‘I doubt not that our armies would soon subdue them if they started such tricks.’
‘Perhaps. If we caught them in time. But ’tis better to prevent these uprisings and this can be done by letting them know that we are watchful of them. It is time I did a tour of the neighbourhood and received fresh oaths of allegiance from men such as the counts of La Marche and Angoulême.’
William Marshal agreed that it never came amiss for the suzerain to visit his vassals and now that there was a truce with Philip since the marriage between young Louis and Blanche, this seemed a good time to do it.
‘The embassy will be arriving in Portugal very soon,’ the Marshal reminded him. ‘You might wish to keep yourself in readiness for that and perhaps after your marriage visit these states.’
‘I feel,’ said John, ‘that this is a matter of some necessity and a king must put his duty before his pleasure.’
When John became most sanctimonious the Marshal grew a little uneasy. But he could not think of a reason why John should wish to travel through Aquitaine apart from his duty to keep the barons there in good order.
John went on: ‘To tell the truth it is this truce between Angoulême and La Marche which makes me a little uneasy. I hope this friendship of theirs is not of long duration. I’d rather have them sparring together than joining up.’
‘It could be a firm friendship,’ said William Marshal, ‘for Angoulême’s daughter is betrothed to Hugh the Brown.’
‘’Tis so, I have heard. She is a child, is she not? Something may happen before the marriage takes place.’
‘She is not far off marriageable age and is already being brought up with the Lusignans.’
John shook his head and murmured: ‘One never knows. Sometimes these marriages don’t take place. In any case, I shall go among them and they can take their oaths of allegiance. It will remind them that I have my eyes on them.’
‘And when you return I doubt not that we shall be arranging your wedding.’
‘I doubt it not either,’ replied John, a smile curving his lips.
Isabella saw the messengers arriving at the castle and she wondered what news they had brought. She ran down to the courtyard accompanied by two of her attendants. They stood back and watched the grooms take the horses while the messengers were brought into the hall.
Hugh was there.
Isabella ran to him and caught his hand. He pressed hers with affection and eager as he was to hear the news, he had time to smile down at her.
The messenger said: ‘My lord of La Marche, the King of England is on his way. He will be here before the day is out. He wishes to assure himself of your allegiance and will want you to swear your oaths afresh.’
‘He is coming solely to me?’ asked Hugh in amazement.
‘Nay, my lord. He is visiting every castle in this neighbourhood. To save him time he wishes you to send a message to the Count of Angoulême. He would have him swear his oath here in your castle so that he need not make the journey to him.’
‘It shall be done,’ said Hugh.
Isabella uncurled her hand from his. She turned and ran out of the hall and went to the bedchamber which adjoined that shared by her attendants.
They came running in to tell her the news she already knew.
‘My lady, my lady, King John is coming here.’
She did not want to talk to them, which was strange. She wanted to be alone.
He was coming here. She would see him again – the man whom she had encountered in the forest and whom she had never forgotten. They would see each other again. What would he be like then? Would he look at her as he had in the forest? Why was he coming here? To make Hugh swear his oath. A notion came to her that there might be another reason. Could he be coming to see her?
No, even she could not believe that. Beautiful as she was, he was a king and he must make his vassals swear allegiance now and then. There was a perfectly good reason for his coming. He would remember her, she was sure, but it could well be that he had forgotten the meeting in the forest.
Whatever it was she could scarcely wait to see him.
She ran to the top of the castle to see if she could see a party approaching. How would he come? Royally, of course, with pennants flying. He would ride at the head of his men; he would come into the country and Hugh would have to be waiting there. Poor Hugh, he was of little account compared with this man. She had liked to see the manner in which Hugh was lord of his castle and how her father had talked of him as though he were of great importance. She had thrilled at the thought of the power Hugh wielded over so many people. And with her he was soft and yielding and she would have her way with him; what she wanted she would wheedle out of him. She knew and exulted in the knowledge. And now had come this man – this King of England before whom Hugh must bow the knee. He was the all-powerful one – the overlord.
It was exciting; it was thrilling. Which ribbon should she wear in her hair? He would be there this night. There would be feasting in the great hall. Perhaps she would play the lute for him and sing a song – it would be a song of love and longing which Hugh said fondly she sang as though she knew all about it.
In the castle they said: ‘The Lady Isabella looks more beautiful than ever. She is so excited at the prospect of seeing her parents again.’
It was as she had thought. He came most royally. The heralds announced his arrival and the sound of their trumpets sent shivers of excitement through her. She had decided against ribbons for her hair and shook it loose about her shoulders; she wore a blue velvet gown caught in at her tiny waist with a golden girdle.
She was in the hall when he entered. She would have known he was the King by his garments alone. He wore the usual loosely fitting gown buckled at the neck, with sleeves wide at the top caught in at the wrists, but the cloth of this garment was of the finest material she had ever seen. It was silk decorated with gold. He wore a cloak of royal purple which like his blue silk gown was decorated with gold tracing. The belt which caught in his gown at the waist glittered with magnificent jewels and these he wore on his fingers, at his throat and at his wrists. She had never seen a man shine so and she was enchanted by those beautiful gems.
Hugh was bowing to him, but she saw the King’s eyes wandering round the hall until they came to rest on her.
She hastily curtsied, lowering her eyes, and when she lifted them she saw that they were upon her and the look in them was the same as that which he had bestowed on her in the forest. The notion came to her then that he had come here not so much to accept Hugh’s homage and that of her parents but to see her.
She heard him saying: ‘Who is yonder little girl?’
Hugh answered: ‘She is Isabella, daughter of the Count of Angoulême, my betrothed, who is being brought up in this castle.’
‘Present her to me,’ said the King.
She came forward; her eyes alight with excitement, her cheeks faintly flushed.
Hugh’s hand was on her shoulder, pressing down, implying that she should kneel.
She did so and then she felt the King’s hands on her, raising her up.
‘Why,’ he said, ‘it is such a pretty child. You are a most fortunate man, Hugh.’
And his eyes were burning into her, saying something which she could not fully understand and yet to which she could respond.
Hugh pushed her gently aside and led the King to the apartment which had been prepared for him. Isabella went to her room, her attendants twittering round her.
‘What think you of the King?’ they whispered.
‘His reputation does not lie.’
‘I shivered when he looked at me.’
‘I did not see him look at you,’ said Isabella sharply.