I decided to get it over with, like joining the Foreign Legion to forget. So, first thing in the morning, and without even stopping for a breakfast I wouldn’t have been able to eat anyway, I cranked up my old Studebaker and drove the forty miles to the Federal Building over in the county seat. They weren’t exactly swamped, so I got the royal treatment. The recruiting sergeant still felt obliged to give me his spiel about the wonderful experience lying ahead of me. As an added bonus, I managed to get signed in and sworn in before noon—by a chicken colonel, no less. The last thing I was told was I’d receive my marching orders within days, maybe within hours.
Before heading home, I decided I was hungry after all, having barely eaten during the past two traumatic days. The nearest restaurant—an adjunct of a seedy-looking motel—was crowded with lunch-timers, so I had settled into a booth before I spotted them.
Sitting almost directly opposite, and completely oblivious to me—and to the rest of the world, for that matter—were Eileen and her companion. Today, his hair was combed for the first time since I’d known him. He was wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt and was obviously being eloquent, since Eileen sat entranced, reaching out her lovely hand to put it in his. The satiated, self-satisfied expression on his face was all-too obvious.
It took me no time at all to realize there had been no burglary. No exam copy had been stolen. Instead, the miracle had happened. The delivering and well-rewarded angel had been none other than Dr. Aemilius Remington.
I can still remember hoping my call from the army would come through real soon
____________________
COUNT HENRY'S COY MISTRESS
Pausing at the top of the hill, the troupe of armed knights and their squires gazed at the spires of Paris in the near distance. The stocky, red-haired young man the others referred to as Lord Henry turned to his companion, Raoul de Blois. “Do you think King Louis is looking forward to our visit, or will he still be out playing soldier with his army in Toulouse?”
Raoul leaned over in his saddle toward Henry and pointed to a curl of dust on the road ahead, the sure sign of a horseman galloping in their direction. “We should find out soon enough, sire. I would wager that that is a messenger bringing us the latest news from Louis.” Henry gave the signal to dismount, and the men were soon lounging in the welcome shade of the trees while their horses moved about cropping the scant grass. The messenger, seeing the knights on the hillock, guided his animal off the road and up the slope, slipped out of the saddle and bent a knee before Henry, handing him a note as he did so.
Henry nodded curtly, waved the messenger off to visit with the soldiers, and then passed the note to Raoul, saying “Tell me what King Louis has to say.”
Breaking the seal and unfolding the paper, Raoul cleared his throat and began, “To Henry, Count of Anjou, Count of Normandy…”
Henry snickered and broke in, “You needn't bore me with your erudition, Raoul. I know you can read as well as most of my scribes. Simply tell me what he has to say without including the flowers and flourishes.”
Accustomed to his leader's abruptness of manner, Raoul took a few moments to digest the missive. “As you surmised, he is indeed with his troops, and they are several days’ march away in Champagne. He will be back in Paris as soon as possible and has delegated his counselor, the Abbott Suger, to show you all the hospitality he would afford you were he here himself.”
A frown spread across Henry's broad features. “Surely, he could be back in a day or two if he wished to. He doesn't have to march with the army. It would seem he may not be as eager to see me as he claimed when we signed that truce in Normandy.”
Raoul grinned. “It may be less you than the Queen that he seeks to avoid. It's common knowledge he wishes to be shed of her—beauty though she may be. Two daughters and no sons have driven him to despair. Though there is talk that Louis is not the most enthusiastic of bed partners, so it might well be his failing rather than hers. In any event, only Suger has been able to persuade him not to seek an annulment, especially since the Queen herself is said to be willing enough to move on to some more interesting union.
“Suger is nothing but an interfering cleric. If Louis wants to be shed of his Queen, why does he not just do so? The Holy See will approve, given a little encouragement.”
“Ah, but there are all the properties Eleanor brought to the marriage as a dowry, Aquitaine, Poitou and all those other lands to the south. Her remarriage to a hostile prince would give the latter possession of enormous territory right on Louis' doorstep, which could prove disturbing to say the least.”
“Louis lacks backbone. No monarch should ever let himself be ruled by a wife's beauty, dowry or any other quality she might possess.” With that, he signaled to his knights, waved away the messenger, mounted his own steed and added, “Let us hope Louis has a goodly stock of Rhine wine and that his hunting forests are well furnished with game.”
***
To your Excellency, King Louis. Henry of Anjou arrived yesterday and has settled himself comfortably in the palace. He seems quite amenable to paying homage to your majesty for the lands in Normandy and to affix his signature to a lasting document of peace. In the meantime, I will do my best to see that he is adequately entertained, in the hopes that his good feelings will continue until your return. I remain your humble servant, Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis.
***
The three ladies-in-waiting had slipped out of Queen Eleanor's bedchamber shortly after she retired, but had left the door open so they could hear her summons. Of the three, Joanna seemed reluctant to take part in the animated but whispered conversation—though it was evident she was missing none of it.
“What do you think of Count Henry?” Constance asked her companions.
Joanna shrugged. Martha answered in breathless haste. “He's a mere stripling, but I think his interests run to more than food and wine and hunting. He's following closely in his father's footsteps.”
A smile crossed Constance's face. “Yes, I remember Duke Geoffrey well.”
Martha giggled quietly, “You should.”
A voice from the bedroom called, “Joanna!”
Reluctantly, Joanna left the gossip behind as she went off at the Queen's bidding and closed the door behind her.
The whispers rose to a natural tone. Constance responded to her companion's mirth. “Like father like son, but Henry is looking for his entertainment elsewhere. Did you see whom he kept looking at last night at table? Even the Queen was aware that the Count has eyes only for Joanna.”
A roll of her own eyes was Martha's answer.
“But she is such a stick,” Constance continued. “It would take so little to lure along someone of his age. And he has much promise. I hear he will be taking an army across the channel to challenge his cousin Stephen. Already there is talk he will one day be crowned King of England. But Joanna is too much of a prude, too prim to play up to him. How any woman could be so shy around a man who is so obviously interested is beyond me.” A disbelieving shake of the head accompanied her remarks.
***
To your Excellency, King Louis. All is well here. The Count has settled in, and I have prepared a tourney for his entertainment. Interestingly, he is showing considerable interest in Joanna de Thiers, one of the Queen's ladies in waiting. I doubt that there is little more in store than a bit of by-play, but someone of his age can be very impressionable. A marriage to a de Thiers would not be beneath him, and it would certainly be an advantage to have a troublemaker like him wedded into a family with strong ties and loyalties to your Majesty. I will of course inform you immediately if there is anything more here than mere dalliance. I remain your humble servant, Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis.
***
Henry couldn't wait to tell Raoul the news. Finally locating his companion, he took him aside. “Would you believe? Two days here, and that lovely little de Thiers minx has actually invited me to her room.”
“Be careful you don't lose your way in th
ese gloomy halls. Pinchpenny Louis must save enough on candles and torches to pay tribute to the Magyars.”
“Candles won't be needed. I've scouted out her room, and no light is necessary for what we intend to do. In fact, I can hardly wait for nightfall. What a charming little beauty.”
“She has the look of a nun and will probably have all of a nun's enthusiasm for what you are planning.”
Wandering off in a happy daze, Henry ignored the comments of his skeptical companion.
***
Constance could hardly wait to move out of earshot of the Queen. When she did, Martha cringed at the loud whisper in her ear. “He did it! He did it!”
“Did what? Who did what?” Martha tried to ignore the ringing in her head.
“Count Henry spent the night in Joanna's room.”
“I don't believe it. How do you know?”
A smile spread across Constance's face. “Gilbert.”
“Oh! And how would your favorite houseman know?”
“He saw Henry go into her room soon after the hall candles were lit. It was dim to the point of blackness, but he could still make out the Count's form.”
“My mother used to say that a calm pond sometimes hides great depths. Perhaps we've been wrong all this time about Joanna.”
“I'm sure we have been. But now that I know better, I intend to be kindness itself to her. I always wanted to go to England, and she will certainly need a lady-in-waiting.”
Martha rolled her eyes.
***
To your Excellency, King Louis. As I surmised, Count Henry is taking full advantage of Lady Joanna's generous nature, which others have seemed unaware of. I had him followed last evening, and Gilbert Duloache proved well up to the task I assigned to him. He saw the Count enter Lady Joanna's room as soon as it turned dark. The Count spent the entire night there. The time has arrived for me to approach her to find out what his intentions may be. Encouragement on my part may not be amiss. As always, your humble servant, Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis.
***
“I'm in love.”
Henry's proclamation came as no surprise, but Raoul debated with himself about how he should receive the news. “Sire, surely you could do better than a de Thiers. Granted, they are wealthy and she would bring a handsome dower, still… You could have your choice of princesses from Spain or Navarre or from the court of the German Emperor. They would bring not only wealth but rich lands to the marriage.”
“Money and lands are nothing. God's teeth! I would marry this woman if she had been sired by the poorest of peasants.”
Raoul was aghast. “Surely you have not told her so?”
“No, not yet. Barely a word has passed between us. Raoul, you can't imagine how sweet and tender she is, and yet she knows a thousand ways to please a man, ways I never dreamed of.”
It was on the tip of Raoul's tongue to make a wry comment comparing the talents of Henry's newfound mistress to some of the more professional Parisian ladies. He quickly thought better of it.
***
At her first opportunity, Constance took Martha aside, saying, “There's something amiss.”
“If you are referring to Joanna's absence? Just remember that Count Henry is a lusty youth. She needs the daytime to catch up on her sleep.”
“No, something strange is afoot. Gilbert went through the chapel this morning and saw a woman kneeling there and praying.”
“So. What is so strange about that?”
“He spoke to the sacristan, who told him the same woman has been coming there for the past three evenings and staying there all night.”
Martha's voice rose in excitement. “Did he recognize her?”
“No. She was heavily veiled.”
“Surely he would have been able to tell who it was by her clothes.”
Constance laughed, “Come, now, Martha, do you know any man who would notice what a woman was wearing, much less be able to describe it? Gilbert wouldn't know a wimple from a girdle.”
“Three nights?”
“Exactly three nights.”
***
It was full sunlight before Raoul found the Count sitting on a bench in a remote part of the palace garden. Henry looked up and smiled. “She said 'yes'.”
“So you have really committed yourself, sire? You fully intend to marry her?”
“Most definitely. And I am more certain than ever that I am doing the right thing.”
***
To your Excellency, King Louis. Truly amazing news, Your Majesty. Count Henry has irrevocably committed himself to his hostess of the last three nights. I approached Lady Joanna, and she was understandably reluctant to speak about this event, but Count Henry was overheard telling Raoul de Blois that he has asked his bed partner to be his wife, and she has agreed. Marriage to a de Thiers will provide him with the necessary funds to pursue his ambitious schemes for contesting Stephen for the English crown. And that will keep him fully occupied, providing Your Majesty with the opportunity to free yourself of Queen Eleanor with no fear that Count Henry will invade the lands she brought as a dowry to her marriage. Your petition to the Holy See for an annulment will, I am certain, be swiftly granted, and she will soon remarry some petty lord who will be no threat to France. In the meantime, I am sure you will be able to find yourself a suitable wife who will bear you many sons and guarantee the succession. As always, and eagerly awaiting your arrival this evening, your humble servant, Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis.
***
Joanna approached the Queen with trepidation. Alone with her mistress in the latter's bedchamber, she fully expected to be assigned another long night in the chapel.
Eleanor smiled at the young woman. Removing a large ruby ring from her finger she handed it to her lady-in-waiting. “For you, Joanna. A reward for what you have done and a token to guarantee your silence about the service you provided me.”
Joanna raised her eyes to the lovely face of the older woman, who smiled at her affectionately. Joanna said nothing, but her face asked the question.
“No, Joanna. Tonight you can sleep in your own bed. I finally disabused the Count of his original notions, and with the King returning today, Henry and I will have to be more circumspect and patient for a while longer.”
Gazing at the dazzling jewel in her hand, Joanna finally found her voice, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I am pleased to serve you in any way you see fit.”
Eleanor of Aquitaine paused for a moment before asking in an amused tone, “How would you like to serve as lady-in-waiting to the Queen of England?”
____________________
A KEEPER
I think the only thing that preserved my sanity after my wife died was total immersion in my work. As a Professor of Medieval Studies, my teaching load wasn’t exactly awesome, but research more than filled in my spare time. Naturally, my first concern had been for Jordan, our son, but I soon began to see that he was taking it well, that he was worried about me and—in a way—that helped me to recover from my loss.
Louisa’s death changed my life in more ways than one. During her last months I’d been working rather fitfully on some aspects of Peter Abelard’s philosophy, though most of my waking hours were really caught up with her suffering. Abelard’s optimistic views provided some refuge from the horrors of seeing the woman I loved, and whom I had married over twenty years before, gradually wasting away. Then, after the last of the formalities, after the memorial service, I went home and began to read Abelard’s letters to Heloïse. From there I moved on to her letters to him and, within days, found myself filling in between the lines. Before I really knew what I was doing I was describing the inner feelings of these two individuals who lived almost a millennium ago.
One thing led to another. The editor who had helped me with one of my scholarly monographs dropped by, saw the manuscript, labeled it “faction” and hurried it off—over my half-hearted protests—to an editor who specialized in fiction based on historic fact. Within a few months I found ou
t I had reaped the whirlwind. THE HEAVENLY HELOÏSE (a title not of my choosing), surprised the publisher almost as much as it did me. For a brief period the novel made it to the best-seller list, and for a much longer period I was subjected to signings, interviews and even a lecture tour. I grumbled, of course, though I really have to admit I enjoyed this brush with fame, something I would never have encountered as an academician.
During most of that time, Jordan was away at Grinnell, one of the exchange colleges here in the state. We—that is, the state colleges—participate in a program for faculty children where they can enroll—tuition free—at one of the other state institutions. It makes things somewhat more comfortable for the student—and for the faculty parent—especially if the offspring don’t do well. Actually, with our son, that was no problem, since his grades stayed above average with very little effort expended.
I think, as part of trying to keep me from brooding over my loss, Jordan made it a point to frequently bring home some of his school friends for weekends and over the holidays. As a matter of fact, the visits were much appreciated. I enjoyed the company, and had a large, rambling house that easily accommodated their number. These social contacts at home were far more revealing than the formal ones emerging in the classroom situation. And, while my interests center mainly on Europe of a thousand years ago, the behavior of my son and his friends appealed to my curious mind.
It soon became clear that the younger generation differed considerably from my own at that age. The most remarkable feature was the condition of the house after a weekend of partying. I remember the party places of my youth being left in a shambles. To my amazement, after the first such session the dishes were washed, the debris thoroughly removed—even the garbage had been emptied. Wonder of wonders.
Dear Diary, I'm In Love Page 19