The Queen from Provence (12 page)

As they approached the city of London the crowds intensified.

‘Long live the King! Long live the Queen!’ The loyal cries of the people were something she would remember throughout her life, particularly on less happy occasions.

And so they came into the capital city.

Across the streets banners had been fixed; silk hangings fell from the windows. There were gleaming lamps and tapers; everywhere were displayed the two crowns – those of the King and the Queen. Most marvellous of all the citizens, proud of their city, had swept away all the dirt and refuse which usually marred it; many of them had scrubbed the cobbles clean and what was most startling to those who knew it well was the sweet cleanliness everywhere.

All the dignitaries of the City were present and they were determined to impress the new Queen with their splendour. They followed the procession from the City to Westminster where, the King told the Queen, they would act as butlers.

‘It is a custom for the leading citizens to do this on a coronation,’ he added. ‘They are very jealous of their traditions and determined to cling to them.’

‘This seems a good one,’ said the Queen.

They certainly presented a colourful sight in their silk garments and gold-woven mantles. Their horses had been newly caparisoned and between them they carried three hundred and sixty gold and silver cups; and the King’s trumpeters rode before them sounding their trumpets while the people cheered.

And with all the pomp and ceremony of a royal coronation Eleanor of Provence was crowned Queen of England.

After the ceremony, the feast. Eleanor had never seen such splendour. She wondered whether Marguerite’s coronation had been as splendid. She doubted it. Louis would not have cared for so much extravagance – as for Blanche she would have wanted to play the central part and as she could scarcely do that at Marguerite’s coronation she would want as little display as possible.

How different was Henry! Henry could not do enough for his Queen. He loved the spectacle because it was for her.

How thrilling it was to walk beside the King, wearing her newly acquired crown, while over her head was a silk canopy held up with four silver lances carried by four knights – two on either side of her. Over the King was held a similar canopy, his supported by barons of the Cinque ports.

There she sat beside the King at the high table and on their right were the archbishops, bishops and abbots and on their left the earls and highest nobles of the land.

Eleanor particularly noticed the Seneschal because of his air of distinction. He was a man who would stand out in any company.

‘Who is he?’ Eleanor asked the King.

‘Oh … the Seneschal. He is Simon de Montfort – an ambitious young man.’

‘I have heard his name.’

‘It would be doubtless his father of whom you heard. He was Simon de Montfort l’Amaury, Captain General of the French forces in the war against the Albigensians. A man of much military skill and cruelty.’

‘And is the son like the father?’

‘Nay, but he is a man of good sense, I believe. He will climb through a shrewd mind rather than a sword. There is a battle of sorts going on now between him and Norfolk. This office of Seneschal which he now fulfils he insists belongs to the Earls of Leicester. He, through his grandfather’s marriage into the Leicester family, has claimed the title. The Earl of Norfolk declares the office belongs to him.’

‘So they have fought over the honour to serve us?’

‘That is so.’

‘And Simon de Montfort won. That does not surprise me.’

It had occurred to her that he was a man to watch so she would learn all she could of him. At this moment the King was a little restive to see her interest in another man so she dismissed the subject of de Montfort and asked Henry to explain the formalities of the banquet. This he was happy to do.

He told her that Walter de Beauchamp, who had laid the salt cellar and the knives would claim them, after the banquet, as his fee. The Lord Mayor, Andrew Benkerel, was officiating in the butlery with the three hundred and sixty gold and silver cups which had been brought so ceremoniously through the streets.

All those who served would take away some item from the table – it might be a gold or silver knife, one of the Seneschal’s robes, or the cup from which the King and Queen had drunk … whatever it was, they fought for what they considered their rights and Eleanor commented that perhaps it was out of the desire for gain rather than loyalty which made them so eager to serve the King.

But it was a merry banquet and the new Queen was very conscious of her uncle’s eyes upon her. It delighted her to be so admired. She was not only beautiful but she was wise. Uncle William had suggested that she could do much to help her country – and Savoy in which he was naturally mainly interested.

The future seemed very bright to her. She had wanted to vie with Marguerite. But she had done more than that.

It was true that many would say Louis was the more handsome husband of the two. He was nearer Marguerite’s age and Henry was double Eleanor’s. Never mind. What cared she? There was no dominating mother-in-law to be grappled with here. It seemed to Eleanor that in England she had a clear field.

After the banquet the tables were cleared away and the company sat about the hall – some on the stone seats cut out of the wall; others on chests which contained some of the King’s gold and silver; some sat on stools. The King and Queen were close to the fire in their chairs of state; and the minstrels and jongleurs were brought in to amuse the company while the squires served sweetmeats and hot spiced wine.

On a stool close to the Queen sat the Princess Eleanor, the King’s sister, a young woman of about twenty-one, and she was joined by her brother Richard who never lost an opportunity of being near the young Queen.

Richard asked Eleanor what she thought of English hospitality to which she replied that it was the most lavish she had ever encountered.

‘A Queen is not crowned every day,’ Richard reminded her.

‘A mercy,’ retorted Eleanor. ‘A country needs only one Queen and once she and her husband are crowned there is an end to coronations for many years to come.’

‘Amen,’ murmured Richard.

The Princess Eleanor looked at her brother with some amusement, the Queen noticed.

She studied Eleanor – her namesake. In nothing else did they resemble each other.

The Queen asked her sister-in-law if she would remain at Court for she believed she had recently come from the country.

The Princess replied that the Queen was right. She had been staying at the house of her sister-in-law. She looked at Richard. The Queen had heard that Richard was married to an ageing wife of whom he was tired. News travelled swiftly round courts and Uncle William had already discovered this. He had said that it was well that she should be kept informed of all matters concerning the country and her new family. It made her feel like a conspirator.

‘That must have been pleasant,’ said the Queen and there was a question in her voice.

The Princess hesitated. ‘The Countess of Cornwall is very sick, my lady. She is often downcast because of this …’ another look at Richard … ‘and other matters.’ The Princess was of a rebellious nature. She was clearly fond of the sister-in-law and deplored her brother’s attitude – nor did she hesitate to show it. Interesting! thought the Queen. She threw a slightly coquettish glance at Richard for she knew he admired her, and she guessed that he would have delighted to have her as his bride in place of this ageing woman he had married.

The Princess Eleanor went on: ‘But she has a most beautiful boy. That’s true is it not, brother?’

Now there was animation in his face. He doted on the boy at least. ‘He is a fine little fellow,’ said Richard. ‘Advanced for his age. Is that not so, sister?’

‘I thank God for him for Isabella’s sake,’ said Eleanor, and that was a reproach again.

That the Princess Eleanor was an outspoken and forthright young woman was becoming clear and being about seven years older than the Queen she was inclined to regard her as a child.

No matter, thought the Queen. As yet that would be well enough. She glanced about the room and saw coming towards the royal party, the Seneschal of the banquet, the man who had been pointed out to her as Simon de Montfort.

He made his obeisance to the King first, then to the Queen.

Henry said: ‘Have you settled your differences with Norfolk, Simon?’

‘My lord, I had right on my side. He could not dispute that.’

‘I knew you would be the victor, Simon,’ said the King.

Clearly, thought Eleanor, her husband had a feeling of friendship for this man.

Richard, who had noticeably been a little depressed by his sister’s reference to his marriage, began to talk to Simon de Montfort and as the King turned to one of the barons on his right – the Queen and Princess Eleanor with Simon and Richard formed a small group.

They talked of the banquet and the richness of it and how the various servers would demand their reward in the gifts they would carry off from the King’s table. Richard had seated himself at the Queen’s feet and discussed with her the crusade on which he intended soon to embark. Simon was talking to the Princess.

Richard asked if the Queen had heard from Provence and said he would never forget sitting in the great hall there and listening to the minstrels and the content he had found in the home of the Count and Countess, and their three beautiful daughters.

‘Each one worthy to be a Queen,’ he said. ‘The Queen of France … the Queen of England … What awaits the lovely Sanchia, think you, my lady?’

‘I can only hope that she is as fortunate as her two elder sisters.’

‘The Queen of France … do you think she is as content with her lot as the Queen of England with hers?’

‘I do not think that would be possible. Besides, she has a very domineering mother-in-law. I fortunately have escaped that.’

‘By the skin of your teeth. It would have been a different story if my mother had not decided to marry out of the country.’

‘Ah, but she did. So we need not consider her.’

‘She is a woman one would always have to consider while she lived.’

‘But at least she is not here to order me … as Mar …’

She paused. Uncle William had said that she must be diplomatic and never forget that she was no longer merely a child in a nursery. She was a queen … and so was Marguerite.

‘Madam,’ said Richard smiling into her eyes, ‘me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’

‘I think you may be right.’

‘You know I am right.’

The Princess Eleanor had undergone a change; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed and she looked very pretty. Simon de Montfort had had his effect on her.

There is so much to learn, thought the Queen, and although I am clever, I am very young and inexperienced. Fortunately she had Uncle William at hand to help her.

She kept thinking of Richard’s words. ‘Me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’ Admiration was there, but speculation too. Yes, Uncle William was right. She had a great deal to learn; she must curb the impulse to say what pleased her. She must be watchful of everyone around her.

The coronation and the state banquet had been a revelation and the importance of her position had been brought home to her. It was due to all those fierce-looking barons assembled to do their homage to her and the King; but she knew something of the history of England and it was many of these very barons who had turned against Henry’s father, King John, and forced him to sign Magna Carta and then because he failed to keep his word, brought in the French to take the throne.

Uncle William was right. She needed him.

How much did Henry wish to please her? she wondered. In the intimacy of their domestic life it appeared that there was nothing he would not do. But she was wise enough to know that a King’s private life and his public one were two very different matters.

During the last few days she had been presented with girls of her own age whose fathers performed some service at the Court and she knew that these girls wished to take service in her household. It was the custom when a royal bride came from a foreign country to send back those attendants whom she had brought with her and to select others from her new country, to make the newcomer realise that she now belonged to her new land.

Every Princess protested at this and of course she would. How could she be expected to say good-bye to old friends and welcome strangers? But it was the custom, and she would be expected to submit to it.

It would be a test. If she succeeded she would know that there would be no difficulty. It would be an indication of whether she was as skilled as she believed herself to be.

They were at last alone and in their chamber.

He turned to her and taking her hands drew her towards him.

‘Well, little bride,’ he said, ‘what think you of your King and his country?’

‘I think I am the luckiest Princess in the world.’

‘Then I am happy.’

‘I have a King,’ she said, ‘who shows his love for me by his indulgence. What more could I ask than that?’