The Summer Queen

24

Paris, November 1145

The November day outside the palace was bright but bitterly cold. The River Seine bore a blue reflection of the sky but beneath that surface the water was brown and sluggish from recent heavy rain. The oiled linen in the window embrasures let in grainy light, but draughts too. Candles flickered in most of the niches and every charcoal brazier was in use to keep the damp chill at bay.

Alienor sometimes felt as if she were dwelling in a cage. She had been out of her confinement since May, but much of the time she could not tell the difference, except that she had Louis to deal with and all of his foolishness.

This morning, however, there were several diversions to contemplate, courtesy of her uncle Raymond, Prince of Antioch, and his wife, Constance, who was Louis’s second cousin. The couple, having heard of the birth of the Princess Marie, had sent a cornucopia of gifts to their close and beloved kin in France. Alienor’s chamber overflowed with riches from the East. Bolts of precious silks shimmered like the still backwaters of the Garonne on a hot day. There were books with carved ivory panels set with gemstones, bags of frankincense and tablets of scented white soap. A gold and rock-crystal reliquary containing a fragment of the Virgin Mary’s cloak. Damascened swords and a mail shirt so fine that it draped like a cobweb. For the baby, there was a silver cup set with amethysts … And then there was the letter, full of felicitation and graceful words, but between the lines, snared with the subtle asking price for all these rare and precious gifts.

Alienor paused by the cradle to look at her sleeping daughter. Marie lay on her back, her tiny fists curled up like flower buds and her chest rising and falling in swift, shallow breaths. Alienor felt a tender sorrow whenever she looked at her. The birth of a daughter had disappointed all of France, but she had not disappointed herself, and that was what mattered.

Louis entered the room. He flicked a glance at the cradle but did not venture over for a look, and quickly turned to the pile of gifts, of which he had been told by Alienor’s steward. ‘Generous indeed,’ he said, but with a slight curl of distaste at the luxury, although that changed when Alienor gave him the reliquary containing the scrap of the Virgin’s cloak. His face lit up and his breathing quickened.

‘My uncle says he sends it to you for safekeeping because he knows you will treasure it.’

Louis ran his thumb over the smooth rock crystal. ‘For safekeeping?’

She held out the letter to him. ‘He says his situation is becoming increasingly perilous since the fall of Edessa and that he is involved in constant skirmishes with the Saracens.’

Louis took the letter over to the window to let the light filtering through the oiled linen fall on the parchment.

Alienor stroked Marie’s soft pink cheek. She had been close to giving birth when the news had reached Paris that the Turks had taken the Frankish Christian principality of Edessa and under their leader Zengi, Prince of Aleppo, now threatened Antioch, governed by her uncle Raymond, the County of Tripoli, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem itself.

The letter reiterated the dangers faced by the remaining states. Representatives were being sent to Rome to discuss what might be done to support those in Outremer, and Raymond hoped Alienor and Louis could bring their weight to bear, given that their kin were so closely involved.

Louis pursed his lips. Last year at Saint-Denis he had made a vow to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre to do penance for what had happened at Vitry, to expiate his broken vow over Bourges, and to fulfil a promise to pray for the soul of his dead older brother at the tomb of the Holy Sepulchre. The first news of the fall of Edessa had deeply agitated him. Although the initial upset had diminished, it still needled him. ‘It is our duty to help,’ he said, looking at the reliquary. ‘We cannot allow the infidel to overrun our holy places. We should offer them all the support we can muster.’

‘In what way?’

He turned from the window. ‘I shall issue a summons to arms when the court assembles for Christmas at Bourges. I shall fulfil my vow of pilgrimage and free Edessa from the infidel at the same time.’ He spoke as if it were a simple matter, no more complicated than organising a day’s hunt.

His words jolted her for a moment, but underneath she was unsurprised, because such a venture would be perfect for him. He would be the humble penitent and pilgrim, but he would also be the conquering hero, imbued with all the glamour of the devout king riding at the head of an army to save Christendom.

A spark of hope kindled in her breast. During his absence someone would have to take the reins. She could accomplish so much if only she were able to use her power instead of being constantly stifled and pinned down. Moreover, he would be gone for perhaps two years, and so much could happen in that time. ‘It is indeed a great undertaking,’ she said, her voice made vibrant by the possibilities.

Louis gave her a wary, slightly puzzled look, and she swiftly turned away to fuss the baby again. ‘Is it wrong to say I am proud of my husband?’

His expression softened. ‘Pride is a sin,’ he said, ‘but I am pleased you think well of my idea.’

‘We must make the Christmas court a great occasion,’ she said, and when Louis began to frown added, ‘with due seriousness and praise to God, of course, but men who are well fêted will be more open to suggestion. Besides, since the festival is to be held at Bourges, all will see that you are God’s anointed King.’

‘Very well,’ he said, as if offering her a gracious concession, and came to the cradle to chuck his daughter under the chin; and that too was an honour, for usually he took no interest in the child.

Alienor wore her crown at Bourges and presided with Louis over a gathering of all the nobles and bishops of France. They had been feasted, entertained, and then addressed by Louis and the Bishop of Langres concerning the matter of relief for Edessa, and ultimately the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

‘Make no mistake!’ Louis cried, his face suffused with passion and his eyes glittering like sapphires. ‘If we do not go, then Tripoli will fall, then Antioch, and even Jerusalem itself. We cannot let this happen in the very place where Christ’s footsteps as a mortal man imprinted the dust. I tell you all, it is your God-given duty to ride with me and bring succour to our beleaguered kin!’

It was a fine speech and the Bishop of Langres followed it with more burning oratory designed to put fire in men’s bellies. Louis’s household knights banged their fists on the tables and stirred the cheering to greater heights, as did the men of Aquitaine and Poitou, but following the initial surge, there was less enthusiasm. Men were dubious about being away from their dealings at home for so long a time, living in tents and fighting infidels. Although reaction to the speeches was politely enthusiastic, privately many barons held back from commitment. Abbé Suger openly declared that France needed Louis more than the Holy Land did and the expedition, while well intentioned, was ill conceived.

Louis was furious. In the privacy of his chamber he wept and kicked the furniture and stormed about like a thwarted child. ‘Why do they not see it?’ he raged. ‘Why will they not follow me? Have I not given them everything?’

Alienor watched him rant and felt irritated. She too had been disappointed by the response, but again not surprised. It was like driving cattle. You had to constantly prod them to keep them moving, and nip their heels when they came to an obstacle in the road. ‘Give them time to grow used to the idea,’ she said. ‘Many will change their minds when spring begins to heat their blood. We have yet to hear a ruling from the Pope. You have sown the seed today on the feast of the Christ child’s birth. Now give them time to ponder the idea, and approach them again at the time of His crucifixion and rising.’

Louis unclenched his fists and breathed out hard. ‘When I think of how they have refused me …’

‘If you spend that time in lobbying and making preparations, it is not wasted,’ she said. ‘As to Suger: he is growing old. He would rather not have you away from France, but that is his weakness, not yours.’

‘My mind is made up; I shall go whatever the objections.’ Louis’s face wore the stubborn look she knew so well.

Alienor was thoughtful as she joined her ladies. They were dancing to music and had inveigled some of the younger household knights to join them. Raoul was in their midst, laughing and flirting as usual. Petronella was not with him at court, being in confinement at Arras, soon to bear their second child.

Catching Alienor’s eye, he excused himself and joined her.

‘You make bold in your wife’s absence, sire,’ she remarked.

Raoul shrugged. ‘It is only dancing.’

‘And what the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over?’

‘I would never do anything to grieve Petronella.’

‘I am pleased to hear it, because if you did, I would have to cut out your heart and the part of you that has offended.’

‘Your sister is full capable of doing that herself,’ he said wryly, and then folded his arms. ‘Did you desire to speak with me other than to warn me off other women?’

She gave him a taut smile. ‘I want you to exert your talents in other directions of persuasion. I would like you to put your mind to swaying the opinion of men who are reluctant to commit to Louis’s project to rescue Edessa.’

He eyed her with sharp amusement. ‘Even if I am one of them?’

‘I doubt that,’ she said. ‘You are shrewd and ambitious enough to know the benefits. Given your years, you may prefer to remain in France with all the advantages that might entail.’

He continued to look amused, but wary too. ‘You are keen to have this project succeed. I understand your desire to help your uncle. You say to me that what the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over, but perhaps it is true for you also. Does it not concern you that your husband will be absent for two years at the least and facing great danger?’

‘Indeed it concerns me, which is why I desire him to have strength of numbers and support and supplies,’ she replied. ‘He will go whatever the outcome, but I would rather he had the backing of all factions, because how else will he be able to aid my uncle and do all that is necessary?’

‘And just how might it work to my advantage?’

‘I think you know very well, my lord. The King will need trustworthy men to assist in governing France during his absence.’

‘To “assist” whom?’ he asked.

Alienor smiled and extended her hand. ‘Come, dance with me and we will talk.’

Raoul laughed softly. ‘I think I am in more danger now than I was a moment ago,’ he said as he led her into the circle.

A week after the Christmas court dispersed, news arrived from Rome that the Pope had called for France and all the Christian nations to mobilise an army and go to the aid of Edessa. Louis was furious at the timing.

‘If the news had arrived last week, I would have had papal sanction,’ he snarled.

Alienor looked up from the letter she had been dictating to one of her vassals. ‘It will still add to your strength for the summons at Easter. Christmas was a great gathering, but the Easter one will be greater still; and if you take the Cross, you will bring others with you. Now that Rome is involved, many will reconsider. Ask the Pope to send Bernard of Clairvaux to preach at Easter. His oratory is renowned.’ Even though she heartily disliked Abbé Bernard, she respected his ability to whip a crowd into a frenzy.

‘Monks are banned from preaching outside their own monasteries,’ Louis said, but his expression had brightened.

Alienor sniffed. ‘Since when has that ever bothered Bernard of Clairvaux? He may preach humility, he may talk mightily of the sin of pride in others, but the fact is that he loves the sound of his own voice in full flow – and so do others.’

‘You should not say such things about a man so holy,’ Louis admonished.

‘He is certainly holier than thou,’ she retorted. ‘But that is not the point. When the court convenes at Vézelay at Easter, you must ensure you have the tools to stir men’s souls. I shall write to my aunt Agnes at Saintes and to the nuns of Fontevraud and ask them to sew crosses to be given out by all those taking the road to Outremer.’

‘That is a fine idea.’ Louis came over to her and placed his hands on the back of her shoulders. The gesture was almost tender.

Alienor made an effort not to draw away. If she was having fine ideas, it was because the more support she could garner for her uncle Raymond in Antioch, the better, and with Louis safely gone for at least two years, France would be hers.

Alienor watched Petronella gently bathing her infant son in a brass bowl before the hearth and tried not to feel envious. Here was her sister, excommunicated and shunned by the Church, but still able to produce a healthy male child, whereas she and Louis still only had Marie. She had got him to lie with her twice in January, but her bleed had come as usual, and after that, throughout Lent he would not share her bed because it was against Church law. He had spent much of his time either at Notre-Dame or Saint-Denis in prayer, or in organising for the Easter gathering and crown-wearing at Vézelay, to be held a fortnight from now once the court reached there from Paris.

‘I am glad you are here,’ Alienor said. ‘I missed you.’

Petronella lifted the baby out of his bath and wrapped him in a warmed towel. He fussed and protested, sucking on his little fist. Petronella kissed his brow and handed him over to the waiting wet nurse. ‘I am glad too,’ she said. ‘I don’t like Raoul being at court without me.’ Her tone was querulous. ‘There is nothing to do in confinement except wait and sew and pace the room, while he can do what he likes.’ She pouted. ‘You didn’t come this time either.’

‘I couldn’t,’ Alienor replied. ‘I had matters to attend to at court.’

‘So apparently did Raoul.’

Alienor suppressed a sigh of irritation. ‘He is a royal constable, and Louis had need of him and will continue to do so when it comes to mustering for the Holy Land, and then for governing afterwards. His life is the court. You know that.’

Petronella was not mollified. ‘Has he been faithful to me?’

‘How would I know such a thing?’ Alienor demanded, not adding that Raoul had succeeded in hiding his fornication with Petronella when they were right under her nose. ‘I do know he loves you and cares for you. When he heard the news that you had borne a son, he was the proudest man at court.’

‘But he did not come to Arras to see us,’ she said. ‘And he was not here to greet us in Paris.’

‘Because Louis needed him at Vézelay. You will see him soon.’ Alienor clung to patience. Petronella was acting as if this was a great issue, when so much more was at stake. Whether Raoul was faithful or not was a trifling matter. She had made her bed; let her lie in it. ‘He will have a full role to play when Louis is gone, and he needs to prepare for that; as his wife, you should be preparing with him.’

‘As his concubine, you mean,’ Petronella said bitterly. ‘Bernard of Clairvaux made very sure of that.’

‘I have not given up on the matter. You shall have your marriage contract, I promise.’

Petronella tightened her lips into a prim rosebud. Alienor gave up. There was no reasoning with her when one of her dark moods was upon her. Once reunited with Raoul, in Vézelay things would be different. She would shine for him, and the responsibility for handling her would be his. Yet Alienor still felt a duty of care to her sister, because she knew Petronella would never take responsibility for herself.

Louis had spent the first part of his day in prayer in the Merovingian Basilica of Notre-Dame before returning to the palace to dine in the great hall. It was still Lent and the food consisted of fish and bread, and the only seasoning was grey salt.

Alienor was in a quiet mood, as was her sister, and Louis noted it first with approval, and then with growing suspicion, wondering what they might be plotting. He knew Alienor’s way of winding people around her little finger. He had been a victim of her seduction in the past, but he was on his guard now and knew all about her glances, her smiles and little tricks. The way she moved her arm, exposing a glimpse of wrist as she adjusted her sleeve; the emphasis of the manicured fingers adorned by a single rare and beautiful ring. He saw the way she entrapped men and was disturbed and infuriated. During the time Marie was conceived, she had changed her ways and become sober and godly, but of late, she had returned to her earlier patterns of behaviour and dress. Considering that he was about to take the Cross, he found it perturbing and distasteful. What might she do during his absence?

‘I am wondering what to do about the Queen,’ he said later in his chamber to Abbé Suger and his Templar adviser Thierry de Galeran, who was dealing with fiscal matters connected with the pilgrimage.

Suger folded his hands inside his sleeves. ‘In what way do you mean?’ he asked warily.

‘While I am gone. I am wondering what provision I should make for her. I am worried she will foment discord and seek power for herself.’

Suger gave a slow nod. ‘That is a valid concern, sire.’

‘I would have appointed the Count of Nevers as your co-regent and he would have stood up to her, but he is to enter the Carthusian order and will not change his mind. That means I must give more responsibility to Raoul de Vermandois and I do not trust him to stand firm with the Queen, even if in all other ways he is fit to govern. He is too easily swayed by the scent of a woman.’

‘He is also an excommunicate,’ Thierry said darkly.

‘That is a matter for his soul, not his administrative abilities,’ Louis snapped. ‘He is too long in the tooth to go on crusade, and he needs to be gainfully occupied while I am gone.’ He gnawed his lip. ‘I have a notion to bring the Queen with me where I can keep an eye on her. She won’t be able to stir up trouble at home and she will be a figurehead for the men of Poitou and Aquitaine to follow – although naturally the command will be with me as her husband.’

Suger shook his head. ‘It is not a good idea to bring the Queen on such an undertaking,’ he said. ‘It will encourage other men to bring their wives, and perhaps even their families, and it will make the army unwieldy and slow, especially the whole train of servants and the amount of baggage required. The men will be distracted from their fight for Christ if there are women in the camp.’

‘They will cause immorality,’ Thierry agreed. ‘Women always do.’

Louis rubbed his chin. That was indeed a consideration. He was well aware that Suger did not want him to go, but his mind was set. The decisions now were those of policy: leave Alienor behind under close watch, or bring her with him where he could keep an eye on her. Perhaps the journey to Jerusalem and the pilgrimage would bring her back to God’s way again? ‘I need her with me in order to secure the full support of the Aquitaine contingent,’ he said. ‘If I do not, they will do as they please and either not come at all, or turn back midway, and who knows what havoc they will all wreak in my absence.’

Alienor was preparing for bed when Louis came to her chamber. She was so unaccustomed to his late-night visits these days that it took her a moment to gather herself and offer him a cup of wine. ‘This is an unaccustomed pleasure,’ she said, directing Gisela to pour Louis a drink.

He sat down on her bed. The curtains had been loosened from their loops and the sheets were turned down ready.

‘Are you intending to stay?’

He hesitated, and she was even more surprised when he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘for a while.’

She dismissed her ladies, and sat down beside him.

‘I want to talk to you,’ he said.

‘About what?’ She tried to sound interested rather than wary.

‘The pilgrimage to rescue Edessa,’ he said. ‘I want you to come with me.’

Alienor’s expression froze. Louis took her hand and squeezed it hard enough to cause pain. ‘The men of Aquitaine will follow with greater commitment if you are present, and I know you will welcome the opportunity to speak with your uncle Raymond since he is your father’s only living brother.’

She was aware of him watching her narrowly, calculating her response. ‘What of France and Aquitaine? One of us should remain here to oversee matters.’

‘Suger is full capable of governing. There is the Count of Nevers too, and even if he takes the cowl as he says he intends to, my lord of Vermandois is well able to deal with the secular side of matters.’

Alienor’s stomach sank. ‘What of Marie? It is not right to leave her motherless for two years.’

Louis waved his hand. ‘She has nurses and women to care for her. A small child does not notice who its mother is. By the time she is capable of reason, we will be home.’ His expression hardened. ‘You shall accompany me. If we pray at the tomb of the Holy Sepulchre, you may yet bear me a son. I want you with me.’

She wondered how far Louis had seen through her intentions and set out to thwart her plans. He plainly was not doing this out of love. If she refused, he would find ways to either keep her restricted and powerless in France, or bring her along in far closer confinement than if she agreed. He had outflanked her.

‘As you wish,’ she said, lowering her eyes. The way he was squeezing her hand was agonising, but she refused to gasp or wince. ‘I will take the Cross with you at Vézelay.’

‘Good.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her bloodless fingers before relaxing his grip. ‘We shall speak more tomorrow.’

When he had gone, Alienor got into bed, but she left the lamp burning and, rubbing her bruised hand, began to rethink her strategy.

Swords of sunlight cleft the clouds and illuminated the pilgrim church of the Madeleine crowning the hill of Vézelay. For those arriving on Easter Sunday 1146, it was as if the fingertips of God were reaching down to touch the abbey in benediction.

The town had long since burst at the seams and tents had sprung up in the surrounding fields. All of the hostels and houses were full. People slept at the roadside, their heads pillowed on their belongings. Cookstalls were doing a brisk trade. The bakers could not keep up with the demand for bread, and there was keen competition for the firewood to fuel their ovens. The thoroughfares to the abbey were choked with people, eager to be part of the Easter rites. Even with the new narthex, the abbey church could not contain the sheer numbers, and outdoor pulpits had been raised so that those outside could listen to the word of God in the same way that the crowds had first listened to Christ.

Alienor and Louis were shriven before the altar, which was surrounded by iron railings wrought from the fetters and chains of prisoners who had offered them on the occasion of being set free. Alienor prayed fervently to be rid of her own invisible fetters.

Following the service, they processed outside, the soldiers forcing a path through the pilgrims packing the nave and narthex, until they came to a pulpit standing upon open ground a little way from the church. Two thrones stood behind it adorned with silk drapes and cushions, the banners of France and Aquitaine planted either side. Louis and Alienor wore robes of plain undyed wool, although a large and elaborate gold cross set with numerous gemstones glimmered on Alienor’s breast.

Behind and around the thrones were gathered the nobility of France and Aquitaine. A cold wind ruffled the hilltop, but the sun continued to cut through the clouds and was even warm in the sheltered places.

A procession of white-clad monks approached the pulpit, led by the cadaverous Bernard of Clairvaux. His tonsure gleamed silver-grey in the light, and there was a translucent quality about him, as if he were not of this world. He fixed his burning gaze on Louis and Alienor, and then mounted the steps to the pulpit. Facing his audience of pilgrims and crusaders, he unrolled the parchment scroll in his hand and displayed the papal bull calling on all Christians to rescue the holy places of God from the infidel. His voice, despite his frail appearance, was powerful, and his emotive, moving oratory held the audience spellbound. A chill formed at the nape of Alienor’s neck and rippled down her spine. She glanced at Louis and saw tears glittering in his eyes.

Bernard struck the edge of the pulpit. ‘Let all who are prisoners this day go free! In the spirit of Saint Mary Magdalene at Vézelay, let all who wear fetters for their sins cast them off and take this cross of Christ and bear it to Jerusalem!’ Bernard spread his arms wide. ‘All shall be granted absolution. Only take up your swords for God and let your hearts be pure! Take the oath, take it now, take it for Christ who died on the Cross for your sins and rises again triumphant this very day!’

Louis prostrated himself at the foot of the pulpit, openly weeping. Bernard of Clairvaux presented him with a cross of white wool to stitch to his cloak and, lifting him to his feet, embraced him. Then Alienor knelt to receive her cross. She was trembling, a little with fear, but mostly with the emotion of the moment, which marked a new phase in her life.

Abbé Bernard presented her with the scrap of wool, ensuring that their fingers did not touch. His gaze fell on the magnificent cross on her breast and Alienor unfastened the chain and handed it to him. ‘A gift for the campaign,’ she said.

‘Thank you, my daughter,’ he replied and, as if it were burning his flesh, swiftly handed it to one of his attendants to place in an offerings chest. From inside her gown, Alienor hooked out the plain wooden cross that Bernard had given her at Saint-Denis.

People crowded forward to receive their crosses from the monks who had brought sackfuls to hand out, stitched in convents and monasteries the length and breadth of France, and for a while all was frantic activity. Louis and Alienor doled out crosses to eager, outstretched hands until there were none left. The crowd dispersed to tents and lodgings, or took the opportunity to pray in the church to seal their new vows. On her return to the guest house, Alienor saw many people sitting cross-legged on the grass, busy with needle and thread, sewing crosses on to cloaks and tunics. Someone was banging on a drum and singing a song in rousing tones.

‘Qui ore irat od Lovis

Ja mar d’enfern avrat paur

Cars s’arma en iert en pareis

Od les angles de nostre Segnor.’

Alienor suppressed the urge to mock the words. Whoever goes with Louis need not fear because his soul will go to Paradise and dwell with the angels and Our Lord. A worthy sentiment indeed, but if they went to Paradise, she suspected it might just be because Louis had gone and got them all killed. What she must do now was survive until she reached Antioch and the sanctuary and protection of her uncle Raymond.