The Battle of the Queens (35 page)

Hugh was undoubtedly uneasy. ‘There is no proof of this …’ he began, ‘but …’

‘’Tis better not spoken of,’ put in Guy quickly.

‘But we must think of the future,’ said Hugh.

The two men nodded.

‘Nothing rash should be done,’ went on Hugh.

‘Do you mean,’ asked Parthenay, ‘that we should not take our oath to the King?’

‘If we are not at Rheims we cannot do so,’ said Hugh. ‘In the meantime let us consider the friendship which must exist between my house and that of the English King. He is showing himself to be a king now … I do not think he would want to work against his mother and her friends.’

There was a deep silence in the hall. A young king; a woman to rule. It was not a good prospect. And was it not just the time when the King of England would attempt to regain the lands his father had lost?

He would need help. And who better to help him than the lords of Poitou and Lusignan?

Hugh was smiling quietly. Isabella is right, he thought. They are beginning to realise it. There is more to be gained from England than France. It was unwise of course to talk so of Blanche. Perhaps it is true. Why should it not be?

As usual he was beginning to believe what Isabella intended he should.

Then he thought suddenly: But by God, how she hates Blanche.

Thibaud of Champagne sang blithely as he made his way towards Rheims.

The King was dead and Blanche a widow. He thought of her constantly and now that she was a widow she had seemed to come a little closer to him.

As he rode along he was composing new songs to her. She was the White Queen now, for as was the custom she must go into mourning for her husband and mourning was white.

The Queen with a name as fair as her beautiful hair and the white mourning of a widow. Even her name was appropriate. Blanche, the White Queen.

He sang a little and he was enchanted with the words he made to fit the melody.

And now to the coronation at Rheims.

He had sent his sergeant-at-arms on ahead to make sure that an adequate lodging was found for him. It must be one worthy of his rank and loyalty. A coronation was a time when a new king must be reminded of his blood relations.

Rheims? What a fair city, situated boldly there on the Vesle river. It was becoming one of the important towns of France since Philip Augustus had been crowned there and Louis after him – and now young Louis the new King would share that experience. It seemed that a precedent was being set for the crowning of kings.

Thibaud was wondering whether he might present himself to the Queen immediately after the ceremony or if he should wait awhile.

He would make it clear to her that he would put his heart and everything he possessed at her feet.

‘You have but to command, Queen of my heart …’

He imagined the gratitude in her eyes. She would be glad of a protector now. She would have her enemies, for there were always those self-seekers who would be looking for advantages now that she was a widow. He would make her understand that she could rely on him absolutely.

He could see the towers of the cathedral. Many people were coming into the town. Knights with followers, all the highest in the land.

As he made his way through the streets to the lodging which he believed would be waiting him he was recognised by several people.

They cheered him somewhat mockingly. It was due to his size. He was known and recognised at once as the Fat Troubadour.

He acknowledged their greeting and broke into song. That silenced their mockery. They must be aware of the beauty of his voice and the merit of the songs he sang which were his own.

This put him in good spirits, and he rode along happily rehearsing what he would say to the Queen.

But where was his lodging? Where were the pennants fluttering in the breeze to tell the townsfolk that this was the temporary residence of Thibaud, Count of Champagne – a kinsman of the young King, and of royal blood?

His sergeant-at-arms was waiting for him at the house which was to have been honoured by his occupation, his expression woebegone, as he gesticulated wildly in explaining to his master what had happened.

‘My lord, I arrived here. I took up residence. I had your standards flying and the mayor and some of his men came to the house and demanded that the standards be removed … ay, and that I remove myself and all our servants from this place.’

‘God in Heaven,’ cried Thibaud. ‘I’ll have his blood.’

‘My lord, he pleaded that he acted on orders.’

‘On orders! Who would dare give such an order?’

‘The Queen, my lord.’

‘It can’t be so. Does she not know …? Why, I am the most faithful of her servants.’

‘Her orders were that you were to have no lodging in Rheims and that your servants were to be turned into the streets when they came to prepare one for you.’

‘But I am to go to the coronation.’

‘The Queen’s man said that the presence of one who had deserted the King’s father when he was in dire need, would not be welcome at the coronation.’

Thibaud was silent.

Then he clenched his fists. He realised he had allowed himself to dream too wildly. She was as remote as ever she had been.

A great rage possessed him.

‘We will go then,’ he said at length. ‘Doubtless there will be some who welcome us if the King does not.’

It was a moving sight when the boy King rode to the cathedral on a large white horse. The women among the spectators wept for him. He looked so young, so defenceless with his thick blond hair free of any covering, and so handsome were his beautifully chiselled features and his smooth fair skin.

One of the monks assisted him to alight and led him inside the cathedral. There was great dignity about the boy which was immediately noticed and commented on. Blanche, watching her son, was proud of him. He looked so vulnerable; he would need her guidance.

Had she been wise, she wondered, in refusing Thibaud of Champagne permission to attend? She was unsure now. A rumour had reached her that some were saying he was her lover and the thought had filled her with such anger that she had allowed her personal resentments to take precedence over her common sense.

The prospect of seeing that fat man at this time, when she was feeling the loss of Louis so acutely, was more than she could endure. But she did understand that the last thing she must do was antagonise any of the powerful lords who could make her position – but mainly that of her son – untenable.

A young king, a regent queen … that situation was filled with dangers. She would have to act carefully and quell her personal feelings in the future. Merely because the foolish troubadour had mentioned her in his songs in such a manner that she was immediately recognisable, people had started to circulate this slander. If she could discover the source she would let someone feel the weight of her anger.

In the meantime she must curb her feelings. It was disconcerting to contemplate that already she had acted recklessly.

She turned her attention to the ceremony. The Abbot of Saint-Rémi was approaching the platform on which young Louis sat and he carried the sacred oil with which the King would be anointed before he was crowned.

‘O God, keep him,’ prayed the Queen. ‘Long may he reign and well.’

He sat there on the platform before the chancel where all could see him, and gathered about him were the most important noblemen of France who had come from far places to assist at the coronation and afterwards to give the oath of allegiance.

They were dressing him now in the long purple hose which were decorated with the fleur-de-lis and then the tunic and cloak which also bore the golden lilies of France.

How beautiful he looked. All must agree to that. It was not merely that she saw him through a mother’s eyes. He was going to be a great king – a greater king than his father, a greater king than Louis or Philip. People would mention his name with that of Charlemagne.

Was that a premonition, a hope, a plea to God? She could not be sure. She could only say with fervour: ‘God save the King.’

The Bishop had placed the crown on his head and he was mounting the steps to the throne now; he sat on the silk encovering which was embroidered with the fleur-de-lis.

There could have been few in the cathedral who were not moved by the sight of their young King.

The Bishop came first to kiss him and then followed the noblemen in order of precedence … there to kiss the King and give him the oath of allegiance.

Thibaud of Champagne was missing. Others were missing too.

Where were Hugh and Isabella de Lusignan and their neighbours?

Suddenly the thought struck Blanche that the source of the rumours concerning her and Thibaud of Champagne could have come from Lusignan.

She could clearly picture the mocking evil eyes of Isabella.

And as she listened to the cheering as the little King rode through the streets of Rheims, she knew that, although there were many loyal men to support him, he would have powerful enemies.

As soon as the coronation was over the Queen must give her thoughts to the imminent birth of another child. This proved to be Charles.

She had believed that it would be a difficult birth, for she had received such a shock during the pregnancy, but the child arrived promptly and in good health and she herself, knowing that a quick recovery was essential, made one.

At the coronation many had been moved by the appearance of the beautiful young King, but how many of them, she wondered, would remain faithful to him if they thought they could best serve their own interests by being otherwise.

That was something she would soon find out.

She was still a little weak from her confinement when Brother Guérin came to see her. His gravity alarmed her, for she knew Guérin to be a man of unswerving loyalty. He had given a long and trusted service not only to her husband but to Philip Augustus before him and both had recognised his worth. This man, a hospitaller, who lived humbly, though because of his position at court could have amassed great wealth, had had one desire: to serve France well. Philip Augustus had singled him out for his confidences and had appreciated his skills. Louis VIII had made him his chancellor, and Blanche’s one anxiety about him was that his health might fail, for he was old.

So when he came to her and his concern was obvious, Blanche knew that he did not bring good news.

She received him in a private chamber and there he came straight to the point of his visit.

‘There are certain to be ambitious men who seek to profit from a situation such as that in which we now find ourselves – a young king who is not of an age to govern, and there will be those who wish to take the reins of government into their own hands.’

‘Such as myself?’ she asked.

‘My lady, you are the Queen and the King’s mother. It is fitting that you should place yourself at the head of affairs. There are many loyal men and women who appreciate your worth.’

‘And you are one of them, Brother Guérin?’

‘I am indeed, Madam.’

Then I feel great comfort,’ said the Queen.

‘But, my lady, you are surrounded by enemies. Some of them are strong and very powerful …’