The Forbidden Queen

Could I love a man I had met only once in my life? It appeared that I could, if admiration and a trembling of the heart signified love. He had cast an enchantment over me, simply by smiling at me and calling me by my name. The scar of some old wound did nothing to mar his beauty. To me, he was everything I had dreamed of.

A Queen of England must be able to speak the language of her husband’s subjects. Had not Henry commanded me to learn? I applied myself to conversation with one of my father’s household who had more than a few basic words to string together, encouraged by the thought that perhaps it would win some commendation from my betrothed. Perhaps he would smile at me again.

‘Good morning, my lord. I hope you are in health.’ Or I might ask him: ‘Do you hunt today, my lord? I would wish to accompany you.’ Or even:

‘Do you admire this new gown that I am wearing? I think it is very fine.’ My adeptness at politics was less sure, but I could ask: ‘Do we welcome the French ambassador to our Court today? Will there be a celebratory feast?’ When my clumsy Gallic tongue had difficulties with celebratory, my impatient tutor, a young lad of fewer years than my own, suggested festive, which I could manage. I even became proficient in the crucial phrase: ‘I will be honoured, Majesty, to accept your hand in marriage.’

‘He will take you,’ Isabeau declaimed with clenched jaw. ‘I will not let this alliance escape.’ Black anger shook her. Now removed from Poissy and based in Paris, back in the Hôtel de St Pol, I kept out of her way.

And then, miraculously, out of nowhere:

‘It is decided. Your dower will be without rival. He’ll take you.’

A golden cloud of conviction hovered over the Queen’s brow. She even touched my cheek with what could have been a caress. I watched her warily from where I sat on my bed. All I could recall was that our previous dower offer had fallen far short of matching the English King’s demand, so why should Isabeau’s new planning be any better? We had even less money at our disposal since Henry controlled all trade routes in the north of France, so that our royal coffers rattled in emptiness.

‘Why will Henry take me?’ I asked.

‘I’ve made him an offer that he would be a fool to refuse. And he is no fool.’ And when I looked justifiably baffled, Isabeau’s glance slid to mine with sly satisfaction. ‘He will take you because when he does, he will get the Crown of France as well.’ Pausing, to make an impression—and succeeding—she added, ‘That will be the dower carried by your royal blood, ma petite. Not a coffer full of gold coin but the Crown of France. How can he argue against that?’

I was stunned, as if the Crown of France had dropped from the ceiling to land at my feet. This was mine, to take with me as a dower to my husband? My new silk-lined bodice—Isabeau was spending some money on me at last—suddenly felt too tight. The mirror I had been holding fell from my hand, fortunately onto the trailing hem of the blue damask to save it from harm. Could Isabeau actually do this? As I retrieved my mirror, my hands trembled with the enormity of what she had done.

‘Will my father allow it?’ I gasped.

‘Your father will have nothing to say in the matter. How should he? He hasn’t the wits to string two words together.’

So she had taken the decision on her own authority. ‘You will disinherit my brother Charles?’

‘Without compunction.’ Her strong hands closed on my shoulders, and with only the barest hesitation she kissed me lightly, unexpectedly, on each cheek. ‘You carry all our hopes, Katherine. He will not refuse you now. How could he, when you hold his heart’s desire in your pretty hands? He wants the French Crown—and this is how he can get it without spilling one more drop of blood, English or French. He will smile all the length of the aisle to the high altar where you will stand with him and exchange your vows.’ Her smile grew.

‘You will present yourself in the audience chamber within the hour, and there we will discuss exactly how you will conduct yourself when you meet with Henry of England. Nothing—absolutely nothing, Katherine—must be allowed to stand in the way of this alliance. You will be the perfect bride.’