* * *

No sooner was William Marshal dead than the peaceful progress of the country’s affairs seemed to come to an end. Hubert de Burgh, in his role as Justiciar, took over control of the country; but he missed the firm hand of William Marshal. The foreign party – which had been subdued during William’s lifetime – became more vociferous. This was headed by Peter des Roches, the Poitevin Bishop of Winchester, whose aim was to oust Englishmen from the major positions of power and put foreigners in their places.

Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, fortunately for Hubert was on his side; and when Peter des Roches, supported by the Legate Pandulf, wanted to appoint a Poitevin as Seneschal for Poitou, Hubert and the Archbishop stood firmly against them in favour of an Englishman’s taking the post.

The controversy over this matter was significant, for Hubert, with the country behind him and the people beginning to take a pride in their nationalism – and perhaps feeling ashamed of having invited foreigners to rule them – were fierce in their denunciation of Pandulf so that his resignation was brought about.

While this was happening, news came to Hubert of the marriage of Isabella with Hugh de Lusignan and he hurried into consultation with the Archbishop.

‘But this is monstrous!’ cried Stephen Langton. ‘And we are only told after the marriage has taken place.’

‘It seems incredible,’ replied Hubert. ‘The Queen was betrothed to him years ago – and it seems they only have to meet to become lovers again. I have reports of their manners with each other and that it has been so since Hugh de Lusignan returned from the Holy Land. If that is not ill conceived enough, Lusignan is asking for her dowry.’

‘He shall be told that there will be no dowry. The Princess Joan was sent over and he was pledged to marry her. This is a very different matter.’

‘So thought I. I shall send messengers to the effect that the Princess Joan must return to England immediately and that there will be no dowry for the Queen.’

Messengers were sent off immediately to Lusignan.

It was shortly after that that Hubert began to wonder whether the marriage of Hugh and Isabella was perhaps fortunate after all.

Alexander the Second of Scotland – a young, warlike king of some twenty years – had soon after the death of John taken the opportunity to invade England; but when Louis had been defeated, a peace had been brought about with Scotland. The terms of the treaty were now being considered; the King of Scotland was eager to marry one of the English princesses. To wait for young Isabella who was only six was not so convenient, whereas Joan who was ten was much more suitable. In two years – perhaps one – she would be marriageable.

Hubert with Langton decided that he would ask for the return of the Princess Joan without delay while intimating to the newly married pair that there would be no dowry.


* * *

Joan longed to get away from the castle. There was no one to whom she could explain her melancholy. She had been so frightened when she had first heard that she was to marry but Hugh had disarmed her and then charmed her, reconciling her to her fate to such an extent that she had come to long for it.

And it was not to happen. She was left to wander about the castle alone. It was true she had to take her lessons and her governesses would accompany her when she rode out. But she always tried to elude them. She wanted to get away, to be alone, to think of what had happened to her.

She supposed she had come to love Hugh.

He was kind whenever they met; he would look at her in a half apologetic manner if her mother was not with him; once he had tried to explain that the way in which he had behaved was in no way due to her. When her mother was with him he took little notice of her – nor did her mother.

She felt she had become a person who had to be looked after but who somehow had no right to be there, and that they were all waiting for a suitable moment to push her out of sight.

Hugh was obsessed by her mother. His eyes never left her when they were together; the timbre of his voice changed when he addressed her; his hands would caress her when he spoke to her.

‘The Queen has bewitched my lord,’ she overheard one of the serving women say.

It was true that he was like a man bewitched.

I came here to marry him, she thought, and now my mother has done that, so what of me?

She tried to ask her mother. ‘Oh don’t bother me, child,’ was the answer. ‘When the time comes something will be arranged.’

‘Shall I go back to England?’

‘I know not. Be thankful that you have me here to look after you.’

‘But you do not look after me. And everything has changed now that you are Hugh’s bride.’

‘It was all so natural,’ she said. ‘Remember I knew him so well in the past. Now, why are you not at your lessons?’

‘It is not time for them, my lady.’

‘Then you should ride with your women – or perhaps you should have your dancing lesson.’

She had turned away. It was clear that her mother did not want to be bothered by her.

She knew that Hugh’s conscience worried him. Perhaps he knew that his gentleness and eagerness to make life smooth for her had won her love. A look of sadness would come into his face when he saw her, trying to overshadow the blissful expression which was there in her mother’s presence. It never quite succeeded in doing that for Joan knew he only thought of her when he saw her and then did his best to forget that she had been his betrothed.

Once he said to her: ‘You will go away from here one day, Joan. Your brother and advisers will arrange that. They will find a young husband for you. It is best for you.’

‘No,’ she had cried angrily, ‘it will not be best for me. Please do not let us pretend.’

‘Oh but it will,’ he insisted. ‘You will see … in a few years’ time.’

That was what he wanted, she knew. He must salve his conscience and he could best do so by promising her a handsome young husband – which would make it all for the best.

But it would not be for the best. She knew that. All her life she would remember Hugh.


* * *

Isabella was pacing up and down the bedchamber, her eyes flashing with rage. She looked magnificent of course but Hugh tried to calm her.

So I am not to have a dowry! And this treatment from my own son! Of course he is not responsible, I know. He is in the hands of Hubert de Burgh and suchlike. He would never treat his mother so. No dowry! You married without my consent, he says. His consent! A boy of fourteen and I am to ask his consent.’

‘He is the King,’ said Hugh gently.

‘Of course he’s the King and might well not have been if I had not had the foresight to go ahead with his coronation. He was even crowned with my neck-collar. And he tells me that he disapproves of my marriage and therefore there will be no dowry.’

‘We shall have to go carefully, Isabella.’

‘Oh, Hugh, you are too mild. You always allow people to snatch what you want from you … when it pleases them. No dowry! Of course there is going to be a dowry. And what does he go on to say: The Princess Joan must return at once to England. You see, they order me! I, the Queen, am being told what I must do by Hubert de Burgh, because my silly little son is incapable of giving orders.’

‘If they will not send the dowry what can we do?’

She looked at him with exasperation. ‘What shall we do?’ she mimicked. ‘I will tell you what we shall do for a start. “Send the Princess Joan,” they say. Very well I shall reply, “Send my dowry. And if one is not sent, nor shall the other be.” ’

‘We cannot keep Joan here if they ask for her return.’

‘Joan is my daughter. If I decide she shall stay with me, then she stays.’

There was a glitter in Isabella’s eyes which Hugh had seen now and then. It filled him with apprehension, but being utterly her slave he made every effort to placate her.


* * *

So now she was a hostage. Joan heard about it – not through her mother, nor through Hugh – but by listening to the gossip of women and the chatter of servants.

Her brother wanted her to go back to England but her mother and stepfather would not let her go until they sent the dowry her mother was asking for.

‘They’ll never send it,’ was the comment.

Joan pictured herself wandering through the castle of Lusignan all her life, with the ardent lovers never far away; her mother indifferent to her, her stepfather trying to be, because the sight of her made him feel unhappy while she knew that as long as she remained, he would never be perfectly at ease.

She pretended to be listless but she kept her ears open for the whispers. They never told her anything. She was resentful of that. It was her life they were playing with and yet she was supposed to be the one who was kept in the dark.

She heard talk of the King of Scotland. Her brother was making a treaty with him. It was difficult to think of Henry’s making a treaty with anyone. It was four years though since she had left England and Henry had been only ten years old then – the same age as she was now. Not very old for a king; but it was the age when a princess was considered marriageable. Now Henry was a king and making treaties.

It was a shock to discover that she was involved in the treaty.

‘The Princess Joan will go away now,’ she heard one of them say. ‘She must because she is to be the bride of the Scottish King.’

Hugh did not want her, so she was to go to Alexander.

‘I won’t go,’ she sobbed to herself in her bed at night. Yet did she want to stay here?

Her mother raged against Henry and his English advisers. Everyone had to be very careful how they treated her – even Hugh; because they must all remember that she was not merely the Countess of Lusignan but a queen. Once a queen was crowned she was queen until the day she died and Isabella had been crowned Queen of England.

‘I paid a big price for my crown,’ she shouted once in Joan’s hearing. ‘All those years with that madman. And no one is going to forget my rank.’

The days passed and still Joan went on living the strange life in the shadows, knowing that they did not want her there and would have been happy to see her go, except for the fact that she was the hostage for the dowry which her brother’s advisers would not send.

But Stephen Langton and Hubert de Burgh had the power of Rome behind them and one day there was great consternation in the castle, for messengers had arrived from the Pope himself with letters for the Count of Lusignan.

A terrible silence fell over the castle, for one thing which all men dreaded was that sentence from Rome and it was with this that Hugh was threatened. If he did not return the Princess Joan to her brother he would be excommunicated.

Isabella laughed aloud when she heard, but rather wildly for even she was afraid of the fires of hell. Of course she was young and, if all went as could be reasonably expected, would have years of healthful life before her, enabling her to slip into a convent for the last few years of her life to bring about the required repentance. But nothing in life was absolutely sure and if she died while under the interdict of excommunication she could expect to go straight to hell.

She was brazen though. She raged against her son who had called Rome into their dispute. She declared that they would snap their fingers at Henry and his ministers and at Rome too. They would hold on to Joan until the dowry was sent. Hadn’t she a right to her dowry?

Hugh reasoned with her. She was prepared to face excommunication, she declared. It was not as simple as that, he explained patiently, for when a man was banished from the Church it was not only that he could not expect extreme unction and the services of a priest and so would die with all his sins on him, but the fact was that those who served him would lose faith in him. If it were necessary for him to go into battle he would have lost the battle before he took up arms because all believed that no man could prosper when the good will of God was turned against him.

Isabella remembered when John had been under a similar ban and how even he, irreligious and defiant, had in time realised that he must escape from it.