The Queen From Provence - Plaidy Jean - Страница 43
- Предыдущая
- 43/76
- Следующая
It was one summer’s day when the Queen came to the nursery and seeing the young children at the window seat looking out onto the fields where the boys were performing all manner of equestrian tricks, Eleanor decided to talk to Margaret.
They turned to her and threw themselves into her arms. Eleanor loved all her children dearly and, although Edward was her favourite, they all knew this and accepted it as right, for there was something very special about Edward. That did not mean that she had not unlimited affection to shower on all her children.
‘My lady, look at them,’ cried Margaret. ‘Look at Edward. He has cast aside the reins. See. He holds his hands above his head.’
‘I see. What a noble figure he makes. How fortunate you are, my darlings, to have such a brother.’
But while she watched and marvelled at his skill she was filled with apprehension on account of his daring.
‘I shall ride like that,’ Edmund told her.
She kissed him and said: ‘Why, little son, you will ride exactly like Edward. Perhaps Edward will teach you.’
‘Cousin Henry might,’ admitted Edmund.
‘First you must go on with your lessons, my darling. Beatrice, my dear, take Edmund to the schoolroom and bring me your books. I want to see how you progress. Margaret, stay here with me.’
Margaret was delighted. There was nothing the children liked better than to have their mother to themselves.
When they were alone Eleanor drew her daughter closer to her.
‘Margaret, you are going to be married, my child.’
Margaret was silent. Her lovely eyes round with wonder regarded her mother.
‘Yes, my dearest. You are going to marry the little King of Scotland. Think of that. You will be a queen.’
‘Shall I wear a crown?’
‘You will wear a beautiful crown. I am sure you will be very happy.’
‘Where is he then?’
‘He is in Scotland.’
‘When will he come here?’
The Queen was silent. ‘My dearest, he will not come here. A bride goes to her husband.’
‘Shall we all go to Scotland then?’
‘We shall all go with you to York where you will be married. Then you will go with your husband to Scotland.’
‘I won’t go unless you and my father and Edward and Henry … and Beatrice …’
‘My dear, you are the daughter of the King and Queen. That is a very important thing to be. It means that when you marry you can make peace between nations and that is what your father wants. I want it too and so must you.’
‘I do, but I want us all to make peace and all be together.’
‘You are very young, but daughters of kings and queens must grow up quickly. You will do your duty and be a good wife to the King of Scotland as I was to the King of England. You know what a happy time I had with your dear grandmother of Provence and my dear father whom you have never seen and your Aunt Sanchia …’
‘They are all here.’
‘They were not at first. I came alone and I had not seen your father before our marriage. Then we met and we loved each other for ever and we had you dear children and ours was the best marriage in the world and there will be one other like it – that of my darling little Margaret and the King of Scotland. Then we shall all meet … often. I promise you, my darling. I shall insist that we travel north and you will travel south … and we shall be together. And you will show me your dear children whom you will love as I love you all … and you will wonder why you were ever afraid.’
‘But I don’t want to leave you and my father and …’
‘No, of course you do not. Little brides never want to and then they find so much more happiness than they ever dreamed of.’
Margaret lay against her mother whose heart was torn with apprehension while she painted a rosy picture of what marriage would bring.
When the younger children returned with their books Margaret was almost convinced that all would be well.
Preparations were going on apace for the marriage between the King’s daughter and the young King of Scotland. The usual questions arose as to how it was to be paid for. The Londoners declared that they had had enough of royal extravagances and would pay no more.
Henry was incensed and in a moment of violent temper, seeking for revenge he hit on the idea of setting up a fair in Tothill Fields for the benefit of the people of Westminster. If while the fair was in progress, which he intended to be for two weeks, the London shops opened they would incur a fine. So they had the choice of losing business for two weeks or facing the King’s tax and as the King’s insatiable demands were well known it seemed that the easier to bear would be the loss of business.
‘How much longer,’ asked the merchants of London, ‘are we going to endure the arrogance of this King? The country suffered under the rule of his father until the people rose and rid themselves of him. Are we to suffer in the same way from the son?’ What was the difference between John and his son Henry? There was a great difference. Even his enemies had to admit that. John was a fiend, a mad man without respect for his fellow human beings or even for God. Henry was a weak King. His rule was ineffectual. But he was a deeply religious man, a faithful husband and a doting father. If the people despised him, his family loved him dearly. His son Edward, the heir, was growing up into a strong man and there could be no doubt on whose side he would place himself.
All the same, said the people of London, the King should take care.
The Queen devoted herself to poor bewildered little Margaret. When one of her children was unhappy or in danger all her thoughts were directed on that one. Even her darling Longshanks took second place this time. Eleanor was with her daughter every day, advising her, discussing her wardrobe, trying to make light of what was happening to her. And so happy was Margaret in her mother’s company that she forgot her coming ordeal.
Eleanor, who greatly relished fine clothes and jewels, was in her element choosing garments for the wedding. She aroused such enthusiasm for the clothes which would be worn that the little girl could forget her apprehension in contemplating them.
One day when at Windsor Eleanor and Margaret were with the seamstresses examining the cloth which would be used for the gowns when the sky suddenly became so overcast that the seamstresses could no longer see to work. It had been a hot sultry day and during the last week the weather had been oppressive.
Margaret was a little frightened. The darkening sky added to her general apprehension.
‘It is nothing,’ said the Queen. ‘We were bound to have a storm after the heat. What do you think of this quintise, Margaret? You are to wear it the day after the ceremony, for I think we should all be as grand then as we were on the day itself.’
Margaret said she liked the quintise which was so called because this type of garment was considered quaint. It took any shape; it could be long and trailing the ground or end merely at the ankles. It could be allowed to hang loose or be held up and the edges of the sleeves were often bordered by scallops. The Queen had taken a great fancy to these garments and enjoyed introducing new ways of wearing them which were immediately followed by the ladies of the Court.
But as the storm gathered overhead even the Queen lost interest in the quintises.
A violent crash of thunder seemed to set the castle rocking. The Queen went to the window. Lightning was streaking across the sky. The rain fell in torrents and then suddenly it was as though the foundations of the castle itself trembled. From the chimney came a shower of bricks and dirt. The Queen seized her daughter just as the two of them were thrown to the floor.
They lay together, Margaret’s heart beating fast, but she was comforted by the proximity of her mother. All her life she had believed that while her mother was near no harm could come to her; and in that moment of terror she realised that what frightened her was not the thought of marriage and a husband but that she would be separated from her parents.
- Предыдущая
- 43/76
- Следующая
