‘There are no regrets then?’ he went on. ‘The daughter of a king is happy in her marriage with the foreign adventurer?’
‘She has no regrets and will stand by him in whatever campaign he finds himself compelled to make.’
‘God bless you, Eleanor,’ said Simon de Montfort.
The trial was over and Simon acquitted. It had to be so because there was no case against him. It was clear that he had done all that was humanly possible to keep order in Gascony and everyone knew that without arms, men and money he could do very little. What he had done was little short of a miracle.
Henry was furious with the result of the trial. Desperately he had wanted to see Simon brought low, and when Simon was before the Council Henry could not contain his anger. He glared at his brother-in-law and with that lid over one eye – it always seemed more in evidence when he was angry – he looked really formidable, to all who did not know his weak nature.
He said: ‘So you will go back to Gascony I doubt not?’
Simon replied: ‘I would go if all the promises you made to me were kept this time. You know full well, my lord, that the terms of my vice-royalty were not adhered to.’
Henry’s temper burst out. ‘I keep no covenant with a traitor.’
Simon, usually calm, decided that was something he could not accept. He was deeply conscious of those about the council table watching while they almost held their breath.
‘When you use that word of me, you lie,’ he said coldly. ‘And were you not my sovereign, an ill hour would it be for you that you dared utter it.’
The blood rushed into Henry’s face. He tried to speak but he could only splutter. This upstart … to insult him at his own council table with so many looking on!
At last the words came. ‘Arrest him. Arrest this man!’
Several of the barons had risen and put themselves between the King and Simon.
‘My lord,’ they said, ‘the Earl has done nothing but defend himself which he has a right to do. He cannot be arrested for this.’
Henry lowered his eyes. He was uncertain. In moments such as this he always wondered what his great ancestors would have done.
The moment passed. Simon had turned and left the chamber.
Simon prepared to return to Gascony and before he left he went to see the King.
Henry received him with the utmost coldness. The heat of anger had passed and he felt only a burning resentment against this man who had behaved with greater dignity than he had in the council chamber. There was a cool determination in Simon which disconcerted the King.
‘Well, so you will go back to Gascony then,’ said Henry. ‘I have ordered that the truce shall remain so you will be able to work peacefully.’
‘I doubt it, my lord,’ was Simon’s rejoinder. ‘The Gascons are determined on trouble.’
‘They are determined on trouble? I think not. Your father did very well in his war with the Albigensians, I have heard. Much treasure fell into his hands. Go back to Gascony then, thou lover and maker of strife, and reap the reward as your father did before you.’
Simon looked steadily at the King, and although hot words of protest at this slight on his father and contempt for the man who had made it rose to his lips he said calmly: ‘Gladly will I go. Nor do I think to return till I have made your enemies your footstool – ungrateful though you are.’
Henry glared at him. He felt very uneasy.
On reaching Gascony Simon found that it was impossible to serve the King, for it seemed as though Henry was fighting with Simon’s enemies, who were in truth his own also.
Far from respecting the truce they had made with the King, the Gascons were besieging towns and taking castles and there was nothing to do but defend these.
But it was not long before messengers arrived accusing Simon of breaking the truce.
‘The King is impossible!’ cried Simon. ‘He allows his personal enmity to come between himself and reason.’
Next came dispatches from the King telling him he was removed from office. Simon replied that his appointment had been for seven years, a fact which the King appeared to have forgotten. Henry then sent to say he would buy him out and this offer Simon accepted.
He went to France where he was warmly received by the French. Louis had watched events in Gascony with great interest and was amazed at Henry’s treatment of a man like Simon de Montfort.
If Simon would care to remain in France some high office should be found for him, he was assured.
Simon shook his head. ‘I am the servant of the King of England,’ he replied, ‘and if he is an ungrateful King, still I am his servant.’
But he remained at the Court of France.
Eleanor was not with him. As she had been pregnant she had remained in England and while he was in France Simon had news that she had given birth to a daughter whom she had named Eleanor after herself.
It seemed that he would in due course go home to England. The King would never be his friend, and if he continued to act in this irresponsible way who knew what would happen.
The barons would endure only a certain amount before they rose as they had during the reign of John; and when they did they would look to a leader.
It could well be that, if the King would have none of Simon de Montfort, the barons might.
The King decided that since Simon de Montfort had, as he said, ‘deserted’ he would give young Edward Gascony. Edward was thirteen, a fine healthy boy grown out of his childish ailments completely, full of life and energy, the delight of his parents and the people, who were already saying that in Edward they would have a strong King, which England had discovered through bitter experience, it needed.
So in Westminster Edward was declared ruler of Gascony and received the homage of the Gascons in London. And just as the Court was in the midst of rejoicing over this dispatches came from Rome to the effect that there was some doubt as to the validity of Henry’s marriage to Eleanor.
Henry read the dispatches through and trembled.
This was direct from the Pope. It had been brought to the notice of His Holiness that the King had been betrothed to Joanna of Ponthieu and it might well be that that betrothal was binding, in which case the marriage with Eleanor of Provence was no marriage.
Eleanor found him with the documents in his hands. She snatched them from him and read them.
‘How dare they suggest such a thing! Our marriage not legal! Our children then would be bastards! Edward would not be the true heir to the throne!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Henry. ‘I shall set this matter right. I shall make this malicious person eat his words … no matter who he may be.’
But Henry was shaken. Horrible ideas crept into his mind. What if they were going to prove he was not truly married? He thought of Philip Augustus of France who was excommunicated for living with a woman whom he had declared was his wife and whom the Church maintained was not.
Couriers went back and forth. If Eleanor and Henry were not truly married, neither were the King and Queen of Castile, for Joanna who had been jilted by Henry had married the King of Castile.
Eleanor was frantic. Her babies, she cried, what of them? She would not allow them to be proclaimed illegitimate. Anything must be done to stop that.
Henry said that he believed it was a trick of Innocent’s to make him pay for expensive bulls and dispensations.
‘So it is only money,’ cried Eleanor immensely relieved.
‘I’ll swear it is.’
‘We shall settle that then.’
Of course they would settle. There were always the people to be taxed; there were always the Jews.