She tried to talk to Alexander as they rode along but he was as suspicious of her as she was of him.

We at least ought to be friends, thought Margaret.

She spoke of the English Court, her mother and father and the brothers and sisters. He listened attentively and politely but he said little of himself.

Onward they rode through the bleak countryside.

‘It is so cold,’ said Margaret, ‘is it always like this?’

‘Only in winter.’

She shivered and thought longingly of Windsor with the glowing fires and the children all playing games and their parents coming to watch them and sometimes join in.

Then she remembered the thunderstorm at Windsor and that moment when she lay on the floor clasped in her mother’s arms.

‘An omen … An omen …’ she whispered. And she was sure of it then.

The castle stood high on a hill, granite walls grey and forbidding.

Slowly they rode up the incline and through the gateway.

Her limbs were numb with the cold but her spirits were lifted a little when she entered the hall and saw the blazing fire.

‘We’re home,’ said Alexander.

They were surrounded by dour-looking men and women. One of them in flowing black robes of mourning came to Margaret and said she would take her to her chamber. There she could rest awhile and food would be brought to her, for she had had a long and irksome journey and would be weary.

It was a cheerless room with thick stone walls, stone floor and the barest necessities of furniture.

‘I am Lady Matilda de Cantalupe,’ the woman told her, ‘and I am to act as your governess … until such a time as you are ready to join the King.’

It was what her mother had said. ‘You will not be a wife immediately. They will wait until you are of an age … and Alexander too, for he is but a boy. They will give you a governess whom you will love and who will help and advise you.’

But there was something forbidding about Matilda de Cantalupe.

Margaret said she would rest awhile, for she was tired, and Matilda covered her with a fur rug to help her get warm. Afterwards she ate a little and in due course went down to the great hall where Alexander, similarly fed and rested, awaited her.

He had come to say farewell. He was leaving her with her guardians Robert le Norrey and Stephen Bausan. They, with Matilda, would be in charge of her household until such a time as she was ready to be a wife.

She wanted to cling to Alexander. At least he was young and if not exactly frightened, apprehensive. There was a fellow feeling between them. If he could have stayed she would have felt better. But he was going away. He was going to leave her with these solemn people.

She was frightened. She wanted her family … and desperately she wanted her mother.

Alexander gave her a cold kiss on the cheek.

‘I will come back for you,’ he said.

She nodded dumbly and she stood in the courtyard wrapped in her fur-lined coat with Matilda de Cantalupe and the two formidable men who were to be her guardians standing behind her. She watched Alexander ride away with his attendants.

Then, in the company of those whom she was beginning to think of as her jailers, she went back into the castle.

THE KING AND SIMON DE MONTFORT

Simon de Montfort had returned to England.

He was weary and disillusioned. He had constantly asked Henry for help to govern but Henry seemed to think that funds for this were not necessary. He himself was in constant need of money to govern his kingdom; that Simon de Montfort should ask for it in Gascony seemed an affront.

It was Henry’s nature that if he had wronged someone he could not like them again. He had a conscience of a kind which reproached him and while he tried to pretend it did not exist it continued to worry him. He would not admit the real cause of his grievance against a man or woman which was of course that he had wronged them and this made him uneasy so he always tried to find fault with their actions so that he could give himself another reason for disliking them.

Thus he began to criticise Simon’s governorship of Gascony and although Richard pointed out that no one could govern any place without the necessary finance, still he found fault with Simon.

Simon at length found the position impossible. The Gascons were rebellious and he had no means of quelling them. Dispirited, realising that he could not carry on unless he was able to get support from England, he came home to plead in person with the King.

He found Henry in a melancholy mood. He had just said good-bye to his young daughter and he knew that the Queen was grieving. Eleanor felt that before she went to Scotland, Margaret should have waited until she was old enough to consummate the marriage, and she was reproaching herself … and Henry … for allowing the child to be taken from them, and Henry could not bear to do anything that seemed wrong in her eyes.

So when Simon de Montfort arrived Henry was in an ill temper and Simon received a bleak reception.

‘I find it impossible to keep order in Gascony, my lord, without the financial help I need,’ he attempted to explain.

‘I have heard,’ retorted Henry, ‘that much of the trouble is of your own making.’

‘That is false!’ cried Simon angrily.

Henry replied: ‘I will dispatch commissioners to Gascony that they may report on what is going on there.’

‘My lord,’ he said vehemently, ‘these Gascons are troublemakers. They know the King of France is ready to woo them. Give me arms, give me money, and I will subdue them.’

‘Our expenses here in England are great,’ said Henry.

Yes, thought Simon, jewels for the Queen, fine garments and feasting for the Scottish wedding. Pensions for the Queen’s friends and relations, for your half brothers, for all those foreigners who are here for pickings.

There was, thought Henry, something formidable about Simon. When he was in his presence he was aware of a certain power in the man. He vaguely sensed that Simon was a man of whom he must be wary.

‘I will give you three thousand marks,’ said the King.

‘It is not enough, my lord.’

‘It is all I can give. Can you raise more?’

‘From my own estates I could find a little. I need men too.’

‘Then return with this money and the men you need. I shall then hope to hear better news from Gascony.’

Simon left the King. He had heard much talk of the dissatisfaction among the barons and he was wondering whether in time the King would be facing trouble not unlike that which had beset his father.

Simon returned to Gascony where the people led by rebels were in revolt. They had gathered at Castillon, where Simon besieged them and achieved a victory. Temporarily he brought peace to Gascony – though an uneasy one. He returned to England and told the King that he had made peace, subdued the rebels and now had decided to ask leave to remain in England.

Meanwhile the Gascons had set out their complaints against Simon and these were presented to the King, and because of his attitude to Simon, Henry preferred to believe his accusers rather than to believe Simon.

This seemed such gross ingratitude that Simon’s disgust with Henry filled him with anger. He declared that the accusations should be brought to light and he would be judged by his peers as to who was making trouble in Gascony.

Henry agreed and made it clear on whose side he was. He was cool to Simon whenever they met and made much of his Gascon enemies.

Simon’s wife, the King’s sister Eleanor, was furious with her brother.