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Richard asked if the Queen had heard from Provence and said he would never forget sitting in the great hall there and listening to the minstrels and the content he had found in the home of the Count and Countess, and their three beautiful daughters.

‘Each one worthy to be a Queen,’ he said. ‘The Queen of France … the Queen of England … What awaits the lovely Sanchia, think you, my lady?’

‘I can only hope that she is as fortunate as her two elder sisters.’

‘The Queen of France … do you think she is as content with her lot as the Queen of England with hers?’

‘I do not think that would be possible. Besides, she has a very domineering mother-in-law. I fortunately have escaped that.’

‘By the skin of your teeth. It would have been a different story if my mother had not decided to marry out of the country.’

‘Ah, but she did. So we need not consider her.’

‘She is a woman one would always have to consider while she lived.’

‘But at least she is not here to order me … as Mar …’

She paused. Uncle William had said that she must be diplomatic and never forget that she was no longer merely a child in a nursery. She was a queen … and so was Marguerite.

‘Madam,’ said Richard smiling into her eyes, ‘me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’

‘I think you may be right.’

‘You know I am right.’

The Princess Eleanor had undergone a change; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed and she looked very pretty. Simon de Montfort had had his effect on her.

There is so much to learn, thought the Queen, and although I am clever, I am very young and inexperienced. Fortunately she had Uncle William at hand to help her.

She kept thinking of Richard’s words. ‘Me-thinks you would never be one to be so ordered.’ Admiration was there, but speculation too. Yes, Uncle William was right. She had a great deal to learn; she must curb the impulse to say what pleased her. She must be watchful of everyone around her.

The coronation and the state banquet had been a revelation and the importance of her position had been brought home to her. It was due to all those fierce-looking barons assembled to do their homage to her and the King; but she knew something of the history of England and it was many of these very barons who had turned against Henry’s father, King John, and forced him to sign Magna Carta and then because he failed to keep his word, brought in the French to take the throne.

Uncle William was right. She needed him.

How much did Henry wish to please her? she wondered. In the intimacy of their domestic life it appeared that there was nothing he would not do. But she was wise enough to know that a King’s private life and his public one were two very different matters.

During the last few days she had been presented with girls of her own age whose fathers performed some service at the Court and she knew that these girls wished to take service in her household. It was the custom when a royal bride came from a foreign country to send back those attendants whom she had brought with her and to select others from her new country, to make the newcomer realise that she now belonged to her new land.

Every Princess protested at this and of course she would. How could she be expected to say good-bye to old friends and welcome strangers? But it was the custom, and she would be expected to submit to it.

It would be a test. If she succeeded she would know that there would be no difficulty. It would be an indication of whether she was as skilled as she believed herself to be.

They were at last alone and in their chamber.

He turned to her and taking her hands drew her towards him.

‘Well, little bride,’ he said, ‘what think you of your King and his country?’

‘I think I am the luckiest Princess in the world.’

‘Then I am happy.’

‘I have a King,’ she said, ‘who shows his love for me by his indulgence. What more could I ask than that?’

‘You are right, my little love. There is nothing I would not give you.’

Now was the moment. Her heart was beating fast. Dare she? Was it too soon? Perhaps she should have asked Uncle William first.

‘You must not make rash promises, Henry, which you might not be able to keep.’

‘I … not be able to keep my promises! Why, my dearest, have you forgotten that I am the King?’

She understood him. He was very anxious that everyone should remember that. He was one to assert his royalty which must mean that within him he sensed some weakness. Henry was no fool. He was clever, but sometimes such cleverness as his was a hindrance rather than a help. In his heart he would know of his inadequacies and would do his best to hide them or deceive people into believing they did not exist. Hence his desire that all should recognise his royalty; hence his sudden quick temper when he thought himself slighted, his affability when he thought he needed a man’s friendship.

‘No, I do not forget,’ she answered. ‘But your barons are formidable men.’

‘Did you think so?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Were any disrespectful to you?’

‘None. They accept me as their Queen, I know well. I shall be happy here when I am used to it. I am thankful that I have some friends about me.’

‘They will soon be longing for the blue skies of Provence.’

‘They would never wish to leave me … never.’

‘My dearest!’

She put her arms about his neck. ‘Henry, will you do one thing for me?’

‘Anything … but do not make it little.’

‘Perhaps it is not little. My women are a little afraid, Henry. They have heard rumours.’

‘Rumours? What rumours?’

‘That they may be sent away.’

‘Oh … in due course. When they go you shall select those you would like to replace them.’

‘Yes … that is what they feared. I reassured them, Henry. I told them that you were so good and kind to me, and that was why I loved you so dearly. I said you would never make me unhappy by sending them away.’

Silence. Her head against his chest so that she could not see his face. She waited with trepidation. This was more than sending away a few attendants.

At last he spoke, stroking her hair as he did so.

‘My dearest, it is the custom you know. The people do not like foreigners at Court. Oh, I know they are not foreigners to us, but they consider them so.’

‘You mean … you would send them away!’

She broke free from his arms and sat down on the bed, and covered her face with her hands.

He was beside her, his arm about her.

‘Eleanor, understand this …’

‘No,’ she said. ‘There is no need to say more. I was wrong. It is not as I thought. I must tell them that I was mistaken …’

‘Mistaken? What do you mean?’

‘I told them that I could never be really happy if they went and that when I told you, you would let them stay.’

‘Oh, my dearest child …’

Henry’s expression was wretched. He could hear Hubert’s voice. ‘It is time the foreigners left. The people do not like to see them in the country. There are many who look for the posts …’

But she wanted it. It was necessary to her happiness.

‘Come,’ said Henry, ‘it is a matter which we need not decide yet.’

She shook her head. ‘You cannot deceive me, Henry, I know. It is already decided. I will have to tell them tomorrow that I have spoken to you … and you are against us.’

‘No … no … you do not understand.’

‘Alas, I do.’

She stood up sadly. He was beside her.