The King glowed with pleasure and Thomas of Savoy, Count of Flanders, beamed on his niece and her husband. Eleanor had not exaggerated when she had told them how the King doted on her and how he would be ready to extend his generosity to them also.
They must drink wine together; Eleanor must hear all that was happening in Provence. She thought of them often. Dearest Sanchia and Beatrice, their parents. Were they missing her?
Indeed they were, her uncle told her, but their sadness was lightening by the glowing accounts of her life in England and they were happy for her sake. And now that she had her darling Edward her contentment was complete.
‘How are my sisters?’ she asked.
‘They are well and happy.’
‘They have not yet found a husband for Sanchia then?’
‘There is talk of a marriage into France.’
‘But whom would she marry there? One of Louis’ brothers, I dareswear.’
‘Nothing has been settled yet. You two elder girls made the two greatest marriages in Europe. Your father never tires of speaking of it.’
‘And Marguerite?’
‘Happy and well. A little plagued by her mother-in-law, I fancy.’
‘And Louis is very solemn, I believe.’
‘He is a good king and takes his duties seriously.’
‘I confess,’ said Eleanor, to Henry’s delight, ‘that I found him a little too stern. He believes that there is something wrong in fine garments and I daresay that means other pleasures. I am thankful that we do not think that way in England.’
‘Oh, it is easy to see who has made the happier marriage.’
And indeed it was, for neither Louis nor Blanche would allow Marguerite’s relations to come to their court to enjoy the pickings.
Louis might be a good husband but lacked the uxorious qualities of Henry. Marguerite was loved but she was not indulged as Eleanor was.
It was soon clear that Henry, seeing his wife’s delight in her newly arrived uncle, was determined to please her more by giving him what pleased him best.
He made a present of five hundred marks and for extra measure gave him a tax on English wool.
Little could have incensed the barons more. In fact at first the necessary seal on the document granting the concession was refused. Henry’s reply was to dismiss the men who had protested.
Having seen his conduct towards Simon de Montfort, they who had demurred decided that it would be better to give way; but although that seemed like an easy victory for the King, the murmurings of discontent had begun again.
It had been a great grief to Henry that he had not been able to give the See of Winchester to Uncle William de Valence. He had always promised himself that in time he would do so. He was not going to be dictated to by the people; that much they must learn.
The City of London was out of love with him. There was constant mention of Magna Carta. How he hated that document which had curbed the power of the throne and was always held up as a symbol.
His constant need of money was always worrying him. He wanted to shower gifts on his Queen and her family. He so much enjoyed hearing himself compared with Louis IX who was far less generous to his wife’s relations. Louis would rather give money to some educational or building project than to his favourites. Whether Louis had any favourites was debatable. There were times – as Eleanor said – when Louis appeared to be excessively dull.
‘Poor Marguerite,’ she would murmur sometimes; and as he knew she was comparing her sister’s fate with hers he would glow with satisfaction.
Small wonder that he wished to show his generosity to her family. It had not been easy to find the money for the Count of Flanders, but he had been determined to do so.
He had raised the five hundred marks from the Jews. Members of this race had made their home in the City of London which was the natural place for them because it was where business could prosper more easily than anywhere else. A quiet people, eager only to be left to develop their remarkable business ability and to practise their own religion, on account of their industry and talents they had become the richest section of the community. This had at first irritated and then angered their neighbours who did not care to work so hard and consequently lacked the ability to prosper as certainly as the Jews, so Henry felt that in demanding taxes from the Jewish community he was acting wisely.
The Jews had the money; a little gentle persuasion could extort it; and since the natives of London would not be asked to contribute they would not be displeased.
Thus he gathered the five hundred marks for the Count of Flanders by threatening the Jews with expulsion if they did not provide it.
The Jews paid up but the Londoners were alert, wondering where the next demand would be levied; but since it was only the Jews who were penalised, the matter was swiftly settled. Eleanor was delighted; Uncle Thomas declared that it had been a happy day for the house of Savoy when one of their family had married into England; and Henry enjoyed the role of benefactor which pleased him as much as any.
To raise five hundred marks was easier than to procure the See of Winchester, but he had not given up hope.
Then William de Valence, who had been ailing for some time, fell ill and Eleanor was stricken with grief. She loved her uncles dearly and had been very sad when he had been obliged to leave the country – even though he had taken such quantities of treasure out of it.
At the beginning of the autumn the condition of William de Valence weakened. The King’s doctors attended him but there was little they could do. He missed the warmer climate of his native land but he said it had been worth a little discomfort to be with his niece. He had certainly gained more than the discomfort and was richer than he could ever have hoped to be had he stayed in Savoy. Moreover, until this time when he had become so ill, he had never given up hope of the See of Winchester.
Now Eleanor knelt by his bed and she talked to him of the days in Provence when he had visited her father’s castle and there had been feasting in the great hall. He would remember how she was brought forward to read her latest poem to him, and how his praise meant so much to her.
Henry sat with her, suffering with her because of his love for her; and when the last rites had been administered and William de Valence had closed his eyes for ever, he led her from the death chamber and in their own he sought to comfort her.
She wept bitterly, talking of her dear Uncle William, and Henry said that he would always regret his inability to give him what he knew he had craved for: the See of Winchester.
‘Rest assured, my love,’ he told her, ‘that Winchester shall one day go to your Uncle Boniface. I swear it. I will not be provoked by my own subjects. But there has always been this conflict between Church and State.’
She was not listening. She was thinking of her beloved Uncle William who was no more.
There was nothing he could do to comfort her, until he went to the nursery and took the child from its cradle.
The bright blue eyes regarded him with interest and he put his lips to the flaxen hair.
‘Beloved child, my Edward,’ he murmured, ‘you alone can comfort your mother in her grief.’
So he took the child and put him into her arms.
She smiled, laid her cheek against his face and was comforted.
Chapter VII
A NEWCOMER TO COURT
Isabella, Countess of Cornwall, knew that the birth she was expecting would be a difficult one. The last years of her life had been sad and lonely; and she was fully aware of her husband’s boredom with her society and the regrets he felt for his marriage.