The Battle of the Queens (50 page)

This was going to be a full-scale war. No skirmishing between barons. And she knew how to make it so.

This was her secret.

Why should she not write to her son? He would be eager to come to the help of his mother – particularly when in doing so he could fulfil a lifelong ambition.

The barons of the south would rise against the King and his mother – and meanwhile the English would land and march south.

Louis and his forces would be caught in a pincer movement. Defeat for France. Triumph for England, and the King of England would have his mother to thank. She would not let him forget it.

She would write to Henry in secret. She would tell him how many men she could raise. And when Hugh and his friends of the South realised the English were joining them, she would admit this happy state of affairs had been brought about by her ingenuity.

She sent messengers in secret to England.

The man from Rochelle was assiduous in his duties. Blanche was informed of the meetings of the Barons at Lusignan and the gist of the conversations which took place there.

A messenger arrived at the Castle of Lusignan.

The new Count of Poitiers was holding court at Poitiers and he commanded all his vassals to attend.

Hugh was shaken when he received the order, for he could only guess what Isabella’s reaction would be.

She laughed when she heard it.

‘What now?’ asked Hugh fearfully.

‘We are going to Poitiers,’ said Isabella.

On the journey there she told him what she planned they should do. It was useless for him to protest that it would be an act of war. She was adamant.

‘One thing I will never allow,’ she said, ‘and that is for you to bend a knee to this man.’

‘But he is my overlord … as I am overlord to so many …’

‘If you pay homage, then that is tantamount to my doing so,’ declared Isabella. ‘I shall never do it, Hugh. If you do, it is the end of everything between us. I shall go to Angoulême and you shall never be admitted to my castle.’

‘My dearest wife, we stand together,’ answered Hugh.

In the town of Poitiers, a lodging of some magnificence, befitting their rank, had been provided for them. Isabella smiled as she studied it

The new Count of Poitiers is afraid of us, Hugh,’ she said. ‘He does not wish to offend us. Well, we shall show him our true feelings …’

‘In view of our plans, is that wise, Isabella?’

‘We are not paying homage to him, Hugh. I have said that if you do so it is the end between us.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Hugh unhappily.

‘Well, you know what we have to do.’

He nodded.

The time came when they must pay their respects to the Count.

Hugh’s war-horse was ready for him. He was attired as for war. On the crupper behind him was Isabella in rich blue velvet edged with ermine, her beautiful hair loose.

Thus, surrounded by their men-at-arms, all of whom carried their cross-bows as though ready for battle, they rode into the presence of the Count of Poitiers.

There was a tense silence throughout. The Count stared in astonishment. Every eye was on the warlike Hugh and his beautiful wife.

Then Hugh said loudly so that all could hear: ‘I might have thought, in a moment of forgetfulness and weakness, to render homage unto you. Now I swear that I shall never be your liegeman. You have unjustly named yourself Count of Poitiers, a title which belongs to my stepson, Earl Richard of Cornwall.’

The Count of Poitiers cried out in protest but by this time, having made his declaration, Hugh and Isabella and their armed men thrust aside any who would bar their progress, and galloped back to the lodgings.

There they commanded their men to set fire to the lodgings as an act of defiance and to show the Count of Poitiers in what contempt they held him.

Isabella was laughing wildly as they rode out of Poitiers.

‘It was magnificent. Did you see that poor fool’s face? He was never so surprised in his life. Did you see how he grew pale when you mentioned my son Richard?’

‘It means war,’ said Hugh soberly.

‘What matters it?’ demanded Isabella. ‘Are we not prepared?’

And she thought of the messages she had sent to England and the reply she had received.

Her son Henry was preparing to attack the French.

So it was war.

The French had long been aware of the preparations which were going on at Lusignan and were by no means as unready as their enemies had believed.

The barons, brought together by Hugh and Isabella, did not know that Isabella had told her son Henry that these men were eager to place themselves under the English Crown. They had no intention of doing this, their one idea being to establish their own independence.

Isabella brushed this aside. She would deal with any such arguments when they arose. All that mattered now was that Henry should come with his armies and they with the barons bring ignominious defeat to the French. Thus should Blanche be humbled.
She
should do homage to Isabella.

She was at the coast to greet her son when he arrived.

It was an exciting moment for them both. It was years since they had seen each other. The little boy she had left in England after having him crowned with her throat-collar was a man.

He was amazed – she knew at once – by her apparent youthfulness. She shook out her long hair and laughed aloud.

‘Is it possible?’ he asked. ‘You … my mother.’

‘It is so, my fair son, and it pleases me that you have come to help your mother whom Spanish Blanche and her sons would eagerly trample beneath their feet. Now, pray God, it will not be as they wish … It will be quite the reverse.’

Henry declared that he would win back all that had been lost to England. That it should be Plantagenet country from the coast to the Pyrenees.

‘So be it,’ declared Isabella.

But it was not to be.

Louis was a brilliant general and through her spies Blanche had kept him fully informed so that he was well prepared.

He began by taking possession of several castles belonging to those of whose loyalty he was unsure. Their owners quickly decided that it would be wise to support the King of France.

Louis was already winning the approval of his subjects. His mother might be a foreigner but she was a strong woman. She had held the regency while waiting for her son’s majority with wisdom. Many of them remembered King John.

It very soon became clear that the easy victory planned by Isabella was not going to come about.

The French were winning. The English had their backs to the sea and it was not easy to bring stores across the sea.

Henry was disappointed. He had not found what he had expected.

He took Hugh to task about this. He had been deceived, he said. ‘You promised me as many soldiers as I could wish for. You told me that hundreds of knights were awaiting my coming that I might deliver them from Louis’s tyranny.’

‘I told you no such thing,’ cried Hugh.

‘But indeed you did. I have your letters in my travelling bags and can confirm this.’

‘You cannot, for I sent no letters. I would have told you nothing but the truth.’

Henry narrowed his eyes. ‘Such letters were received by me. They gave an entirely false picture. I tell you this: You have brought me here on false promises.’

‘You say you have had such letters in truth …’

‘I say it and I will prove it. I will have them brought and shown to you.’

‘And signed with my name?’

‘With your name and seal.’

‘May God help me,’ cried Hugh. ‘I understand now. It is your mother who wrote these letters. She has used my name and seal.’

Henry turned away in contempt.

‘You should take better care of your wife,’ he snapped.

He was angry and humiliated. He could see defeat staring him in the face. He had been promised men, arms and support throughout the country and a weak ineffective enemy. And what had he found? Little support, few men and a strong French army who had forestalled him.

Everywhere the French were victorious and Henry, accepting defeat, left for England.

Blanche was exultant.

‘The Count de La Marche is at your mercy,’ she told her son.

‘We owe much to your spy who brought us such clear reports of their plots,’ answered Louis.

‘And now our braggart Count is asking for peace?’

‘And for his lands?’ asked Blanche.

‘They shall belong to the Count of Poitiers under the suzerainty of the crown.’

‘Madame Isabella will like that!’ said Blanche ironically. ‘I would give much to see her when she hears the news.’

Her wish was granted.

Deprived of their lands there was nothing to be done but to go to the King and ask for mercy. Too much was at stake for pride to intervene. Louis had confiscated most of their land but there was some on which Hugh could hope for a grant, but this could only be obtained through special intercession with the King.

It was therefore necessary to present himself in person with his wife and family.

Louis was already noted for his magnaminous nature. There was a chance, Hugh knew, that if he was sufficiently humbled and showed himself contrite, Louis would be lenient.

Isabella realised this and much as it went against her nature she knew that she must join Hugh.

It was a moment she would never forget.

Louis was seated on his chair of state and as she had feared, beside him was his mother. She could be trusted to make herself a spectator of her enemy’s humiliation.

They knelt before the King; Hugh, Isabella and every member of their family. They wept and remained on their knees while Hugh declared that he had been ill advised.

If Isabella felt a twinge of conscience she did not show it. In fact she was not thinking of the part she had played in this miserable drama so much as the hatred she felt for that pale-haired complacent woman.

Like Isabella, Blanche had kept her looks and was still beautiful – calmly so, with that purity of feature and those ice blue eyes.

She is everything that I am not, thought Isabella. The only thing we have in common is hatred.

The King was playing his saint’s role, she perceived. He liked not to see great soldiers so humbled, he said, and bade them rise. He bore no malice against Hugh, he said; he forgave him. If he would go back to Lusignan and remain the faithful vassal of the King, this revolt would not be held against him. The King would ask that he give up three castles as a guarantee for his fidelity; the King’s garrison would be in those castles and that garrison must be maintained at Hugh’s expense. Later they would review the situation and if the King had no cause for complaint the position could once more be reviewed.

Hugh kissed the King’s hand and with real tears in his eyes thanked him for his mercy.

The two women regarded each other. Blanche could not veil the triumph in her heart. Angry as she was, Isabella knew that Blanche must have no notion that murder was in hers.