The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [114]
“It will not be easy,” I told him. “Do you think he will want two of our children married to two of his?”
“He has to want it. We managed with one. We will with the other, and if it is a boy, it will be imperative.”
We were all in a state of nervous tension when Queen Constance was brought to bed. She produced another girl and, poor lady, died in the attempt.
The immediate threat was lifted. There was no boy to displace Marguerite. The throne of France was safe for Henry’s son.
Then there was more cause for alarm. Louis proposed, with indecent haste, to marry again. It was for France, of course. He had not given up hope of producing that boy. There was no difficulty in finding a bride for the King of France. Adela of Blois and Champagne was chosen.
Now Henry was in a ferment of apprehension. A new marriage! A young woman! Even Louis might succeed.
Louis’s daughter was named Alais. Henry told me that he thought as a precaution a marriage should be arranged between her and Richard; but that could hardly have been suggested at this stage.
His thoughts turned in another direction.
“Until Marguerite and young Henry are married,” he said, “our position is very uncertain. You know how often these intended marriages are brushed aside. Trouble has only to blow up between Louis and me and all our efforts will come to nothing.”
“We must hope for peace between you. Toulouse has made no difference to the proposed marriage.”
“That was settled amicably.”
“Were you thinking of that when you did not take the city?”
He lifted his shoulders. “What I plan is to get the young pair married.”
“They are little more than babies.”
“That is of no account. They can go back to their nurseries afterward. I did not intend that the marriage should be consummated in their cradles.”
“Louis will not agree.”
“Louis will not know until after the ceremony.”
“You would do that?”
He grinned at me. “Robert of Newburg has the girl. He could not withhold her from me. You know there is a little trouble in papal quarters. I don’t think anyone there would want to offend me. Any consent we needed from them would be freely given. Everything will be done as it should be, and Louis will be presented with a fait accompli.” I could not help admiring him. “And,” he went on, “I shall get my hands on the Vexin, for once the marriage is performed the dowry must be paid.”
“Do you think all this is possible?”
“It will be if I decide it shall.”
Henry had decided, as he said, so it should be. Marguerite, aged three, was married to Henry, aged six. Poor bewildered children, they did not know what was happening to them.
Henry took possession of the Vexin and the rest of the dowry and was very pleased with himself.
Louis was less pleased, but he was as bewildered as our young bride and groom. He had just married and had to face those fearful bedroom ordeals once more. His one thought must have been, Let me get a son quickly, oh Lord—and nothing else matters.
We spent Christmas at Le Mans, and during that time, to my intense irritation, I became pregnant again.
We remained in France. It seemed necessary. Henry had acquired new possessions and he was very watchful of the King of France, fearful that at any moment he would hear that Adela had given birth to a son.
During that year, while we were so involved with the birth of the child who turned out to be little Alais, the Archbishop, our good friend Theobald, had died.
This was a blow to us. Theobald could be completely trusted. He was that rare creature—a truly good man. He had been deeply religious, generous to the poor, ever ready to help those in trouble. He had been learned and liked to surround himself with men of his own caliber but that did not mean that he had not had sympathy and attention to give to those less gifted than himself. He had remained faithful to Stephen throughout that King’s troublous reign and had on Stephen’s death given that loyalty to Henry, whom he considered