THERE WERE EIGHT MEN in the chamber and all but one were in a state of high dudgeon. Constance sat in a window-seat and listened wearily. They were cursing John in the most intemperate language she had ever heard, and she was accustomed to the Angevins’ creative use of profanity; even the bishops of Rennes and Vannes were joining in. While they were enraged that John should meddle in Breton matters so blatantly, it was the choice of husband for Constance that had their tempers at full blaze. They considered it a mortal insult that John should have selected Guy de Thouars, a landless younger brother of a Poitevin lord, and none of them were shy about saying so.
At last the others fell silent, yielding to Guillaume des Roches and the de Vitré brothers, André and Robert. Des Roches was an Angevin lord, but Richard had given him the heiress of the barony of Sable, which lay close to Brittany, and he’d supported Arthur over John after Richard’s death. He’d been outraged, though, when Philippe had razed Ballon, a castle that ought to have been Arthur’s, and then disdainfully dismissed his protest as if it were of no matter. His had been the most vocal and persuasive voice of those urging Arthur to make peace with John. Now he was the only one urging them not to act rashly, saying the marriage was not as demeaning as the others claimed. He was at once shouted down.
“John is mocking us, my lady,” André de Vitré spat, “by offering you such an unworthy husband! The Duchess of Brittany to wed a man with no title, no lands of his own, no prospects?”
André’s denunciation was not quite accurate, for the viscounts of Thouars did not pass their lands from father to son, but from brother to brother, so although Aimery had three sons of his own, if Guy outlived him, he’d eventually become the next viscount. Constance knew that, but she did not bother to correct him, for the gist of his complaint was true. The possibility that Guy might one day inherit his brother’s title was not enough to transform him into a suitable match for the Duchess of Brittany. She did respond, however, when Robert de Vitré charged John with deliberately forcing her into a disparaging marriage to shame her, to shame them all.
“I am not defending John,” she said. “I’d sooner walk barefoot to Mont St Michel clad only in my chemise. But I do not think he chose Guy de Thouars because he wanted to degrade me. I suspect his primary concern is to see me wed to someone ‘safe,’ someone he can trust to do his bidding.”
They saw that as an even more damning accusation. Constance let them rant and fume, for she knew how little it meant. She’d known that John would exact a price for his peace and that she’d likely be the one to pay it. Her eyes came to rest upon her son, slouched down in the other window-seat; he was sulking because none of the men were paying him any mind and not happy at the thought of his mother remarrying.
“We have to face the truth,” she finally said, “however little we like it. John’s father forced me to wed a man of his choosing whilst he knew I was still grieving for Geoffrey, for his own son. Why should John be any more merciful? If I balk at wedding this man, he’ll compel me to wed another, one even less acceptable than Guy de Thouars, as punishment for my defiance.”
Their silence was a reluctant acknowledgment that they knew she was right. Only Arthur did not understand. “Maman? What will you do then?”
What I’ve always done—what I must. “I think,” she said, “that I shall have to talk to Sir Guy.”
THEY WERE WALKING in the palace gardens, trailed at a discreet distance by several of her ladies and barons, for Constance wanted to talk with Guy herself before subjecting him to an interrogation by her Breton lords. She did not know him well, but she’d not forgotten his kindness at St James de Beuvron, and she thought he was a decent man. Of course, so was Randolph of Chester, as loath as she was to admit that. She would never forgive him for holding her prisoner, yet she knew he was not evil. Slanting a sidelong glance toward Guy, she murmured, “So this took you by surprise, too?”
“Good God, yes!” he said and laughed. “I’d sooner have expected to be told the cardinals in Rome had elected our parish priest in Thouars as the next Pope.”
She found his candor refreshing, accustomed as she was to a world in which all had ulterior motives and royal courts were breeding grounds for intrigue and double-dealing. “My barons think John chose you because you lack a title, Sir Guy. I think he was more interested in your fidelity to the Angevin House.” Coming to a halt on the walkway, she looked up intently into his face. “I’ve been told that you were very loyal to Richard.”