by Jean Plaidy
‘We’re home,’ said Alexander.
They were surrounded by dour-looking men and women. One of them in flowing black robes of mourning came to Margaret and said she would take her to her chamber. There she could rest awhile and food would be brought to her, for she had had a long and irksome journey and would be weary.
It was a cheerless room with thick stone walls, stone floor and the barest necessities of furniture.
‘I am Lady Matilda de Cantalupe,’ the woman told her, ‘and I am to act as your governess … until such a time as you are ready to join the King.’
It was what her mother had said. ‘You will not be a wife immediately. They will wait until you are of an age … and Alexander too, for he is but a boy. They will give you a governess whom you will love and who will help and advise you.’
But there was something forbidding about Matilda de Cantalupe.
Margaret said she would rest awhile, for she was tired, and Matilda covered her with a fur rug to help her get warm. Afterwards she ate a little and in due course went down to the great hall where Alexander, similarly fed and rested, awaited her.
He had come to say farewell. He was leaving her with her guardians Robert le Norrey and Stephen Bausan. They, with Matilda, would be in charge of her household until such a time as she was ready to be a wife.
She wanted to cling to Alexander. At least he was young and if not exactly frightened, apprehensive. There was a fellow feeling between them. If he could have stayed she would have felt better. But he was going away. He was going to leave her with these solemn people.
She was frightened. She wanted her family … and desperately she wanted her mother.
Alexander gave her a cold kiss on the cheek.
‘I will come back for you,’ he said.
She nodded dumbly and she stood in the courtyard wrapped in her fur-lined coat with Matilda de Cantalupe and the two formidable men who were to be her guardians standing behind her. She watched Alexander ride away with his attendants.
Then, in the company of those whom she was beginning to think of as her jailers, she went back into the castle.
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 b
etrothal 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.
