‘As long as these poor limbs could carry me,’ she answered.
They went on northwards and the spring was beginning to show itself. Buds in the hedgerows and clustered blossoms on the elms, the small pink petals of the crane’s bill and marsh marigolds by the brooks showed that the spring was coming and the harsh winter was being left behind. But the clear light showed up the furrows on the old Queen’s brow and her skin seemed yellowish in the sunshine. It was clear that the rigorous journey had had its effect on her and while the change of season invigorated Blanche it tired Eleanor.
And so they came to the Loire and here the road divided – one way went to Fontevrault, the other to Paris.
They rested in a castle close by the river where the castellan was delighted to receive such honoured guests, knowing that the beautiful young girl was the future Queen of France and the old one the redoubtable Eleanor, Queen of England.
It was here that Eleanor came to a decision. She had heard that the Archbishop of Bordeaux was in the neighbourhood and she asked him to come to the castle as she had a great desire to see him. While she was awaiting his arrival she sent for Blanche.
Blanche came and kneeling at her feet took her hands and kissed them. The affection between them had grown with each passing day and Blanche now felt that she knew her grandmother better than she had ever known anyone – even her parents and her sisters. In the Court of Castile life had been easy and comfortable with only the bold Saracen to haunt them now and then, and he was like a ghost on the stairs, talked of but never seen and therefore without reality. It had been a happy childhood; she appreciated the love and care of her parents, the comradeship of her sisters. But it had been like looking at a picture with what was unpleasant blotted out and the rest coloured up to make it prettier than it actually was. With her grandmother she had seen real life … life as it would be lived by people like herself. There would be occasions when she would have to face the truth and that might be unpleasant.
Her grandmother had prepared her for that. It was as though she had given her a suit of armour – such as knights wore – so that when she went out to face the world, her protective armour would be the knowledge she had acquired from a lady who had lived more adventurously than most.
‘My dear child,’ said Eleanor, ‘I have much to say to you, for we are soon to part.’
‘We are not yet there, my lady.’
‘Nay, but I shall leave you here.’
The dismay in the girl’s face both hurt and pleased the old Queen. She was aware of how much Blanche had come to rely on her. Bad for the child, but pleasant for the old woman, she thought, but I am glad all the same, for this child has brightened my last days.
‘You see me thus,’ said Eleanor. ‘I am too old for such journeys. I have seen nearly eighty winters, child. Can you imagine such an age? I am weary. My old bones demand their rest. I cannot travel with you to Paris for if I did I should die on the way back. I must go now to Fontevrault, which is not far from here, and when I reach that place of refuge I shall take to my bed and there rest until I am revived or leave this world altogether.’
‘Pray do not talk so, my lady.’
‘We must always face the truth, child. I came to you because I wanted to see the bride who would be Queen of France. I am glad I did. For if I had not it would be your sister who was on her way to Paris … and I knew as soon as I saw you that it must be you. But now, all is well. You are almost there. I have sent for the Archbishop of Bordeaux and I shall put you in his charge. He will take you to Paris and look after your interests. And I shall say farewell, my dearest granddaughter, and go to Fontevrault.’
Blanche lowered her face and wept; and there were tears in the old Queen’s eyes too.
‘Do not grieve,’ she said, ‘that which has passed between us has been good. I shall think of you for as long as I am on earth and when I die – if I go to Heaven, which is uncertain, I admit – I shall look down on you and guide you if that is possible, for I know this, that Queen Blanche of France will make her mark on the history of France and be remembered as a great good queen.’
‘If she is it will be due to the wise tutoring of her grandmother.’
‘Nay, she has much to learn. She will grow in wisdom. I promise you that. All I have done is set her feet on the path along which she should go. Remember me for that. Now I hear sounds of arrival. It may be that the good Archbishop of Bordeaux is here.’
The next day Eleanor said good-bye to her granddaughter, and the old Queen and her party went on to Fontevrault while Blanche, in the care of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, rode north towards Paris.
Chapter VI
BLANCHE AND LOUIS
Blanche was now desolate. She missed her grandmother even more than she had believed possible and the Archbishop of Bordeaux was no substitute for her. His sermons and his heavy advice were very different from the colourful homilies on life presented by her grandmother.
She now began to think with great trepidation of what lay before her. Very soon she would meet her bridegroom – the one with whom she was to spend the rest of her life. He was six months older than she was, she had heard, having been born in September 1187 while her birthday had been in March 1188. So they were both twelve years old. To think of his age comforted her a little, for it seemed possible that he might be dreading meeting her as much as she was dreading meeting him. She would remember her grandmother’s words about women being as important as men in the world, for after all if she had been selected for him he had been selected for her and he had had no more say in the matter than she had.
So perhaps she should not be afraid. They would both have to obey the King of France, and she imagined him benign and like her own father. She would come through her ordeal and it might be that she was unduly anxious.
It was a few days since they had parted from the old Queen’s company when the Archbishop told her that they were not going first to Paris, They were travelling to Normandy where she would be met by her bridegroom.
‘But that will lengthen our journey surely,’ cried Blanche.
‘It is the orders of the King of France,’ answered the Archbishop.
‘It is very strange,’ she said blankly. ‘I understood I was to go to France … to Paris and be married there. Surely the future Kings of France are married in Paris.’
‘It is the King’s wish that the ceremony should take place in Normandy.’
She was very puzzled and uneasy. How she wished that her grandmother was with her. There was something strange about these arrangements and she began to wonder whether the King did not wish her to marry his son after all.
The Archbishop was silent for some time. Then he said: ‘You need have no fear. The Queen, your grandmother, put you into my charge, and you may rest assured that having given her my word, I will look to your welfare as certainly as she would herself.’
Blanche nodded but she continued uneasy and at length the Archbishop seemed to come to a decision.
‘There seems no harm in telling you for you will know soon enough. The marriage cannot take place in France because the country is under an Interdict from Rome which means that no church ceremonies can be performed while this state of affairs exists.’
‘You mean he has displeased the Pope.’
The Archbishop nodded. ‘He has put away the wife he married and taken another woman to his bed and the Pope insists that this woman is no true wife to him. The King defies him declaring that she is and that his marriage to Ingeburga of Denmark was no true marriage.’