Read Online The Follies of the King by Jean Plaidy - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
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herself had gone to England as a young girl to be the bride of the King, the present one’s father, was clearly moved. Aunt Marguerite was gentle and kind and she whispered that she hoped Isabella would be as happy in England as she had been. If there was a faintly apprehensive look in her eyes as she spoke, Isabella did not notice it.
She noticed nothing but Edward.
He took her hand and told her how enchanted he was by her beauty. He had heard word of it of course but it exceeded all expectations, and he eagerly awaited their marriage.
The preparations had been made with the utmost care, and the ceremony in the church of Notre Dame was most impressive. The handsome distinguished looks of the bridegroom, the fresh and startling beauty of the bride, were marvelled and to those who knew nothing of the King’s infatuation for Piers Gaveston it seemed the perfect match.
Isabella was one of those and she often thought afterwards that had she received some intimation of what she would have to expect she might have been able to handle the situation more wisely. For one thing she would never have allowed herself to fall in love.
Those were happy days— perhaps the happiest of her life. She loved the pomp and ceremony; she loved the homage to her beauty and her rank. In the church of Notre Dame she had become a Queen as well as a wife and Edward appeared to have fallen as deeply in love with her as she with him.
Edward was in fact chafing against his separation from Gaveston. He knew he must accept this because this marriage was necessary. Isabella was a beautiful girl and she was most enamoured of him so he was lucky for he might have had someone he could not take to at all. This beautiful daughter of the King of France must bear him a child and quickly. Both he and Perrot had agreed on that. He was glad therefore that she was not repulsive to him, and that he could, with some conviction, play the part of the devoted husband.
This he did and with such success that Isabella believed herself to be the happiest woman in France. Marriage suited her. She had always known it would. She had always liked to hear about her women’s love affairs. Now she understood so much that she never had before and she was going to have few regrets at leaving France because she was going to Edward’s country which she would rule with him.
She realized quickly that Edward was pliant as well as amiable and that delighted her. She believed he was the kind of man whom she could govern. He clearly wanted to please her. She must keep him thus.
She began to suspect that he was a little lazy. So much the better. She had energy enough for them both. He would discuss everything with her. They would work together but it would be her will which would be done.
Oh, she was deeply content in her marriage.
* * *
The King of France walked arm-in-arm with his son-in-law in the gardens of the palace.
‘It gives me the greatest pleasure,’ said Philip, ‘to see your happiness with my daughter.’
‘Your daughter is the most beautiful girl in France,’ replied Edward.
‘I see we were meant to agree.’ Philip gave his sly quiet smile. ‘It is a good augury for the future, my son, when France and England walk together in amity.’
‘There will be many in France and England who will rejoice at this time.’
‘My dear son, let us keep it so. Let us make a vow of friendship.’
They were both ready to swear to that for neither would be entirely scrupulous if the need arose to break a vow or two.
‘You have heard of the wicked doings of the Templars, I doubt not,’ went on Philip.
Edward replied that he had. It was difficult to be in France and not know that they were being arrested all over the country and put to the torture in castle dungeons where they admitted that they were guilty of the most horrifying crimes.
‘There can be no peace in countries where such wickedness is allowed to flourish.’
‘That must be so,’ agreed
She noticed nothing but Edward.
He took her hand and told her how enchanted he was by her beauty. He had heard word of it of course but it exceeded all expectations, and he eagerly awaited their marriage.
The preparations had been made with the utmost care, and the ceremony in the church of Notre Dame was most impressive. The handsome distinguished looks of the bridegroom, the fresh and startling beauty of the bride, were marvelled and to those who knew nothing of the King’s infatuation for Piers Gaveston it seemed the perfect match.
Isabella was one of those and she often thought afterwards that had she received some intimation of what she would have to expect she might have been able to handle the situation more wisely. For one thing she would never have allowed herself to fall in love.
Those were happy days— perhaps the happiest of her life. She loved the pomp and ceremony; she loved the homage to her beauty and her rank. In the church of Notre Dame she had become a Queen as well as a wife and Edward appeared to have fallen as deeply in love with her as she with him.
Edward was in fact chafing against his separation from Gaveston. He knew he must accept this because this marriage was necessary. Isabella was a beautiful girl and she was most enamoured of him so he was lucky for he might have had someone he could not take to at all. This beautiful daughter of the King of France must bear him a child and quickly. Both he and Perrot had agreed on that. He was glad therefore that she was not repulsive to him, and that he could, with some conviction, play the part of the devoted husband.
This he did and with such success that Isabella believed herself to be the happiest woman in France. Marriage suited her. She had always known it would. She had always liked to hear about her women’s love affairs. Now she understood so much that she never had before and she was going to have few regrets at leaving France because she was going to Edward’s country which she would rule with him.
She realized quickly that Edward was pliant as well as amiable and that delighted her. She believed he was the kind of man whom she could govern. He clearly wanted to please her. She must keep him thus.
She began to suspect that he was a little lazy. So much the better. She had energy enough for them both. He would discuss everything with her. They would work together but it would be her will which would be done.
Oh, she was deeply content in her marriage.
* * *
The King of France walked arm-in-arm with his son-in-law in the gardens of the palace.
‘It gives me the greatest pleasure,’ said Philip, ‘to see your happiness with my daughter.’
‘Your daughter is the most beautiful girl in France,’ replied Edward.
‘I see we were meant to agree.’ Philip gave his sly quiet smile. ‘It is a good augury for the future, my son, when France and England walk together in amity.’
‘There will be many in France and England who will rejoice at this time.’
‘My dear son, let us keep it so. Let us make a vow of friendship.’
They were both ready to swear to that for neither would be entirely scrupulous if the need arose to break a vow or two.
‘You have heard of the wicked doings of the Templars, I doubt not,’ went on Philip.
Edward replied that he had. It was difficult to be in France and not know that they were being arrested all over the country and put to the torture in castle dungeons where they admitted that they were guilty of the most horrifying crimes.
‘There can be no peace in countries where such wickedness is allowed to flourish.’
‘That must be so,’ agreed
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