The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [241]
It was difficult explaining to her parents. They had planned that it should be Urraca. They had prepared her for the part she must play. They had impressed on her what a great honor it was to be chosen. There could be few such grand titles as Queen of France in the whole world.
But in my heart I knew it had to be Blanca.
I broached the matter with my daughter.
“It will have to be Blanca, you know,” I said. Eleanor looked at me in astonishment.
“She has all the qualities,” I went on.
“For what, dear Mother?”
“For marriage with Louis of France.” My daughter was silent with shock.
“I know,” I went on, “that we have thought of Urraca, but I am convinced it will have to be Blanca.”
“But we cannot change now.”
“Why not? I am to take back one of my granddaughters, and I say that one must be Blanca.”
“What of Urraca? She is the elder.”
“You will find a good husband for her, particularly if her sister is to be the future Queen of France.”
“Dear Mother, for what reason?”
It was difficult to explain. I supposed she loved both her daughters dearly and perhaps could not see the bright jewel she had in Blanca.
I sought to explain. It was not that there was anything wrong with Urraca. It was just that Blanca was endowed with very special qualities . . . a strength which I recognized clearly, as I had it myself, courage, resourcefulness. I said: “The French would never like a woman called Urraca.” My daughter looked at me disbelievingly.
I elaborated the theme. “No. They would never get used to it. She would be a foreigner to them all her life.”
“You mean because of her name . . .”
“Whereas Blanca,” I said, “. . . that will become Blanche. That is a very beautiful name. The French will love it. My dear, don’t look so taken aback. One of your daughters will be Queen of France. What does it matter which one?”
“Blanca,” she murmured. “I hadn’t thought of Blanca. She is younger than Urraca.”
“That is no obstacle. She is twelve, is she not? Old enough to go to her future husband. I shall take Blanca.”
My daughter was silent. She remembered from the old days that people did not argue with me. When I said something should be so, it was.
The girls were amazed, of course. Urraca, who had been very apprehensive about going to France, was now dismayed because she was not going. Blanca was surprised, but she took the announcement as I knew she would. She hated to displace her sister but could not fail to be excited by the brilliant prospect which was opening before her.
We spent a good deal of time together. I talked a great deal about the Court of France as it had been when I had been its Queen.
“You will mold it to your ways,” I told her. “I am going to call you Blanche from now on. That is the name by which you will be known in France. It is merely a version of your own name and this one is prettier, don’t you think, Blanche? It suits you.”
So we were often together and played the lute and sang. I was delighted by her elegant manners, her quiet wit and her budding beauty. I was glad I had made the journey. Otherwise they would have sent Urraca instead; and my instinct told me that Blanca—Blanche as she now was—was the one destined to be Queen of France.
After the initial surprise at the substitution, there was no resistance to my suggestion, and the time came to say goodbye to the pleasant Court of Castile. I traveled in a litter for quite long stages of the journey, for I grew very tired if I stayed too long in the saddle.
My granddaughter rode beside the litter. I always liked to have her in sight. She was a great joy to me. I gloried in her beauty and her intelligence and love grew quickly between us. We stayed at castles and inns on our journey and I would always have her sleeping in my room or even in