The Battle of the Queens by Jean Plaidy Page B

stories.
    ‘Ah,’ the old man would say in his quavering voice, ‘you will come to reckon yourself fortunate to be the chosen bride of Hugh le Brun, Count of Lusignan.’
    And so it went on.
    Then one day while she talked to the old man he fell forward in his chair and she ran into the castle to summon his attendants. He was carried to his bed and a message was sent to the castle of Angoulême to acquaint Isabella of what was happening.
    She was soon with them and was in eager agreement with the family that news must somehow be sent to Count Hugh that his father was very ill and that his presence was needed with as little delay as possible in Valence.
    There followed a time of waiting while the old Count lingered on. Isabella’s visits had become more frequent and the first question she asked when she arrived was: ‘Is there any news?’
    There was tension throughout the castle and all wondered whether the messengers had found Count Hugh; they were certain that when he knew that his father was dying he would return to take over his inheritance.
    Then the old man died and Hugh had still not come.
    There was great fear then that he might have been slain in battle for so many who set out for the Holy War never returned.

    Joan was ten years old. Sometimes she wondered when the change would come. If Hugh did not return there would be no reason why they should stay here. A new husband would be found for her. She was filled with apprehension and realised then that she had grown to accept Hugh as her prospective husband and that she was half in love already with the image they had presented to her. She would often sit at the turret window and watch for a rider and when she saw one she would be filled with elation and when it proved not to be Hugh a bitter disappointment would follow.
    And so the days passed.
    Then, one day he came. She was in the gardens so she did not see his arrival. There was a clatter of horses’ hoofs and a great commotion through the castle; the bells started to ring; Joan heard the shouts of many voices.
    She ran into the castle and there he was standing in the hall – tall, bronzed by the sun, in shining armour with a red cross on his breast. She knew him at once for none she was sure could look so noble.
    For a few moments they stood looking at each other; then she saw the blood rush into his face and he took several strides towards her, seizing both her hands in his, and she noticed that his eyes had a bewildered look in them.
    She heard someone say: ‘The Lady Joan, my lord.’
    And he continued to gaze at her. Then he said: ‘For a moment I thought I was dreaming. You are so like …’
    She herself answered: ‘All say I bear a resemblance to my mother.’
    She noticed that his eyes were misty. He kissed her hand and said: ‘It delights me to see you here.’ Then he asked to be taken to his father.
    He was very sad when he heard that his father had died; and divested of his armour, he went to that spot in the chapel grounds where the old man was buried and knelt by his grave for a long time.
    Without his armour he looked less godlike, but not less handsome; and Joan was quick to notice the kindliness of his face.
    She sat beside him at the table and he fed her the best of the meat. He talked to her in a gentle and kindly fashion and she knew that all she had heard of him was true.
    He said: ‘I am many years older than you, my lady Joan, and you will have to grow up quickly. How old are you now?’
    ‘I am ten years old, my lord.’
    ‘It is a little young to be a bride. We must wait a few years.’
    ‘They say three or four,’ she answered.
    ‘Well, that is not so long. Shall you be ready by then, think you?’
    She looked at the dark curling hair which grew back from the high and noble forehead, at the pleasant curve of his lips and answered: ‘Oh yes, my lord. Perhaps before.’
    ‘We shall see,’ he answered, smiling. And he asked how she had arrived and she told him her mother