As she listened to the singing of her minstrels she ruminated that life had been interesting. Henry had disappointed her, yet oddly enough she still hankered for him. She often wondered what it was about him that attracted her so much. She so elegant; he quite the reverse. Oh, but he was a man; and his power sat naturally on him. That Angevin temper of his amused her, but her own was a match for it.
Now that she had grown accustomed to the fact that he was unfaithful to her now and then, she had enjoyed their encounters, and looked forward to them. Her only reservation was that they could result in more child-bearing. With three healthy sons she had enough, she reckoned. But she was still young enough to bear more.
She was a little jealous of the King’s Chancellor for Henry seemed to prefer his company to that of anyone else - even women’s. Becket was clever, she conceded that; and he was a good servant, so perhaps she was wrong to resent Henry’s devotion to him. A king could not have too many good servants.
She was amused to hear that Louis’s wife was pregnant once more. Good for Louis! she thought mockingly. At least he had managed to get her with child twice. She wondered if he was still rather reluctant and preferred to listen to church music instead of the music of love. Not for one moment had she regretted her escape from him.
The life of repose was not for her and whenever she was in Aquitaine she began to think of Toulouse, which had always irritated her because she believed that it should have belonged to her. She had in the past claimed that it came to her through her grandmother Philippa, and she was always hoping that she and Henry would win it back. At this time it was in the possession of Raymond the fifth Count who was a weakling, yet nothing much could be done about it because he had, very shrewdly, married the sister of the King of France.
Oh these marriages! mused Eleanor. How necessary a part of statescraft they were.
Henry came to her when she sat in the gardens with her minstrels. He clapped his hands impatiently implying that he wished them to depart. No one ignored such a signal. The King’s temper was well known and something to avoid.
Henry was clearly disturbed. He sprawled down beside Eleanor and said: ‘I have news. The Queen of France was brought to bed …’
‘A son,’ said Eleanor.
‘Nay, a daughter.’
Eleanor burst out laughing but the King said in a hushed voice: ‘The Queen of France died giving birth to the child.’
They were both silent, thinking of what this would mean. Another daughter for Louis! That was his fourth. Was it that he could not get sons? Eleanor could think complacently of her three healthy boys in the nursery. Poor Louis! What would he do now? He would have to marry again in due course.
The same thought was in Henry’s mind.
‘He’ll wait a while,’ he said, ‘and then he’ll marry. The marriage of the King of France is of the utmost importance to me.’
Henry was casting round in his mind for a wife for the King of France who would be suitable in the eyes of the King of England.
To the astonishment of all, only one month after the death of Queen Constance, Louis married Adela of Blois.
Henry and Eleanor were blank with amazement which quickly turned to apprehension.
‘So,’ cried Henry, ‘he marries Adela of Blois in most indecent haste and her brother Theobald is betrothed to Louis’s daughter. This makes a very strong alliance between the Count of Blois and the King of France.’
‘Too strong,’ said Eleanor.
‘I like it not,’ grumbled Henry. ‘Forget not that the last King of England came from the house of Blois. I like not to see that house too powerful.’
‘You are thinking that they might bring out a claim to the throne of England?’
‘And if they did,’ replied Henry, ‘would Louis withhold his support from a house with which he had such a strong alliance?’
‘It is a pity that Henry and Marguerite are too young to marry. Then with his own daughter married to the heir of England, Louis could do nothing but support you.’
‘Why should they be too young to marry?’
‘Henry is six years old. Marguerite not yet three.’
‘Her marriage portion is the Vexin,’ Henry reminded his wife. ‘If the Vexin were in my control Normandy is safe and that would give me an opportunity to turn my attention in other directions.’
‘But such children!’
‘Why not! We shall not put them to bed. But there could be a ceremony. Louis cannot object. He has agreed to the match. I will get them married and with the marriage, the Vexin. Every Duke of Normandy has known the importance of that territory.’
‘You’d have to get a dispensation from the Pope.’
‘I got one before for our Abbess’s marriage, remember. Alexander is very insecure. If I promised him my support for the dispensation do you doubt it would be mine?’
‘You are a clever man, Henry.’
‘My dear wife, I should not long be King of England and Duke of Normandy if I were not!’
She could not help but admire the manner in which he got his will.
Marguerite and Henry were married. It was a quiet ceremony but it took place in the presence of two cardinals, and since it was truly a marriage the dowry could not be withheld. The Vexin was now under Henry’s rule and he felt a good deal more easy in his mind regarding the marriage of the King of France with Adela of Blois.
Urged by Eleanor Henry decided that he was in a position to launch an attack on Toulouse and bring it where Eleanor had long decided it should be - allied with Aquitaine, in the possession of that province’s Duke and Duchess.
He had the Vexin to safeguard Normandy; England was well governed by his justiciary the Earl of Leicester, and he sent Chancellor Becket to England to raise a company of knights and bring them into France. He was sure that little effort would be necessary to subdue Raymond of Toulouse. Louis hated war; he would stand aside and all Henry would have to do was take a castle or two to assure Raymond of his strength.
Henry had underestimated Louis and it was an unpleasant surprise to learn that the King of France refused to remain aloof. He had a family tie with Raymond who had married his sister; moreover the Count of Toulouse was one of his vassals. It was a fact that Henry Plantagenet was becoming too overbearing - and in consequence it seemed too powerful. Louis was aware that a stop would have to be made to such headlong progress and declared that he would go to the help of his brother-in-law.
Henry was nonplussed. He had no desire to go to war against the King of France; he could see a major engagement developing; it would never do for him to defeat the King of France. Nor would it do for the King of France to defeat him. He could not take over France. There would be endless trouble if he did. He would be fighting in France for the rest of his life.
But what could he do? He had declared war on Raymond of Toulouse. Becket had arrived with his array of knights and the King of Scotland had offered to come to his aid.
Uncertainly he marched to Toulouse and when the walls of the city were in sight news was brought to him that Louis himself was within.
The King called a halt to his armies. He sent for his Chancellor.
‘This is a sorry state of affairs, Becket,’ he said.
‘Why so, my lord? It was your wish to make war on Toulouse.’