The Prince of Darkness

Chapter VI THE KING’S INFATUATION

An embassy had arrived from Portugal. John received it with outward eagerness. He was greatly amused to note how excited its members were at the prospect of a union between the two countries.

And rightly so. The daughter of the King of Portugal to be Queen of England, or so they thought! How mistaken they were going to be! And the expense of entertaining them and that of sending a return party to Portugal was well worth the satisfaction he got from the affair. It was good too that he should be so sought after; it showed that he was feared, and to be feared was to be respected.

The King of England was free to marry; such news would send a quiver of excitement among ambitious men with marriageable daughters. How envious they would be of the King of Portugal … for a while.

‘My lord,’ he cried, ‘what pleasure it gives me to receive you here. I believe the King’s daughter will be an admirable wife to me. I long for the day when I shall receive her here, so let us arrange these matters without delay. I will send an embassy to Portugal that negotiations may go ahead with all speed.’

The embassy prepared to return to Portugal accompanied by those members of John’s entourage who would complete the settlements so that in a short time the marriage could take place.

In the meantime John sent for William Marshal that he might speak with him on matters in Aquitaine which were causing him some dismay.

Queen Eleanor had recently returned from Spain where she had travelled to collect her granddaughter Blanche. The journey to Spain had been arduous but she had found great pleasure in being reunited with her namesake, her daughter Eleanor, Queen of Castile. They had been delighted to relinquish young Blanche to her care for the child’s marriage with the heir of the King of France would indeed be a glorious one.

Blanche was a pretty child and an obedient one; she would make a good wife, thought Eleanor, and she believed Philip would be pleased with her. But how she had felt the rigours of the journey! The rheumatic pains in her limbs had increased and crippled her and she felt angry with the passing years which had taken her youth with them. During that journey she often thought of the one she had experienced with Louis, her first husband, when she had been young and desirable and very desirous. Long-ago days! So much had happened since then. She would not want to go back and live it all again; but she wanted to cast off the stiffness of her limbs and she wanted to rid herself of this perpetual tiredness.

It was a difficult journey. She relied so much on Mercadier who was in charge of her escort; she had always liked the man because he had so admired Richard and during the journey they talked continually of her best-loved son; she would sing Richard’s songs to him and accompany them on her lute. Mercadier had as many memories of Richard and had stories to tell her of him which she had never heard before.

She said to him: ‘Oh, my good friend, you do not know how you have relieved this journey of much of its tedium. When you talk to me of Richard I feel young again. I can see him so clearly as a child in my nursery. He always defended me – no matter who came against me, and I remember an occasion when he ran to the King, his father, his fists clenched, and pummelled him because he thought he had treated me unfairly. That was the sort of son he was to me then and always.’

Mercadier would tell her of some exploit in battle and they would be sad together.

And then one day – it was the week which began with Easter, when they were resting in Bordeaux – Mercadier had gone out into the streets but he did not return.

She felt sick, old and tired when they brought the news to her. He was a swaggering man, a typical mercenary to whom soldiering was his livelihood and the meaning of life. He had become involved in a brawl with a knight who served another mercenary captain. They had drunk together, boasted together and quarrelled together; and that was the end of Mercadier. In the heat of the quarrel his opponent drew his sword an instant before Mercadier did. He was bleeding to death on the cobbles of an inn yard.

‘My old friends are dying all round me,’ cried Eleanor. ‘It is so sad to grow old.’

She had not heart for the journey. She would see her granddaughter married, and return to Fontevraud and there live out the rest of her days which could not be many and she was not displeased by the thought.

John had met her at Bordeaux where Philip and Louis had joined them and the two young people had been married. It was a touching ceremony. Blanche was so pretty and showed every sign of becoming a beautiful woman and Louis was a boy of noble bearing.

The married pair returned to the Court of France with Philip and there was amity between the kings of France and England.

‘There is nothing,’ said Eleanor, ‘that cements friendship between countries as much as a royal marriage. I am too old for these jaunts now. I shall go back to the abbey to rest a while.’

‘Do so,’ said John, ‘and I’ll swear that in a short time you will be as vigorous as ever.’

She smiled sceptically and they took their leave of each other.

He was thinking of Eleanor’s departure for Fontevraud now and decided that it could be a reason for his taking a journey through Aquitaine, there to confirm the allegiance the vassals of that area owed him and to bring to their notice that he had his eyes on them.

‘I suspect the Lusignans are not as loyal as I would wish them to be,’ he told William Marshal.

‘They have La Marche now; they should be content,’ replied William.

‘Content! When are such as they ever content? Moreover, they have some sort of truce with the Count of Angoulême. By God’s teeth, they could join forces and attack Anjou together.’

‘I doubt not that our armies would soon subdue them if they started such tricks.’

‘Perhaps. If we caught them in time. But ’tis better to prevent these uprisings and this can be done by letting them know that we are watchful of them. It is time I did a tour of the neighbourhood and received fresh oaths of allegiance from men such as the counts of La Marche and Angoulême.’

William Marshal agreed that it never came amiss for the suzerain to visit his vassals and now that there was a truce with Philip since the marriage between young Louis and Blanche, this seemed a good time to do it.

‘The embassy will be arriving in Portugal very soon,’ the Marshal reminded him. ‘You might wish to keep yourself in readiness for that and perhaps after your marriage visit these states.’

‘I feel,’ said John, ‘that this is a matter of some necessity and a king must put his duty before his pleasure.’

When John became most sanctimonious the Marshal grew a little uneasy. But he could not think of a reason why John should wish to travel through Aquitaine apart from his duty to keep the barons there in good order.

John went on: ‘To tell the truth it is this truce between Angoulême and La Marche which makes me a little uneasy. I hope this friendship of theirs is not of long duration. I’d rather have them sparring together than joining up.’

‘It could be a firm friendship,’ said William Marshal, ‘for Angoulême’s daughter is betrothed to Hugh the Brown.’

‘’Tis so, I have heard. She is a child, is she not? Something may happen before the marriage takes place.’

‘She is not far off marriageable age and is already being brought up with the Lusignans.’

John shook his head and murmured: ‘One never knows. Sometimes these marriages don’t take place. In any case, I shall go among them and they can take their oaths of allegiance. It will remind them that I have my eyes on them.’

‘And when you return I doubt not that we shall be arranging your wedding.’

‘I doubt it not either,’ replied John, a smile curving his lips.

Isabella saw the messengers arriving at the castle and she wondered what news they had brought. She ran down to the courtyard accompanied by two of her attendants. They stood back and watched the grooms take the horses while the messengers were brought into the hall.

Hugh was there.

Isabella ran to him and caught his hand. He pressed hers with affection and eager as he was to hear the news, he had time to smile down at her.

The messenger said: ‘My lord of La Marche, the King of England is on his way. He will be here before the day is out. He wishes to assure himself of your allegiance and will want you to swear your oaths afresh.’

‘He is coming solely to me?’ asked Hugh in amazement.

‘Nay, my lord. He is visiting every castle in this neighbourhood. To save him time he wishes you to send a message to the Count of Angoulême. He would have him swear his oath here in your castle so that he need not make the journey to him.’

‘It shall be done,’ said Hugh.

Isabella uncurled her hand from his. She turned and ran out of the hall and went to the bedchamber which adjoined that shared by her attendants.

They came running in to tell her the news she already knew.

‘My lady, my lady, King John is coming here.’

She did not want to talk to them, which was strange. She wanted to be alone.

He was coming here. She would see him again – the man whom she had encountered in the forest and whom she had never forgotten. They would see each other again. What would he be like then? Would he look at her as he had in the forest? Why was he coming here? To make Hugh swear his oath. A notion came to her that there might be another reason. Could he be coming to see her?

No, even she could not believe that. Beautiful as she was, he was a king and he must make his vassals swear allegiance now and then. There was a perfectly good reason for his coming. He would remember her, she was sure, but it could well be that he had forgotten the meeting in the forest.

Whatever it was she could scarcely wait to see him.

She ran to the top of the castle to see if she could see a party approaching. How would he come? Royally, of course, with pennants flying. He would ride at the head of his men; he would come into the country and Hugh would have to be waiting there. Poor Hugh, he was of little account compared with this man. She had liked to see the manner in which Hugh was lord of his castle and how her father had talked of him as though he were of great importance. She had thrilled at the thought of the power Hugh wielded over so many people. And with her he was soft and yielding and she would have her way with him; what she wanted she would wheedle out of him. She knew and exulted in the knowledge. And now had come this man – this King of England before whom Hugh must bow the knee. He was the all-powerful one – the overlord.

It was exciting; it was thrilling. Which ribbon should she wear in her hair? He would be there this night. There would be feasting in the great hall. Perhaps she would play the lute for him and sing a song – it would be a song of love and longing which Hugh said fondly she sang as though she knew all about it.

In the castle they said: ‘The Lady Isabella looks more beautiful than ever. She is so excited at the prospect of seeing her parents again.’

It was as she had thought. He came most royally. The heralds announced his arrival and the sound of their trumpets sent shivers of excitement through her. She had decided against ribbons for her hair and shook it loose about her shoulders; she wore a blue velvet gown caught in at her tiny waist with a golden girdle.

She was in the hall when he entered. She would have known he was the King by his garments alone. He wore the usual loosely fitting gown buckled at the neck, with sleeves wide at the top caught in at the wrists, but the cloth of this garment was of the finest material she had ever seen. It was silk decorated with gold. He wore a cloak of royal purple which like his blue silk gown was decorated with gold tracing. The belt which caught in his gown at the waist glittered with magnificent jewels and these he wore on his fingers, at his throat and at his wrists. She had never seen a man shine so and she was enchanted by those beautiful gems.

Hugh was bowing to him, but she saw the King’s eyes wandering round the hall until they came to rest on her.

She hastily curtsied, lowering her eyes, and when she lifted them she saw that they were upon her and the look in them was the same as that which he had bestowed on her in the forest. The notion came to her then that he had come here not so much to accept Hugh’s homage and that of her parents but to see her.

She heard him saying: ‘Who is yonder little girl?’

Hugh answered: ‘She is Isabella, daughter of the Count of Angoulême, my betrothed, who is being brought up in this castle.’

‘Present her to me,’ said the King.

She came forward; her eyes alight with excitement, her cheeks faintly flushed.

Hugh’s hand was on her shoulder, pressing down, implying that she should kneel.

She did so and then she felt the King’s hands on her, raising her up.

‘Why,’ he said, ‘it is such a pretty child. You are a most fortunate man, Hugh.’

And his eyes were burning into her, saying something which she could not fully understand and yet to which she could respond.

Hugh pushed her gently aside and led the King to the apartment which had been prepared for him. Isabella went to her room, her attendants twittering round her.

‘What think you of the King?’ they whispered.

‘His reputation does not lie.’

‘I shivered when he looked at me.’

‘I did not see him look at you,’ said Isabella sharply.

‘He did, my lady, before he found you. Then he had eyes for no one but you.’

She laughed. ‘Is he really as wicked as they say, think you?’

‘More so,’ was the answer.

‘Come, prepare me for the banquet. It will be such as we have never had before. It is not often that we entertain a king here.’ She could scarcely wait to see him again.

In the banqueting hall he sat beside Hugh. He was pleased, he said, that Hugh was now in possession of La Marche. ‘Oh, you stole a march on us, my good Hugh,’ said the King waggishly. ‘How dare you imprison my mother and then force her to give up La Marche?’

‘It seemed the only way of getting a decision, my lord. And I promise you it is better for your territories to live in peace than to wage perpetual war on one another.’

‘And you will see that there is peace here, my lord Count. You have done well to make a truce with Angoulême. And where are the Count and Countess? Did they not hear that I wished them to present themselves?’

‘They will arrive tomorrow, my lord. ’Tis the soonest they could get here. They sent word that they would leave at once on receiving your orders.’

‘Then that is well. I may rest here and enjoy your hospitality for a few days instead of making the tedious journey to Angoulême. Ah, I see there your little bride-to-be. She is charming. I will have her sit on my other side and that will show everyone in what high esteem I hold you.’

He beckoned to her and she came to stand before him, bowing in a most delightful way. He had been right. He had never seen a girl like that before. Twelve years old. What would she be like when she was eighteen? He knew instinctively that there was one who could give pleasure such as he had never known before.

‘Come, my little one,’ he said, ‘sit beside me.’

He took her hand, his hot fingers pressing it firmly. He drew her towards him and held her there for a moment. ‘You must not be overawed by one who wishes you as much good as I do. Come, be seated.’

His hands touched her as she sat.

The venison was carved. As the highest ranking nobleman present, Hugh stood behind the King’s chair and served him. This ceremony was one which appealed to the King for there were moments during it when Hugh must actually kneel before him. It was good for the little one to see the man they had chosen for her husband kneel to one who was so much greater. John knew that power was one of the most potent ingredients of sexual attraction with some females. Many an otherwise virtuous woman had surrendered to him because he was the King’s son, King’s brother and later the King. Rank could be a powerful aphrodisiac. He picked out dainties from his platter and fed them to the lovely child beside him. Now and then he would look at Hugh. ‘You see, my lord, how I am determined to honour you.’

The meal over, the minstrels played. Isabella had been brought up to love music and taught to sing and play, and when John was asked if he would care to hear her sing for him he replied that this would give him great delight.

So she sang for him a song of love and longing. By God’s ears, he thought, I would never want to leave my bed were she put in it.

Twelve years. What a delectable age! And never known a man yet. He would be the first. He must be. He would be ready to give a great deal for that one.

He wished that she were the daughter of some poor knight whom he was visiting, so that he might say: ‘Your daughter pleases me. She shall share my bed this night.’

This was different. What if he abducted her? He would have the whole of Aquitaine rising against him. Angoulême would unite with the Lusignans and all hell would be let loose. Have her he must, and he would, but he would have to be more subtle.

The song had finished.

‘I trust it pleased you, my lord,’ she said.

‘I have rarely been so pleased,’ he answered her.

’Tis true, he thought. And she is excited. What passion is in that exquisite little body, just begging to be awakened. My task, good Hugh, not yours. This child shall be my bedmate … and soon, for I shall go mad if there is too much waiting. I want her now while she is twelve years old, untouched and yet eager to be. What a combination of pleasure awaits me.

Her parents would be here the following day. He would have a proposition to make with them.

Others sang. They bored him. He watched Isabella. Every now and then their eyes met; he would smile at her and there would be her answering response.

How irksome the waiting was.

He retired for the night and she went to her bedchamber. She scarcely slept. She was thinking of him all the night.

The next day she walked in the gardens of the castle with her attendants. She looked up and saw him at a window, watching her. She shivered afresh even though it was warm and sunny.

When she went up the stone staircase to her apartment he was waiting there, close to the door. No one else was in sight.

‘Isabella,’ he whispered.

‘My lord!’

He held out his hand and she put hers into it. Then she was seized and held against him. As his hands caressed her body she began to tremble.

‘You excite me,’ he said, ‘as I never was excited before. Do I excite you?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered.

He kissed her then again and again. She was gasping but making no attempt to protest or escape.

‘You are warm-hearted,’ he said. ‘I sense it. You long to experience the sweets of life.’

‘Oh yes, my lord,’ she murmured.

‘As yet no man has known you.’ Then he laughed and whispered: ‘’Twill not be for long. There’s joy in store for you.’

‘My lord, I hear someone on the stair.’

‘Do you then?’ he answered. ‘So part we must … and you are for me, forget it not.’

‘I am betrothed to Hugh,’ she answered.

‘Remember this. It is the custom of kings to have their way, sweetheart. And this king is more determined to have his than most.’

He released her then and she ran to her room. She looked at the patches on her skin where he had kissed her.

She knew that something very exciting was about to happen.

Her parents arrived the next day. How delighted they were to see her!

Her mother wished to know if she were happy in the Lusignan household.

‘Very happy, Mother,’ she said. ‘Everyone is kind to me.’

‘And you are behaving as we would wish, daughter?’

‘I think so, Mother.’

Her father embraced her.

‘The Lusignans are delighted with you,’ he told her. ‘Hugh told me so. You are a good child.’

‘Yes, Father. The King of England is here.’

‘It is for that reason that we owe this visit.’

‘Yes, Hugh told me.’

‘Have you been allowed to see the King?’

‘Yes. I sat beside him at supper. Then I sang to him. He was most gracious.’

‘That is well. I hope you were not too forward.’

‘The King did not seem to think so.’

Her parents looked at her apartment and spoke to the young girls who attended her. The Countess wanted to assure herself that they were suitable to wait on her daughter.

Then they went down to the hall where several other heads of noble families were assembled that they might do homage to the King their suzerain.

When the ceremony was completed John said he would like to walk in the gardens and he invited the Count and Countess of Angoulême to walk with him.

He said that he was delighted by the friendship between their house and that of the Lusignans. ‘It is always good,’ he commented, ‘to see these family feuds ended.’

‘It was an excellent idea to unite the families through the betrothal of Hugh the Brown and our daughter,’ agreed the Count.

‘Ah, your daughter. She is enchanting.’

The Countess smiled. ‘She has been admired for her beauty ever since she was more or less a baby.’

‘She’s a little enchantress. I tell you this; she has cast a spell over me.’

The parents smiled fondly but John’s next words quickly dispersed their smiles.

‘So much so,’ said John, ‘that I want her for myself and I shall not rest until she is mine.’

The Count and Countess appeared to have been struck dumb for they could not find the words to express their shock and amazement.

John said: ‘You are overcome by the honour I would do you. Your daughter is the most enchanting child I ever saw. She is ready for marriage. I never saw one so ripe and ready for the plucking. My dear Count and Countess, you will bless the day I sent for you to come to the Lusignan stronghold. For there I saw your daughter and the moment I clapped eyes on her – which was at a previous meeting in the forest – I was in love with her. I want her and I will have her and you will give her to me with the utmost joy.’

It was the Count who spoke first. It seemed to him that the King had gone mad. He had heard stories of his terrible rages, how he struck people or anything that was in his way, animate or inanimate, how he threw himself about and would do himself a damage if there was no one else on whom he could inflict his fury. This must be a prelude to madness.

But now he appeared to be calm enough. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I want Isabella. So much do I want her that I am prepared to face anything and anyone to get her. She is to be the Queen of England. What think you of that, my lord Count?’

‘’Tis a great honour, my lord, but she is betrothed to Hugh the Brown.’

‘Hugh the Brown! The petty Count of Lusignan! I am offering your daughter a crown. Duchess of Normandy, Countess of Anjou, Queen of England. You are no fool, Count.’

‘It is honour beyond our dreams,’ said the Countess.

‘My lady, you know a good prospect when you see it. I am so enamoured of your daughter that I will risk anything to get her, for no sooner did I see her than I knew I must have her.’

‘She is but a child, my lord, as yet.’

‘She is no ordinary child. There is a woman in that adorable immature body. My woman.’

‘Isabella has always been much admired. We know that she is possessed of exceptional beauty. You honour us greatly, but her betrothal—’

‘Bah! It shall be as nothing. You will take her away with you this day … back to Angoulême. I will come with you and there I will marry her without delay.’

‘The Lusignans would never permit her to go.’

‘Do you have to ask their permission as to what you do for your own daughter?’

‘In the circumstances we should have to. My lord, your admiration for her has been noted and we are in the heart of Lusignan country. It seems certain that they would never permit us to take her today.’

John was silent for a while.

Then he said: ‘I have it. We will go from here this day leaving Isabella here. Then in a week you will ask the Lusignans if they will permit your daughter to visit you for a few days. You have been with her and you miss her very much. They cannot object to parents wishing to have a visit from their daughter.’

‘And then, my lord?’

‘I shall come to Angoulême and there I will marry Isabella. As you know, I am free to do so. Then instead of being the Countess of La Marche, your daughter will be the Queen of England. Come, good Count and Countess, you will find it far more profitable to ally yourself with the House of Anjou and royal Plantagenet than with the Lusignans. Your daughter would never forgive you if you attempt to spoil her chances.’

‘It is my daughter of whom I think,’ said the Countess. ‘She is a child. She has grown accustomed to Hugh de Lusignan, and she is reconciled to the fact that she is to marry him.’

‘You’ll find your daughter is happy with the change.’ He laughed aloud. ‘I can promise you that.’

Then they went into the castle together and the Count and Countess of Angoulême told their host that they must leave. There were matters claiming their attention in Angoulême.

They said farewell to their daughter and left.

The next day the King left the castle and rode off in the opposite direction.

He had taken a brief farewell of Isabella. She had stood before him in the hall and suddenly he had lifted her from her feet and kissed her mouth. He had whispered: ‘Soon we shall meet again.’

Then he put her down, and in an aside to those standing by, he said that he found children enchanting. As though, she thought, momentarily angry, she were but a child to be petted. But she remembered his words and the brief embrace they had had on the previous day and she knew that he was acting for those watchers.

He rode away and she was with the crowd who stood at the castle gates watching; then she had gone up to a turret to see the last of the cavalcade.

The castle seemed very dull when the guests had departed. Had he really meant it when he had said they would soon meet again?

Everyone in the castle seemed to be talking about him. She went down to the kitchens to listen to the talk there. Servants knew so much.

She heard how he had been called John Lackland by his father when he was born because there were so many elder brothers to share out the King’s possessions. He had been to Ireland where he had shocked the natives with his wild behaviour. He had several illegitimate children. His weakness was women and he could never have enough of them. Had they noticed his clothes? All those jewels! His father had never cared for fine clothes; he had the hands of a lackey for he refused to wear gloves; and he ate standing up so that none would have known he was a king. John was different. He was always dressed in fine clothes and jewels. He always wanted everyone to have no doubt from the moment they saw him that he was the King.

The visit was the most exciting the household had ever known. King Richard had been very friendly with the family because of the crusades; now it was good to think that King John was on such excellent terms with them.

But listening to talk of him was poor consolation for his presence.

And what would happen now? He would go away and forget her. Would he? The way he had looked at her and held her surely had meant something. But then he liked all women.

The days passed. Nothing very amusing happened.

Shortly after the King’s departure Hugh had to go away to settle some revolt on the borders of his territory. He said farewell to Isabella and kissed her tenderly.

‘Soon,’ he told her, ‘we shall marry. I begin to think that in spite of your tender years we might go through the ceremony. As for the consummation …’

He did not finish and she did not seek to remind him as she had on other occasions that she was not so young as they all presumed her to be.

‘My brother Ralph will take over my position in the castle. He says his first duty will be to protect you.’

She watched Hugh ride away rather sadly for in spite of the impression John had made on her she was still deeply attracted by Hugh. In fact it had occurred to her to wish that Hugh were the King. What a fine king he would have made!

A few days after Hugh’s departure came a message from the Count and Countess of Angoulême. They missed their daughter and they wondered if Hugh would allow her to pay them a short visit.

Hugh being away, Ralph could see no reason why he should not grant Isabella’s parents what they asked.

Within a few days, surrounded by a considerable entourage, Isabella was riding to Angoulême.

Isabella welcomed the change. It would be pleasant to be home for a short while. She was feeling a little depressed, for her attendants had talked constantly of John since his visit and she had heard a great deal about his many mistresses.

Could it have been that he had behaved with her as he did to all attractive females? Was it really true that she, being so young and inexperienced of the world, had believed there was something special in his treatment of her?

She was soon to discover the truth. As they came close to Angoulême she saw a party of riders in the distance and recognised the King at the head of them. Excitement possessed her as he galloped up to her.

He brought his horse close to hers and looked at her.

‘I feared I had imagined so much beauty,’ he said. ‘But nay, you are even lovelier than in my dreams.’

‘My lord, I am glad to give you pleasure …’

‘There has never been such pleasure as we two shall know together,’ he told her. ‘God’s eyes, I would we were alone now. I would the priest had mumbled his words over us. But soon it shall be so. You and I will ride on to your father’s castle and as we ride I will tell you of the future I am planning for you.’

He had turned his horse and kept it close to hers. He waved his hand for the rest of the two parties to fall behind. Then he and Isabella rode on close together some way ahead of the rest.

‘I cannot take my eyes from you,’ he said. ‘Ever since the day in the forest you have shared my bed … but only in my thoughts. I am going to make that a reality. I shall wake in the morning and find you there. My little Queen.’

‘What does my father say?’ she asked.

‘What can he say? What can he do but thank God for his good fortune and go down on his knees and bless the day King John saw the loveliest maiden in the world before she was thrown away on a count not worthy of her?’

‘Hugh is a very fine man,’ she said and was surprised that she felt a certain resentment to hear him maligned.

‘Forget him, sweetheart. You are no countess. You are to be a queen. I am going to marry you. Yes, sweetheart. It’s to be marriage for us. Your parents are beside themselves with joy for this great good fortune which has come to them through you. I had a wife who was no wife to me. I hated her as much as I shall love you. It makes me laugh to speak of her with you beside me. She was as different from you as one woman could be from another. She gave me no children. I gave her little chance to. It will be different with us. But I’d not have you bear children too soon. You are too young for it. I’d not have that perfect little body spoilt. Nay, we’ll keep it as it is, shall we … for a year or two? And then we’ll start our sons. Why do you not speak, Isabella?’

‘I had no idea that this would happen.’

‘Did you not know when I held you against me … and talked to you? Could you not guess how urgently I needed you?’

‘I did not know …’

‘My innocent sweetheart, you are but a child. Never mind. I’ll teach you to be a woman. There’ll be a warm welcome for you at Angoulême and then the priest shall wed us and I’ll carry you to my bed.’

At the castle her parents were waiting for her. They looked very solemn but she saw at once that they were reconciled to the change of bridegroom.

When she was in her chamber they came to her and dismissed her attendants.

‘You realise, Isabella,’ said her father, ‘what a great honour this is for you, for the family and for Angoulême?’

‘I am to be a queen,’ she said.

‘Queen … duchess … countess … yours will be one of the highest positions in the world.’

‘You are pleased with me, Father?’

‘There is not a father in the land who would not be pleased to see his daughter made queen.’

‘There is one who will not be pleased to see me a queen,’ she reminded them. ‘What of Hugh?’

‘He must perforce accept what is inevitable.’

‘We have been betrothed, Father.’

‘Thank God the marriage was delayed.’

‘You thought I was too young for Hugh. Am I not too young for the King?’

‘The King thinks not. He likes your youth.’

Her mother looked anxious. ‘There are matters which you must try to understand.’

‘Your mother must talk to you,’ said the Count.

She laughed at them. ‘I know of what you would speak. I have looked about me and I know well what happens between men and women. I know what the King wants of me.’

‘You are old for your years, my child,’ said the Countess, ‘and perhaps that is well.’

Isabella could not stop thinking of Hugh – so tall and kind. She had tried to lure him into forgetting her youth but he would not be lured. There was something honourable and noble about Hugh; it made her a little sad to think of how angry he would be when he had heard that her parents had taken her away from him to give her to King John.

‘You are to prepare to leave for Bordeaux at once,’ said her mother. ‘You are to be married there by the Archbishop. The King will have no delay, he is so eager for the ceremony.’

‘Should not Hugh be told?’

‘My dear child, certainly not! The great point is to get the marriage over before anyone can try to stop it. The King will be very angry if we do not all meet his wishes. Therefore you must prepare without delay.’

It was exciting to have a wedding. She thought of herself wearing a crown. It would be most becoming. Within a few days they were riding to Bordeaux and there the Archbishop married them.

There was feasting in the castle that night but at an early hour John left the feast with his bride.

‘I am hungry for only one feast,’ he told the company.

She was very young – a child really – but the sensuality was there as he had known it would be. He was rarely mistaken in women.

Young as she was she could give passion for passion. He blessed the fate which had sent him into the forest that day. His hopes of her had been high and they had not been one whit disappointed.

During the days of the honeymoon which were spent mainly in the bedchamber, for he would not rise until dinner time, he became even more infatuated with his child bride.