The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [92]
“Were you with him when he died?”
“Yes, I was. It was in Utrecht. He wanted me at his bedside when he was dying and he put the scepter in my hands. He wanted everyone to know that he left his dominions to me. How strange it is that one is so greatly loved at certain times of one’s life and then . . . the whole world turns cold toward one.”
“You have your son Henry,” I reminded her.
“Yes, we are close, my son and I. I want for him all that I have missed.”
“And it seems he is going to get it.”
“I have never doubted that he would succeed. He is made for distinction.”
We could agree on that.
“Tell me of your marriage to Geoffrey of Anjou,” I said.
Her face hardened. “How I hated him! And he hated me, too. How different he was from my Emperor. I thought I should be loved in England as I had been in Germany. My father made the barons swear fealty to me. He was afraid, of course, that as I was a woman there might be a dispute about my taking the throne when he was gone.”
“And he was right.”
“I was furious when he married me to Geoffrey of Anjou.”
“Could you not have refused?”
“You did not know my father.” A gleam of admiration came into her eyes. “He was quite different from Stephen. That is why Stephen shows up as such a weakling. There was nothing weak about King Henry. He was determined to have a law-abiding country and he had one. He made stern rules. He had to, after Rufus who was no good at all and undid a good deal of the work which his father, the Conqueror, had set in motion. It is very important for a country to have a strong King.”
I nodded vigorously, thinking what had happened in France because of a mischievous pig.
“I protested,” she went on. “But it was no good. And they sent me to Anjou. I hated him on sight. He was a boy of fifteen.”
“He was exceptionally handsome.”
“I did not care if he were Adonis. I had no wish to marry a foolish boy. It was an indignity. Ten years younger than I. I was not a little girl anymore. I was a young woman. I had been an Empress. I had been treated with the utmost respect by my husband and all those about me. In fact, they had implored me not to leave Germany. I could have stayed there. I was their Empress.”
“I think I should have done so.”
“My father would have insisted that I return. You cannot know the power of that man. But even he realized the marriage was a mistake. He might have made Geoffrey marry me but he could not make us live together. We quarreled all the time. He hated me as much as I hated him. He drove me out of Anjou and I went to Rouen and then to England, but for political reasons we had to be together again. I realized the need for heirs and so did he, and in spite of our dislike for each other we lived together, quarreling incessantly, of course, but at least giving us the chance to produce a child. I have never regretted that.”
“It gave you Henry.”
“And he has been the most important person in my life ever since.”
“What of the other children?”
“Geoffrey was born a year after Henry. You have already heard of him.”
“Yes, it was his idea to capture me and force me to marry him, but that was just after my divorce from Louis.”
“He will never succeed in anything. And then there is William. But for me, Henry is the one.”
“For us both,” I said.
“I realize that he has married a woman who is worthy of him.”
“It makes me happy that you should approve of the match,” I said honestly.
“I could do no other. I would not be so foolish as to say that your lands do not count. They do . . . enormously. You have made him mightier. He now owns more of France than the King of that country. That is through you. And now, of course, there is England.”
“You must regret after all your efforts that you did not succeed in taking it from Stephen.”
She nodded. “It was mine by right. I was the daughter of the King . . . his only legitimate direct heir.”
“It is this infuriating prejudice against women.”
“Which we have both had to overcome.