The Battle of the Queens (11 page)

‘Serve him well, Hubert, and good will come to England.’

Hubert said he would do his best.

There is strong foreign interest in the land. Guard against it. The Legate Pandulf has too much power. It was necessary for us to have his support when the country was overrun by the French, but now England should be governed by the English. I regret I have to leave you to this task. But you are a strong man, Hubert, and you have the confidence of the King.’

They talked awhile of the country’s affairs. The King was realising his responsibilities and learning quickly. Richard was in good hands in Corfe and his future could be left for a while. The Princess Joan was safely in Lusignan, betrothed to Hugh le Brun which was a good match, for it would keep Hugh an ally of the Crown of England since his wife would be a member of the English royal family. Her mother Queen Isabella was safely in Angoulême and long might she remain there. It was well to have her out of the way, William declared, for she was a troublemaker and he did not want her too close to the King. As soon as Hugh de Lusignan returned from his crusade the marriage could take place; and the Queen should of course stay with her daughter until after the ceremony. The remaining children were young yet and could play their part later. It was always well to have a princess or two ready to contract a marriage which could be valuable or expedient. So it had been with the baby Eleanor, now betrothed to the younger Marshal. His loyalty would be assured if he married the King’s sister. As for her slightly older sister Isabella, now five years old, she would have her uses in due course.

It seemed to the old man that the country’s condition had settled down beyond his wildest hopes; and, having made his preparations for departure, and his peace with God – and most of all safeguarding his country’s future as well as was within his power, he quietly slipped away.

No sooner was William Marshal dead than the peaceful progress of the country’s affairs seemed to come to an end. Hubert de Burgh, in his role as Justiciar, took over control of the country; but he missed the firm hand of William Marshal. The foreign party – which had been subdued during William’s lifetime – became more vociferous. This was headed by Peter des Roches, the Poitevin Bishop of Winchester, whose aim was to oust Englishmen from the major positions of power and put foreigners in their places.

Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, fortunately for Hubert was on his side; and when Peter des Roches, supported by the Legate Pandulf, wanted to appoint a Poitevin as Seneschal for Poitou, Hubert and the Archbishop stood firmly against them in favour of an Englishman’s taking the post.

The controversy over this matter was significant, for Hubert, with the country behind him and the people beginning to take a pride in their nationalism – and perhaps feeling ashamed of having invited foreigners to rule them – were fierce in their denunciation of Pandulf so that his resignation was brought about.

While this was happening, news came to Hubert of the marriage of Isabella with Hugh de Lusignan and he hurried into consultation with the Archbishop.

‘But this is monstrous!’ cried Stephen Langton. ‘And we are only told after the marriage has taken place.’

‘It seems incredible,’ replied Hubert. ‘The Queen was betrothed to him years ago – and it seems they only have to meet to become lovers again. I have reports of their manners with each other and that it has been so since Hugh de Lusignan returned from the Holy Land. If that is not ill conceived enough, Lusignan is asking for her dowry.’

‘He shall be told that there will be no dowry. The Princess Joan was sent over and he was pledged to marry her. This is a very different matter.’

‘So thought I. I shall send messengers to the effect that the Princess Joan must return to England immediately and that there will be no dowry for the Queen.’

Messengers were sent off immediately to Lusignan.

It was shortly after that that Hubert began to wonder whether the marriage of Hugh and Isabella was perhaps fortunate after all.

Alexander the Second of Scotland – a young, warlike king of some twenty years – had soon after the death of John taken the opportunity to invade England; but when Louis had been defeated, a peace had been brought about with Scotland. The terms of the treaty were now being considered; the King of Scotland was eager to marry one of the English princesses. To wait for young Isabella who was only six was not so convenient, whereas Joan who was ten was much more suitable. In two years – perhaps one – she would be marriageable.

Hubert with Langton decided that he would ask for the return of the Princess Joan without delay while intimating to the newly married pair that there would be no dowry.

Joan longed to get away from the castle. There was no one to whom she could explain her melancholy. She had been so frightened when she had first heard that she was to marry but Hugh had disarmed her and then charmed her, reconciling her to her fate to such an extent that she had come to long for it.

And it was not to happen. She was left to wander about the castle alone. It was true she had to take her lessons and her governesses would accompany her when she rode out. But she always tried to elude them. She wanted to get away, to be alone, to think of what had happened to her.

She supposed she had come to love Hugh.

He was kind whenever they met; he would look at her in a half apologetic manner if her mother was not with him; once he had tried to explain that the way in which he had behaved was in no way due to her. When her mother was with him he took little notice of her – nor did her mother.

She felt she had become a person who had to be looked after but who somehow had no right to be there, and that they were all waiting for a suitable moment to push her out of sight.

Hugh was obsessed by her mother. His eyes never left her when they were together; the timbre of his voice changed when he addressed her; his hands would caress her when he spoke to her.

‘The Queen has bewitched my lord,’ she overheard one of the serving women say.

It was true that he was like a man bewitched.

I came here to marry him, she thought, and now my mother has done that, so what of me?

She tried to ask her mother. ‘Oh don’t bother me, child,’ was the answer. ‘When the time comes something will be arranged.’

‘Shall I go back to England?’

‘I know not. Be thankful that you have me here to look after you.’

‘But you do not look after me. And everything has changed now that
you
are Hugh’s bride.’

‘It was all so natural,’ she said. ‘Remember I knew him so well in the past. Now, why are you not at your lessons?’

‘It is not time for them, my lady.’

‘Then you should ride with your women – or perhaps you should have your dancing lesson.’

She had turned away. It was clear that her mother did not want to be bothered by her.

She knew that Hugh’s conscience worried him. Perhaps he knew that his gentleness and eagerness to make life smooth for her had won her love. A look of sadness would come into his face when he saw her, trying to overshadow the blissful expression which was there in her mother’s presence. It never quite succeeded in doing that for Joan knew he only thought of her when he saw her and then did his best to forget that she had been his betrothed.

Once he said to her: ‘You will go away from here one day, Joan. Your brother and advisers will arrange that. They will find a young husband for you. It is best for you.’

‘No,’ she had cried angrily, ‘it will not be best for me. Please do not let us pretend.’

‘Oh but it will,’ he insisted. ‘You will see … in a few years’ time.’

That was what he wanted, she knew. He must salve his conscience and he could best do so by promising her a handsome young husband – which would make it all for the best.

But it would not be for the best. She knew that. All her life she would remember Hugh.

Isabella was pacing up and down the bedchamber, her eyes flashing with rage. She looked magnificent of course but Hugh tried to calm her.

So I am not to have a dowry! And this treatment from my own son! Of course he is not responsible, I know. He is in the hands of Hubert de Burgh and suchlike. He would never treat his mother so. No dowry! You married without my consent, he says. His consent! A boy of fourteen and I am to ask his consent.’

‘He is the King,’ said Hugh gently.

‘Of course he’s the King and might well not have been if I had not had the foresight to go ahead with his coronation. He was even crowned with my neck-collar. And he tells me that he disapproves of my marriage and therefore there will be no dowry.’

‘We shall have to go carefully, Isabella.’

‘Oh, Hugh, you are too mild. You always allow people to snatch what you want from you … when it pleases them. No dowry! Of course there is going to be a dowry. And what does he go on to say: The Princess Joan must return at once to England. You see, they order me! I, the Queen, am being told what I must do by Hubert de Burgh, because my silly little son is incapable of giving orders.’

‘If they will not send the dowry what can we do?’

She looked at him with exasperation. ‘What shall we do?’ she mimicked. ‘I will tell you what we shall do for a start. “Send the Princess Joan,” they say. Very well I shall reply, “Send my dowry. And if one is not sent, nor shall the other be.” ’

‘We cannot keep Joan here if they ask for her return.’

‘Joan is my daughter. If I decide she shall stay with me, then she stays.’

There was a glitter in Isabella’s eyes which Hugh had seen now and then. It filled him with apprehension, but being utterly her slave he made every effort to placate her.

So now she was a hostage. Joan heard about it – not through her mother, nor through Hugh – but by listening to the gossip of women and the chatter of servants.

Her brother wanted her to go back to England but her mother and stepfather would not let her go until they sent the dowry her mother was asking for.

‘They’ll never send it,’ was the comment.

Joan pictured herself wandering through the castle of Lusignan all her life, with the ardent lovers never far away; her mother indifferent to her, her stepfather trying to be, because the sight of her made him feel unhappy while she knew that as long as she remained, he would never be perfectly at ease.