To Be Queen

by Christy English

  Great marble columns rose among the curves of these bathing pools, gilded as the columns in the outer rooms were.

  The empress’ women offered me a bath, and I accepted. The ladies of the palace all bathed in long linen shifts so sheer that they might as well have worn nothing. I would send Amaria to the bazaar to buy such material for my own shifts. No doubt the cloth would be too thin for warmth in Paris, but in the Aquitaine, I might wear that beautiful cloth beneath my gowns in summer.

  Once more I thought of what my life might be like if I were to leave Louis, and live among my own people in the Aquitaine. I might take one of my own barons to my bed, and wear such a shift for him. Baron Rancon came to mind, and I almost lost my breath. The memory of his hands on my body came back to me as if he had touched me only yesterday, and not many years ago, when I was still a green girl. I had forgotten him, and his touch; I had made myself forget. But the scent of the East, with its spices and its heat, made me remember the heat he had drawn from me that night in my father’s keep. My body had never forgotten him. As if I were a young girl again, my skin flushed pink with the knowledge that I would see him at that night’s feast.

  I pushed the thought of the Baron Rancon aside, but the memory of his touch lingered on my skin. As the heat of the water surrounded me, it was as if I could feel his hands once more.

  That warm, scented water was the first truly sensual experience of my life. I had thought I might find such pleasure with my husband, given enough time. But Louis was for the Church; marriage to me had not changed that. Only in that city on the threshold of the East, far from anything I had ever known, could I admit that, if only to myself.

  Three of the empress’ women stepped into the bath with me. The water in the deep sunken tub came up to my shoulders, and I was a tall woman. The empress’ bathing women were tall as well, and they were so smooth in their motions, so practiced in their work, that I wondered if they had been bred for it, as I had heard Saracens bred their slaves for beauty and cut out their tongues for silence.

  These women had kept their tongues, but as I did not speak to them, they said nothing to me. As I lay back in the water, practically floating in the peaceful warmth, two women scrubbed my arms and back, while the third washed my hair.

  I relaxed beneath their competent hands; bathing while completely submerged in heated water was only one of the many benefits of living so close to Saracen rule. The drawbacks, constant warfare and imminent death, could surely be overlooked in favor of such luxuries as deep bathing pools and linen as fine and strong as silk.

  There were other drawbacks, I was to discover that night as I took my ease among the empress’ ladies, seated at her right hand in the place of honor. I saw how the women were separated from the men at table, set far from the seats of power. Having been raised at my father’s side since the age of eight, I found it vexing to be so far from Louis, Manuel, and Conrad. I could see Louis speaking with both emperors, nodding as the heir of Constantine smiled on him, as Conrad spoke of politics and war. Of course, I could hear nothing of their talk from across the hall.

  The Baron Rancon sat close by Louis, given precedence not by right of birth but by the fact that he ordered my troops and carried Louis’ standard. The Lady Priscilla, who always kept her ears open for me, had made an interesting report. Empress Eirene had heard that Baron Rancon had helped me from the flowered barge when we first arrived at the palace. Though the empress said nothing outright, his care for me had convinced her and others at the Byzantine court that Rancon was my lover. Eirene was smiling and charming to everyone of rank, but she favored Rancon, sending candied fruit from our table to him, with a message that it came from me.

  In spite of the distance between us, I felt the baron’s dark chestnut eyes on me. He nodded, acknowledging the gift, and the unprecedented nature of it. Louis noticed that the baron was watching me, and frowned. Rancon, while not a courtier, was careful to gauge the moods of the king. He turned at once to the man at his side, leaving the empress’ candied dates untouched beside him.

  I felt the heavy gaze of the imperial ladies as they watched for some fault, some evidence of my feelings for the baron that would sow seeds of dissent between Louis and my men from Aquitaine, damning both me and our Crusade. Eirene’s chief lady-in-waiting, Esmeralda, smiled with malice, and the empress turned her bland, friendly gaze on me. I was not fooled. They would like nothing more than to cause trouble between me and Louis. For all their shows of welcome, the Emperor Manuel and his empress did not appreciate an army of twenty-five thousand men riding through their territory.

  As I sat among the Byzantines, eating their food and drinking their wine, I wondered if the tension between our courts went even deeper than that. The Church in Rome and the Church in Constantinople were at each other’s throats, vying for power, as all churchmen did everywhere. But as I took a sip of sweet wine from Cyprus, another thought occurred to me. Though we had come to the East to win Edessa back from the Saracens, perhaps the Emperor Manuel wanted that city for himself.

  Whatever the emperor’s true intentions, I knew what was at stake for my own people. I did not want an open rift between myself and the Parisians over Rancon. I was careful to ignore the baron for the rest of the evening. But still, I felt the currents of deceit just under the surface of the Byzantine pleasantness, the desire to see our Crusade against the Saracens fail, and miserably. It would amuse the Emperor Manuel to see us turn tail and run back to France in defeat, leaving the city of Edessa for him.

  When I rose to leave, I was surrounded once more by the empress’ ladies, as all my women were. We were herded carefully back to our rooms, as if we might go astray and make mischief, which indeed my people might have done, had they been given time and opportunity.

  I received a message from Baron Rancon as soon as I reached my rooms. He sent it by way of his latest mistress, the Lady Rosalind. Like many women of rank from Poitou, she had come on this Crusade to expiate her sins, and to have an adventure. Men were not the only ones who hungered for change. By sending Rosalind as his messenger, Rancon no doubt sought to remind me that just as I had a life beyond him, he had a rich life as well. For all the heated looks he sent in my direction, Rancon had not spent the last ten years pining for me.

  And of course, Rancon knew that he could trust her as a messenger. Rosalind curtsied low as she offered his letter to me. The seal was unbroken, though I doubt she could read the Latin even if it had not been written in code.

  The missive was brief. It was no love letter, and spoke nothing of our mutual lust. It said only: “We face heavy losses on the road to Antioch.”

  I burned the vellum at once, under the watchful eyes of the empress’ women. My own ladies sat huddled by a bronze brazier, though it was warm in Constantinople. The luxury of the palace had ceased to comfort them. Though they had no true knowledge of the Byzantine subterfuge that surrounded us, they could still sense the depths we swam in, as a lamb might sense the butcher’s intent before the blade is drawn.

  I asked that word be sent to Louis, asking him to come to me.

  The empress’ woman, Esmeralda, smiled at me, her sharp front teeth reminding me of little spikes, her lips rouged so deeply it looked as if she had supped on blood. I thought perhaps my message would not be sent, but Louis entered my rooms in less than an hour, his own men trailing behind him. He had been allowed into the women’s quarters, as all husbands were. I came to see that the separation between the men and women in Byzantium was not so much for the women’s protection, as was claimed, but so that the men might control their women better.

  I took Louis’ hand, and drew him with me into the bedchamber I had been given. The bed itself was as big as a small room back home, with deep cushions in mauve and cream silk, trimmed with gold tassels and edged with ermine. I drew Louis down onto the bed with me as if to kiss him. I leaned close, so that my lips rested at the level of his ear. But before I could speak, Louis’ voice rang out, echoing against the ma
rble pillars and walls of the room.

  “Eleanor, I have taken a holy vow. I cannot do my duty by you until I have been shriven in Jerusalem.”

  I took his hand in mine and caressed it, as if he had whispered an endearment. “I know, Louis. Keep your voice down. I did not bring you here to ravish you.”

  His pale face had turned bright red from riding all day in the sun, and now that color darkened. I kissed his cheek, but he was stiff with anger. I had made a bad beginning. The oppression of the court of Constantinople had begun to wear on me. I would have to do better, and guard my tongue.

  “Forgive me, my lord king. It is urgent, or I would not have sent for you. They watch us, even now. We must be cautious.”

  Louis drew back from me, and made as if to rise. “Who watches us, Eleanor?”

  His voice was low, but could still be heard if anyone was hidden behind the latticework leading into the women’s garden, or if, as in my father’s castles, the walls truly had ears.

  “The Emperor Manuel and his men.”

  “The Emperor of Byzantium is a Christian king. He has made us welcome, and offered us a great feast. Surely you do not think that he wishes us ill?”

  I did not point out to Louis that the emperor had an agenda of his own. It would never have occurred to my husband that perhaps Manuel felt that one Christian king in this land was enough.

  “I have word that men of ours will be killed on the march to Antioch. And this word comes from a source I would heed.”

  “Who are you consulting, Eleanor? Has the empress sent you someone to read your palm? You know I do not care for such doings. They are of the devil, even in amusement. I forbid you to do such things again.”

  I breathed deeply. Perhaps exposure to the sun had scrambled Louis’ wits. He was never this slow to understand me in Paris, where I always had his ear. I tried again.

  “Louis, our army will be attacked on the road to Antioch. My source is no soothsayer but a man of action. He tells me that we are in danger.”

  “We are at war, Eleanor. We are always in danger.”

  I lowered my voice so that he had to lean close once more to hear me. I caressed his cheek, as if to invite him closer. Perhaps I was mad with suspicion, but it seemed to me that I could feel alien eyes watching me even as we sat there in my private rooms. There was a sense of menace in that palace, for all its gold, marble, and silk hangings. I would not sleep well until we were away from that place.

  “Louis, Manuel is going to betray us. He has no wish to see us prosper here. We must go, and not tell him the path we take. We must march to the sea, and from there take ship for Antioch. My uncle Raymond will support us, and keep us safe until we know more. If we march through these lands, we will be as sheep to the slaughter.”

  “Eleanor, we do not need to be made safe from a Christian king. I will not discuss this further.”

  Louis stood, keeping my hand in his. He kissed my fingertips, and I saw that he was aroused, though he had sworn not to touch me. I would get no more sense from him that night, if ever.

  “I promise, Eleanor, no harm will come to you. I have given you my sworn word of honor that I will protect you, and I meant it.”

  I sighed, and he kissed my cheek, before backing to the door. He watched me as if I were some woodland bear that might charge him. Instead of swiping at him with great claws, he feared I might drag him to my bed.

  I would get no further with him on the subject, and I knew it. I would have to make my plans for the safety of my people on my own. The Baron Rancon would help me.

  Louis bowed to me at the door, and left the way he had come. I let him go.

  “Good night, Louis,” I said, but he was gone already. My ladies came to me, leaving the empress’ women in the outer rooms. They undressed me, and Amaria lay down beside me. I saw that she had a dagger in her fist as she slid her hand beneath her pillow. I did not laugh, as I would have done at home.

  Chapter 19

  The Road to Antioch

  The Coast of Byzantium

  January 1148

  WE STAYED IN CONSTANTINOPLE FOR TEN MORE NIGHTS, AND I slept little. Though the feather bed I lay on was one of the most comfortable of my life, I could feel the eyes of the empress’ women on me even as I slept. No doubt Eirene kept watch over us always, even in the dark reaches of the night, and reported all to her husband.

  The Emperor Manuel sent us off with as much fanfare as he had received us. I was well pleased to be gone from that place. I was not convinced of his goodwill, though Louis kissed him like a brother as we departed.

  I met the Baron Rancon’s eyes as I mounted Melusina outside the city gates. We had communicated by messenger already that morning. We would not take the route that Louis had told the emperor of, nor would we make camp where the emperor recommended. I did not trust that Christian king, as Louis called him. Caution would cost me nothing, where carelessness might cost me much.

  But we would make our way overland to Antioch, instead of taking ship and traveling by sea. There were shrines Louis wished to visit between Constantinople and Antioch, and many of his lords hungered for war as my own people did not.

  Though we met some Turks on the road, the German emperor Conrad rode in our vanguard and took the heaviest losses. Baron Rancon managed to keep my own men safe, while still bearing Louis’ standard with honor. Beyond this one attack from the Turks before we reached Ephesus, our armies traveled unmolested. I waited, but as the autumn passed into winter, I stopped looking for an ambush around every corner. We were still hundreds of miles from Antioch, traveling slowly overland. But I began to hope that perhaps my fears of Manuel’s treachery would prove unfounded.

  The country leading from Constantinople to Ephesus was the color of ochre and dun, save for the green of the cypress trees that greeted us by every riverside. The warm blue sky rose above us each morning after sunrise like a dome of clouded glass. Though winter came upon us as we were on that road, it was as warm as Aquitaine in summer, and the sun as bright. It was my first full winter away from the confines of the palace in Paris, with its rain, and its damp walls and chill stone corridors that no braziers and no tapestries could warm. I drank in the rich browns and greens of that Eastern foreign land, and counted myself fortunate.

  One day in January, after we had celebrated the feast of Christ’s Mass in the city of Ephesus, I rode out ahead of Louis’ army with my barons and my women. Louis and Conrad lingered in that country, visiting some shrine or other to Saint Paul. Their armies lingered with them, and sent word that they would meet us the next day. That night they would camp apart from us.

  Those from Aquitaine and Poitou could not care less if all the Parisians in the world disappeared into the sea, so the separation for one night did not trouble them. I did not like having our backs exposed to Constantinople and to the Turks in the north, but Rancon assured me that in the place he had chosen, we would be safe.

  Though he was Louis’ standard-bearer, Rancon rode on to set up camp with me, and with my men. He chose the site where we would sleep, not on the exposed mountainside as Louis had instructed, but in a sheltered valley. Rancon had brought us this far with no trouble, losing few men. I decided to trust him once more.

  My tent was set up on a bluff above the river, hidden in a copse of trees. Mountains rose on either side of us, but we were safe within our valley, with a wide view of all before and behind us.

  Cypress and willows sheltered us from the sun, which, by the time we made camp, had begun to set already. There was a stream running close by, and the washerwomen brought up fresh water for my bath. I bathed in the silver basin that had been a gift from the Empress Eirene; it was far finer than anything I had at home. As I bathed quickly in tepid water, I sorely missed the deep bathing pools of Constantinople.

  As the sun sank into the west, I sat alone but for Amaria, who stood by me. My other ladies were happy for a night without Parisians, and feasted with my knights and barons beside a roaring bonfire. Ev
en had I wanted to join them, I would not have done so. Let them drink deep, and rest themselves, away from the prying eyes of the Byzantines and the Parisians both. There was little time for my people to enjoy themselves alone, and there were many leagues to go before we reached Antioch, and then Jerusalem after it.

  I sat drinking wine from Cyprus, yet another gift from the empress, when the back flap of my tent lifted, and the Baron Rancon walked in.

  Amaria’s knife was in her hand. She did not lower it when she saw who had entered.

  I stood, and pressed my hand to her arm. She lowered her dagger then, but she did not sheathe it.

  “Baron Rancon,” I said. “You are welcome here. You might have come in the front door.”

  I touched Amaria once more. She saw that I would brook no refusals. She sheathed her dagger and moved to leave me. She took up her place before my tent, and did not leave it all that night. No doubt my people saw that Geoffrey was missing, saw Amaria at my door, and knew why she stood there.

  For the first time in years, the Baron Rancon and I stood alone, and looked at each other.

  “Could you not have waited until dark?” I asked him.

  “I have waited almost ten years. That is long enough.”

  He did not fall on me and ravish me. He stood still, and waited for my leave. Even there, in that foreign land under a foreign sun, I was still his duchess. He had sworn to protect and serve me. He would not come to me, even then, unless I permitted it.

  I raised one hand and he took a step forward. He did not leap on me but took my raised hand in his. I was fresh from my bath, and dressed in a light gown and shift, one I had ordered made upon coming into that country, for the heat there was more than it had ever been at home. I wore dark blue that day, like the sky at morning, with pearls around the hem, and at my throat. The blue silk beckoned him, and I knew he wanted to strip it off me. He leaned down, and pressed his lips to my palm.