To Be Queen

by Christy English

  “My lady. My queen. Fear not. I am here. No harm will ever come to you, so long as I draw breath.”

  Louis’ hand was warm, as warm as Rancon’s had been. His blue eyes held mine. He took a new oath, standing there beside me. I leaned on him, and let him help me rise.

  “My men-at-arms will protect you, Eleanor. Come with me now. Let us leave this place. Your women will follow with your baggage train.”

  I smiled that he thought I worried for my bags, for my gowns and slippers. He looked down at me, standing between me and all the court. He seemed to want to block their view of me, until I was in control of myself again.

  Louis took me by the hand and led me out into the sunshine of the cathedral steps. My people waited to see us, and cheered themselves hoarse. Louis stopped and took one step back, that they might admire me.

  Still holding his hand, I drew him up beside me. The people called my name, but when they saw me smile, when they saw me turn to him, they called his name as well.

  I saw him as they did, this bright young boy, full of promise, his golden hair gleaming in the sun, his strength a bulwark for us to hide behind in time of war. Standing with me on those stone steps, my husband’s face bloomed with the kind of open smile I had never given anyone, the smile of someone who was truly young.

  Louis flushed, this time from unexpected joy. He met my eyes, his hand still in mine. I saw him then as I believe he truly was, a man meant for love, had he only been strong enough to claim it.

  PART II

  To Be Queen

  Chapter 8

  Castle of Taillebourg

  County of Poitou

  July 1137

  AS WE STOOD ON THE STEPS OF MY FATHER’S CATHEDRAL after our wedding mass, Louis’ men-at-arms led two horses forward, festooned with ribbons and flowers. We would ride hard for Taillebourg to evade the unknown men who hoped to kidnap me. My destrier, Merlin, was nowhere to be seen. The horse Louis’ people had prepared for me was a delicate mare with a clean step and bright eyes. She looked at me as if she knew me, and I offered her my hand.

  As she breathed in the scent of my skin, I wondered what they were thinking, to saddle such a delicate mare when we soon would be riding for our lives. Perhaps one of Louis’ men was in on the plot to abduct me before we could consummate our union. I scanned the crowd for anyone suspicious, but soon dismissed the thought. This beautiful horse had been a wedding gift from Louis.

  Louis did not move to his own mount, but stayed beside me. His hands went around my waist, raising me into the saddle. I was impressed by Louis’ strength; his slender build was deceptive. But since he had placed me on my horse side-mounted, I hoped I would keep my seat once we were past the city walls, and running full out. I was an experienced horsewoman, but only a fool would ride sidesaddle when pursued by enemies. I slung my knee over the wooden haft rising from the front of my saddle, making sure that my skirts lay smooth afterward. I would hold my place. I had come too far in pursuit of this marriage to fall off my horse, into my enemies’ waiting hands.

  I positioned myself so that I might hold to my horse, even at a gallop, still waving to my people. They did not know that our plans had changed. I did not know who among them might have aided my unknown enemy. And if it came to an open battle, between Louis’ men-at-arms and the enemy who hoped to kidnap me, I would rather Louis’ men fight for me. I would save my own barons to fight another day, when I might need them more.

  My lords stood ready, waiting for us to lead them back to my father’s palace. No doubt everyone thought we had mounted steeds to better show ourselves as we made our progress to the castle.

  I met Amaria’s eyes over the crowd. She nodded to me once, then disappeared. Baron Rancon was nowhere to be seen. I waited for Louis to mount his own horse and then I moved off.

  At the turning in the road, I waved one hand and headed for the city gates. The people along that road cleared out of my path at once, casting flowers down for my horse to tread on. I led Louis out through the nearest gate, then touched my heel to my horse’s side. She responded as if we had known each other all our lives. She leaped under my hands, joining Louis’ troops that waited for us just outside Bordeaux’s city walls.

  I was pleased that Louis’ men-at-arms were ready for us. They fell in before and behind, flanking us so that we could no longer be seen from the city. I heard an annoyed murmuring from my people, but I had left Petra behind to soothe their fears. She and I had said our good-byes in the keep. I would send for her once I reached Poitiers.

  We were out of the hands of any attackers planning to take me in the city, but I knew that there would be more warriors lying in wait beyond the walls of Bordeaux. I felt my vulnerability in spite of Louis’ knights flanking us, but then I saw Baron Rancon waiting for me by a turn in the road.

  Surrounded by Louis’ men, I rode to meet him. My horse got a little ahead of the young king, and foolishly, I let her. It was then that I heard the shouts from a nearby hill, and saw men bearing no standard riding for us as if the devil were on their heels. Our enemies hid not only within Bordeaux, not just within my keep, but waited for us here as well. For the first time I wondered if this attempt at escape was folly. But I would be damned before I let my enemies hem me up inside my palace again. I had been locked inside my keep for too many months already. Louis’ coming had set me free. I would never cower behind stone walls again, but ride out to meet my enemies head-on. I was queen; I would do as I saw fit.

  I did not look back for Louis but left the road at once, my new mount responding under me. I felt the first tremor of fear as I heard the sounds of battle behind me. I hoped we were far enough from the city that none of my people would come and fight with us. Louis’ men would hold off the would-be abductors, or what else was this marriage for?

  Fifty of Louis’ men kept pace with me, and when I turned once to look back, I found Louis close on my heels. I smiled at him, and watched as his fear warred with his newborn love for me. I called to him, “Come, my lord, this is a race. A race we must win.”

  Louis did not respond, for he had lost his breath. He was not the horseman I was, but he kept up with me as the Baron Rancon led us deeper into the forest. I knew that the baron would take us to his keep at Taillebourg, staying off the roads where other men might lie in wait.

  I wondered if I would ever know which lord hoped to kidnap me before my wedding night. No doubt he was a man of daring if not courage, for no man of courage would attack a helpless woman.

  Of course, I was not helpless. I was Duchess of Aquitaine, and I was surrounded by the fighting men of the King of France.

  We made Taillebourg by sunset; my horse was tired, though she never flagged. I did not wait to be handed down but slid from her back myself, standing close against her side.

  “I will never ride any horse but you,” I told her, whispering in her ear. She rolled her eye at me, and whinnied as if she understood me.

  Louis came down off his own mount, and I threw myself into his arms. He caught me, though I shocked him. I pressed myself against him, my lips on his.

  “My lord king, we won. We left them in the dust.”

  The exhilaration of the day left me breathless. Fear had given way to the joy of the hunt. Adventure was sweet, much sweeter than I had thought it would be. After being locked away in my father’s keep for months on end, I found that I had a taste for it. Even as I pressed myself against him, I could see that Louis did not.

  Louis had lost his breath. At first, I thought it was from our frenzied ride, but as his eyes met mine, I knew that it was from my nearness. I felt his desire pressed hard against me. I smiled up at him, only to see him blush like a maid.

  I kissed him again, lingering over his lips, heedless of all who stood nearby. Louis did not spare them a glance, but kept his eyes on me.

  “Life with me will never be dull, my lord king.”

  “I believe you, Eleanor.”

  He kissed me then without my prompting. Thoug
h his lips were clumsy and his touch feeble compared with the Baron Rancon’s, I felt the swell of victory in my breast. I would bed him this night and take him away from the Church he loved so dearly. I knew this as certainly as I knew that I would draw my next breath. I was young, and had never known defeat.

  As I drew back, his blue gaze seemed to gleam with the same hope and the same joy. Louis grew bolder. He kissed me once more, his palms lingering on my waist, before he took my hand and led me into the keep.

  Baron Rancon met us in his great hall, where food and music waited. From politeness, we ate with him, though I wanted to be upstairs, alone with Louis.

  Geoffrey saw this in my face, for he cut our meal short, waving one hand before the servers could bring the last course. “I will have my women serve your fruit in your rooms, my lady.”

  “Thank you, my lord. And might they send warm water for my bath? It has been a tiring day.”

  Baron Rancon saw that I lied. I was not weary from the ride or from the fact someone had tried to take me by force. My cheeks still glowed with the challenge I had faced and overcome. Geoffrey’s eyes darkened with desire as he looked at me, though my husband sat at my side, half-asleep with his goblet of wine.

  “It will be my pleasure, my lady, to serve you in this, as in all things.”

  The king’s men stood and herded Louis toward the stairs. He looked back to find me, and I smiled at him, and raised one hand. Satisfied, he smiled back, and let them lead him on. He was a trusting soul; I would see to it that I deserved his trust. I owed him that, for the crown he had given me.

  Geoffrey was at my side then, drawing out my chair. I offered him one hand, careful to keep a seemly distance between us. I saw that he would have taken my maidenhead then and there, had we not been surrounded on all sides by Louis’ men. I felt the weight of their gaze on me like hands. As soon as Geoffrey kissed my fingertips, I drew back.

  “Thank you for offering us sanctuary, my lord. The king and I will never forget it.”

  Geoffrey did not reply, but bowed low. I left him there, and climbed the steps to the upper floor alone with the eyes of Louis’ men on me.

  Geoffrey’s women had come with fruit and wine. The rooms set aside for me looked to be the best rooms in the keep. I wondered idly if Rancon had given us his bed to spend our wedding night in. I shivered as I looked at the great carved bedstead with its dark woolen hangings. I thought of Geoffrey’s hands, so large they might span my waist. I thought of how he could lift me easily onto that bed, and my skirt afterward.

  I let the women leave me in my shift. They combed my hair smooth, for it had snarled while I was riding pell-mell from Bordeaux. I missed Petra, and Amaria’s calming touch, but I reminded myself that Amaria would be there on the morrow, with my gowns in tow. Petra would meet us in two days’ time in Poitiers, to see us crowned as Count and Countess of Poitou.

  Louis came to me dressed in his shirt and cloak. The cloak was the one he had worn at our wedding, and the shirt was stained. I suppressed a flicker of disappointment that he would come to me so dirty, thoughtless of the fact that this was our wedding night. I felt slighted, until I saw his face. He gazed on me with eyes of worship tinged with fear.

  It was I who moved toward him. Louis swallowed hard, and his eyes shifted from my breasts to my face. I realized then that he could see the outline of my body through the thin linen. I moved slower, that he might look his fill.

  I stopped just short of brushing against his body with my own. I stood not an inch from him, raising my lips to his without actually touching him. His breath caught, as my own did. He might be shy and Church raised, but surely nature would take its course, if only we let it.

  Louis did not touch me, nor did he kiss me. I felt the first icy tinge of fear. He was a man. This should be his doing. I had ordered the rest of that day’s proceedings. Surely now he would take a man’s part and do what must be done.

  Though I could see his manhood rising beneath his long linen shirt, he did not move to touch me. I lifted his cloak from his shoulders, and draped it across a nearby chair. He gasped when I touched him, but still he did not move. I pushed aside my misgivings, and followed my own inclinations. I took his hand in mine.

  “Come, my lord,” I said, suddenly inspired. “Come into the bath with me.”

  Alarm crossed his face, and at first I thought he feared to see me naked. I raised my arms and drew my shift off in one smooth motion. I saw that my nakedness was not what he feared, but the strength of his own desire. Louis’ eyes filled with a longing so intense, it made Baron Rancon’s lust look like the rutting of a boar in a thicket. Louis worshipped me from the first, and never so much as when he first saw my naked body in the firelight, with nothing and no one between us.

  I stepped into the hip bath, and held out my hand. As I watched, he warred with himself. I held steady, my eyes on his.

  There was no priest with us now. Louis left his Church leanings to one side, for he lifted his own linen gown and tossed it after mine. His body was slender and finely made. He was no man for the outdoors, so his skin was pale all over, but his muscles were toned and smooth. I watched them play beneath his skin as he crossed the room to me.

  “My lady.” Louis could not speak again. But he was man enough to take my hand.

  I drew him into the bath with me, and the warm water caught him as I wished it to. He moaned, and I thought for a moment that he had never felt the pleasure of warm water on his flesh before.

  I took the cake of soap between my hands. It was not my own soap, scented with lilac, but some harsh lye stuff that Rancon’s people had left us. I laid it by at once, and smoothed my hands over Louis’ skin. Let the water do what it would.

  Louis stood stock-still while I washed him. I thought for certain that he would take me up in his arms then. His manhood swayed of its own accord, though I did not touch it. But my husband only stood and stared at me. I felt another touch of fear, but I set it aside. His shyness was just one more challenge, one I would face down and win.

  I moved back a little, and began to wash myself, while Louis stared at me. I faltered, but swallowed hard. I was a maid, but he was a virgin, too. I had nothing to fear or be ashamed of.

  Louis seemed to see my weakness, for he reached for me then, and took my hand. He stepped from the hip bath, and held my hand while I climbed out behind him. He raised a folded linen sheath that had been warming by the fire. He dried me with his own hands, his touch gentle and light, almost like a bird’s wing. I thought I would swallow my tongue, my lust rose so quickly.

  I thought to do the same for him, but he dried himself, then drew me with him toward the bed. He knew his duty, as I did, and he watched as I climbed onto the bed before him. He drew the curtains closed behind us, but I could still see the outline of his body in the firelight, as I knew he could see mine.

  I lay back, and let him take the man’s part. Finally, he sought to lead, and I would follow. I waited, my eyes half-closed with lust.

  He began to pray.

  He prayed in Latin, that our marriage be fruitful, that our bed be blessed with children. He asked for forgiveness for the sin of loving me, and promised God that he would do penance for it on the morrow.

  I lay before him, my ardor blown away like so much dust. Humiliation rose to swamp me, and I closed my eyes against it. It was humiliation I felt as Louis leaned awkwardly over me, and pressed his manhood against my thighs.

  I had a horrible thought that he might not be able to penetrate me, for I was a virgin true, and my passage was tight. It seemed he had a prayer for that, too, which he murmured over me, almost as if I were a sacrifice. He pushed into me then, and I gasped with the pain. Without a caress or loving touch, my maidenhead was taken in one swift, blinding stroke.

  Tears rose in my eyes and I blinked them away. For Aquitaine, I would do anything. For my son to sit on the throne of France, I would have suffered worse.

  I lay beneath him as he used me like a whore. As
worse than a whore: as a vessel for his seed, and nothing more.

  After a while, I felt a little quickening in my womb, in spite of his cold touch. A tiny bit of heat seemed to build in me, once the pain was gone. But I had known already that I was a woman for men.

  I thought of the Baron Rancon, turning my face from Louis. I remembered Geoffrey’s big hands, their grip hard on my waist as he pressed me up against the wall in my father’s keep.

  This thought stoked the heat in my nether parts, but then Louis groaned, and stopped moving altogether. The touch of his seed swamped the lamp of my own lust, and put it out.

  Louis lay on top of me as one dead. But in the next moment, he drew away and left me.

  The curtain stood open behind him, and I felt a draft of cool air on my skin. I shivered, though it was late July. I drew the cover up over my naked body. I would not leave the bed, for fear of seeing him. I did not fear him, but that I might strike him, if my gaze was to fall on him too soon.

  As I listened, he drew his dirty shift on once more. I heard the rustling of his clothes. Then he began to pray.

  I would have forgiven him even this, for I wanted to love him. But as I listened, he wept, begging his god for forgiveness, for absolution for his descent into carnal lust.

  I listened to this for what seemed like an hour. I do not know how long I lay there, and listened to the boy I had married as he wept. The scent of sex clung to me, and to our bed. I drew the bedclothes back once, and saw that there was enough blood on the sheets to show well in the morning.

  I turned on my side. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and leaked down into my hair. I struck them away.

  If I had been a better woman, a softhearted woman like my sister, I would have pitied him. As it was, as I listened to his tears, and to the weakness that no prayers would free him from, I began to hate.

  I slept after many hours, and woke to find Amaria leaning over me. “My lady,” she said.