The past few years of my life have flashed by, everything is so different now my old life seems a million years away though in reality it is less than ten years. I was not aware of my Mother’s plot to overthrow the throne until it was too late.
Here I sit, as the Queen of both France and England though it was not a happy or safe place to find myself. Hated by many and accused of being a traitor to my own family I spend most of my time alone, I cannot hire ladies to serve me through fear they will kill me.
I have a palace full of servants, of women who will tell me how beautiful I am, of men who will fight till the death in order to protect me and my family but I have not a true friend in the whole of France or England.
My old friends are no more, angry that my husband ordered the death of their male family members. There are many widowed women in Paris now.
My dear sister, the Countess, now a widow herself, her husband having been slayed along with the many French Lords and men of status who would not accept my husband as their King. I had her sent for and now the Countess serves as my only true lady.
Though I can almost hear the resentment in her voice as she speaks to me, I am addressed through gritted teeth and with false smiles. But I do not seem to notice anymore.
Though I am Queen, it does not feel as though I am. Most days I do not leave my room, often I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed loyal to my King and Queen, if I had not continued writing to Richard even though I was warned against it.
Maybe I would still be serving the Queen, maybe I would be married to the handsome Lord Bennacioux, and maybe I would still be happy and content. But there is no time for maybes, I do not have time to spend dwelling on the past, all I have to concentrate on now is the future.
My own future and that of my son, my dear son, Edward, named after the last King of England, is a healthy boy. He runs and plays happily without a care for who he is or how he came to be both the Prince of Wales and the Dauphin of France; I do not think he cares.
I do dread for what will happen to him, I do wonder what will become of him when I die. I wish I had my Father here with me to show me what to do though the angels have taken him to be with his brother the King of France.
On Richard’s orders were my Father killed, my Lady Mother tried to protect him, she ordered him to swear loyalty to the new King, to Richard, but my Father would not do such a thing. He said he would rather die than to serve a man as vile as my husband.
I watched him executed, I sat, by my husband’s side and watched both the King of France and my Father’s head removed from their bodies and then lay, side by side as brothers should.
Just as the sword was coming down upon the King’s neck the last thing he said was “I will have revenge on you Richard,”
It was all so ironic; it was revenge that put the King and my Father under the sword.
I had sworn I would never involve myself in something as petty as revenge, and yet I find myself say, the most powerful woman in Europe.
Where would I be without revenge?