Four Sisters, All Queens

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Book: Four Sisters, All Queens Read Online Free PDF
Author: Sherry Jones
Tags: Biographical, Fiction, General, Historical
the healer eases his shoulder back into its socket.
    “This is why you must go to France,” Mama says to Marguerite. “These attacks against Provence must end.”
    Romeo strides in. What are the losses? Papa wants to know.
    Five men wounded, he says. One killed.
    “It could have been you!” Mama’s sob twists like a shriek in the wind. Marguerite turns away, unable to bear her mother’s tears.
    “I will not die at Toulouse’s hand. God loves me too much for that,” the count says.
    “God loves the heretic Toulouse more, it seems,” Mama says. “Perhaps our Lord does not realize that he is excommunicated. Or maybe he does not care.”
    “Hush! The priest might hear you.” Papa closes his eyes. “Father Austerc is on his way to administer the final unction.”
    “No! Papa!” Eléonore flings herself over him, protecting him from unction—or death. The count laughs, but Mama’s glare is a knife cutting short Marguerite’s giggles.
    “Ramon, these attacks must stop. If you are killed, we lose Provence. And Toulouse is draining our treasury with these constant battles. We have only a few days’ worth of food here. Our children are as thin as twigs, Elli has to wear Margi’s used clothing, and the servants are grumbling because they have not been paid.”
    “The knights complain, as well, but what are we to do? We cannot surrender Provence, so we must fight.”
    Mama lifts her eyebrows at Marguerite, as if she had just won a bet or a dinnertime debate. “Now do you see? Like it or not, you must go to Paris,” she says. “Until you take the crown from Blanche de Castille, Provence will remain in danger. Your family will be in danger. The White Queen waits like a hawk to swoop down and snatch us away. Only you can save us from her clutches.”
    Marguerite meets her maire ’s gaze, but cannot hold it for long. The light of destiny being too bright for her to bear, she closes her eyes.

     
    “T EN THOUSAND MARKS !” The count slumps in his throne when the French emissaries have gone to bathe and prepare for the meal that Romeo has promised, somehow, to provide to them. “The White Queen cannot be serious.”
    “Of course she is serious,” Mama says. “She knows how much we have spent fighting her cousin Toulouse. The more she weakens Provence, the more easily France can swallow us up.”
    “It is no use.” Marguerite’s hopes soar: The white sands of Marseille, she thinks. The fragrance of rosemary. The summer sun. “We cannot afford this dowry.”
    “We must afford it,” Mama says.
    Papa rakes his fingers through his hair. He gives his eldest daughter a wan smile. “Margi, we should have sent you to Paris with Romeo. If King Louis had even one glimpse of you, he would be paying us for your hand. As it is, I do not see how . . . I am sorry, child. You will not be a queen, after all.”
    Marguerite, sitting on a divan by the window, rises to move to his side. She slides her arms around his neck, kisses his cheek. “I am not disappointed, Papa. Didn’t you know? I would rather remain here with you.”
    “And your father would rather keep you nearby.” Romeo struts in, tossing his curls. “But you must think of the future, my lord, not only for Margi’s sake. Make a queen of her, and I can make queens of them all.”
    “You, Romeo? Or my brother Guillaume?” Mama purses her lips, not liking to see her family’s contributions ignored.
    “Think of the glory that would follow, like ripples in a pond, to all your generations,” he says. “Your daughters and granddaughters, queens! Your grandsons, princes and kings! You must not let a temporary shortage of coins stand in your way.”
    “True, but—”
    “I knew you would agree!” He rubs his hands together. “I have just told the French that you agree to the dowry. They have already left for Paris.” The mystery of how to feed them thusly solved, he bows, his lips twitching in self-congratulation.
    “By God’s head, Romeo, you will
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