by Anne O'Brien
Silence. What did he expect? A shout of joy at the prospect?
Louis continued, eyes searching the sea of blank faces for encouragement. ‘I will launch a crusade to liberate the city of Edessa from the Turk, and protect Jerusalem. I want you to join with me, to give me your knights and your silver and come with me. It will be a penance. It will bring us expiation for our sins. God will smile on us and grant us forgiveness.’
Silence. Apart from the clearing of a throat, the shuffle of feet or a scratching hound.
God’s wounds, Louis! This is about as appealing as a dish of cold pottage. Give them a cause to fire their blood!
‘We will go crusading to the Glory of God!’ Louis exhorted. ‘I have promised His Holiness that France will lead the conquest. Are you with me, my lords? You will pave your paths to heaven and God’s salvation.’
The faces remained closed to him, Louis’s vassals as well as my own from Aquitaine. I watched them, and read in them the same contempt that stirred me. Penance and salvation was no way to their hearts. Louis sat down heavily, at a loss.
‘What will it take to persuade them of the rightness of this Great Cause?’
Some faith in your ability to lead an army to victory would go a long way, I thought. They’ll remember Toulouse and Champagne. I’d not leap to follow you to Outremer.
‘Now, if I had the ability of your grandfather, Duke William …’ Louis was muttering. ‘To move men to give their lives and pockets for the cause of the Cross.’
‘Duke William made it sound exciting,’ I responded with flat honesty. ‘You made it seem as enticing as an offal pudding.’
‘It is a holy mission! It is not frivolous, Eleanor. It is the chance of a lifetime!’
A chance of a lifetime.
Oh! An idea curled in my mind. A vision so desirable. Suddenly a vast horizon opened before me. An adventure, a gilded opportunity … An escape! My heart leapt, a single heavy bound against my ribs. Before I knew it I was on my feet on the dais.
‘My lords.’ I had their attention, some astounded, some disapproving, all intrigued. ‘His Majesty speaks of the value to your souls. I would speak of something quite different.’ I could hear my voice. Clear, feminine, persuasive. Certainly not weak. I looked around the hall, drawing these puissant barons to me. Oh, yes. I had their attention. I raised my hands, palms up in heartfelt plea. ‘I would speak to you of the earthly glory of such a venture. As you are all aware, Duke William of Aquitaine acquitted himself well in the Crusade. His songs tell of the bravery and magnificent exploits of the knights who gave themselves to the cause. Do you not recall? Their spectacular march through the lands of Europe, armour gilded by the sun, banners unfurled.’ My voice warmed, became more vibrant as I painted the picture I wished them to see. ‘Do you not recall the tales of their pride and superb achievements? Of the days of high adventure? Men still sing the praises of those first Knights of the Cross. Would you not wish for that? For your wives and children to know you too as heroes and adventurers?’
Their faces were no longer unresponsive. I had them in the palm of my hand.
‘The lands of Outremer are richer than we can imagine. Look at the opportunity for those of you who yearn after more land, more wealth. My own noble uncle, Raymond of Poitiers, is Prince of Antioch. Who knows what earthly reward lies in store for any one of you? If the cost of such a venture troubles you …’ I let my lip curl infinitesimally ‘ … I wager you will recover your outlay ten times over. What is not to like in His Majesty’s plan to take the Cross? Are you cowards that you will sit in France, on your estates, whilst other go crusading in your name? I call you to wealth and fame and everlasting glory in God’s name.’
Even I was moved by my call to arms, but it was in my blood and the words would not be held back. Beside me I felt Louis’s anxious circumspection, but I was not deterred.
I drew a breath as certainty grew in me.
I had not said the half of it yet.
‘I too will go on Crusade,’ I announced. ‘I will ride at the King my husband’s side.’ And then I dropped into the familiar langue d’oc, letting my eye rest on the faces of my own vassals. ‘I will lead my own to the Holy Land. Will you follow me, men of Aquitaine? Will you ride with me to free Outremer from these barbarians who would rob us of our right to stand at the site of Christ’s birth?’
My mind was full of it. For me a way out of the imprisoning life in Paris, chained to a husband who was no husband. My blood surged with it.
I awaited a response.
‘It is no place for a woman to travel with an army.’
One voice that I could not pinpoint, but the langue d’oeil was of the north. I raised my chin, raised my voice above the deep rumble of voices as the assembled barons considered my one weakness.
‘Do you say?’ I walked from my place at the table, brushing past Louis, to stand at the very front of the dais, daring any man to challenge me. ‘No place for a woman? In my grandfather’s day, he was joined on the march by the Margravine Irene of Austria. A woman as famous for her beauty as for her strong will. She raised her troops from her own lords and rode at their head. Am I capable of doing any less as a woman of Aquitaine?’ I smiled down at my seated vassals. ‘I am young and strong. The Margravine Irene could give me a good few years when she raised her banners.’ A rustle of laughter. ‘My lords! I can outride any one of you here!’
A cheer rose to the stone arches above our heads, swelling, reverberating as the idea and enthusiasm took hold.
‘Will you follow me and take the Cross?’ Now I strode along the front of the dais, kicking aside my skirts. ‘I will ride before you like Queen Penthesilea who led her fabulous Amazons to victory, a female warrior, in the siege of Troy. I will ride before you like that warrior queen of old, leading you to glory. I have as much strength and courage as she. Will you follow me, men of Aquitaine? Men of France? For gold and land and everlasting fame in the songs of the troubadours?’
A moment of quivering silence. Would they do it? I found that I was holding my breath. Would they give me the weapon to strike the shackles from my wrists and restore to me my freedom?
‘Deus vult! Deus vult!’
God wills it. The old Crusader battle cry. It crashed against the walls from a hundred male throats. And I looked down and back at Louis where he still sat, hands loose on the table. He blinked at me in consternation. It was laughable, but I did not even smile my victory.
‘There, Louis. You have your support for the Crusade.’
And I had my escape.
Poor Louis smiled weakly, unsure whether my intervention was for good or ill.
Abbot Suger trembled with fury.
‘You did not consult with me, sire.’ He barely bordered on the polite. ‘You would take an army and a full treasury of gold out of France for a mission that is not guaranteed success?’
‘God would surely say it was an enterprise worth the doing,’ Louis remained obstinate.
‘God would be far better served if you remained in France, sire, governed wisely and got a male heir to step into your shoes. Have you thought of the repercussions if you were killed in Outremer? Better leaders than you have met their end. It is far too dangerous to go with the succession being so uncertain.’
He swung to face me.
‘As for you, Majesty. How could you be so impolitic in this? You would leave your child of barely two years?’
‘Do you accuse me of being an unnatural mother?’ What pleasure it gave me to see Suger so inconvenienced.
‘I accuse you of being thoughtless, Majesty. As for Irene of Austria, you did not see fit to remind your vassals that she met an unpleasant death, trampled underfoot during a massacre.’
I smile caustically, sure of my ground. ‘No, I did not. I am a feudal lord. Who should raise my troops but I? Who should ride at their head but the Duchess of Aquitaine? What do you say, Louis? Do I ride at your side?’
‘Perhaps it would not be safe, Eleanor …’
Much the reaction I had expected. ‘Very well.’ I shrugged as if I did not care. ‘Then I remain at home and rule the country in your stead.’
‘Ah …’ Louis swallowed.
‘No!’ Abbot Suger flushed.
I almost laughed aloud. I knew I had won. I could see their fear writ clear on their faces. Who knew what I might get up to if left with the unfettered power of the crown in my hands? It hurt me to see it, but it was a weapon I would use.
‘I’m sure you can trust me to use your power wisely in your name.’ I patted Louis’s arm.
‘Perhaps there will be an advantage in your coming with me after all … It would bind the Aquitanians to my army, of course …’ Louis slid a glance towards Suger.
I closed my fingers gently around his wrist. ‘You need me, Louis. Far better that I go with you.’
The Abbot might be caught between a rock and a hard place but still he stuck to his argument. ‘You cannot both go and leave the country without a male heir.’
‘Yes, we can.’ I smiled. ‘Perhaps God will bless us with another child when we see Jerusalem. A son to rule France.’
So Louis was outmanoeuvred. It was decided and Suger’s arguments fell on deaf ears.
All I could see was the chance to spread my wings and fly. I had battered down the walls of the Cité palace. The ennui of my life was swept away. Louis military skills might be suspect but with good commanders at his side he would stand in Jerusalem.
I could not believe my good fortune. My belly was gripped with excitement, my blood ran hot under my skin. I was going to the Holy Land.
‘Your Majesty.’ My steward stood at the door to my solar and bowed, trying not to look askance at the piles of shifts and gowns and mantles being made ready for the adventure that was still in the lap of the gods. Louis obfuscated, Abbot Suger undermined my inclusion in the venture with every breath, but I was determined. I was going to Outremer. So there I was on my knees in the midst of the chaos, one of my jewel caskets open before me. Some decisions were too important to leave to my women. ‘Majesty—you have guests. I have brought them here as His Majesty is otherwise engaged at Notre Dame.’
I pushed myself to my feet, suddenly aware of the reaction of my women as I did so, a twitter of birds in a cage as a hawk swooped overhead. And turning, I understood. My visitor was not a man to be overlooked. Neither one of them, it seemed, could be overlooked.
‘The Count of Anjou, Your Majesty. And Lord Henry Plantagenet.’
I had forgotten in the heat of crusading fever that this visit had been promised, and here were the Angevins come to court, seeking a bride. For some reason that I could not name, I felt a cold hand of unease stroke the nape of my neck.
‘My lord Count.’ I adopted a gracious smile, determined that my greeting should flow as coolly as melt-water over ice. ‘You are right welcome.’
As handsome as ever, Geoffrey of Anjou strode into my solar, smooth and controlled, raw power overlaid by elegance, exactly as I remembered him. But there was something more … A flutter of apprehension disturbed my belly. The Count’s expression was open and candid, but perhaps his eyes did not quite meet mine. And then he smiled directly at me—which did nothing to dispel my awareness of something awry. It reminded me that he was more than a master of deception.
There was the same attraction between us, of course. The Angevin’s eyes sparkled with admiration. Beneath the nerves, my cheeks felt as hot as fire. The desire was as strong as ever. How would I tolerate being with him in the same palace, yet distant from him? This was not my own indulgent Poitou, this was Paris. To indulge in bed sport in Poitiers was one thing, to continue it under the nose of Louis and Abbot Suger was quite another. There would be no assignations, no whispered words and intimate caresses here.
And perhaps I did not want there to be such intimacy between us. What had passed between us in Poitiers was over. I would not repeat my indiscretions.
Geoffrey took my hand, bowing formally over it, the slightest brush of his lips, all as was proper, with exactly the correct amount of deference. Oh, he was clever, the consummate actor, as if our previous knowledge of each other had been nothing more than one of business and negotiation, a seneschal with his overlord.
‘Majesty. Forgive my intrusion.’ He was perfectly at ease.
But I would match him in this. My welcome was graciously formal. ‘There is no intrusion.’ I gestured to the steward to fetch wine as I turned to the younger Angevin.
‘Henry. You’ve grown since I saw you at Poitiers. How long is it? Six months, I think.’
‘Majesty.’ His bow was equal to that of his father’s in courtliness. Certainly he had grown. As well as height and a noticeable breadth of shoulder, he had acquired a distinct coordination of limbs and perhaps an adult gloss of confidence in those few short months. His mouth did not smile but his eyes held a gleam of mischief that put me on my guard as much as the Count’s insouciance. ‘I said we would meet again, lady.’
‘So you did. And here you are. I trust your gerfalcon is in good health?’
‘Yes, Majesty.’ A grin dispelled his solemnity. ‘She hunts better than my father’s eagle.’
I laughed. He was still only a boy, still hunting mad. Dismissing my women, I gestured that they should sit, as did I, disposing my skirts with éclat, my senses still stretched, fully alert. ‘We are preparing to journey to Outremer,’ I explained, indicating the upheaval around me, giving myself time to think. ‘Louis and I have taken the Cross.’
‘So I hear, Majesty.’ Geoffrey looked at me across the rim of his cup. ‘You are to be commended. A noble cause. And for you to accompany your husband on so dangerous a mission. Praiseworthy indeed.’
‘Indeed.’ I thought he mocked me, so, resenting such impudence, I chose to aim my own dart. No one mocked the Duchess of Aquitaine. ‘And you are not tempted to join us, my lord Count? For the salvation of your earthly sins?’
‘Christ, no! If I absent myself from my lands for more than a se’ennight, there’ll be some enterprising brigand stepping into my shoes. I’ve no ambition to return to find myself a landless beggar.’
‘And I’ve got my eye on events in England, lady.’ Henry leaned forward, alight with enthusiasm. ‘My lady mother’s supporters are at war with Stephen. It’s my intention to lead them, to take the Crown for my own.’
But the Count waved his son to silence. ‘I’m here to discuss the project I put before you in Poitiers, lady,’ he remarked without preamble. ‘I think I have your support when I put my case to persuade His Majesty.’
Had I not said I would support him? Something was afoot. And that same flutter of premonition held me back from the reassurance the Angevin wanted. ‘You must dine with us,’ I invited simply. ‘His Majesty will hear you and make his own decision.’
‘In my favour, I trust.’ The Count put down his cup, still half-full. His eyes lifted to mine, undoubtedly mocking. ‘It may be that your decision to go crusading, lady, has given me an unlooked-for advantage in my arguments.’
‘And that advantage would be?’
He shook his head as if it would be beyond my comprehension. ‘Not one that I wish to discuss where walls might have ears.’
It was a mistake on the Angevin’s part. I would not accept such condescension and I tilted my chin. We were alone, so why not tell me his plans? In that moment his handsome features were illuminated in a glow of hard northern sunlight and I saw him clearly for what he was, as I never had in Poitiers. A self-interested rogue despite his lands and title, one who would snatch at fate and whatever was offered, without thought for any man or woman who stood in his way. Yet I knew he was still drawn to me. He would come to my bed if I made it possible for him to do so. Was that it? Was he waiting to see a way to my chamber?
Ah, but would I? Would I really do what he expected of me? If I did, that would put me under his power. And just how was he intending to use that power? Beware! The warning whispered in my head. There was specu
lation in his gaze that I did not like, the close fixation of a cat deciding whether it was worth its while pouncing on a mouse.
I was no mouse. I would not be the means to any of Geoffrey of Anjou’s ends.
‘Then you must rely on that unexplained advantage to persuade my husband that your offer is in his best interests,’ I replied.
‘I wait with impatience.’ Abruptly, Geoffrey stood, gesturing to his son that the audience was at an end, even though I had given no such indication, and they made their farewells as the steward waited to escort them to their accommodations. Geoffrey was as immaculately polite as on his entrance, his salute to my fingers just as lightly formal, but when Henry and my steward had gone on ahead, suddenly, as he had intended, we were alone in my solar. Polite formality vanished in the snap of fingers. The Count’s hands grasped my shoulders, burning through the silk of my gown, and I was pulled hard against him.
My breath hissed my objection through my teeth but I controlled every muscle. ‘Did you wish to say more, my lord?’ I asked sweetly, refusing to squirm, his mouth a kiss away from mine.
‘Yes. I want you to add your voice, to persuade the King.’
‘I have already said I’m not hostile to the match.’
‘No warmer than that? I think you might have an incentive, lady.’ His smile was outrageously seductive but still the warning hammered in my head.
‘And that is?’
‘It would not be healthy—for either of us but especially for you, Eleanor—if Louis were to hear whispers of our weeks in Poitou. Our delightful sojourn in the Maubergeonne Tower. The woman in the liaison is always punished with a harder hand than the man.’
I all but gasped, yet didn’t. ‘Are you offering me threats, my lord Count?’ I asked, as smooth as the silk I wore and that his hands crumpled.