Eleanor remembered their shouting at each other and the culmination of their quarrels when her mother had roused his sons against the King their father and as a result had herself been imprisoned for many years.
She was determined that her children should know a happy home and the Court of Castile should be far away – and not only in miles – from those in which she had passed her childhood.
The girls always wanted to hear stories of her childhood and she had thought it good for them to hear that they might appreciate the happiness of Castile and their kindly parents.
Alphonso was proud of them and there was little he liked better than to be in their company. His fond eyes would follow them, admiring, loving and he would smile affectionately at his wife and say God had been good to them.
It was scarcely possible that such a paradise should not have its serpent. When she was very young Blanca thought this was the Saracens, because there was a great deal of talk about them and the name was spoken with awe and fear. Her father had constantly to leave them to fight the Saracens – and alas, he was not always successful. Then there would be gloom in the palace and the sisters would talk about the wicked Saracens and wonder whether they would ever invade the palace and carry them off to be slaves.
None of this happened and when she was nine years old Blanca realised that there could be as great a threat to the peaceful days as the advent of the Saracens.
She was nine years old when, one day, as the girls were at their lessons a message came for Berengaria, the eldest, to go to their parents who had something of importance to say to her.
Urraca and Blanca were a little put out, for usually the girls shared everything. They knew that visitors had arrived at the castle and that their parents had given them a very warm welcome and Blanca immediately said that the summons for Berengaria must in some way be connected with the visitors.
What it could be, they could not imagine, but they were not left long in doubt.
Berengaria came into the schoolroom, her face blank as though something very bewildering had happened and she could not understand what it meant.
Her sisters immediately demanded to know whom she had met and what she had seen and why it was they were not invited to the meeting.
Berengaria sat down and blurted out: ‘I have been seeing the emissaries.’
‘What emissaries?’
‘Of the King of Léon.’
‘But why do you see them and not us?’
‘Because I am the eldest.’
‘But why … why?’ demanded Blanca who, although younger than Urraca, usually took the lead.
‘A terrible thing has happened. I … I’m going to be married to Alfonso of Léon.’
‘Married!’ cried Blanca. ‘You. How can you? You’re not old enough.’
‘They think I am.’ Berengaria flung herself at her sisters, clinging to them. ‘Oh, I have to go away … right away from here. I shall never see you again.’
‘Léon is not so very far away,’ said Blanca.
‘We’ll all come to see you and you must come here to see us,’ consoled Urraca.
‘You won’t be here. It’ll happen to you. You’ll both have to marry too.’
Urraca and Blanca looked at each other in dismay. It would happen, of course. It happened to all. Their long carefree days would cease and their enchanted childhood would end.
‘At least your husband has the same name as our father,’ said Blanca soothingly, ‘so he can’t be so bad.’
‘I wonder what the names of our husbands will be,’ said Urraca.
At which Berengaria cried out: ‘You are so young … too young to understand. What do names matter? I’m going away … right away … It’s never going to be the same again.’
Nor was it, for understanding had come to them. Like Adam and Eve they had eaten of the tree of knowledge, and they were now aware that life could change.
In due course Berengaria went away and married the King of Léon. Their parents pacified her and told her that all would be well. She was going to be a queen and that was a very pleasant thing to be. She would help to rule with her Alfonso. Think how exciting that would be. And there would be occasions when the King and Queen of Léon would visit the King and Queen of Castile.
But Berengaria could not be easily appeased. She was going to a strange land and leaving the happy home of her childhood.
Her parting words were ominous. ‘Your turn will come.’
They missed Berengaria but after a while they became accustomed to being without her and for three years nothing was said of marriage, but it was inevitable that it must come sooner or later.
This time both girls were summoned to their parents. Eleanor looked a little sad and as she drew them to her and held them close, a foreboding touched them, because what had happened to Berengaria had warned them.
Each girl was afraid – Urraca because she guessed it was for her the next husband had been found, and Blanca because she believed she would be the one to be left behind. They had missed their eldest sister, but at least there had been two of them – now she would be alone.
‘This is really very good news,’ said Eleanor. ‘There could not be a grander match for you.’
She was looking at Urraca who began to tremble.
‘Don’t be afraid, child,’ went on Eleanor. ‘Your father and I assure you that unless this was the best for you we would never consider it. But we should be foolish indeed were we to refuse such an honour. Few princesses could receive a greater. Urraca, my dearest, the King of France has sent messengers to your father. He wants you as a bride for his son, Louis. We shall tell him that we are conscious of this great honour and when the settlement has been arranged there need be no delay in uniting our families.’
Urraca looked as though she would burst into tears and her mother took her hands and cried: ‘Why, my child, you should be rejoicing. Do you realise what this means? Berengaria is the Queen of Léon and that is very fine, but you will be the Queen of France. There is nothing better I could wish for you.’
‘But I must go away and leave you all …’
‘Dearest Urraca, it is the lot of all princesses. You have been fortunate. You have learned how to make a happy home for the family you will have. I know, my dear daughter, that you are going to be so happy.’
‘I’m not, I’m not,’ sobbed Urraca. ‘I want to stay with you and our father and Blanca.’
‘I don’t want her to go,’ cried Blanca. ‘I shall be all alone.’
‘Not for long, my dear. Very soon a husband will be found for you and if he is as suitable as those of your sisters, your father and I will be proud and happy. Now listen to me. Your grandmother is so pleased with the match that she is coming here. She will take you, Urraca, to the Court of France and stay with you until you are safely married – so eager is she for the match and so important does she find the matter.’
‘My grandmother!’ cried Urraca in even greater dismay. It was bad enough to have to face a husband but in the company of that formidable lady it would be an even greater ordeal.
The redoubtable Eleanor of Aquitaine – eighty years of age though she was – made the long journey from Fontevrault, where she had hoped to spend her last days in peace and, it was whispered, repentance for a scarcely blameless life.
Great preparations were in progress at the Castile castle for Eleanor of Castile was in awe of her mother now as she always had been; and Urraca and Blanca wanted to hear everything their mother had to tell about their grandmother.