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‘The French King will welcome my granddaughter to France to marry his son. There is no stipulation as to which granddaughter. The girl’s name is of no importance … yet in a manner it is of the utmost importance. That is my point. The French will never accept Urraca. What can they call her? With a name like that she is doomed to remain a foreigner all her life. Blanca. That is different. They will call her Blanche and make her one of them – and with her wit and drive she will be a worthy Queen of France. That is what I have come to tell you, my son and daughter. Blanca shall go to France. We must find another suitor for Urraca.’

Alfonso said: ‘My lady, we understand well your thoughts and intentions, but we should need time to think of this matter.’

‘There is not much time,’ retorted the old lady brusquely. ‘But you may have two days in which to decide and I shall now make my preparations to leave with Blanca. I think from now on we should begin to call her Blanche.’

* * *

The weeks that followed were quite bewildering to Blanca – or Blanche as she must now think of herself.

She had been summoned to the presence of her parents and grandmother and briefly informed that plans had been changed. She, not Urraca, was to go to France in the care of her grandmother in order that she might marry the son of the King of France.

Poor Urraca had been quite shocked; and, although she had wept at the thought of leaving her home, she now wept because she was going to stay in it a little longer. Blanche understood her feelings and tried to comfort her.

‘My grandmother has done this,’ cried Urraca. ‘She did not like me from the start. You were her favourite.’

Blanche shook her head. ‘How could anyone know to whom such a person would take a fancy? Oh, Urraca, I don’t want to go. I don’t like any of it. It is so … undignified … it makes us so unimportant … don’t you see? Just like counters. You can have one of them … this one or that one … it doesn’t matter which.’

‘If you can change your name, why couldn’t I have changed mine?’

‘Mine is not really a change. It’s just the translation. You can’t translate Urraca.’

‘I wish our grandmother had never come here. I’m not surprised her husband put her into prison.’

‘Poor Urraca,’ said Blanche. ‘Don’t fret so. It may well be the time will come when you will see this as a stroke of great good fortune for yourself.’

Urraca looked solemnly at her sister and then threw herself into her arms. ‘I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, sister.’

‘Perhaps it won’t. In any case I shall do my best to stop it.’

Urraca looked at her sister intently. ‘I think you will,’ she said. ‘I believe I understand now why our grandmother chose you to go to France.’

* * *

The old Queen rode much of the time in her litter, for the journey was long and arduous, and even her indomitable will could not command her bones not to ache or the exhaustion not to overcome her. Blanche rode close to the litter on her white palfrey; and there were frequent halts for rests. They stayed at inns and castles and the Queen would lie on her pallet and have her granddaughter sit beside her that they might talk together.

It was an education for Blanche and she was sure she learned more about the world in those weeks of travel than she had done during the whole of her childhood. Queen Eleanor awakened her to a new world, a world of excitement, adventure and danger; far far away was the sunny court of Castile where her fond parents had guarded her and her sisters from the world.

Eleanor talked of her own childhood when she had graced her father’s court with her sister Petronilla. What a court that had been! The prevailing passion had been music and the greatest poets of the day and finest composers and singers had flocked there to delight the company. Eleanor remembered summer evenings in the scented gardens while the strains of music filled the air and all listened entranced to accounts of unrequited or fulfilled love – whichever it was the poet’s fancy to indulge. And at this court Eleanor had reigned supreme. There, she had been the most beautiful of women – that was credible, for in spite of the ravages of the years she retained that exquisite bone structure which even time could not change; and as she talked she glowed with an inner fire so it was not difficult to imagine that her picture of herself was not entirely without foundation.

‘There are women in this world,’ she said, ‘who are meant to rule. You are one, Blanche. I saw it in you from the first day. Urraca! A pleasant creature – she has some beauty, grace, charm … yes. But not the power to rule. How angry I used to be, how frustrated to have been born a woman. When I was young I used to fear my father would remarry. If he had got a son that puling infant would have come before me. Before me! I, who ruled that court. And I did, Blanche, I do assure you. I ruled that court and because I was a woman, if my father had had a son … who would have been years my junior … he would have come before me. He did not. But that made me none the less resentful. Why should a woman be debarred from rule when she has all the qualities to make a ruler?’

Blanche agreed that there seemed no logical reason for this.

‘I have made it my affair to learn something of your future husband. I have a feeling that he is not unlike his grandfather and if that be so I can tell you much about the boy who is to be your husband, for his grandfather was once my husband. Yes, I was Queen of France and my husband was Louis VII. Yours will be Louis VIII. My Louis … oh, I was fond of him in the beginning. He was a good man, but good men can exasperate, granddaughter. He should have been a churchman. He was made to have been a churchman; he studied for it and would have been if his brother had not been killed by a pig. Yes, a pig, who ran under his horse and threw it so that he died … and that left my Louis to be King. How small things affect the fate of nations. Never forget that, my child. A pig changed the fate of France! Poor Louis, God was unfair to him … He gave him France and me.’

‘But you loved him at first, my lady.’

‘Oh yes. I loved him because I could do what I wished with him. Then we took the cross and went to the Holy Land – for as I said Louis was a very religious man.’

‘And you too, my lady, for you went with him … you a woman.’

‘I have told you, child, that a woman is capable of doing most that a man can, and I did not go for religion but for adventure. And adventure I had. Oh, I could tell you … but I will not … not now. There are more important things to discuss. And I am tired now and would sleep.’

Blanche was disappointed. She would have liked to hear her grandmother’s account of those fantastic adventures in the Holy Land.

On another occasion Eleanor told of her marriage to the King of England.

‘He was younger than I … a fact he never let me forget when there was a conflict between us. It was good in the beginning though. He was so young … different from his father. Geoffrey of Anjou was one of the handsomest men I ever met. Henry didn’t take after his father … in any way. All he had from him was his name, Plantagenet. He had much of his great-grandfather, William the Conqueror, in him and a bit of his grandfather too – perhaps a dash of his mother, Matilda, for he could rage in his fury at times as she could. But he was a king … You knew that as soon as you met him. It seemed then that he was the right mate for me … and so he was … in a way. If only he hadn’t been such a lecher … Now, my child, you have to grow up fast. There is a feeling in the world that it is fitting for a man to roam from his marriage bed and take what mistresses he will, but if a woman should likewise stray that is criminal. I never did accept these differences. I pray that you will have a faithful husband. It may well be. My first, Louis, was a faithful husband. My second, Henry, the biggest lecher of his day. Odd that I cared more for Henry. You will take Louis as a boy for he is no older than you … perhaps a month or two but that is nothing … and if you can keep him a faithful husband you will have achieved much, for it is in bed at night that promises are given and sometimes kept. Try to make sure that those promises are given to you. I talk to you beyond your understanding perhaps, but you will learn in time.’