by Jean Plaidy
‘My uncle Raymond is the Governor of Antioch as you know,’ said the Queen. ‘We must reach Antioch and there we can nurse the wounded back to health and re-form the army.’
‘There is a chance,’ said Louis, ‘if we can get there before we are overtaken by the Arabs who will certainly pursue us. If they did, in our present sorry state we should stand little chance of survival.’
‘We shall do it,’ said Eleonore.
‘And if we fail,’ said the King, ‘we shall have died in Christ, for in battle with the infidel we have done His work and we shall know that it is His will.’
It was the Queen’s example rather than the King’s expression of acceptance of any fate which awaited him which spurred the survivors of that disastrous campaign to continue their march.
On they went to be harassed continually by marauding bands of Arabs. On one of these skirmishes Saldebreuil de Sanzay was captured. The Queen was desolate. The thought of her handsome constable in the hands of the infidel was unbearable. What would they do to him! It would doubtless be better for him if he had been killed. She could not wish it otherwise if the infidel should submit him to torture. She was more than a little in love with him as she was with several of the gallant men who surrounded her and was constantly comparing them with the monk-like Louis.
But the situation was too desperate for her to brood too long on the fate of others. They must make their way to Antioch without delay. At length famished, wretched, denuded of most of their baggage they reached Pamphilia.
The Governor of that city gave them shelter.
‘We will not encroach on your goodness,’ said the King. ‘We shall stay only until we can find transport to Antioch.’
The Governor told the King that Antioch was forty days’ march from Satalia, the port close by, but by sea it would take only three days.
‘My army is in no fit state to march,’ said Louis. ‘If you can provide us with boats to take us to Antioch we will repay you well as soon as this can be arranged.’
The Governor said he would do what he could.
Impatiently Eleonore awaited the arrival of the vessels. She had heard her father talk of his brother Raymond who had become the Prince of Antioch through his marriage with the granddaughter of Bohemund. ‘Raymond,’ her father had said, ‘was the handsomest man I ever saw. Women always found him irresistible.’ So it seemed had Constance, Bohemund’s granddaughter, and so she had brought him Antioch. Eleonore was eager to see this man. As her uncle he would surely make them welcome. In Antioch she could acquire some beautiful clothes. She was deeply grieved at the loss of the baggage, for to appear romantic and beautiful was necessary to her enjoyment of life.
Each day she awaited the arrival of the vessels which would carry them to Antioch, and when at last they came there was bitter disappointment. Seaworthy they undoubtedly were, but there were so few of them that they could not carry the army and all its adherents.
Louis was nonplussed. This could only mean that some of them would have to do the hazardous land march which would take forty days.
‘I cannot subject any to that,’ he cried to his bishops. ‘We must try to carry everyone in the ships.’
‘They would sink,’ was the terse reply.
‘Yet I cannot leave them to march across the land. The Arabs will attack them. They would suffer hardship, hunger … No, I cannot do it.’
‘Yet we cannot stay here, Sire.’
He spent long hours on his knees begging Heaven to show him what he must do. Time was passing; he must act quickly. Finally he made his decision.
He embarked on the ships with the queen, her ladies, the best of his army and some of the bishops.
And so Louis and Eleonore left for Antioch. The King had lost more than three-quarters of his army.
The journey which was to have taken three days had stretched out to three weeks. The weather had been good however and it seemed as though fortune was smiling on them at last.
Ahead lay the green and fertile land, and Raymond, Prince of Antioch, uncle to Eleonore, having been advised of their coming had prepared special honours for them.
As soon as the ships were sighted he personally set out to greet them, and he had ordered his subjects of Antioch to gather and line the route the visitors would take that they might be given a welcome.
Thus it was that Eleonore and her uncle met.
She looked up at him for although she was by no means small he towered above her. Rumour had been true when it had said that he was the handsomest prince in Christendom. There was the faintest resemblance between them; they were both gay and adventurous; they were both ambitious; they were both eager to live their lives to the full and take the utmost advantage from it. They recognised each other as two of a kind and there was immediate rapport between them.
He took her hand and kissed it. ‘What pleasure this gives me,’ he said.
‘I am very happy to be here,’ replied Eleonore.
He had turned to Louis. The King of France! This poor creature! Noble-looking in a saintly kind of way, of course, but no husband for his fiery Queen. It was going to be an amusing and exciting situation.
‘Welcome to Antioch, Sire,’ said Raymond, bowing.
‘Our gratitude to you, kinsman. We have had an arduous journey.’
‘I heard with dismay of what had happened to your army. But let us not despair. Here you may rest among friends and make fresh plans. But come. Let me conduct you to the palace I have prepared for you, and there I hope you will be furnished with all you need.’
There were horses for them to ride - for Eleonore a beautiful white palfrey.
‘I somehow knew that this should be yours,’ said Raymond warmly, and he would allow no one but himself to help her into the saddle.
He rode between the King and Queen into Antioch. ‘What a beautiful city!’ cried Eleonore enchanted by the olive groves, the palms, and the people who shouted greetings and waved leaves as they passed.
From time to time Raymond glanced at her. His niece was not only spirited but beautiful. A worthy heiress of Aquitaine. The most interesting phase of this development would be his growing acquaintance with his niece, and the possibility, perhaps through her, of bringing to fruition plans which had long been in his mind.
‘If the palace I have had made ready is not to your liking,’ he told Eleonore, ‘you must tell me. Another shall be made ready for you.’
‘How good you are!’
He leaned towards her. ‘Are we not bound by kinship? And were we not I would wish to do everything in my power for you.’
His eyes glowed in a manner which was something more than avuncular. Eleonore was delighted by such conversation, it was the essence of that romance of which she sang. If he were attracted by her, so was she by him. Never before had Louis seemed so insignificant. As she rode into Antioch she asked herself how different her life would have been if the King of France had had the bearing, the manners and the vitality of the Prince of Antioch.
Into the courtyard of the palace they rode. There bloomed brilliant flowers and the spring sunshine glinted on the waters of the fountains and the feathery leaves of the cypress trees. From the balconies of her apartments Eleonore could look out on the olive groves and vineyards of the fertile land, and she was enchanted by it.
How Raymond understood her. He had heard of the loss of her baggage and sent to her beautiful cloths that she might choose from them, and with these came seamstresses that they might immediately provide her with the garments she needed. He gave her presents of costly jewels.
Eleonore exulted for she realised that Raymond was wooing her far more insistently than he was her husband.
There were entertainments for her pleasure. After a banquet Raymond would beg her to sing for him, and she sang some of her songs of love while he watched her with glowing eyes.
Raymond’s wife Constance, through whom he had inherited Antioch, was less pleased with the visitors. She was well aware of the dis
turbing presence of the Queen of France, and she rejoiced in the Queen’s close relationship to Raymond for a man could hardly make his niece his mistress. Raymond was the most handsome and charming man Constance had ever known and she was proud to be his wife, but she did realise that her opinions were shared by many and this of course meant that temptation was constantly offered to her attractive husband.
She preferred not to know of his infidelities. She was his wife. He could not put away the granddaughter of great Bohemund. She was safe enough. But she would be pleased when the French party left to get on with their crusade.
Eleonore had no wish to leave. Crusading had turned out to be not quite the joyous adventure she had dreamed of. There was more to it than riding at the head of her ladies, beguiling the crusaders with her songs and enchanting them with her presence. The recent debacle had taught her that. It had been utter misery in the boats which had brought them here, and when she thought of her baggage being rifled by those infidels, she grew so angry that in her rage, her ladies feared she might do herself some injury.
All that was behind her. Here she was in Antioch with the most adorable of hosts and between them a very exciting relationship was springing up.
‘You must completely recover from your ordeals before you think of departing,’ insisted Raymond.
‘You are good,’ replied Louis, ‘but I think we should not delay too long.’
‘You should be guided by my uncle,’ Eleonore warned him. ‘Remember how many men you have lost.’
Louis might have said, Yes, through your folly. If you had obeyed my orders and gone to the plateau we could have been defended as we made our way to you. But he said no such thing. He was glad that her good spirits were restored and that she so obviously revelled in the comforts Antioch had to offer.
He did remind her gently that they had after all come to fight the infidel and restore the Holy City to Christianity.
‘Nevertheless,’ said Eleonore sharply, ‘it would be folly to go on with the enterprise until we are equipped to do so. Our men have suffered greatly. They need time to regain their health.’
‘And where better than here,’ said Raymond, ‘where they can rest secure among friends?’
Eleonore and Raymond exchanged smiles, and Louis agreed that they must indeed rest for a while. He turned to Raymond. ‘Although I thank you for your hospitality and am indeed grateful for it, you will understand me, I know, when I tell you that I am impatient to conclude my mission.’
‘I understand, of course,’ replied Raymond, ‘but I think the Queen is right when she says you should tarry a while.’
‘God will bless you for your goodness to us,’ answered Louis.
There was a walled garden in the palace. In it was a beautiful fountain in the centre of which was a statue depicting lovers embracing. Eleonore often went to this garden. Raymond knew it and it had become a meeting place.
They walked in it together arm in arm. She liked to feel the pressure of his fingers on her arm.
‘I live in fear,’ he told her, ‘that you will leave us soon.’
‘I will do my utmost to stay.’
‘The King grows restive.’
‘The King!’ There was a note of impatient contempt in her voice which he was quick to notice. It merely confirmed the assessment he had made of their relationship.
‘You should have been the commander,’ he ventured.
‘A woman?’ she asked.
‘A goddess rather.’
‘You say delightful things, Prince Raymond. I wonder if you mean them.’
He turned to face her. ‘Do you really doubt that?’
‘I am not sure.’
‘I would I could convince you.’
‘Perhaps one day you will.’
‘I would that you could stay here … for ever.’
‘For ever? That is a long time.’
‘When two people are in such accord as I believe you and I are it does not seem long.’
‘Yes, we are in accord, are we not? I sensed it from the moment we met.’
‘You and I,’ he said. And he bent forward and laid his lips on her forehead. She trembled with a pleasure she had never before experienced.
‘That was a very pleasant uncle’s kiss,’ she said as though reminding him of their relationship.
‘Is it because of the nearness of our kinship that we understand each other so well?’
‘That may be so and we must not forget that kinship.’
‘Why should we remember it?’ he asked.
She was faintly embarrassed and said: ‘Perhaps I have misunderstood.’
‘Nay,’ he cried passionately. ‘You have misunderstood nothing. You know the state of my feelings for you. I lie awake at night wondering about yours for me.’
She said: ‘You are the Prince of Antioch married to Bohemund’s granddaughter. I am the heiress of Aquitaine married to the King of France.’
‘What of that?’
‘And you are my uncle.’
‘I never set much store by laws, did you?’
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘Shall we be frank?’
‘Let us be.’
‘There is nothing in my heart that I could not say to you.’
‘Nor is there in mine.’
‘I love you,’ said the Prince of Antioch. ‘You are the most exciting woman I ever met. I would that I had been the King of France. You and I would have been as one. What have you to say to that, my Queen? Will you be equally frank with me?’
‘You are the most exciting man I ever met. I would that you had been the King of France.’
‘Eleonore, then why should we deny ourselves what so clearly belongs to us?’
‘Because …’
‘Because of this close relationship.’
‘Raymond, you are in truth my uncle.’
‘Eleonore, you are in truth my love.’
He embraced her and her resistance fled. She laughed at him. Was she a woman to be bound by laws? She had sung of love, had written of love. Should she be afraid of it when she confronted it in its living form? This was the greatest adventure of her life. Raymond was the hero of romantic songs; Raymond was the lover she had always wanted. She despised the King of France. She loved the Prince of Antioch.
Neither was of a nature to hesitate. All barriers were swept away. That day Eleonore and the Prince of Antioch became lovers in truth.
He rode with her often; now and then they endeavoured to evade the party that they might repair to some secret place which he knew. They made of it a rendezvous. A bower - a small summer house in the grounds of one of his palaces. His servants knew better than to interrupt him when he was there. Perhaps he had used it many times before with other women. Eleonore did not care. She believed that there was something in their relationship which set it apart from anything else either of them had experienced.
She was twenty-six years of age and he was forty-nine; yet to her he seemed the perfect lover. His experience delighted her; his charm overwhelmed her; constantly she compared him with Louis and deplored a fate which had given her to him.
She was passionately in love, recklessly so. Perhaps one or two people were aware of their relationship, but she did not care.
What if his wife discovered? Eleonore shrugged her shoulders. She knew that this was not the first time Raymond had broken his marriage vows. How could he have known that Eleonore was the one woman in the world for him if he had not had experience with many others? And if Louis discovered what was happening? She snapped her fingers. Let him discover; let him learn that there were real men in the world.
So they met and Eleonore assured herself that everything she had suffered on the road to Antioch had been worthwhile.
He told her he adored her; he could not imagine what his life had been without her. Dull, uninspired, scarcely worth the effort of living.
As they lay in the arbour guarded by Raymond’s servants, the Prince talked to her of his
plans to keep her beside him.
‘Louis must be persuaded to stay here,’ he said.
‘He will never do that. He is quite stubborn. He has a fixed idea that he must go to the Holy Land to redeem his sins. He still dreams about Vitry-the-Burned. He will never give up the idea.’
‘Let me tell you of my plans. You will understand readily, I know. I would rather talk to you before I attempt to put my ideas before the King. Perhaps you will be able to make him see reason. We are harassed here continually. We are surrounded by the infidel. The French settlement here is so small that although it consists of brave men it is not enough to hold the land. If we are not stronger, in time we will be overrun by the Saracens. Aleppo is but a short distance from Antioch and here the enemy has his headquarters. Only by strengthening our holdings here and taking these menacing cities can we assure the Christian influence on this territory, and if we were to lose the one way to the Holy Land it would be closed to Christians.’
‘And you suggest that Louis stays here, that you and he march on the Saracens in Aleppo?’
‘That would be wise. Louis should have taken Constantinople. He could have done it and I believe some of your bishops advised it.’
‘But that was in the hands of Manuel.’
‘The treacherous Greek! He is no friend to us.’
‘You think that he gave false information to Conrad?’
‘I am sure of it. Thus the Germans were almost destroyed.’
‘Then your enemy is as much Manuel the Greek Emperor as the Saracens.’
‘I would like to see him destroyed. You know that the rulers of Antioch are his vassals. I must accept him as my suzerain or he could bring forces superior to anything I could raise and take Antioch out of my hands. I want that man destroyed. I want to make this strip of Mediterranean coast safe for Christians, and free passage to the Holy Land assured for Christian pilgrims.’
‘And you think Louis could help you succeed in this?’
‘He has an army.’
‘Very much depleted.’