The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [240]
So at length I agreed.
Hugh le Brun took, as he said, a reluctant farewell of me when the transaction was made; and thinking regretfully of what the incident had cost me, I continued my journey.
Everything seemed worthwhile when I arrived in Castile. I was enchanted with my daughter Eleanor. She was beautiful still, even though she had borne eleven children. Hers had been a successful marriage. She was one of those women almost certain to enjoy a happy marriage providing her husband is not a monster. Her nature was gentle, kindly, while she herself was highly intelligent and accomplished. She was the perfect wife and mother.
When I had spent a few moments with her, I thought what a tragedy it was that we had lived so much of our lives apart.
The Court of Castile reminded me of that long-ago one over which my grandfather and father had reigned. Everything was comfortable and elegant. It was wonderful to hear the troubadours again; to be with my daughter was such a pleasure that I felt happy as I had not thought to be ever again after Richard’s death.
We talked of the old days when she with the others had been in the nursery. She told me how the children had looked forward to my visits. They had all sought to win my favor, she told me, for they had loved me dearly even though they were a little afraid of me. They had not loved their father and as soon as they sensed—as children do—that there was trouble between us they were all prepared to defend me, and hated him the more . . . all except Geoffrey the Bastard, who thought his father was the most wonderful being on Earth.
It brought it all back . . . incidents which I had forgotten. I was back there in the nurseries when they were all about me . . . my dear children . . . and towering above them all, my golden boy, my Richard, whom I should never see again.
Then there were my granddaughters—the purpose of my visit. The eldest, Berengaria, was already spoken for. She was affianced to the King of Leon. The next was Urraca and then came Blanca.
I studied them intently—two beautiful and enchanting girls.
I said to my daughter: “This is a great opportunity. There could scarcely be a better match than the future King of France.”
My daughter replied: “I have spoken to Urraca and told her what a wonderful match this is and that she is the luckiest girl in the world for one day she will be Queen of France.”
“You have a family to be proud of,” I told my daughter. “What great good children can bring us . . . and what sorrow.”
“Dearest Mother, life has been cruel to you.”
“When Richard went, I thought I had nothing to live for.”
“I know he was always your favorite. In the nursery we thought it was natural that this should be so. There was something magnificent about Richard.”
I could scarcely bear to speak his name, and she knew it and reproached herself for reminding me, but I told her she was not the one who had reminded me, for he was always in my thoughts.
“I am so happy to be with you, my dear,” I said. “I think of all my children you have been the most fortunate.”
“I have a good husband. We live happily here in Castile. And then there are the children, of course.”
“I want to get to know them well while I am here. It might be that I shall never see them again.”
“Dear Mother, you must visit us and next time stay . . . stay a long time.”
“The years are creeping up on me. Sometimes it is hard to remember how old I am.”
“Then forget it, for, dear Mother, you can never be old.”
“Ah, if only that were true.”
So the days passed and I spent hours with my granddaughters.
Urraca was a charming girl, but it was Blanca in whom I was more interested.
Blanca was beautiful—not more so than her sister, but she glowed with an inner light. Was it intelligence or character? I was not sure. All I knew was that Blanca had some special quality. There was a determination