CHAPTER ONE

“Read it to me again Guy, but remember that I can check every word you say. My scholastic achievements are quite advanced for a gentlewoman, I have attainments in languages and about everything else you may note. When you are a prisoner time hangs heavily on your hands, if truth were known my life has benefited in some respects from my incarceration.”

“Scarcely imprisonment my lady.”

“Tush, tush man, don’t go off the subject, read the instructions that my Uncle the King sent you.”

The young woman who had made this statement looked sternly at the squire who stood obediently before her. He knew that he could not deceive this amazing lady even if such a disreputable idea had been floating through his mind.

“You are given, my lady an allowance from the Exchequer covering gifts of clothes, fur-lined capes, shoes, and fine linen from which to make chemises and sheets. Not however of the King’s finest cloth but if they have none suited for this except the King’s very finest then so be it.”

“That is what I thought” replied the elegant young woman “and for our purposes only the best cloth is really suited. Do you acquiesce then, Guy, you must be aware of our clothing needs by now?”

“Quite so, quite so, Lady Eleanor. I am sure that the King would have no objections. As you know he is a most generous sovereign.”

The lady Eleanor smiled somewhat sarcastically at this surprising statement. In truth the young lady was correctly titled the Princess Eleanor of Brittany daughter of Jeffrey, elder brother of her uncle the capricious English King John Softsword, or John Lackland depending on your inclination at the time. Here she was, however, now in 1215 effectively a prisoner albeit in quite pleasant surroundings at Corfe Castle. Some considered her brother Arthur the rightful monarch but he had lost his life murdered, it was spoken abroad on the orders of or even by King John. Eleanor was here at the command of her uncle who could not afford to have her at liberty given the precariousness of his own position.

Guy could not help continuing to stare towards the Princess. He could fully
appreciate how she had come by the evocative nomenclature of the Pearl of Brittany. The youthful squire was confident that he had never in his life come across anyone so striking. Eleanor had the darkest hair and the most piercing brown eyes. Most eyes of that particular hue had tended to produce almost a doe-like expression among the women he had met. Not so with the Pearl for her gaze was fiercely combative, at once challenging and inviting. That firm determined mouth suggested that she would brook no argument when roused yet her perfectly formed ruby lips hinted at Paradise or something closely akin to it. That beautiful almost retroussé nose which looked even more alluring when she smiled her spine-tingling smile was one that Guy could almost have killed for. Eleanor was quite tall for a woman and when she walked so very elegantly and so firm of purpose her class was all so evident. What a Pearl, what a jewel to behold was this niece of England’s King.

“What do you know of Uncle John, sirrah?” glowered the Princess shaking Guy at least temporarily out of his reverie.

“A very capable Lord and Master of us all” voiced the squire.

“Yes Guy. I feel that you are mouthing the words that you would wish others to hear. Nonetheless in spite of what the Church and scribes write about him the King is very efficient. I have never understood why my other uncle Richard the Lion-Heart received so much applause. He was a brave man and good military commander but so is John. At least the latter has spent more of his time in England and believe you me he gets to know all about his officials, what they can do and never leaves anything to chance.”

“You don’t begrudge him your position my lady?” enquired Guy “ I know that you have been in his care for some 13 years now.”

“Yes indeed” mused Eleanor “is it that long? I remember it as if it was yesterday. My brother Arthur acting on behalf of King Philip of France was chasing after my grand-mother Eleanor of Aquitaine on her way to Poitiers”.

“Then you admit my lady that your brother had rebelled against his liege-lord King John and was giving more than aid and comfort to Philip of France in an attempt to snap up Normandy?” queried the young squire, growing somewhat in self-confidence.

“Remember varlet that my brother Arthur should have been King of England.” snapped the Pearl of Brittany drawing herself up in haughty grandeur. “Indeed he was the son of John’s elder brother, as I am the daughter of the same.”

“Yes my lady but King John is the brother of the last monarch Richard the Lion-Heart whilst your brother was only the nephew of the previous incumbent of the throne. Also, I add with respect, John was considered more acceptable because of his experience whilst your brother was very young when Richard died.”

“Nevertheless he was a Prince. If he was renounced by the English barons surely he had the right to choose his new friends especially if Philip was more kind to him.....”

“Philip?” almost exploded Guy “when did that crafty, dishevelled Frenchman ever think of anyone but himself or at most of French interests. He should have been avoided like the plague, what a callous, sinister man is that?”

“We are getting someway off the subject, Guy” glowered Eleanor “we were discussing how I came to be under the close constriction of my uncle’s comforting care.”

“Of course, of course” blushed the squire “please go on Lady Eleanor.”

“I remember the date it was 31 July in the year 1202” continued the Princess “Arthur had caught up with grand-mother and her party of retainers and had them trapped in the Castle keep at Mirebeau. Anyway he had not accounted for the devil-inspired spirit of the Angevin blood - he should have, he came from the same brood. John had led a forced march of over 80 miles and liaised with William des Roches, the Seneschal of Anjou. William knew the area inside out and when Arthur and the besiegers were still eating voraciously of a dish of pigeons the avenging army came storming through. The besiegers had become the besieged.”

“I know, and the Prince Arthur was contained in Falaise with his associate Geoffrey de Lusignan. The King deemed it the correct course of action to follow.”

“Indeed he did” muttered the Pearl “but Arthur’s close family and lesser adherents were transported to England to spend their time in Corfe Castle. This included me, but as you probably know my mother Constance had died the year before, so I had to exert my free and independent spirit as they say, if you don’t look
out for yourself in this world then no-one else will. Still, never mind all this moaning on my part, worse was to follow. There were twenty-five of my fellow prisoners, all determined fighters who planned to escape from Corfe. They gained possession of the keep but were completely out-numbered with their food supplies totally cut off. Hell, it makes you sick just to think of it but twenty-two of them starved to death rather than surrender.”

“You don’t have to go all over this again your Highness” sympathised a subdued Guy.

“Well that’s life. It’s ironic that Normandy was lost to John within about a couple of years. My brother had died before then - I hear so many conflicting stories - my poor little brother, he was younger than me, in fact born a few months after our father Jeffrey had died.”

“Yes your Highness.”

“No need to go soft on me, sirrah” snapped the Pearl of Brittany strengthening her resolve “they suggest, some stories do anyway, that Uncle John slew Arthur with his own hand in April 1203. He had drunk too much, not unusually and then had my brother’s body thrown into the River Seine. One of the most dastardly acts committed in Rouen Castle if indeed it is true.”

“And yet your Uncle John sends you some lovely gifts, ornamented saddles and reins, and other things as well, not exactly like the acts of a monster.”

“A complex character is my Uncle” puzzled Eleanor grimacing to herself.

“Only last year you accompanied the King to France on his military expeditions.”

“Yes indeed I did, with a number of other relatives like my little cousin Richard, Uncle John’s second son. Men, they are forever fighting and squabbling, it would do England good to have a woman on the throne there would not be all this trouble.”

“I doubt that a woman would receive much support” suggested Guy “look at the time about eighty years ago when the barons refused to accept the Empress Maud and her cousin King Stephen managed to keep the throne for close on twenty years.”

“Yes but if there was a woman of quality available, and there is you know.
After all I am Jeffrey’s closest blood relative. He would have succeeded the Lion-Heart if he had lived, I know he would.”

Guy was on the point of suggesting to the proud Princess that it was pointless engaging in such a fruitless debate but she had quickly turned on her heel and was moving back towards her quarters. He could not help admiring this determined young woman, slightly older than himself but still alluringly young. The thoughtful squire could not help thinking that this fiercely intense niece of his liege-lord hinted at another side of her character. He was sure she could be as warm and as sympathetic as she was straight-backed and haughty. That raised eye-brow and supercilious look seemed capable of becoming smouldering passion if only he knew which impulse to touch. Already he was feeling his chest tingling with a not unpleasant sensation.

Go to Chapter 2 | Preface | Index

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