They knew already that she had gone to the Holy Land with her first husband – another Louis who had been a King of France – and how she had come near to death in the midst of battles between Christian and Saracens. She had divorced Louis and married Henry, the King of England, and then had lived that wild and adventurous life with him which had culminated in her becoming his prisoner.
Their mother warned them. ‘You must take the greatest care in your manner towards her. If you offend her she will let you know it. Her temper was often a little uncertain and now she is suffering a great tragedy. Your Uncle Richard has died so lately and I can imagine what great sorrow this has caused her.’ Their mother’s eyes grew misty as she looked back over the past. ‘Richard was always her favourite. How she doted on him. He was very handsome. She taught him to hate our father and he learned his lesson well.’
‘That was not right, was it, my lady?’ asked Blanca. ‘Should a son be taught to hate his father?’
‘My mother did what she considered right for herself. She never obeyed rules. Nay, my child, it would have been better for all if she had taught him tolerance. But she is a proud woman, the proudest I ever knew. She is very old now. Yet she comes here. I tremble fearing that she may not survive the journey. But when her family need her she will be there.’
‘Why do we need her?’ asked Urraca. ‘Cannot the marriage be made without her?’
‘It is a very important marriage.’ Their mother lowered her voice. ‘Far far more important than that of your sister. Your grandmother is eager that nothing shall go wrong, so she will take you to the Court of France and see you married herself.’
‘Does she think the King will not let me marry his son if she did not insist?’
‘In these matters, certain details can go wrong and this may spoil arrangements. Your grandmother wishes nothing to go wrong. She is very eager for this match. Therefore she will take you to the Court of France and see the ceremony performed perhaps … or at least make sure that it will be performed.’
‘So I shall travel with her,’ murmured Urraca.
‘Be of good cheer, my child,’ said her mother. ‘Life will become wonderful for you. You are going to a great country. You have a wonderful destiny before you.’
Blanca asked: ‘Shall I have a great destiny too, my lady?’
‘I doubt it not, my love,’ answered Eleanor. ‘But Urraca’s bridegroom will be the King of France and there are few greater destinies than that.’
Each day they watched from the castle turrets for the coming of their grandmother.
When she came she was every bit as formidable as they had imagined.
She came riding at the head of the party and she called out as soon as she entered the courtyard: ‘Where is my daughter?’
Eleanor the younger was there. The old Queen had dismounted and taken her daughter into her arms. She held her tightly and would not release her for some time. Then she drew back to look at her and declared she seemed in good health and turning to Alfonso she said in a loud ringing voice: ‘And I should have wanted an answer from you, my lord, if my daughter had not been well cared for.’
‘My lady mother has not changed,’ said Eleanor; and she kept the old Queen’s hands in hers as they came into the castle.
What feasting there was! Each day the hunters had brought in fine bucks and they had been baking in the kitchens in readiness for the arrival of the old Queen. Her daughter wished her to rest awhile but she would not hear of it; and she sat at the table while the troubadours played and sang their songs and she took a lute too and with the minstrels sang the songs she had sung as a girl; and it seemed she was very happy to be with her daughter.
It astonished the girls that she could be so tender; they had thought such a formidable old woman would never look so lovingly on any as she did on their mother.
She had eyed the girls rather sharply, and when they had both kissed her hand, they felt awkward under her scrutiny. She had asked of their mother: ‘You have brought them up well, have you? Their manners must be graceful. You know the French.’
My mother said that she did not think even the French would have aught of which to complain.
At which their grandmother turned her attention from her granddaughters and gave herself up to contemplating her daughter.
That night the two girls lay on their pallets and talked about the future. They were both sad, yet excited. It was hard to imagine life without each other – yet Berengaria had gone and they scarcely missed her now.
‘I wish,’ said Blanca, ‘that we did not have to grow up.’
‘And there are years and years ahead of us,’ sighed Urraca, ‘if we are going to be as old as our grandmother.’
Then they talked of what they thought it would be like at the Court of France and Blanca was sad for she said that all the excitement would be Urraca’s and it is easier to accept change when it is exciting.
‘But your turn will come, Blanca. I wonder whom they will find for you?’
‘Of one thing we are certain: it cannot be such a grand match as yours.’
In the next few days they saw a great deal of their grandmother, who made a point of being with them and drawing them out. Blanca had always been quicker than her sisters to grasp a point; her mother had told their father that it was because of her youth and she felt the need to keep up with her sisters. However she had often surpassed them and this sharpness of wit quickly became apparent to Eleanor of Aquitaine.
When she walked in the gardens she would select Blanca on whose arm to lean. ‘Come and walk with me, child,’ she would say. ‘I need an arm on which to lean.’
Then she would ask about life in Castile and what their tutors taught them; and she would shoot questions at Blanca and sometimes was amused at the answers she received. After supper when the candles with their cotton wicks flickered in the sconces she would ask Blanca to sing for her; and sometimes she would join in the song. She had a firm voice which belied her years.
‘Your mother has taken a great fancy to Blanca,’ said Alfonso to his wife.
As the days passed it was clear that the old Queen grew very thoughtful. She would sit watching the girls, her brows knit, a strange expression on her face, as though she were trying to solve some problem.
It was late one night, after the household had retired, that she went to that chamber shared by her daughter and her husband and told one of the guards in the passage outside that she wished to speak to the King and Queen of Castile. She would go to them; all she needed was for them to be prepared for her coming.
Her daughter was not as astonished as she might have been.
‘My mother has never acted as others did before,’ she explained to Alfonso. ‘Many considered her actions strange. But it must mean that she has something important to say to us, since she comes thus by night.’ She then ordered the servants to light more candles and she and Alfonso, wrapped in night robes, awaited the coming of the Queen.
She came in, as though there were nothing unusual in this nocturnal meeting.
‘I have the solution,’ she said as she seated herself on a stool. ‘It has been puzzling me almost since the day I arrived here, because it was clear to me that the future Queen of France should be Blanca.’
‘But how can that be …’ began Alfonso.
The old Queen held up her hand and said: ‘It can well be. Instead of my taking Urraca to France, I shall take Blanca.’
‘But it is Urraca …’