So she went to the centre of the hall and her eyes were bound as Isabella’s had been and she made sure that the kerchief was so loosely bound that she could see below and she made up her mind that she would grope her way forward until she came to a rich scarlet skirt and then she would lay her hands on the owner of it and ask her question.
She spoke clearly: ‘Should a parent put the welfare of his or her child before personal desire and pleasure?’
She was aware of the depth of the silence. Everyone would know this was a criticism of Isabella’s conduct in taking the man her daughter had come out to marry and sending the child back to an unknown fate.
All present shrank into their seats fearing to be asked such a question, for the obvious answer that self-sacrifice must be made would be a deliberate slight on Isabella who had thought differently.
But Blanche picked her way carefully and there was a deep sigh as her hands rested on Isabella’s shoulders.
Isabella burst into laughter. ‘Why, my lady, see whom you have chosen. How strange it is, for I picked you and you have picked me. I will not pay the forfeit for I will answer the question. My lady, there is only one answer. We must all do what is best for our children no matter what the cost to ourselves.’
Everyone applauded with relief and none dared smile behind their hands for Isabella had sharp eyes and she could be vindictive.
‘I shall ask no more questions,’ she declared, ‘so shall pass on the kerchief to another. Ah, Hugh, my husband, let me bind your eyes.’
The game went on – questions were asked and answered. Isabella smiled at Blanche. ‘A childish game, is it not?’ she said. ‘But it would seem to amuse some. I should like more singing and then we will call the jongleurs back to do tricks for us. If that is your wish, my lady?’
Blanche said that she thought the game somewhat childish and that the most amusing were usually the first questions; after that it could pall.
So Isabella clapped her hands and declared that she would name some of the knights to play for them and perhaps sing if they could and that she had heard that the Count of Champagne was a very skilful songster. Would he enchant them with his music?
The Count rose from the table and bowing low declared his pleasure.
He then sang of the beauty of one whom he had long admired from afar. She was beyond his reach but so fair was she that he could find joy in no other.
It was a song which, it was whispered, he had written to the Queen; but she being so virtuous had not been aware that it was written of her.
Everyone applauded when he had finished and none more fervently than Isabella.
‘A beautiful song, my lord,’ she cried, ‘and well sung. I am sure if your lady heard you sing with such feeling she would be unable to deny you.’
‘Ah, my lady,’ replied Thibaud, ‘if she did my song would have no meaning.’
‘Then you could write another,’ declared Isabella, ‘and I’ll swear it would be even more beautiful.’
She then called the jongleurs back and they performed acrobatic feats of great dexterity to the delight of all; and so passed the night.
In their bedchamber Isabella, her hair loose about her shoulders, her eyes blazing with excitement, was laughing with Hugh.
‘Dear, dear Hugh,’ she cried, ‘I believe I shocked you greatly tonight.’
‘My love,’ he replied reproachfully, ‘the Queen was put out.’
‘The Queen. I hate that woman. Haughty, cold, reminding all that she is the Queen.’
‘She is the Queen, my dear,’
‘She is the Queen of a few months. I have been a Queen for years. I will be treated as such. In marrying you I am but the wife of a count but I am a queen nonetheless.’
‘Blanche is a reigning queen.’
‘Poor Louis! He has to do as he is told. And poor little Louis, the son … and the rest of them. I tell you she is a woman who will be obeyed.’
‘Some women are,’ replied Hugh.
She laughed at him and running to him put her arms about his neck. She pulled him to the bed and lay down with him. She could always bring him to her way of thinking at any time … but it was easier thus.
‘They have different methods. Can you imagine Blanche and Louis like this?’
‘Never.’
She laughed. ‘My beautiful Hugh,’ she said, ‘you don’t know how often I thought of you when I was with that odious John. And you love me, do you not? You would do anything to please me. What should I make you do, Hugh? Go to the royal chamber and take a cushion and hold it down over that haughty face until, it is still and cold …’
‘Isabella, what are you saying!’
‘Nothing of importance. How could you do that? And to what purpose? But they must do what we want, Hugh. They are afraid of us.’
‘I think not, my love. Louis is the King, Blanche the Queen. You have seen the army they have encamped around.’
‘But why do they come here thus, if they are not here to placate you? Why should they come here … first to you. Louis is recently King and he says, “I must go and speak with Hugh de Lusignan.” They are afraid of us, Hugh. We must keep them afraid.’
‘Nay, I am but Louis’s vassal.’
‘Vassal! Say not that word to me. I hate it. I will not be married to a vassal. Listen to me, Hugh. We may have to pretend to pay homage. You may … I never will. But my son is the King of England. Do you not see what that means? We are in a powerful position. Henry will not desert his mother. He is a good and docile boy … and so young. Louis is afraid of you. No, Hugh, you and I will put our heads together and use them both. Do you understand?’
‘My dear, there could be war …’
‘Well, there will be war and if there is war Louis will be more than ever afraid of the Lusignans. Henry will want us to be on his side too. You see how well you did for yourself when you married the Queen of England. Hugh, will you leave this to me?’ He did not answer and she pouted. ‘I should be a little angry … even with you, Hugh, if you did not.’
He smiled at her and put his lips against her hair.
‘You looked beautiful tonight, Isabella.’
‘Do I not always?’
‘Always, but tonight there was something wild about you … something …’
‘Irresistible?’ she asked.
‘Always that.’
‘Except to two men … Louis and the Count of Champagne.’
‘Louis has little time for any woman but his wife.’
‘The virtuous husband! Are you faithful always to me?’
‘Always, but for far different reasons than Louis is to his wife.’
‘What reasons?’
‘After you none would do for me. Louis feels no strong impulses.’
Isabella laughed aloud.
‘And Champagne?’
‘He is fixed on the Queen. Poor fellow, it will do him no good.’
‘She is an icicle, that woman.’ Isabella sighed and opened her arms. ‘Very different from your Isabella.’
The Queen paced up and down the apartment which had been prepared for her and Louis.
‘I don’t trust that woman,’ said Blanche. ‘I don’t trust Hugh de Lusignan either … now that he is married to her.’
Louis said: ‘You have allowed her to upset you. The question you asked …’
‘I meant mine for her. I hope she remembered how inhumanly she treated that poor daughter of hers. I have heard that the child loved Hugh, who would be good and kind I am sure, were it not for that woman who seems to have bewitched him.’