The feast was a great success; and when the children had eaten the tables were cleared away and games were played.
Some of the children’s parents were allowed into the castle and to these Henry announced that his own children were to be weighed and their weight in silver would be distributed among the poor.
The people cheered and cried: ‘God Bless the King.’
And for a week whenever he and the Queen ventured out in the town of Windsor they were greeted with vociferous affection.
‘It was a very clever thing to do,’ said the Queen admiringly, ‘as well as a good one.’
Richard was happy in his marriage with Sanchia. The bond between the sisters was firm and because of this Richard found himself more and more with his brother and consequently giving him his support. This was noticed by the barons who had looked to him as their leader in their conflicts with Henry, and they viewed the situation with some dismay because Richard had seemed such a natural leader.
Through Richard’s first marriage with Isabella, who had been William Marshal’s daughter, he had been often in the company of the barons who were determined to uphold Magna Carta; and now his links with them were weakening; through Sanchia and her constant contact with her sister he was definitely veering towards the Court.
At the same time he was able to take a clearer view of the state of the country than Henry was, and there were often times when he was disturbed by the way in which everything was going.
Sometimes he visualised the barons rising once more against Henry as they had against John. That had been a dangerous precedent. It had been done once and could be done again. Once a king had been brought to his knees it was something which would never be forgotten.
There was a great deal to live down and sometimes he thought that Henry deliberately shut his eyes to this.
Richard knew that there was a great deal of dissatisfaction, particularly in the capital. He had his men placed in the taverns and along the water front that they might inform him of what was being said.
The constant cause of complaint was the Queen’s family … the foreigners. And of course the Queen’s family was Sanchia’s family.
He talked to Sanchia at times for he wondered if perhaps she might be the one to warn the Queen who would warn the King.
Sanchia was more reasonable than her sister; of a gentler nature than Eleanor she was ready to listen – particularly to Richard.
‘It is difficult to tell Eleanor anything she does not want to hear,’ she explained.
‘I know it well,’ replied Richard. ‘I am surprised that it should be so in one so intelligent.’
‘Eleanor always believed that she was capable of anything, and so much that she tries for she gets.’
‘We are dealing with a nation,’ he replied. ‘People can suddenly rise against their rulers. They endure a good deal and then something happens which may seem trivial … and that is the spark which starts the fire.’
‘And are you very anxious, Richard?’
‘I see trouble ahead. Not immediate perhaps … but on the horizon. This affair of your Uncle Boniface …’
‘Oh, that is over and forgotten.’
‘Forgotten. It will never be forgotten. The Londoners will store it up in their memories and it will be brought out at some later date. It is not forgotten, I assure you, and it was most unfortunate. Sanchia, when you get the opportunity try to make your uncles understand the English. They are not always what they seem. They accept something – appearing to be meek. Make no mistake. That is not meekness. It is a kind of lethargy, a disinclination to arise and do something … but depend upon it in due course the urge will come … and then when they rise up you see them in their true colours. They will go on fighting until they get what they want.’
‘I will do what I can.’
He nodded slowly. ‘One canker in the heart of the Londoners is Queenhithe. As long as that continues the discontent will grow. I have tried to explain to Eleanor that the people do not like it, that every time they pay their dues they curse her. They blame her more than the King. He is an Englishman. She is a foreigner. I think I will seize the first opportunity of speaking to her about the Queenhithe for it becomes more dangerous the longer it goes on.’
Sanchia said: ‘I can see that you really are concerned.’
He nodded. ‘I was too young to see what happened to my father, but Heaven knows it was drummed into me enough. Peter de Mauley and Roger d’Acastre explained it to me continually when I was at Corfe. I think they believed then that I might one day be King. The way my father went was the way not to go.’
‘You don’t think Henry is going that way, do you?’
‘Not so blatantly. Henry is a good man … a religious man, a faithful husband and a good father. He is not always wise in his kingship though and that is what I am afraid of. One step out of line and you can hear the whisper Magna Carta in the very air.’
‘What shall you do, Richard?’
‘Everything I can to keep him on the throne.’
Yes, that was it. A few years ago he would have been less loyal to his brother. He would have talked of these matters with Clare, Chester, any of his friends who were determined that the King should not have too much power. He was the King’s man now and his main object was to keep his brother on the throne.
He was often at Windsor because that was where the children were and his own son Henry was there. So far Sanchia had given him no children which was sad, but while he had Henry he could be grateful. Henry was a fine boy – bright, intelligent and handsome. He was now about ten years old and it was a joy to see him. What a son did for a man! And he owed Henry to Isabella.
The young Edward was growing up steadily although plagued by one or two minor ailments which sent his parents frantic with anxiety. The two little girls were pleasant and Henry seemed set fair to have a fine family.
If only he would be a little more discreet in welcoming his wife’s relations and when they came showering them with gifts, which had to be paid for by his subjects. It was folly. It might well be madness.
He found Eleanor working at her tapestry with several of her women. There was an air of smugness about her, he thought.
My God, he thought, I believe she is pregnant again.
‘My dear brother.’ Her welcome was genuine. She had always had a fondness for him since in a way she owed her presence here to him; and now that he was her sister’s husband he was doubly dear to her.
‘Dear lady,’ he murmured, kissing her hand.
He raised his eyebrows in a manner to indicate that he would like to speak to her alone and she immediately waved a hand to dismiss the women.
‘How is my sister?’ she asked.
‘Very well.’
‘It seems long since I saw her though I suppose it is not. I am so happy that she is in England.’
‘She is happy to be here.’
He seated himself on a stool close to her.
‘You seem particularly content this day,’ he said looking at her interrogatively.
‘Did you guess then?’
‘So it is indeed so. Henry is delighted, I know.’
‘He is beside himself with joy. It should be a boy this time.’
‘Ha, that will put young Edward’s nose out of joint.’
‘He said he would like a brother. He is a little contemptuous of two sisters. Your Henry is a great friend of Edward’s already.’
‘He is a good diplomat, my Henry.’
‘Oh Edward has the sweetest nature.’
‘Madam, I know from Henry that you are blessed with the paragon of all children.’