The Summer Queen

22

Paris, Autumn 1144

Alienor arrived at the abbey church of Saint-Denis feeling tense and sick. The prayers and the strategies had worked and she was certain she was with child. She had wanted to be sure of her condition before she told Louis, but now that time had arrived, she was apprehensive.

Abbé Suger greeted her with a bright gleam in his eye. ‘I think you will approve of this,’ he said and took her to a locked cupboard containing the vessels used in the mass. Standing on the middle shelf in pride of place was her rock-crystal vase, but she barely recognised it, for Suger had had the neck and base adorned with filigreed gold, precious gems and pearls. There was an inscription around the base, detailing the history of its giving.

‘How beautiful,’ she said, because it was, even if no longer hers. Bernard of Clairvaux would have approved of its plain state – pure and unembellished. Now it was entirely Suger’s thing. He hardly needed an inscription to set his mark on it. ‘And so in keeping with the rest of the church.’

‘I am glad you approve. I wished to do full justice to your gift.’

‘Indeed you have.’ Alienor was almost fond of Suger. He was a consummate politician, prepared like her to deal in practicalities. ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’

Suger looked wary. ‘If I can help, I assuredly will.’

She studied the quatrefoil pattern of the floor tiles. ‘All our prayers have borne fruit,’ she said. ‘I am with child.’ She placed her hand on her belly which showed a slight curve under her belt.

Suger’s face lit up. ‘That is wonderful news! Praise God that He has heard our entreaties!’

Alienor bit her lip. ‘I have not yet told the King. I did not want to raise his hopes after so many years and our other loss. I do not know how he will react to this. I would be grateful if you would prepare him to hear the news.’

‘Leave it with me.’ Suger set his hand over hers in reassurance. ‘I cannot see that the King will be anything but overjoyed by this news.’

Alienor smiled, but her feelings remained ambiguous. These days she did not know how Louis would react from one moment to the next.

Louis gazed at Suger with barely concealed anxiety. He had recently come from prayer and had been in a relaxed frame of mind until the Abbé said he wanted a private word. He was bracing himself for yet more tidings of court and ecclesiastical machinations. The matter of Bourges had been concluded and de la Châtre was smugly ensconced in his archbishopric, but something else was bound to have cropped up.

‘The Queen asked me to convey the news to you that God has heard your prayers and supplications and seen fit to bless your marriage. Your lady is fruitful and will bear a child in the spring,’ Suger said.

Louis’s stare widened with astonishment. The news was so enormous it was like colliding with a giant. At last. After all the years of prayer and struggle and doubt. Finally they had been successful by following God’s rule. If of course she bore a living child this time. ‘Are you certain of this?’

Suger nodded. ‘As certain as the Queen is herself,’ he said. ‘She wanted me to tell you since it was through the advice and intervention of the Church that it has come about, and also to prepare you for when you meet.’

Louis felt excitement fermenting within him. A child! A son for France at last!

‘The Queen has retired to the guest house,’ Suger said, smiling.

‘I shall go to her in a moment,’ Louis said, for first he would return to the church to fall to his knees and give thanks. Perhaps he ought to take Alienor a gift? His first thought was that she would appreciate a fine brooch or ring, but he swiftly dismissed the notion. He must not encourage such embellishment because it was not godly and they had only begotten this child by getting rid of such tawdry items from their congress. Better to make a donation to the Church to glorify God rather than beautify his wife.

Alienor’s maids had just lit the lamps in the guest chamber when Louis arrived, his pale face flushed, his eyes sparkling with tears and his demeanour alive with a glow that Alienor had not seen for a long, long time.

‘Is it true?’ he demanded. ‘What Suger tells me, is it true?’ He seized her hands in his.

‘Indeed it is,’ she replied, smiling but still wary.

He leaned forward and kissed her face, although not her lips. ‘You have done well. You have pleased God, and now may it please Him to give us a healthy son.’ He knelt to her and pressed his head and one palm against the swell of her belly. Alienor looked down at his tonsure and tried to feel affection for him. A thread still existed but it was so thin and frayed.

He stood up. ‘You must rest and not over-exert yourself. I am trusting you to bear a strong living son this time. You must have your women with you at all times, and you must employ midwives immediately. Indeed,’ he said, with a frown, ‘you should not have ridden here today lest it harm the child.’

Alienor felt the prison door closing on her already. He would put her in a cage in order to protect his blessed heir. ‘I knew I would be safe,’ she replied, ‘because our prayers for a child were made at Saint-Denis.’

‘Perhaps, but you must not take such risks again where our son is concerned.’

‘Be assured I shall take heed of all wise counsel,’ she said.

‘Make sure you do. I do not want you to lose this one as you did the last.’

Alienor clenched her fists at her sides. Perhaps going into confinement would not be such a bad thing after all.

Eventually he left, and Alienor slumped down with a feeling of wrung-out relief. There was so little left of their marriage now, just the rags and tatters of a once-bright cloth. She knew how dependent she was on his approval. For now she had it, but he was not consistent. She never knew from one moment to the next how he was going to behave towards her and therefore she constantly had to adjust her balance. It was exhausting.