Free The Revolt of the Eaglets by Jean Plaidy Page B

far from me. Your husband seems not very pleased with his lot, Marguerite.’
    ‘His father angers him gravely. He treats him as a boy.’
    ‘Is that so?’ Louis smiled faintly. He could not help liking to hear criticism of Henry Plantagenet. Deep down in his heart he had always borne a grudge against him for taking Eleanor. Life had been more peaceful without her, but he often thought of the first time he had seen her. What a beautiful young woman she had been! And what vivacity she had had! She had been so clever. Half the Court had been in love with her. He sighed. He should have known he would never keep her. She had not been faithful to him. How long before she had deceived him? Was her uncle the first on that never to be forgotten journey to the Holy Land? And the Saracen? Had she really contemplated marrying him? He would never forget the shock she had given him when she had demanded a divorce. The Pope had persuaded her against it then but when she saw Henry Plantagenet she had fallen so deeply in love with him that she had determined to marry him.
    Henry had only been Duke of Normandy then and as the owner of Aquitaine she had been richer than he was. Henry was nearly twelve years her junior. Strange that she, so fastidious, taking such care with her appearance, setting the fashions, caring for her body with unguents and perfumes should have become so wildly enamoured of rather stocky Henry who wore his clothes for convenience rather than ornament and never bothered to wear gloves when he went out in the most bitter weather so that his hands were red and chapped. Of course he had a power, a strength which Louis completely lacked. He had charm too, particularly for women. He emanated strength and power. He supposed that was what they liked.
    But the two kings were inherent enemies. There could scarcely be any other relationship between them. Any Duke of Normandy must almost certainly be at odds with the King of France. The Franks had never forgiven the Vikings for raiding their land and making things so unpleasant for their ancestors that to stop their sailing up the Seine to Paris they had been bought off with that northern province which was called Normandy. That went back to the days of Rollo but it rankled still. There was one thing to be grateful for; the Dukes of Normandy like the Counts of other provinces had remained vassals of the King of France.
    And this descendant of the Norman Dukes – this Henry Plantagenet – had taken his wife as ruthlessly as Rollo had taken a piece of France; Louis was not a vindictive man, but he would not be displeased to see Henry brought low. Moreover he was deeply shocked by his treatment of Thomas of Canterbury.
    Had such a man been my subject, thought Louis, I would have counted myself indeed fortunate.
    Now he listened to the complaints of young Henry and Marguerite.
    ‘Your father has made you a king,’ he said. ‘Why did he do that, if he had no intention of allowing you to behave like one?’
    ‘I believe he did it to spite Thomas à Becket.’
    ‘My dear son, you should not say such a thing.’
    ‘But it is true, my lord. He hated Thomas. He would have done anything to discountenance him.’
    Louis shook his head and crossed himself. ‘May that great saint bless us all and intercede for us with God,’ he said.
    ‘I loved him well,’ remarked Henry, and he was trying not to remember that he had refused to see Thomas when he had wanted to call on him because he had acted on the advice of Roger of York.
    ‘All good men loved him,’ said Louis.
    They were silent for a while, thinking of Thomas.
    ‘It is the greatest tragedy that ever befell England,’ went on Louis, ‘and no good will come of it.’
    ‘I thank God that I had no part in his murder,’ said Henry fervently.
    ‘There are others, I doubt not, who wish they might say the same. Well, my son, you have your troubles, have you not?’
    ‘Yes, and I fear I shall continue to. But I will not be