The Queen from Provence Read Online Free Page A

in his power to hold them.’
    It was an interesting situation.
    She found solace from her impatience in writing and it was natural that she should write about England. She liked the ancient legends which had come down over the years and took one of these on which to base a narrative poem.
    This was about a certain Blandin of Cornwall and Guillaume of Miremas who fell in love with two sisters, the Princess Briende and Irlondë. To win these ladies the two knights must perform deeds of great daring. Eleanor glowed with pride and passion as she invented the seemingly impossible tasks. And in her imagination she was the beautiful Briende.
    When the poem was completed her parents summoned several members of the Court that they might hear their daughter read it, for in addition to her literary talents she had a beautiful voice and could sing where singing was required and then break into impassioned recitation.
    It was a superb performance, and when it was finished Eleanor, flushed with triumph, looked up to find the eyes of Romeo fixed not upon her but staring into space as though his thoughts were far away.
    She was piqued and angry. It was clear that he had not paid attention to the reading.
    Her mother was embracing her.
    ‘It is your greatest achievement,’ she said. ‘You are indeed a poet, daughter.’
    ‘Romeo did not appear to think so,’ she said curtly.
    Romeo was immediately on his feet. ‘Indeed, my lady Eleanor,’ he declared, ‘you are wrong. I thought it a remarkable piece of work. I was thinking what a pity it was that the whole world could not know of your talent.’
    ‘Eleanor is happy to delight her family, I know,’ said the Count fondly.
    It was later that day when leaving the castle for a walk in the grounds with Sanchia, she met, as though by chance, the Lord of Villeneuve.
    She was astute enough to know that this was no chance meeting and when he implied in the most discreet way that he wished to speak to her alone she sent Sanchia into the house to get a wrap for her and bring it to the shrubbery, deciding that whether or not she was in the shrubbery when Sanchia returned depended on the importance of what Romeo had to say and the time it would take.
    Romeo came straight to the point. ‘Your poem impressed me greatly. You did not think so because I was carried away by a thought which had struck me as to how the poem could be used to good advantage.’
    ‘What is this ?’ said Eleanor.
    ‘The poem is set in Cornwall. Did you know that the Earl of Cornwall is at this time at Poitou?’
    ‘I did not,’ she said, and added though she knew very well, ‘Is he not the brother of the King of England?’
    ‘He is indeed. And at this time he is planning to go on a crusade. That is why he is in Poitou. It has occurred to me that as the poem is set in Cornwall, the Earl would be pleased to see it.’
    ‘What do you suggest?’
    ‘That you send it to him with a charming letter in which you modestly say that you have written the poem and hearing he was near and it was set in his dominion, you thought it might interest him.’
    ‘What does my father say?’
    ‘Your father would doubtless consider it an unusual action, as he did when I sent a minstrel to the Court of France to sing of your sister’s beauty and talents.’
    ‘And you think because of that …’
    ‘No. But it helped. Young, beautiful, well educated … those are the qualities which Kings of this day look for in their brides.’
    ‘But Richard …’
    ‘Is the brother of the King, who will shortly be returning to England where the King is thinking of marriage. He must be because it will be his duty to marry and he has left it long.’
    ‘So … if I send the poem … ?’
    Romeo nodded. ‘With a charming note … the sort a young girl might write on impulse. Who knows … ?’
    ‘I will do it,’ said Eleanor.
    ‘Without delay,’ warned Romeo.
    She nodded. He left her then and she sped to the shrubbery where Sanchia was