The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [111]
“So you read the thoughts of others?”
“Such as Louis, yes. He would not allow me to bring Marguerite to England, and do you know why? Because he did not want his little daughter brought up in your Court . . . even though she is to marry your son.”
“Did he say this?”
“I told you your name was not mentioned. When I reminded him that a bride is brought up in her husband’s country, his mouth tightened and I’ll swear he was murmuring a prayer under his breath. ‘Oh God, save my innocent daughter from that wicked woman.’”
“I am sure he was doing no such thing.”
“Well, he said no most firmly. ‘No, no. My daughter stays in France.’ Now this, of course, was something which I could not allow. We might as well not have gone there . . . all that expense . . . it would be for nothing.”
“And Becket’s trip must have been a costly one.”
“What Becket did was right.”
“You mean for him to travel like a king and you as a commoner?”
“Our own styles suited us best. And what matters it, since we achieved the desired result?”
“But you say Louis will not allow Marguerite to come to England.”
“That has nothing to do with Becket’s ostentation and my humility. It was due to absent influences.”
“You mean because of me.”
“Exactly.”
“But you did not mention me.”
“Your presence was there . . . floating between us. You are not easily dismissed from people’s minds, my love.”
“So she is still with her father, and your mission is unfulfilled.”
“By the eyes of God, what do you take me for? Certainly that is not so. You know my Chief Justice, Robert of Newburg. What a righteous man! His castle is so convenient. Right on the borders of Normandy, so that he can keep an eye on what goes on on the other side. He is very pious . . . a man after Louis’s own heart. I suggested that the little girl be brought to his household. It would be safer than the perilous journey across the water. Louis had to give way. Not a breath of scandal concerning Robert of Newburg has ever passed any lips. In fact, all talk of his piety. So, that little matter was settled and the innocent child will be spared the evil influence and be brought up in a house of virtue.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I suppose it would have been somewhat ironic for Louis’s daughter to be brought up under my care.”
“Incongruous indeed. But all is well. Louis and I have visited churches together. I have been a very virtuous man for his sake—and now we are the best of friends.”
“For how long?” I said.
“For as long as it is necessary, I hope,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
So we spent Christmas at Cherbourg, and Henry’s delight in his son pleased me; it was a happy time.
There was a new development. Henry’s troublesome brother Geoffrey died suddenly. Henry expressed no remorse for their quarrel; he was without sentiment and would have considered it hypocritical to feign grief he did not feel, which was honest, of course. It was typical of him that he immediately began to assess the advantages his brother’s death could bring to him.
For one thing, it was the end of a troublemaker. By great good fortune, two years before his death Geoffrey had been offered the county of Nantes which he had eagerly accepted. Nantes was one of the most important cities in Brittany and there had been unrest in the province for some years. It was hoped that Geoffrey would be able to prevent rebellion. Well, now he was dead and, said Henry, Nantes belonged to the family.
I was amazed by him. His resources were stretched to the limit. He was trying to rule England, Normandy, Anjou and Aquitaine. And now he was thinking of adding Brittany to his possessions. I recognized the acquisitive gleam in his eyes. Sometimes I believed it was a dream of Henry’s to conquer the whole world.
He set about stabilizing his claim to Nantes and, because of his new friendship with Louis, he asked his permission to take over the city. It did not surprise me that Louis gave in to this. There had been trouble in Brittany for some time, and Louis