Louis grew voluble as he regarded the city. It was clear that he loved it and greatly admired his father.
‘My father has done much for Paris,’ he said. ‘It has changed more in the years of his reign than it did in centuries. He told me once that when he was at the window of his palace looking down on the town – which he loved to do – he saw some peasants riding below in their carts and as their wheels churned in the mud there rose such a fetid smell that my father was sickened. The idea came to him that if the streets were paved with stone there would be no mud, so he called together the burghers of the city and told them it would be his endeavour – and they should join him in this – to rid Paris of the name of Mud Town by paving the streets so that the mud would disappear and he needed their help in the matter. They saw how right he was, for there was much disease in the city and the people had begun to realise that it could be due to the obnoxious mud, the smell of which attracted flies and other vermin. There was one rich merchant – I have heard my father speak of him often – he was Gerard de Poissy and he contributed eleven hundred silver marks to the making of pavements, and now as you will see Paris is a most agreeable city.’
‘The people must be grateful to your father.’
Louis smiled. ‘Ah, you know how it is. When it is first done they can talk of nothing else but the change in their city and after a while they forget the foul mud and cease to be grateful for their stone pavements. My father cares greatly for his kingdom. His one dream was to enrich it and bring it back to what it was in the days of Charlemagne. So you see how he loves Agnes when he says that he would rather lose half his dominions than lose her.’
‘I like him the better for loving her so much,’ said Blanche.
‘When you meet him you will not realise the kind of man he is. He does not show his feelings but they are there … for all his family. He has ever been a kind father to me. He can lose his temper quickly but he can as quickly forget his rage. And he is a great king, I tell you that. He has been to the Holy Land.’
‘I know. He was there with my uncle Richard,’ replied Blanche. ‘My grandmother told me that at one time there was a great friendship between them.’
‘That is true. He ever had a fondness for Richard, although they were natural enemies – as all kings of France and England must be … while England holds territory which once belonged to France.’
‘Perhaps they will not always be enemies.’
‘They will be until all these possessions come back to the French crown. That is something we must accept, Blanche. Look at the wall of the city. My father had that built before he went off on his crusade. He wanted to fortify all his cities and particularly Paris. When we take our rides I will show you what he has done for the city.’
They came to the Palace of the Cité and there Blanche met for the first time her formidable father-in-law.
He was tall with a fine figure and an air of great dignity so that she would have known him immediately for the King. There was a russet tinge to his hair and beard; it showed in his eyes and suggested quick temper. There was a look of hardness about him which, she imagined, would have made anyone think twice about displeasing him.
He regarded her steadily and seemed to like what he saw. Then he embraced her and calling her daughter said he welcomed her to the Court of France. He said that he believed she would be a good wife to his son and if she was she would have nothing to regret.
Beside him was his Queen – Agnes, the gentle and beautiful young woman for whom he had placed himself and his country in a precarious position. She greeted Blanche warmly but Blanche could see that although she adored her husband she was too sensitive not to realise that she was at the core of the uneasy state of affairs which existed.
Because there were no church ceremonies it seemed a strange introduction to her new home; but the King was determined that she should receive a good secular welcome.
In the great hall he had her sit on one side of him and Agnes on his other, Louis was seated beside his wife and showed by his manner that he was eager to look after her.
The table was full of dishes of food, some of which she had never seen before; the serving men and women hurried to and fro; while minstrels played soft music throughout the feast.
Among the dishes was that rich delicacy, lampreys, in which her ancestor Henry I had fatally indulged; they were served differently here from the manner in which they were in Castile. The French used rich sauces containing herbs unknown to Blanche; there were also salmon, mutton, beef, venison and great pies the contents of which she could only guess at. Much flavouring of onions and garlic was put in the food which was new to her. She liked the cheeses and the sweetmeats and all these were washed down with wines – some drunk sweet, some dry. ‘None can make wine as the French can,’ Louis told her.
King Philip made much of her and talked constantly to her of the customs of his country and made it clear to everyone present that he was greatly pleased with his new daughter.
She quickly adjusted herself to life at the Court of France where Louis was her constant companion. They were in the schoolroom together for Philip was a firm believer in education and was constantly reminding his son that a king must study history above all subjects, for he would in due course play a part in it; geography must be mastered too, for events in various parts of the world might well be his concern some day. Literature and music must also not be neglected, for a king should be able to express himself not only with skill but with grace.
Because they learned together they learned quickly. They were two children growing up side by side and Louis supplied the companionship which she had enjoyed with her sisters. She heard from home frequently, for her parents were eager for her to know they thought of her constantly; Berengaria also wrote to her; and she was pleased to learn that Urraca was going to marry into Portugal where she would in due course become Queen.
‘I am proud of my three girls,’ wrote her mother, ‘and one day I know I shall be even more proud.’
There were many young children in the palace. Philip liked children and the sons and daughters of many a noble were brought up there, for the King called them his godchildren and they lived under his roof. There was not a nobleman in France who did not consider it the highest honour for his children to be brought up at court and beside Philip’s two by Agnes, there were one or two illegitimate sons of his. He liked all children and was particularly fond of his own. It was easy to see that he doted on Louis and once when he was alone with Blanche he said to her: ‘You will have to take care of Louis. He was never very strong. When he was two years old we nearly lost him. I left the crusades before I intended to because I feared he would die. I have always had a watch kept on his health since.’
Blanche assured him that she would look after him well.
They rode a great deal together; she allowed herself to be drawn into his enthusiasm for horses and the King said to Agnes that it was always wise to let the children grow up together rather than thrust them into bed when they were strangers.
The method seemed to be working well with Blanche and Louis for each day they grew more and more fond of each other.
He liked to show her Paris. He would take her through those streets – paved at his father’s orders – past the silent churches up the narrow alleys where the dyers and tanners were at work. People watched them covertly and cheered them now and then. They could not visit the sins of the fathers upon the children, they said. It was not the fault of those innocents that the land was under the Interdict and there was no church comfort to be had for love or money.