edward swore that he had no intention of working against his father. He had listened to Simon de Montfort, certainly. There was much wisdom in what he had to say. He firmly believed that his Uncle Simon was the King’s loyal subject and was genuinely concerned at the growing discontent in the country.

He went in alone to see his father and when he saw him he rushed into his arms.

Henry embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks and their tears mingled.

‘My dear, dear father, how could you ever have thought I would be against you?’

‘Forgive me, Edward. Forgive me. I listened to evil tales.’

‘I had seen de Montfort it is true. Father, he is a man of honour. He means you no harm.’

‘He has seduced you with fair words, my son. He and I have had our differences. I do not believe he will be a friend of mine until I do as he says. But no matter, you are here. You have come to me. You have assured me of your love. That is enough for me.’

‘Never believe I would stand against you.’

‘I do not believe it. I never did … in my heart.’

‘It is merely that I felt there was sense in what Simon de Montfort told me. But if he were to be against you then I would bring whatever strength I had to stand against him. Never think, Father, that whatever the cause I would stand against you.’

‘This is a happy day for me, Edward. I could almost be glad of my wretchedness because it has made me so joyous now.’

‘Let us tell my mother that all is well between us. It has been a most anxious time for her. She came with me. She was so happy that you had sent for me. I will bring her to you.’

So she came and the three of them were together.

‘This must never happen again,’ said Eleanor. ‘Nothing on earth will ever mar our unity. We are as one. Oh please, my son … my husband … remember it.’

There were tears in Henry’s eyes and Edward said: ‘Who was it who brought these tales to you, Father? Methinks he is no friend to you nor to me.’

‘It was Gloucester,’ said Henry.

‘I shall regard him as my enemy until one of us dies,’ declared Edward.

So there was reconciliation and Edward was constantly in the company of his parents until he left for France, for there was to be a great tournament at the French Court and he was anxious to play a part in it.

Chapter XVI

CONSPIRACY IN THE BEDCHAMBER

Edward was in France; Beatrice had gone; there was frustration over Edmund’s accession to the crown of Sicily which the people of England were so much against; and Henry longed to raise the Queen’s spirits.

He had an idea and without telling Eleanor, for if it failed he did not want disappointment to make her more melancholy than ever, he sent a messenger to Scotland with the suggestion that the Scottish King and Queen should come to England.

He knew that if it were possible Margaret would agree immediately; and he was right. His messenger brought back a letter from Margaret in which she said that they were preparing to set out at once.

Gleefully he went to Eleanor.

‘News from Scotland,’ he said carelessly.

‘Margaret is well?’ she asked quickly.

‘It seems she is very well.’

‘Thank God.’

‘And very eager to see her mother … and I believe she takes some pleasure in her father’s company.’

‘What do you mean, Henry?’

‘I mean, my love, that our Margaret is coming to see us. At this very moment she is on her way.’

‘Oh, Henry!’

‘I knew that would please you. That is why I arranged it.’

‘And said nothing to me.’

‘Because I feared it might not be possible. I could not bear that you should be disappointed.’

‘Henry, you are so good to me.’

‘No more than I should be, my love.’

To go home! Margaret’s spirits leaped at the thought. To leave grim old Edinburgh for beloved Windsor, Westminster or even York. What mattered it as long as it was England. The South was better though because it was farther away from Scotland.

To go home again! To be with those beloved parents. To talk over everything with her mother …

To talk over everything! Oh, what good luck that she had not told anyone, for if she had they would have done everything they could to have stopped her going.

She had almost told Alexander, but she had wanted to be sure. She had not wanted him to be disappointed. Now she was sure and had been on the point of telling but mercy of mercies she had not.

She could imagine those grim old lairds. ‘The bairn must be born in Scotland. In view of her condition the Queen must not travel.’ They would enjoy stopping her pleasure. She knew them well. So thank God, she had told no one.

There was a lot of dour shaking of heads over the proposed visit. They would like to shut her and Alexander up as they had when she had first come here. But they were taught a lesson then. Her dear parents would not allow her to be treated like a prisoner. The Scots knew it and it was important that they did not offend the English.

What joy to turn the head of her horse southwards. How she laughed to herself when they crossed the border. Soon she would be home.

They passed through York where she had half expected her parents would be waiting to greet her. No matter. State affairs kept them in the South. Only a short while and she would be with them.

As they came near to Windsor, Alexander sent messengers ahead of them to herald their approach and so it happened that both the King and Queen with a royal party came to meet them.

What joy there was in the reunion! The Queen must study her daughter, to see if she was plump enough, well enough, happy enough.

Margaret laughed. ‘Dearest lady,’ she cried, ‘how could I fail to be happy when we are together!’

So they rode through the forest to the castle. Oh beautiful, noble castle, beloved of the family because the King had had it refurnished when he had married the Queen.

Into the great chamber they went.

‘Nothing is changed,’ cried Margaret. ‘It is as it always was. Dear Father, how is your grassplat?’ She ran to the window and looked out. There was the grassy rectangle which he had designed and of which he had always been so proud. Margaret turned and threw her arms about him. ‘Oh let everything stay the same.’

Alexander was looking at her in some surprise. She did not care. The Scots rarely showed their feelings, but Alexander knew something of the perfections of her parents and the happy childhood she had spent with them so that nothing that ever happened afterwards could compare with it.

‘Oh, it is so wonderful to be home!’ she cried.

Henry could not hide his delight, even though he felt it must be rather disconcerting for Alexander. But then he must not expect to give Margaret the happiness she had found with her incomparable parents.

Margaret was longing to be alone with her mother so that she could tell the secret. How they would laugh together. But first of course there must be certain formalities. After all she was a Queen and Scotland was by no means unimportant if only because it could cause so much trouble on the border.

There were the usual festivals which Henry so loved to give in honour of his family and which the people so hated to pay for. This was just another instance of the extravagance incurred by the royal family.

Already the people were grumbling.

‘They grudge us a little happiness,’ said the Queen.

‘How wonderful it is to be alone together, dear lady,’ said Margaret.

‘I am so happy that you are here, my dearest.’

‘I have thought of nothing since I left England but the joy I should find in coming back.’

‘Alexander is kind to you?’

‘Yes, he is kind.’

‘A good husband.’

‘I suppose you would say so, but you see I compare him with my dear father and no one could compare with him, could they?’

The Queen agreed that this was so.

‘See what you do,’ said Margaret. ‘You make us all love you so much that we have not much room for anyone else.’

It was not in Eleanor’s nature not to be delighted by such a revelation though she told her daughter that she had prayed that she would find the greatest happiness of her life in her marriage.

‘It will be different, my darling, when you have children.’

‘Dear mother, I have something to tell you.’

Eleanor took her daughter’s face in her hands and looked into her eyes. Margaret nodded, laughter in her eyes and her upturned lips.

‘You have just learned …’

‘I knew before. You are the first I have told.’

‘Margaret! Alexander …’

‘He will know all in good time.’

‘But why this secrecy?’

‘You do not know what they are like up there. I should never have been allowed to travel if they had known I was with child.’

Eleanor began to laugh, but she was quickly serious.

‘We shall have to take good care. My dear, how soon?’

‘It should be in February …’

‘A long time yet. They are right, you know, about your travelling. We shall have to see that you leave in good time. We must take great care.’

‘I am going to take great care, dear Mother, that when the time comes for us to go it will be too late for me to travel. You will help me, won’t you? This is our secret … as yet. Tell no one … but my father. He may know. Let it be our secret. Then when it is too late … we shall tell.’

‘My dear child, what a schemer you are!’

‘If you knew how I longed to be with you. I will not have my visit cut short. I am going to make it as long as I can. Please, dearest Mother, help me.’ Eleanor took her daughter into her arms and laughed.

They clung together until Margaret was almost hysterical with laughter.

Then Eleanor said: ‘We will tell the King. It will amuse him. He has had much of late to frustrate him. Let us tell him something to make him laugh.’

Together they went to the King’s chamber. The Queen signed to him that she wished to speak to him alone and he dismissed everyone. When the three of them were alone together Eleanor said: ‘Shall you tell him or shall I?’

They began to laugh and Henry looked from one to the other in a state of happy bewilderment.

‘Please, my darlings, may I share the joke?’

‘Go along. Margaret, you tell him.’

‘Please, my lady, I had rather you did.’

‘Margaret is with child. It is a secret between us three. The Scots do not know. Nor does she wish them to. She feared they would stop her coming and that she could not endure. She is going to keep the secret and only when it would be unsafe for her to travel back shall it be known.’

The King smiled slowly. Then he too was laughing.

How happy he was. While he had this dear family he could not be seriously disturbed by the troublemakers in his realm.

All would come right. In the meantime there was this delicious secret – shared by the three of them.

It was such a joy to be in England. Wherever the Court was there were Margaret and Alexander.

‘How good it is for the relationship between our two countries,’ said Margaret.

Alexander agreed on this and he had to admit that they could not have been made more welcome.

‘We shall have to think of returning soon,’ he said.

‘We must not leave too soon. That would offend my father,’ Margaret pointed out.

‘Perhaps then we should stay a little longer.’

When she sensed that he was about to broach the matter again she told him she was feeling a little unwell and her mother wished her to see the royal physician.

When she had done this her parents summoned Alexander to her bedchamber and there they played out the little farce which they had arranged between them.

The Queen said: ‘Margaret is with child, Alexander. It is one of those unusual pregnancies. It is only just apparent. It seems that the child is due in February and in view of this the doctors feel that it would be unwise for her to travel.’

Alexander was taken aback.

‘Naturally,’ said the King, ‘this has been a great surprise to you, but an agreeable one, I am sure. The doctors have told us that Margaret will be perfectly all right if great care is taken. I would wish my physicians to care for her. Her mother will not hear that she leaves.’

Alexander, still bewildered, said: ‘It is the custom for the heir to the throne to be born in Scotland.’

‘Of course, of course … but better for the heir to be born in England than no heir at all … and perhaps danger to the mother, who is my daughter.’

Alexander must agree with this. He embraced Margaret and told her how happy he was that at last they were to have a child. He was uncertain about staying in England, though.

Henry laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do not fret, my son,’ he said. ‘Leave this to the Queen and myself.’

Alexander realised at length that there was nothing else he could do; and in due course he returned to Scotland leaving his wife in her mother’s care.

They were very happy months. There was Christmas at Windsor. What fun they had, for Eleanor said this must be a very special Christmas, since they had the Queen of Scotland with them.

They were together all the time and Eleanor constantly congratulated Margaret on her clever manoeuvre. She certainly had showed herself to be a true daughter of her mother.

Messages came from Alexander. There was great anger and resentment in Edinburgh, he said. It was even hinted that the Queen must have known of her condition before she left and it was suggested that she had deliberately concealed it.

Margaret showed her mother this letter and they laughed together. ‘They are not entirely foolish then,’ said Eleanor. ‘But what matters it? Let them think what they will. All that matters is that your child will be born here and I shall be at hand to make sure all is well.’

‘There could not be a greater comfort in the world,’ said Margaret.

On a snowy February day in Windsor Castle Margaret gave birth to her first child. It was a girl and she was called Margaret after her mother.

There was great satisfaction and rejoicing through the castle.

‘You cannot make the journey back until the late spring or summer,’ said the Queen. ‘Your father would never allow it.’

And Margaret settled down to make the most of the time.

Chapter XVII

THE PASSING OF A DREAM

Margaret had returned to Scotland. It had been heart-rending to say farewell to her and the Queen was plunged into deeper melancholy when messengers came to her from Berkhamsted to tell her that her sister Sanchia was ill and asking for her.

Eleanor left with all speed and when, arriving at the castle she was taken immediately to her sister, she was shocked by the sight of her. Sanchia had not been in good health for some time but she had not expected to see her so obviously ill.

‘Thank God you sent for me,’ she said. ‘You should have done so before.’

‘I would have done so, but I knew you had much to occupy you. I would not have asked you to come now but I feared if I did not I might never see you again.’

‘What nonsense. You are soon going to get well. I shall see that you do.’

‘The Queen commands,’ said Sanchia with a smile.

‘’Tis so. What ails you?’

Sanchia touched her chest. ‘It is difficult to breathe … often.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh some time … but it is worse now.’

‘Does Richard know?’

‘Oh, Richard has much with which to occupy him.’

‘His wife’s health should be the first of his concerns.’

‘We are not all as fortunate as you, Eleanor. Ah, how lucky you have always been. You had the perfect marriage, the perfect husband, the perfect children …’

‘Oh come. You were happy with Richard.’

‘Richard is not Henry, Eleanor. I don’t think he was meant to be a husband. Henry was, of course. That is why he is the perfect one.’

‘You sound bitter. Tell me, has Richard been unkind to you?’

‘No … not that. Neglectful, yes. He has had so much to occupy him. He is a King now.’

‘And has made you a Queen.’

‘Perhaps the title does not mean so much to me. I should have liked a husband who loved me as Henry loves you. You found that – and a crown as well.’

‘Oh, Henry is a good husband and I have the children. But you have your son, Sanchia.’

‘Yes, I have my son. He is a good boy … ten years old. But no one means as much to Richard as his son Henry. Edmund knows this. Richard is rarely with us you know.’

‘I’m sorry, Sanchia.’

‘How I dreamed … after you left. It was so romantic was it not? The poem and the way Richard came to Les Baux and what grew out of it! I used to imagine his coming back … and when he did it seemed like a dream come true. I expected too much.’

‘No one expects too much, for it is expecting and believing first that makes good things happen. Providing one does everything in one’s power to make them.’

‘You speak for yourself, Eleanor. You were always sure of yourself. You knew what you wanted; you determined to get it … and you did.’

‘Things do not always go smoothly, Sanchia.’

‘No, but you are always in command. And you made your husband love you and your children adore you. It is your right. I admit it. But the less successful of us should be forgiven for being a little envious now and then.’

‘You are talking nonsense, Sanchia. You have been very happy with Richard. You know you have.’

‘When we have been together sometimes … but I always knew that there were others. It wasn’t quite what I had dreamed at Les Baux. But never mind. It is the end now.’

‘The end! I won’t have you talk such nonsense. I shall stay here until you have recovered.’

In spite of her assurance the Queen was worried. Sanchia had grown very thin and there were violet shadows under the eyes. She was listless and when the paroxysms of coughing seized her, Eleanor was afraid.

She sat by her bed, and as the days passed she scarcely left her for it was clear that Sanchia was growing weaker.

They talked of Les Baux and their childhood; Eleanor sang some of the poems she had set to music and she knew that as Sanchia lay with her eyes closed she was back in the hall of the old castle and that the old days were more real to her than this bedchamber.

If only the weather were better, thought Eleanor. If only it was spring or summer, then I could take her into the gardens and it would indeed be like Les Baux. But it was dismal November; the days were short and dark, the mist penetrated the castle and hung about in patches. As the days grew darker, Sanchia became weaker and at length Eleanor was forced to admit that her sister was dying.

It was a terrible blow to her. Greatly she loved her family, and that this sister, younger than herself, would shortly leave the world filled with her melancholy.

She sat in the window-seat looking out across a landscape which reflected her mood. The branches of the trees denuded of their leaves stretched up to the greying sky. Across the field to the marshy land the reeds looked like red parchment and the woolly seed heads of the thistles were everywhere. There was no sign of spring and there was a deep sadness in Eleanor’s heart.

Each day Sanchia’s condition weakened. Eleanor stayed with her.

She was at her bedside when she died which she knew gave her sister great comfort.

She was buried with the usual ceremony at which her Uncle Boniface presided. Richard did not attend, although he was in England. He had business in London.

Eleanor was very anxious that all honour should be paid to her sister and that no expense should be spared in giving her a funeral worthy of a sister of the Queen of England.

When she intimated this to Henry he agreed with her. No expense must be spared and as it seemed unlikely that Richard would agree to such extravagance, Henry would pay for it.