‘But I mean no insult. How could I insult my own Queen!’

‘Yet you do, Henry, by weighing up what she will bring to you. Romantic Louis said of her sister: I want her. She will suffice.’

Richard could see that his strategy was working. ‘What did the Count say to you in his last message?’ he went on.

‘That he could not afford what I asked even though I had reduced it.’

‘I mean in what manner did he say it? That is important.’

‘I will show you his last communication.’

Richard read what the Count had written and nodded slowly.

‘I understand well. He is a very proud man. His pride is wounded. He shows here quite clearly that he will soon put an end to this haggling. How go the negotiations with Ponthieu? Me-thinks if you have not stopped them …’

‘You know full well they have stopped.’

‘Open them again. Joanna’s father may be able to provide the dowry you want.’

‘I have no intention of taking Joanna. It is Eleanor I want.’

‘Do you, brother? Not enough it seems. Soon people will be saying, “Another of the King’s proposed marriages gone astray!”’

‘They will say no such thing, because this is not going astray. I shall marry Eleanor of Provence. I am determined on it.’

‘But what of the dowry?’

‘I have made up my mind. I shall ask for no dowry … only Eleanor. I shall summon Hubert and tell him this. I want Eleanor sent to me without delay.’

Richard smiled.

‘You won’t regret this,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

What excitement at Les Baux when the messengers arrived from England.

The King was weary of correspondence. He wanted his bride. As for the dowry that was a matter which need not delay them. What he was eager for was the wedding.

Sanchia said it was like being on a see-saw. Up one moment, down the next.

‘Nay,’ cried Eleanor. ‘This time I am going to stay up.’

It seemed she was right. Messengers from England told of the King’s impatience. Just a short while before he was insisting on the dowry, now he demanded the immediate departure of his bride.

‘We must leave without delay,’ said Uncle William Bishop Elect of Valence; and to the delight of the Count and Countess he declared his intention of accompanying Eleanor to England.

The Count decided that he and the Countess with their two daughters should go with Eleanor to Paris which would give them an opportunity of seeing Marguerite. It was a gay cavalcade which set out on that autumn day. The sun was still warm though there was a certain chill in the morning. The leaves were still thick on the limes and birches but a few of the fallen ones made a carpet on the grass as a warning that summer was fading. Eleanor was aware of the lush green countryside which she might be seeing for the last time, for although her family assured her that she would come back, the sea would separate her from her childhood home and the new country over which she was to reign as Queen.

Surrounded by her family, she felt almost gay although it would be sad leaving them. Sanchia was ready to burst into tears at the thought and Beatrice would do the same.

Sanchia said it seemed so much more important than Marguerite’s marriage had been, perhaps because of all the fuss there had been about it.

‘Or perhaps we were younger then,’ she added sagely.

Eleanor told them that when she was Queen of England she would insist that they come to stay with her.

‘What if the King does not want us?’ asked Sanchia.

‘I shall tell him it is my wish,’ was the reply.

Perhaps she would do even that, thought Sanchia. Eleanor had always been the one to get her way.

As they came to the borders of Champagne they were met by its Count who was notorious throughout France as the Troubadour King. Some said he was the greatest poet of the age.

He offered them lavish hospitality and rode to his castle with them between the Count and Countess of Provence, at the head of their cavalcade.

There was something attractive about Thibaud de Champagne, which was scarcely due to his appearance. He was so fat as to be almost unwieldy. But he had a merry good nature and when he spoke it was said his voice was silver and when he sang it was golden.

Even as he rode along he could not refrain from breaking into song and all listened with admiration.

Moreover the songs he sang were of his own creation; he excelled with both words and music.

He was enchanted by Eleanor. He whispered to her that her husband would love and cherish her. He had read one of the poems she had written and thought she had a fine talent.

‘I am a poet and of some merit they tell me. But as you see, my looks do not match the beauty of my words. How different it is with you. You have been doubly endowed, my lady Eleanor, and your husband will love you so dearly that he will not be able to deny your smallest wish.’

Such talk delighted Eleanor; she felt that she was living in a haze of glory.

To Thibaud’s castle they went, there to rest awhile and give him an opportunity to entertain them.

This he did in a royal fashion for he was eager for all to remember that he was the great grandson of Louis VII and if his grandmother had been a boy instead of a girl he could have been King of France.

The men-at-arms stationed at the keep made a feint of challenging the party as it arrived, but this of course was merely a formality. Everyone in the castle was ready to receive them for the watch whose task it was to sit at the top of the tower and scan the horizon for the sign of any rider, had long since seen them, recognised his master and knew that he brought with him the Count of Provence and his family who were to be royally entertained.

Spectacles had been arranged for them.

Young Beatrice was wildly excited but Sanchia could not forget the imminent parting with her sister. It was not only that she would miss Eleanor but she would then step into place as the eldest daughter at home and very soon her turn would come to say good-bye to the parental home.

The castle was built after the style familiar to all, the great staircase being one of its most important features, for on it the guests liked to take their fresh air when the weather was warm. At the top of this staircase was a platform which was used by the lord of the castle as a kind of court where he met his vassals and meted out justice when it was required. When the lord of the castle was entertaining he and his guests sat on chairs on this platform to watch the jousting and games which took place at the foot of the staircase; and the steps were used as seats by those who watched the joust.

The family of Provence, of course, had their places of honour on the platform beside the Count of Champagne and many people came from the neighbouring villages to watch the performances but chiefly to see the Princess who had been chosen by the King of England to be his bride.

Inside the castle opening from the top of the staircase was the great hall, and if the nights were chilly a fire would be lighted in the centre and round it the guests would cluster and listen to the minstrels and either watch or take part in the dancing.

The hall was vast – at one end was the dais and on this was the high table which overlooked the low table and it was at this high table that Eleanor and her family sat with the Count of Champagne as his guests of honour.

Each day the stone-flagged floor was strewn with fresh rushes and, again in honour of the guests, sweet-smelling herbs and flowers.

It was a wonderful experience and best of all was the night when darkness fell and the tables on their trestles were removed from the hall, and the Count sang his love songs to them.

He was a romantic figure in spite of his size for many of his songs were of unrequited love; and there was one lady of whom he sang continually. Eleanor wondered who she was.