The Queen From Provence - Plaidy Jean (книги онлайн полные .txt) 📗

‘My brother, as you know, has been a King for a long time. He is only slightly older than I. Just think. Had I been born fifteen months sooner and he fifteen later it would be the King of England who sat talking to you now.’

‘You would not be here then,’ Eleanor pointed out.

‘Why should I not be? I tell you this. If my brother knew of the talents and beauty of the daughters of the Count of Provence he would be unable to resist a visit.’

‘When a King comes travelling to France,’ Eleanor pointed out, ‘there would be many to suspect his reasons. He could not do so merely to see my father’s daughters.’

‘I see you are wise indeed. No, the King could not come here without much pomp and noise. There would be suspicions that he was asking the Count’s help against the King of France.’

‘He is our brother-in-law,’ piped up Beatrice.

‘So you see, my dear ladies, that there would be consternation if he came. How fortunate I am that I am merely his brother for I may come and go as I please. But rest assured I shall tell my brother of my visit here. I shall make him envy me … for once.’

By which he betrays, thought Eleanor, that he has envied the King more than once.

Then she begged him to tell her of England and she learned much of the Court and its ceremonies and how the ladies were so eager to show their hair that although they had elaborate head-dresses they often carried them in their hands; the gowns worn by the ladies were of similar fashion to those worn in Provence, for fashions passed from country to country; the nobles wore brocade and velvet, silk and fine linen and the poorer people spun their own cloth from wool flax or goat’s hair just as in Provence. The King was very interested in architecture and for this reason buildings were springing up all over the country. The King was a man who greatly enjoyed music and literature.

‘I shall show him your poem when I return to England,’ said Richard to Eleanor. ‘I know he will admire it very much.’

Again Eleanor blushed and lowered her eyes. Triumph indeed. How wise Romeo was! This was the way.

‘Perhaps you will show it to his Queen as well as to him,’ she said.

‘My brother has no Queen.’

‘But very soon he will have one I doubt not.’

‘He must. It is his duty. Though while he has not I am heir to the throne you know.’

Eleanor was alert. Here was a very ambitious man. Then would it not be to his interests to keep his brother unmarried? Oh no, he could not do that. It would not be permitted. Moreover, surely Henry as King would be the one to decide when he would marry.

Richard went on: ‘Yes, I think he will eventually marry. In fact that day may come soon.’

‘He is affianced?’ asked Eleanor.

‘Not exactly, but I believe negotiations are going afoot.’

Her heart was beating fast. Too late. It was too late. She saw this prize – the only remaining prize – slipping through her fingers.

She felt a great sympathy with Richard of Cornwall. They had both been born too late.

Richard started to tell them about the Court; the banquets that were given, the games that were played. Questions and commands was one of the favourites and also roy-qui-nement, the King does not lie, in which questions were asked and the answers given must be the truth; chess was played a great deal and without asking he knew that the girls were experienced at the game for to play well was considered a necessary part of the education of well brought up girls and boys; then there was a game called tables in which two people played draughtsmen, the moves being determined by throwing a dice; there was vaulting, tumbling, juggling and of course dancing and music.

‘And does the King ride through the country in royal progress?’

‘Indeed he does. My brother has a love of splendour. And this of course is reflected in his Court. The people like it.’

‘It is how a King should be,’ said Eleanor.

‘Lavish entertainments are arranged for him in the castles he visits. We have the jongleurs of course who come with songs and dances. Some of the jongleurs are women; they dance well and can sing; they are good mimics; they act little plays. I can tell you there is no lack of gaiety at my brother’s Court. He favours most the musicians though and the poets and those who perform a certain kind of dance. He was always more studious than I. I think he loves his books almost as much as his kingdom.’

‘Who is the lady who will share his throne?’

‘It is Joanna, the daughter of the Earl of Ponthieu.’

The Earl of Ponthieu! thought Eleanor. She was of no higher rank than the daughter of the Count of Provence. And for her a crown! Oh, they should have acted sooner.

‘When … when will the betrothal take place?’

‘I doubt there will be any delay. My brother feels he has waited too long … and so do his ministers. I believe the proposals may already have gone to my brother. I know he is eagerly awaiting them.’

Eleanor seemed to have lost heart. It could have worked. But it was too late.

When Richard rode away the three girls stood with their parents waving him farewell.

He looked back and thought what a charming group they made. Certainly the reports of the girls’ beauty had not been exaggerated. Eleanor was very gifted; Sanchia was charming – so young and appealing; and even little Beatrice was going to be a beauty when she grew up.

He carried with him the poem. It was quite a work of art.

He turned in his saddle and called: ‘We shall meet again. I promise it to myself.’

Then he rode away.

Sanchia clasped her hands and murmured: ‘He is the most beautiful man I ever saw.’

Her parents laughed at her tenderly. Eleanor was silent. Too late, she was thinking. But a few weeks too late.

A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE

The King was awaiting the return of the messengers from Ponthieu with some impatience. As he had said to one of his chief ministers, Hubert de Burgh, it was ridiculous that a man of his age – he would be twenty-nine in a year’s time – had never married. And he one of the biggest prizes in the matrimonial market!

It was no fault of his that he had so far failed. He had tried hard enough. What mystery was this? Why should a King have to try to find a bride? It should be that all the richest and most important men of Europe would bring their marriageable daughters to his notice.

Is there something wrong with me? he had asked himself.

Looking in his mirror he could find nothing that should stand in the way of marriage. He was not exactly handsome and yet by no means ill favoured. He was of medium height and had a good strong body. It was true that one eyelid drooped so that the eye beneath it was hidden and this gave him an odd look which might to some seem a little sinister, but in some ways it suggested an air of distinction. He was no tyrant. He reckoned that he was liberal minded and a benevolent man – except in rare moments when his anger was aroused. He was known as a patron of the arts and a man of cultivated taste. But it was not only these gifts he had to offer a bride. He was the King of England and the woman he married would be a Queen.

It was therefore astounding that he should have remained so long unmarried. Before this he had made three attempts and none of them had come to fruition.

He was growing a little suspicious.

He sent for Hubert de Burgh. Hubert was back in favour but the relationship between them would never be the same as it had been. Once when he was but a boy he had idolised Hubert, for Hubert – with William Marshal – had given him his crown. He had been but a boy of nine, the French in possession of the key towns of England, his mother recently free from the prison in which his father had placed her, when Hubert and William Marshal had set him on the throne, rallied the country and made it possible for him to be a King.