The Queen from Provence by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page B

in changing brides he was scoring a political advantage. It was true that not only had he made overtures to the Count of Ponthieu but he was also in the process of getting a dispensation from the Pope as in royal marriages there was always the question of consanguinity to be reckoned with. However, he was determined. So he sent messengers to Ponthieu and to Rome to cancel those negotiations and summoning the Bishops of Ely and Lincoln to him he told them that he wished them to leave at once for Provence with the Master of the Temple and the Prior of Hurle and there lay his proposals before the Count of Provence.
    The Bishops, aware of the political significance of the proposed match, were eager to set out at once; but when they heard that Henry would want a large dowry with his bride they were dubious as to his obtaining this.
    ‘The Count of Provence is greatly impoverished, my lord. It will not be possible for him to raise the dowry for which you ask.’
    ‘It is surprising what a father can do for his daughter when the marriage is as grand as this will be.’
    ‘If he has not the means … my lord …’
    ‘Doubtless he will find a way. I should enjoy being there to see his delight when he knows your mission.’
    ‘It will be great, but when he hears what you ask it may well be that he will have to refuse your proposal on his daughter’s behalf.’
    ‘I am eager to have Eleanor as my bride, but I see no reason why I should allow her father to elude his obligations.’
    ‘We will put your proposals to him, my lord.’
    ‘When can you leave?’
    ‘This day.’
    ‘I am glad of that. I eagerly await the outcome. I want it known throughout the land that I am to be married. There will be great rejoicing.’
    He watched the embassy depart and prayed for a good wind that there might be no delay crossing the sea.
    His brother Richard came to him smiling secretly.
    He had arranged this, he told himself. Young Eleanor, if she was crowned Queen of England, would owe her crown to him.

    There was great excitement in Les Baux when the embassy from England arrived.
    Eleanor watching them could scarcely wait until her parents summoned her. She had recognised the visitors as coming from England but having heard that arrangements between the King of England and the Count of Ponthieu were progressing, she could not believe that the visit concerned her.
    When she was summoned to her parents’ chamber her heart was beating wildly. It could not be. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps the visitors had not come from England after all. They were not from the Court of France – that much she did know.
    Her mother took her into her arms and embraced her, while her father watched with tears in his eyes.
    ‘My dear daughter,’ he said; ‘this is a great day for us.’
    She looked eagerly from one to another.
    ‘Is it something that concerns me?’ she asked.
    ‘It is,’ said her father. ‘An offer of marriage.’
    ‘We never thought there could be anything to compare with Marguerite’s … but it seems there is.’
    ‘England?’ she whispered.
    Her mother nodded. ‘The King of England is asking for your hand in marriage.’
    Her head was whirling. It had worked then. Richard of Cornwall and the poem! It was incredible.
    Romeo had come into the room. He was smiling complacently. No wonder. Once again they would owe their good fortune to him.
    She could not entirely believe it. It was like a dream coming true. It was too neat. Marguerite Queen of France. Herself Queen of England. And largely because of the clever juggling of Romeo de Villeneuve. If she had not written that poem … if she had not – on Romeo’s advice – sent it to the Duke of Cornwall … No, it was too much to believe. It was what she had wanted more than anything. Marriage with England was the only one which could possibly compare with Marguerite’s. And it had come to pass.
    ‘You may well be bewildered,’ said the Count. ‘I confess I feel the