When Eleanor told her Uncle William that the King had promised her she should keep her Provençal attendants as long as she wished to, he was amazed and delighted.
‘You surprise me,’ he cried. ‘This is unheard of.’
She laughed at him. ‘Henry is anxious to please me. He says there is nothing he can deny me.’
‘My dear child, you have great power in your hands. We must make sure that you use it in a proper manner.’
‘Have I not done so?’
‘Perfectly. Perfectly. There will be a great test … soon.’
‘Yes, Uncle?’
‘I wish to stay here. You need me. There is much good we can do … to Provence and Savoy. Our family are going to bless you, Eleanor.’
‘I shall do everything I can.’
‘Imagine their pride in you at your father’s Court. I believe this could mean the end of poverty for him. I am sure Henry would be eager to help him. Look how he gave up the dowry he was asking for. He does not regret it. I know. There are so many of us there who could do well in England. Your Uncle Boniface might come. Who knows … Here there are innumerable opportunities for those who know how to take them. We must take them, Eleanor.’
‘Naturally I wish to do everything I can to help.’
‘You have not done badly so far, dear child. But it is a beginning. If I could stay here … perhaps there would be some appointment … some high office in the Church.’
‘That would be wonderful, Uncle.’
‘Well, let us see what we can do. Do not mention my staying here just yet to Henry. There will be opposition, you can depend upon that. But you and I together will overcome that. Do you not agree?’
She was flushed with success. It had been so easy to get Henry to agree to her attendants remaining. Of course a high post for her uncle would be a more delicate matter … but it was a challenge she would enjoy.
It was amusing, exhilarating and gratifying to show everyone what influence she already had over her husband and it would be her aim to gain more and more.
When Henry saw her delight in the company of her uncle he determined to share it. He was so happy in his marriage that he wanted everyone to know how he appreciated his Queen. Not only was she very beautiful but her love of literature, her ability to write, to sing and understand music accorded so well with his own nature that he assured himself that he had found the perfect wife.
Like him, she wanted children and he was certain that before long such a union as theirs would be fruitful. In those first months he was in a state of such euphoria regarding his marriage that he was completely happy. He wanted to give her everything she asked.
Eleanor, basking in the approval of her husband and the uncle whom she had been brought up to respect, was very pleased with her lot; and when she thought how it had been brought about by the cleverness of Romeo de Villeneuve – and herself of course – she never failed to marvel. There were frequent communications with her family and Romeo wrote to her too. She and Uncle William read these despatches and what she wanted more than anything was to bring good to her family which meant not only Provence but Savoy, the home of her ambitious uncles.
Between the doting of her husband and her uncle Eleanor felt herself to be a very cherished person indeed. It often happened that when Eleanor and Henry were alone together Uncle William would join them. Then they would discuss state matters, so close to Uncle William’s heart, and he would put forth his point of view to which Henry listened with something like reverence.
Within a few months of her arrival in England friends began to come from Provence and Savoy. Eleanor was so delighted to receive them that Henry had to be too; and when she suggested that they should be given posts, how could he disappoint her by refusing?
It seemed at that time that there was only one shadow on their happiness: Eleanor’s inability to become pregnant.
Henry soothed her. ‘You are but a child my love,’ he told her. ‘We are apt to forget your youth because of your wisdom, but it is true. Don’t fret. We shall succeed in time. Then I’ll swear you will have the finest sons and daughters. They must be so … if they resemble you.’
Such devotion seemed somewhat fatuous to the Court. Some sought to take advantage of it and one of these was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester. Simon had decided to try his fortunes in England which, because of the lands which his father had held, and which the King had allowed him to retain, and because of the title of Earl of Leicester which had come to him, he felt might be more profitable than France. Twice he had sought advantageous marriages – and both with wealthy middle-aged widows, the Countesses of Boulogne and Flanders. On both occasions the King of France had frustrated his hopes. So it was understandable that he had turned his back on France. Henry had been kind to him; under the influence of the Queen Henry was becoming more and more inclined to smile on foreigners, especially those who could ingratiate themselves with the Queen. Simon was considered a foreigner by those Englishmen who were eager not to have strangers poaching on their land. Recently he had started to have very high hopes. His rather prominent dark eyes glistened at the thought. Of course it would be frowned on. It would not be easy; but the King’s sister Eleanor was a very determined young woman and once she had made up her mind it would be hard to divert her. It was a wild dream perhaps … but who could say that it might not come true. In the meantime he must join William de Valence and show that he would be a good supporter – because if he were to advance it would more likely be through the foreign influence than that of the English.
William de Valence had already a following in the country but his ambitions were growing rather too big for him to control. It was not possible for this state of affairs to pass unnoticed. There were whispers. ‘What is happening at Court?’ ‘Is it true that there are secret meetings between William de Valence and his friends?’ ‘Can it be that these foreigners are trying to rule our country? This is due to the Queen. The foreigners came with her. The King receives them to please her and they are making a puppet of him.’
When the Queen rode out in the streets sullen looks came her way. Someone daringly shouted at her: ‘Go home. We don’t want foreigners here.’
It was shattering to her. She had believed that everyone must be charmed by her good looks.
The King had not been with her when it had happened and she had gone at once to him, almost in tears.
He had soothed her. ‘It must have been a madman,’ he said. ‘People of good sense must love you.’
‘It was not only what was shouted. It was the way they looked at me … as though they hated me.’
‘Oh, the people are fickle. Hosanna one day … crucify Him the next.’
‘I don’t want them to crucify me. I want them to love me.’
‘I shall command them to,’ declared the uxorious husband.
But it was not as easy as that.
Richard called on his brother. He said that he wished to speak to him entirely alone.
‘You do not realise it, Henry,’ he said, ‘but there is growing unrest throughout the country. I have had it from several of the barons. They don’t like what’s happening.’
‘I fail to understand,’ said Henry coldly.
‘That is why those who wish you well must enlighten you. If you do not stop this pampering of foreigners the barons will be in revolt. It will be our father’s troubles all over again.’
‘I will not have it.’
‘Alas, it is a matter in which one has no choice. The barons are meeting … as they have done before. They are talking about Magna Carta and you know what that means. It is even said that William de Valence is gathering together a council of foreigners in secret and that they are your advisers.’
Henry turned pale. It was true that he did discuss matters of state with William and some of those friends of whom he was growing fond. He scarcely saw Hubert de Burgh now, nor the leading earls and barons. He knew that Edmund of Canterbury was displeased with him, and he was always afraid of antagonising the Church. He could picture Richard’s placing himself at the head of his critics; and he knew from what had happened in his father’s case that they were capable of desperate acts to get rid of a King who displeased them. And there was Richard – the barons’ friend, ready to serve them if they should decide to take the crown from one brother and place it on the head of the other.
He had been rather foolish. He had been so happy with his fair Eleanor, he had welcomed her friends and her relations and they were more interesting to him than many of the English barons. They liked poetry and music; they liked discussion and subtle conversation; and could it really be that while they charmed him with these, they wrung concessions from him which were the cause of dissatisfaction?
Richard said: ‘There is much to occupy you, brother, and the English will never be ruled by others than themselves.’
‘That was not so when our father was on the throne. Didn’t they invite the French to come over and rule them?’
‘Henry, let us look the truth in the face. There was never a King such as our father. He committed every known folly. They were determined to be rid of him. But when you came to the throne how long did it take England to rid herself of foreigners?’
‘They went willingly.’
‘Because they knew they must. The English will not have foreigners on this soil, Henry. If you permit it, they will find some means of ridding themselves of you as they did our father.’
‘I wish people would not talk constantly of our father.’
‘He is a lesson to any King … how not to behave. Henry, I stand with you, and I am warning you. Trouble could rise … quickly. Moreover it is about to rise.’
‘Then what must I do?’
‘Get rid of William de Valence.’
‘But he is the Queen’s uncle. She loves him dearly!’
‘I hope she loves you more dearly. The price of keeping William de Valence here could well be your crown.’
‘You talk rashly, Richard.’
‘I talk for your good, brother,’ Richard shrugged his shoulders. ‘You will not heed me. Very well, I have done my duty. You will see what happens. Within a few weeks …’
‘I simply don’t believe it.’
‘No, I am sure you do not. You haven’t noticed the sullen looks of the people … the murmuring … And the barons, I warn you, Henry, are making ready.’
Richard turned and was about to leave when Henry called him back.
The brothers looked at each other steadily and Richard said slowly: ‘Get rid of William de Valence … or there will be war as there was with our father … war between the crown and barons. I have no more to say.’
Henry paced up and down. What could he do? In his heart he knew that Richard was right. He had been aware of the discontent. He had been warned by others. Hubert had hinted but Hubert never said much now. After his persecution he no longer trusted the King. He could imagine what they were saying, what they were doing.
Yet how could he tell Eleanor that her uncle must go? She would weep and entreat and he could not stand out against her tears.
He was saved from this by the appearance of William de Valence himself.
He was alarmed. He had heard rumours. He believed that some of the barons might take him prisoner.
‘I should never allow that,’ cried Henry.
‘No, but they might attempt it all the same.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I shall go back to Savoy. My dear nephew, do not try to persuade me. I can see this is what I must do.’
‘Eleanor will be distressed.’
‘Dear child! Come with me to her apartment. I would speak to you both.’
They went to Eleanor who, when she heard of her uncle’s decision, threw herself into his arms.
‘My dearest child,’ said William, ‘do not grieve. I can see that I am in danger and no good could be served by my staying here. I will go immediately … I shall leave with stealth … disguised perhaps. But I tell you this: ere long I shall be back.’
‘Oh, Henry,’ cried Eleanor, ‘what shall we do without my dearest uncle?’
‘We have each other,’ replied Henry.
‘Ah, my dear children, I rejoice in that. I shall go now … and come back. Then perhaps Henry will have some office in the Church to give me which would be a good reason for my living here. I am determined to come back. This is but a temporary farewell.’
He embraced them both and with some speed left them for his residence.
In a few days many people were delighted to learn that William de Valence had left the country. They were less pleased when it was revealed that he had taken with him all the treasure he had accumulated since he had come to England.
It was a warning. Neither Eleanor nor Henry talked much of it, but it was in their minds. His leniency with her friends and relations, although it pleased her, had the opposite effect on his people, and she had learned enough to know that they must not be too blatantly offended.
It was therefore comforting to turn to more domestic matters.
Henry confided in her that Eleanor his sister wanted to marry Simon de Montfort. ‘I never heard such nonsense,’ he said. ‘He has a high opinion of himself … imagining he can marry into the royal family! I am deeply disturbed, my love.’
Eleanor was thoughtful. She tried to put herself in the place of her sister-in-law. It was difficult. The marriage of the sister of the King of England with a mere Earl of Leicester could not be considered a very brilliant one and she could not imagine herself wanting to make it; but suppose she did, well then, undoubtedly she would bring it about and she fancied that the Princess was as strong-minded as she was herself.
‘You are thoughtful, my dearest,’ said Henry.
‘I believe she will marry him whatever you say.’
‘She dare not.’
‘She is a woman who would dare a great deal. She was married once for state reasons when she was but a child. I have a fancy that now she will marry to please herself and it is only necessary to see them together to realise that Simon de Montfort is her choice.’
‘You have a high opinion of my sister.’
‘I recognise her nature.’
‘She has grown into a determined woman during her widowhood, it is true. So my little Queen noticed that.’
‘Yes, your little Queen did and she thinks that it might be interesting for you to agree to the marriage of these two.’
‘Eleanor. My dear!’
‘Simon de Montfort is a man of strength. You see that at once. Remember how he got the better of Norfolk at the coronation. He is a man, I believe, whom you should have on your side.’
‘What are you suggesting? That I should give my consent to this marriage?’
She nodded. ‘Something tells me that they will marry even if you do not.’
‘But they dare not!’
‘I have said she would dare a good deal, and so would he. We have too many enemies. Would it not be well, my lord, to have them on our side?’
‘My love, there would be great opposition to a marriage like that. De Montfort is disliked for being a foreigner. The English are an insular race. They think there is something divine in being born an Englishman. If a man they called a foreigner was married to my sister there would be trouble, I do assure you.’
‘And there will be trouble if they do not marry.’
‘You see,’ said Henry fondly, ‘there are many trials in being a King.’
She put her arms about his neck. ‘But you will always overcome them, Henry … with me to help you.’
He kissed her fondly. How he dotes on me! she thought. It had been every bit as easy as she had always believed it to be to charm him, to rule him. He was a man who had been deprived of affection, and a little display of it moved him deeply, particularly from her.
‘I have a plan, Henry,’ she said. ‘Send for your sister and tell her she may marry.’
‘There would be some angry barons in England if I did. I do not think my brother Richard would be very pleased for one.’
‘You are the King. Let it be secret. Then Simon de Montfort will be your friend for ever more.’
‘What a wise little creature you are.’
‘You are teasing me.’
‘Nay. I mean it.’
‘Then show it by taking my advice on this.’
‘By the saints, I will.’
‘I know they will be on your side for ever if you do, and I fancy Simon de Montfort will be a man to reckon with.’
He slipped his arm through hers and they walked to the window and stood there together. ‘Can you guess,’ he asked, ‘what it means to me to have you beside me? Never was a king so contented in his marriage as this one.’
‘There is one thing we lack … a son.’
‘He will make his appearance … in time. You will see.’
‘I trust so,’ she answered fervently.
It was a cold January day when Simon de Montfort was married to the King’s sister in the royal chapel at Westminster, and, although the ceremony took place with the utmost secrecy, Henry himself gave the bride away. As soon as it was over his misgivings were great. The bride and groom however were delighted and as the Queen had prophesied showered him with thanks and protestations of loyalty.
When Henry and the Queen were alone she took his hands and kissed them. Had it not been wonderful to see the happiness of those two? How could they who were so happy themselves fail to delight in it? The Princess Eleanor and Simon her husband would thank them for ever.
‘Unless,’ said Henry, ‘they come to regret the marriage.’
‘People in love as they are do not regret their marriages,’ replied the Queen sternly.
She enchanted him. He had never believed married bliss could be like this. He often thought of poor Richard tied to his ageing wife whom he visited as infrequently as he could. Since this enchanting little Queen of his had come to England he had ceased to envy Richard. As for Richard he not only coveted his brother’s crown but his wife as well.
It was a very satisfactory state of affairs, thought Henry. So did his Queen, for it was becoming more and more clear that she had only to ask for what she wanted and the King could not resist giving it to her.
Two months after the secret marriage the Queen was seated in the solarium surrounded by some of her Provençal attendants when a serving man came to her to announce that there was a visitor to see her.
‘Who is it?’ she demanded.
‘He asked that no name should be given, my lady.’
The Queen was puzzled.
‘Where is he?’
‘He waits in the guardroom, my lady. He said to tell you first before the King.’
‘Where is the King?’
‘He is in the state chamber with the Earl of Cornwall and the Earl of Chester, my lady.’
Eleanor nodded and said she would go at once to solve the mystery.
In the guardroom a cloaked figure came towards her and took her into his arms.
‘Uncle … William!’ she cried.
‘Yes, you see me returned.’
‘It is wonderful to see you. When did you arrive?’
‘But a day or so ago. I came straight here.’
‘Without warning. We should have known.’
‘I thought I would test the climate first. Remember I was all but driven away.’
‘The barons are stupid … jealous … always afraid that someone who in any case is cleverer than they are, will take something from them. This time, dearest uncle, you must not go away.’
‘Perhaps it was well that I went when I did,’ said the Bishop Elect of Valence; and he smiled secretly. It had been a profitable retreat. He had now in safe keeping all the treasure he had taken with him; and if he could garner so much in one short year, it showed what a treasure there was in this land waiting to be taken.
‘Now you are here, dear uncle, you will see that there is no lack of welcome from me or from Henry.’
‘You think Henry will be pleased to see me?’
‘If I am, he will be.’
‘Oh, so it is still thus, is it?’
‘It is thus now and shall always be so.’
‘My clever little niece!’
‘I hope, dear Uncle, that you will not be forced to run away again.’
‘I shall do my best to consolidate my position and the best way of achieving that is for me to have some high post in the kingdom … the Church of course since I am trained for it.’
Eleanor was silent. She knew that she could persuade Henry, but her uncle had been forced to fly the country because of the animosity of the barons.
‘I will explain why I have returned now. I have heard that Peter des Roches, the Bishop of Winchester, since his return to England has become so enfeebled that he is not expected to live much longer. The See will soon be vacant. I want Henry to be persuaded to give it to me.’
‘The See of Winchester! It is one of the most important in the country. Why, it vies with Canterbury.’
‘I know, my dear. That is why I want it.’
‘You are asking a great deal, Uncle.’
‘But I have the utmost confidence in your help. I know you will get it for me. You see, my dear, your marriage has been so good for us at home, as you know. There is no reason why it should not be better still. When I have the See of Winchester your Uncle Thomas must come over. I am sure we could do something for him, eh?’
‘We will,’ said Eleanor firmly. It was most gratifying to be considered of such importance.
Henry was delighted that William de Valence had returned to England.
‘The fact that I do not want to blazon your presence throughout the country does not mean that you are not welcome,’ he told him. ‘I should be most distressed if you were shown that inhospitality once more from which you suffered such a short time ago.’
Uncle William said he had the best niece and nephew in the world and he was sure that the unkindness shown to him had hurt them more than it had hurt him.
He did realise the wisdom of keeping his return as quiet as possible and it was not until the month of June when Peter des Roches died, that he emerged from hiding.
Then Henry, prompted by Eleanor, announced that he had the very man to take over the See of Winchester. A man of wide experience, of saintly habits, and one who had the good of the Church at heart; his wife’s uncle William de Valence.
The response was immediate.
Richard came to see him. ‘Henry, do you know what people are saying? Do you want a return of the old days?’
‘I beg of you,’ said Henry coldly, ‘do not once more remind me of Magna Carta. I know it exists and I know I have to keep a wary eye on the barons. But I am not our father. We have left those evil times behind us. I am a King who will rule.’
‘I tell you this,’ cried Richard angrily, ‘if you continue to favour these foreigners you will find your subjects rising in protest all over the country.
‘Please remember that they are my subjects … and so are you.’
Richard bowed his head. He was beginning to wonder whether the royal marriage was as beneficial as he had thought it would be. True, Eleanor was a lovely girl, but she was exercising too much power over the King and her family was becoming a nuisance. The fact was, she was too strong-minded and the King was too besotted. Trust Henry to become uxorious to the brink of folly.
Richard said: ‘I have heard another rumour which makes me very uneasy. I do not believe it … and yet there must be some attachment for it to be talked of. It is said that Simon de Montfort is hoping to marry our sister.’
‘Well?’ said Henry sharply.
‘It could not be so, of course …’
‘Could it not? Why not?’
‘It would be too unseemly.’
‘Who says so? You, brother? You do not rule this land. If I agree to a marriage between Simon de Montfort and Eleanor a marriage there should be.’
‘You would never be so rash.’
Henry felt a familiar tingling in the back of his neck which he had always had when he was afraid.
He cried suddenly: ‘Then let me tell you this, brother. They are married and I gave my consent.’
Richard stared at him in horror. ‘You have given your consent and they are married! This will never be forgiven. Who is this man … this foreigner?’
‘He is now our brother-in-law.’
‘Henry! You are following in the footsteps of our father.’
‘What nonsense!’
‘What do you think the barons’ reaction will be to this?’
‘I know not. Nor do I care. I shall tell them that I am the King and who shall marry whom and who be elected to what See is my affair.’
‘Nay, brother, that is something to which they will never agree. You forget Magna Carta.’
‘If you mention that again to me …’
‘Henry, for God’s sake don’t forget it. A king always has his enemies, and you have yours. There will always be those to say that no son of John could ever rule them well. You know that.’
‘I know this,’ retorted Henry, ‘I am the King and will see that it is remembered.’
Richard looked at him sorrowfully and Henry was so stricken with fear that he said: ‘The marriage was necessary.’
‘Necessary? To whom was it necessary?’
‘To our sister,’ he blustered. ‘He had seduced her. She could not for that reason have been married to anyone else. I agreed because of the necessity to make an honest woman of her.’
‘The scoundrel!’
‘Ah, you – the seducer of many – are shocked I see.’
‘Our sister is a royal princess.’
‘And that intensifies the crime?’
‘It does indeed. Henry, you will hear more of this. Think not that it is an end of the matter. There is something else. The people will never accept William de Valence as the Bishop of Winchester.’
‘If I bestow the See on him, they will accept it.’
Richard said, ‘You will excuse me, brother.’
And with that he turned and left the apartment.
Henry was uneasy. Richard’s warnings kept ringing in his ears. He despised himself too for the calumny he had uttered about Simon de Montfort. It certainly was not true, but it had seemed a way out, an excuse for acting as he did. It was better than saying: My wife wanted it and I could not refuse her.
Hating himself he began to hate Simon de Montfort. This was a trait of his. He wanted to be good, to do right; but when he was caught he would make excuses for himself no matter how he falsely accused others in doing so; he despised himself and soothed his vanity by hating the people who made him dislike himself.
He tried to forget the unfortunate matter of the See of Winchester, which in spite of his efforts, he feared he might not be able to give to Uncle William, in disliking Simon de Montfort and assuring himself that Simon was in truth the seducer of his sister.
He waited in some trepidation for consequences. They were not long in coming. The barons were loudly expressing their disapproval, and Richard had placed himself at the head of them.
Henry fumed with rage. ‘What is he doing now?’ he demanded. ‘Why does he not go on his pilgrimage?’
The answer was that he had domestic difficulties at this time. His wife was ailing.
‘Much he cares for her,’ sneered Henry. ‘If he stays it is only because he hopes she will die and leave him free to marry elsewhere.’
Then he laughed with pleasure, for he knew that Richard would have liked to marry Henry’s Eleanor. He could not, however, have all his own way.
So while the barons were in revolt against what they called the King’s folly in allowing the marriage of a foreign outsider to his sister and granting too many favours to his wife’s family, Henry doted more and more on his wife, finding great joy in her, and granted her every wish so that the whole world should know how he esteemed her.