by Rachel Bard
“Sir Hubert, when Queen Eleanor was widowed, did the council evict her from England? No! She remained to guide her sons and to act as their surrogate in the governance of the kingdom when they were absent. Why is it so different for me?”
He managed to regain enough control to reply. Calumnies erupted from his snarling mouth like anathemas from an angry god.
“Madam, this order is by authority of the King’s council, the men King John named to govern England before he died. If William Marshal had given you the word he might have been gentler but he has agreed that your departure is necessary in view of the mood of the English people. The people hate you. They lay to your door all the woes that have beset this country since you tricked our King into marrying you. They call you a sorceress, a temptress, a Jezebel. In short, the council does not see you as a fit person to influence your son or to be associated with the government of England.”
I didn’t believe him. I’d never achieved the popularity with my English subjects I’d hoped for, but I’d never felt they hated me. I ignored that part of his tirade.
“If I’m not fit to be part of the government, why did the council ask me to join them in guaranteeing the truce of last summer? Why was I present at the ceremony when the peace was signed, along with my son the King, the papal legate and all the council that you say wish to push me out?”
“That was solely at the urging of William Marshal and the bishop of Winchester. Most of us advised against it. Now madam, I have no more time. I shall arrange for a ship to be ready at Dover on any date you choose within the next three weeks. You will take your daughter Joanna with you, since she is betrothed to Hugh of Lusignan. Of course you will send her to stay at the Lusignan castle until her marriage. Richard and the two younger princesses will remain in England.”
He left before I could gather my thoughts to continue the argument. It was fruitless anyway. Without William Marshal and the bishop to support me, I had no allies.
I sat on, shocked, trying to come to terms with this cruel exile. I’d no longer reign as Queen of the country I’d come to think of as my own. Equally grievous, I’d have to leave Henry and the younger children. They’d be left to the mercy of Hubert de Burgh and his kind. How I regretted now that I hadn’t taken more time with them! The two little girls, only three and five, would hardly realize what was happening. Doubtless in time they’d be married off to suitable princes. I only hoped their marriages would be happier than mine. But Richard, at nine, though intent on growing up as fast as he could to be a warrior, was still young enough to depend on me for affection and support. And Henry—my Henry, my firstborn—would grow into his role as King of England while I was far away.
When I said goodbye to him he was more composed than I was. At twelve he’d been King for two years. I thought I was seeing signs of some independence of thought in the face of his council. I hoped so.
We sat facing each other in my chamber. I was determined not to cry. I tried to think of something wise to say, something he’d remember in the time to come.
“Henry, as you know I’m not leaving of my own free will. If I could I would stay in England and watch as you learn to be a strong, good king. Even so, I’ll be able to follow your progress from my home in Angoulême. I’ll never forget you and I’ll always love you.”
I couldn’t help the tears that ran down my cheeks. Henry tried to comfort me, when I’d thought it would be the other way around.
“Never mind, mother. You won’t be so very far away. Maybe you’ll come back sometimes and maybe I’ll be able to come to see you. Maybe Richard and I will bring an army and make the King of France give us back our lands.”
“Yes, maybe you will. If you do, you’ll have help from me and from Joanna and her husband. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?” I wiped my eyes.
“And we can always write to each other.”
“Yes. I’ll write to you often. And Henry, you must watch over your brother and sisters. Don’t any of you forget that your mother loves you.”
Lady Anne came in to say the horses were saddled and waiting. I rose, took Henry in my arms for a last hug, kissed him, and left.
Chapter 49
Isabella
1218-1219
What a change from my unkind ejection from England was my welcome in Angoulême!
I settled easily into the palace of the Taillefers, my family’s ancestral home, glad to find little had changed. Anne had come with me, of course. I was also permitted to bring three of my ladies, including Hortense my lady of the bedchamber, to see to my needs and those of Princess Joanna. The only other retainers who’d come with me were Terric Teutonicus and his brother Walerand. The council had delegated these two knights to be my protectors. I wondered if the assignment included spying on me.
Two days after my arrival, the mayor of Angoulême put on a great show of presenting me with the keys of the city. He, the bishop and their retinues marched through the narrow streets from the cathedral to my palace. I met them in the courtyard and led them into the great hall. The mayor ceremoniously took the keys from a red velvet cushion and with a little speech handed them to me. Next he read a document expressing the gratification of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities that once more a Taillefer countess was in residence in the noble city of Angoulême. I was asked to acknowledge their gratification by signing my name at the bottom of the parchment. I gladly did so: Isabella, Queen of England and Ireland, duchess of Normandy, duchess of Aquitaine, countess of Anjou and Angoulême.
It took me some time to get used to a quieter life. No flights from enemy armies, no moving the court from one palace to another. No more stormy encounters with John—or passionate reconciliations. For the first time in my adult life, no man around to love, hate or fear.
I missed my children. I sent them messages but received no replies. I wondered if the council might be teaching them to turn against me.
Joanna was a comfort. Now eight, she still depended on me and followed me around, yet she was beginning to be her own person. I knew the day would come when I’d have to send her away to stay at the Lusignans’ castle. I remembered my own misery when I’d had to do the same thing. Joanna, of course, had known ever since her betrothal to Hugh at Parthenay that this would happen. I, on the other hand, had had very little warning from my parents; I’d been whisked away within days of learning of my betrothal.
Before I was ready the decision was made for me. In June 1219 a message came from Hugh X. It was full of information and surprises. It was also rather long-winded. Was my future son-in-law a blatherer?
To Queen Isabella, greetings. I was pleased to learn of your arrival in France. I hope that you and your daughter the Princess Joanna are well. I would have written sooner to ask when the Princess might be able to come to Lusignan, but I wanted to make certain improvements in the castle. I wish her to be perfectly comfortable. Now I believe you and she will find it to your taste. My father tells me that when you were here your chamber had no window and was very small. I have enlarged it and now there are two windows giving a good view of the inner bailey. I also wish to tell you that Princess Joanna will be in the care of Lady Alice, Countess of Eu. You will remember that she and her husband, my Uncle Ralph, were your guardians when you were here. My uncle, I am grieved to say, died earlier this year. Lady Alice has come as companion to my father’s wife, the Lady Mathilde, who is bedridden. My aunt has asked me to tell you she looks forward to seeing you again and to meeting your daughter.
My father, Hugh le Brun, also sends a message. He regrets he will not be here to greet you because he leaves tomorrow on Crusade. Please send a reply by the messenger and let me know when you will arrive. Your loving son, Hugh X de Lusignan.
My first reaction was a little jolt at the mention of Hugh le Brun. I’d been trying not to imagine what it would be like to see him again. Now I wouldn’t have to. Then, rereading the message, I felt amusement that this man, three years my senior, signed himself a
s my son—my loving son! Yet he seemed well intentioned and agreeable.
At dinner that afternoon I told Joanna that it was time to start packing.
She didn’t seem to dread the idea. She saw it as an adventure. She was full of questions. “What will it be like? Is their castle like our palace here in Angoulême?”
“When I was there, nearly twenty years ago, I thought it rather dreary. I was spoiled, of course. I’d never lived anywhere but right here in this palace. But I believe they’ve made it more pleasant since then. We’ll see.”
“Will Elizabeth be able to come with me?” Elizabeth was Hortense’s seven-year-old daughter. She and Joanna had naturally been thrown together since our arrival and had become fast friends. The girls sat next to each other at table. Joanna clasped Elizabeth’s hand. The gaze from my daughter’s blue eyes fixed on mine and her tensed posture told me how much this meant to her.
“I don’t know why not. You’ll need some companionship. Her mother would have to go too. But I suppose I could get along without Hortense.” I smoothed her hair, the color of ripe wheat, and kissed her.
The journey to Lusignan was so filled with memories for me that I was often close to tears. I relived the despair I’d felt at fourteen, leaving my beloved home and my idolized mother. But this time, instead of on a cold, damp February day we arrived in bright June sunshine. The bailey was tidy and the outbuildings seemed in good repair. There were even a few flowerbeds with pink and yellow primroses along the walks. Nobody was crying. All my gloom was dispelled
As soon as a groom helped Joanna dismount she ran to Lady Alice, who’d come out to meet us, and put out her hand.
“You must be my Aunt Alice. I am happy to meet you. This is my friend Elizabeth.”
Alice’s face, plumper and not so rosy and with a whole new assortment of wrinkles since I’d last seen her, hadn’t lost its good humor. “Bless you, my little princess. I’m happy to meet you too, and your friend Elizabeth. Now here’s my lady, my Isabella.” We hugged each other. When I felt her strong old arms about me I realized how much her uncritical affection had meant to me in my youth. Probably I’d never told her so. I hugged harder.
Hugh came from the stables to add his welcome. He seemed much the same as when I’d seen him five years before at the betrothal, except that then he’d been dressed in finery whereas today he was in a workmanlike roughspun tunic and muddy boots. Obviously he wasn’t the kind of lord who left all the work of the castle to others. He had a cheerful smile for everyone and a kiss on the cheek for Joanna.
When he’d taken my hand and greeted me, he asked, “Will you be able to stay with us a few days, Queen Isabella?” (I noted he didn’t call me “Mother”!) “It would give us pleasure. We could make you very comfortable. I’m only sorry my father had to leave before you came.”
Something about his words and manner hinted at a tendency toward flattery and perhaps a little guile. His father had been free of both.
“I wish I could. But urgent matters in Angoulême will call me back. I’m expecting the seneschal of the county of Angoulême to visit me and I must be ready. After I see Joanna settled I’ll need to be on my way.”
“That will be our loss. Perhaps I could help. I’m acquainted with Bartholomew de Puy, the seneschal. Before he left my father named me head of the clan of Lusignan. He must have finally decided I’d grown up enough to do the job. So I’m not without influence in these parts. Do let me know if there’s any service I can provide you.”
“Thank you. After I find out what he wants to see me about, I may call on you. It would be good to know I have an adviser in the family, as it were. The local lords are getting fractious. I must act quickly to assure their loyalty.”
I looked around and saw that we were alone. While we’d been talking the others had gone in.
“I must go see how Joanna is and make my departure.”
He walked along with me and opened the tall oaken door that I remembered so well. In the hall he stopped and asked, “So you don’t plan to be a figurehead countess, content to reign snugly in your city of Angoulême? You’re determined to assert your suzerainty throughout the county, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Of course! Wasn’t my father, Count Aymer, feudal lord over all the land from Perigord to your own La Marche?”
“Your task won’t be easy. Especially with your son’s council taking such an interest in Aquitaine and Poitou. Well, we can at least look forward to the day when Joanna and I are married. Then all of La Marche will be joined to your Angoulême.”
“True. But that’s far in the future. A lot can happen in the meantime.”
“Yes. A lot can happen. You might find some powerful lord to marry and ally yourself to, for example, and change the whole picture. You’re young, beautiful and mistress of a good part of France. I predict you’ll be much sought after.”
I’m afraid I blushed. Nobody had called me beautiful for some time. He smiled slightly and went on.
“Or Joanna could change her mind, just as her mother did. That could alter the picture even more drastically.” A pause while I took this in. “Or so could I.” Another pause. “I assure you, however, I don’t intend to.”
I couldn’t at once think of a response. I was glad when Joanna ran out and took my hand, pulling me off to see her room.
What a surprise this Hugh was turning out to be! I’d thought him good-looking, agreeable, without much depth. But the man had a nimble and possibly calculating mind. He was adept at steering a conversation any way he wanted. One had to be on the alert to keep up with him, but I liked the challenge. Yet I realized that I mustn’t be influenced by his apparent goodwill. It was possible that beneath his generous offer of help, he was looking for ways to turn my affairs to his own advantage.
I had a lot to think about on my return journey. For one thing, I decided I’d come to see my daughter much oftener than my mother had come to me at Lusignan.
Chapter 50
Hugh X
1218-1220
“You should marry, Hugh.”
That was my cousin, Simon de Lezay. Ever since my father’s death he’d been assuming a parental role.
My father had died on Crusade at Damiette, a city on the border between Palestine and Egypt. Though the Crusaders took the city, hundreds of them died not in battle but from the agonies of the plague. My father was one of these. I was deeply grieved at the loss, but I had to step quickly into my new role as leader of the Lusignans.
Simon, though only six years my senior, was free with advice. As carefree youths we’d gone careering about the countryside, hunting and jousting and sowing our wild oats. Now he was forty-two and I was thirty-six. Life had become more serious.
“Marry? I will marry, as you know perfectly well. In good time. As soon as we get to Lusignan you’ll meet my little bride-to-be, Joanna. She’s a pretty thing.”
“How pretty?”
“Have you ever seen her mother, Queen Isabella?”
“No, but I hear she’s a famous beauty.”
“Quite so. Ravishing. And I do believe her daughter Joanna will be the same.”
While Simon digested this morsel of information we rode on. I’d just completed a circuit of the strongholds of my kinfolk to gather a few of my closest friends and advisers to come with me to Lusignan. Ever since Queen Isabella had arrived in Angoulême there’d been signs of unrest in her lands and mine. I needed counsel.
We rounded the last curve and crossed the little bridge across the Vonne. I looked up at the castle. Rover though I was, I always felt a deep sense of security and homecoming at the sight of that long stout wall anchored at either end by a round tower. The rocky, rutted road gave way to cobblestones as we rode up through the village. Shopkeepers and laborers went about their business, giving me a respectful nod as I passed. The September sun warmed us gently, filtered through the leaves of the linden trees beside the road. I smelled the sweetness of newmown hay from nearby fields. From the baker’s o
pen door I caught the aroma of fresh-baked bread. It reminded me how as a child I used to run down to the castle kitchen and beg for a thick slice off a loaf just out of the oven.
I became eager for dinner.
So were the others. When we were slowed behind a cart laden with vats of wine lumbering up the hill, I heard grumbling behind me. Simon turned in his saddle and called out, “Stop your complaining! That’s very likely the wine you’ll have with your dinner. The longer it takes to get there the more it will improve with age.” This was met with grudging laughter.
We rode into the inner bailey where Pierre, my father’s old steward, limped out to greet us. I saw Joanna and her friend Elizabeth hovering in a doorway, watching the bedlam of seven big men dismounting from seven big horses while their squires saw to the saddlebags and led the horses to the stables. The girls decided this had nothing to do with them and disappeared.
“Bishop Etienne is already here, my lord Hugh. He’s waiting in the dining hall,” Pierre reported.
“Good,” I said. “Please tell them to serve dinner at once.”
Etienne Delorme, who’d been priest at our village church for years, had only recently been named bishop of Poitiers. He’d been a great friend of my father’s. “The wise man of Poitou,” my father had called him. I was glad he’d been able to come.
We’d hardly sat down and attacked our platters of roast chicken and mutton stew when I asked Simon, “Now what did you mean, I should marry? You know that I’m already betrothed to Princess Joanna.”
“Just this: it may be ten years before Joanna will be old enough to bear you any children. A lot can happen in ten years. A lot can happen in one year, the Lord knows. The sooner you have an heir the more secure your Lusignan clan will feel and the more willing to follow you. Besides that, it gives you a bargaining piece in this never-ending game we play with King Philip and King Henry.”
