The Summer Queen

28

Constantinople, September 1147

The great citadel of Constantinople occupied a triangle of land bordered on two sides by the sea and enclosed within great walls. On the eastern side of the city, and within another enclosure, its right flank was guarded by a stretch of water known as the Arm of Saint George. A massive chain protected the end of that stretch, preventing ships from sailing up the wide estuary and attacking the city walls.

On a hot morning in September, the French army arrived before its walls and set up camp. Alienor exchanged the grey cob that had borne her all the way from Paris and mounted instead the spirited golden chestnut palfrey sent to her by Empress Irene. His coat had a metallic gleam and his gait was like the smoothest silk, hence his name: Serikos, which was Greek for the cloth. Louis too had been presented with a horse: a stallion with a coat that glittered like sunlit snow. Both mounts were glossy and well nourished, unlike the crusader horses, which had lost condition during their hard journey and were unsuited to the parching heat of the Middle East.

Alienor rode beside Louis, her head up, her spine straight. She wore a gown of coral-red samite stitched with pearls. The coronet set over her silk veil was a delicate thing of gold flowers studded with sapphires. Louis was more sombrely clad in a tunic of dark blue wool, but he wore a jewelled belt, rings on his fingers and a coronet. After a single glance, Alienor did not look at him again, because she could not bear to see the gaunt, tight-lipped man riding in the place of the smiling youth who had once taken her hand and looked at her with his heart in his eyes.

They were greeted by nobles of the Greek court, their colourful silk tunics worn with the casual ease of everyday garb. In France only magnates could afford such fabric and even then it was a rarity. Despite their own efforts to appear magnificent, Alienor knew they must look like creased and shabby barbarians to the Greeks, and reinforce their jaundiced view of Christians from the north.

They were escorted to the imperial Blachernae Palace, parts of which were still under construction. Cages of scaffolding enclosed sections of wall and labourers toiled, hoisting hewn blocks of stone and buckets of mortar on to the working platforms. The clink of chisel on stone, the creak of the winch wheel and the shouts of the labourers caused a permanent clamour. However, the main palace was complete and faced with decorated arches worked in marble and patterned with different-coloured bands of stone.

Servants came running to take their mounts and escort Louis and Alienor to the portico of the palace where Emperor Manuel Komnenos waited to greet them, together with his consort, the Empress Irene. Manuel was of Louis’s age and stature, but there the similarities ended. Manuel resembled a fabulous mosaic, his robes of royal purple so heavily encrusted with gems that they were as stiff as a mail shirt, and when he moved, he glittered. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and bore himself as if he were a deity condescending to supplicants. Beside him, Louis looked insipid: a lesser being caught blinking in the Godlight.

The sovereigns embraced each other, and exchanged the kiss of peace. Alienor too was greeted by the Emperor with stiff formality. She curtseyed deeply to him, and he raised her to her feet and brushed her cheek with his lips. She inhaled the scent of incense and sandalwood. His eyes were inscrutable and cold, the irises so dark that they blended with the pupils.

Alienor then curtseyed to Empress Irene. She was slender and tall, matching Alienor in height, but her eyes were dark hazel and her complexion olive. She was a little older than Alienor too, but still with young, smooth skin. She wore a dalmatic of royal purple silk edged with gold braid, and strings of pearls hung from her crown creating a curtain of milky raindrops over her coiled hair. Unlike many of the ladies of the court, she did not paint her face, save for subtle smudged lines to enhance her eyes.

‘Be welcome,’ she said in Latin. ‘I have heard so much about the Queen of France.’

‘As I have heard much about the Empress of the Greeks,’ Alienor responded gracefully.

The women assessed each other with formal courtesy masking curiosity and caution.

‘You have travelled far, and still have a great distance to go,’ Irene said. ‘Come within and take refreshment. All we have to offer in the Blachernae Palace is yours for the time you are here.’

Entering the palace, Alienor felt as if she had stepped into a gilded treasure chest. The walls were painted with life-size figures decorated with gold leaf and vibrant primary colours. Crushed lapis, kermes red, ochre. Surfaces of marble, crystal and gold created a layered and watered effect so that reality shimmered. The polished, inlaid floor reflected Alienor’s footsteps and she felt as if she was walking on illuminated water.

Eventually, they came to a great council chamber lined with arches. Two chairs were set upon a marble dais, one for Manuel, one for Louis. Everyone else was expected to remain standing, Alienor and Irene included.

An interpreter with a curled and oiled beard stood ready between the King and Emperor, for although Louis spoke Latin, Manuel did not. The conversation between the sovereigns was as elaborate as the surrounding architecture and decoration, for while Louis’s responses were terse, the interpreter embellished his words with the flowery speech and mannerisms of the Greek court. Listening to Louis’s replies, Alienor understood that opening pleasantries were being exchanged. In the Greek way, there would be no serious discussion today, tomorrow, or even the day after.

Preliminaries concluded, she and Louis were escorted to dine with the Emperor and his court in another chamber, once more reached through painted corridors with shining marble floors. The dining tables were marble too, pink and cream, ornately carved and draped with white napery. Fragrances of rose water, cinnamon and nutmeg permeated the sumptuous dishes, served on plates of ceramic and silver gilt. There was tender lamb with apricot sauce, crisp golden game birds stuffed with wild rice, and platters of glittering silver fish from the rich waters of the Golden Horn.

The Greeks ate their food with a two-pronged implement that speared the pieces of lamb or apricot and held them securely to be dipped in piquant sauces, or in olive oil, pale green as liquid glass. Seeing Alienor’s interest, Irene presented Alienor with her own as a gift. ‘You will soon wonder how you ever managed without one of these,’ she said.

Alienor thanked her and admired the ivory handle inlaid with small squares of iridescent mosaic.

‘You must see the great sights of our city while you are here,’ Irene added. ‘I will show you myself, and we can become better acquainted.’

‘I should like that; you are most gracious,’ Alienor replied, smiling.

Irene returned the smile, although the curve of her lips was not echoed by her eyes, which were deep and watchful. ‘Your husband: he has the reputation amongst us already for being a pious man. We hear from our merchants that he spends much of his time in prayer.’

‘That is so.’ Alienor lifted her cup, thinking that ‘merchants’ was a euphemism for ‘spies’. ‘My husband was trained for the priesthood as a child before he became the heir to the throne.’

‘He will find much to inspire him in our city. We have churches, shrines and relics of value beyond price that the emperors have guarded and protected from enemies for a thousand years. Long may they continue to do so.’

Alienor did not miss the warning and challenge in Irene’s seemingly bland words. Louis was welcome to look, but not to touch, and the French were not so much allies as an expedient way of distracting Constantinople’s enemies. ‘I believe we have a great deal to learn from each other,’ Alienor said.

‘Indeed,’ Irene replied smoothly, lifting her own cup. ‘Just so.’

Alienor settled into life in Constantinople. The opulence was seductive. She, Louis and their retinues were housed in a hunting lodge that made Talmont look like a peasant’s hovel by comparison. On the first night, Alienor bathed away the aches of the long journey in hot water scented with rose petals. Attendants rubbed her body with exotic oils and massaged out the knots and pains of travelling until she felt light-headed and languorous. The Emperor provided them with servants in addition to their own to wait upon their every need.

‘Spies,’ Louis said, his nostrils flaring as he pushed aside a platter of small almond cakes decorated with coloured sugar. ‘They set spies on us, and we cannot do the same to them.’

Alienor shrugged. ‘What are they going to find out?’

‘Nothing, because we will tell them nothing.’ He caught her wrist as she walked past him and pulled her to face him. ‘I do not want you talking to the Empress and giving things away, do you hear? I know what gossips women are.’

‘I am not a fool,’ she retorted. ‘The Empress and I understand each other well.’ She wrenched herself free, rubbing the place where his fingers had dug in. ‘You should be encouraging me to talk to her and probe for information, but you do not want me to have that kind of power, do you?’

‘This is men’s business. You will not meddle.’

She set her jaw.

‘I am warning you.’ He wagged his forefinger in front of her face. ‘I will not brook plotting of any kind.’

‘It does not occur to you that I might be trying to help you?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t.’ He stamped from the room and across the corridor to his own chamber. Thierry de Galeran was standing on guard outside it, and he gave Alienor a knowing smirk. She rubbed her wrist where Louis had seized her, and her irritation at his stupidity churned into anger. The Greeks would swiftly know from their spies that the King and Queen of the Franks were not in accord. What point was there in ordering her to be careful when his own actions left the door wide open to all?

The opulence and luxury of Constantinople continued to take Alienor’s breath away. At sunrise and sunset the city shone, every surface lustrous with gilt and bronze and gold. Irene took her to the roof of the Blachernae Palace and, on a glorious day of white sunshine and soft breezes, pointed out to Alienor the hippodrome, the forums of Emperor Constantine and Theodosius, the cathedral of Saint Sophia. Across the river the quarters of the Genoese traders at Galata shone like a separate golden casket. Irene spoke rapidly and she indicated everything with swift movements, as if determined to fulfil her duties as hostess by leaving nothing out.

Constantinople in the flesh was exhausting. Whisked all over the city by their hosts and shown one astonishing site after another, Alienor found them becoming an amorphous blur of crystal, marble and gold. It was almost like being drugged, or smothered, and for all its beauty the city was intensely claustrophobic. Louis spent hours worshipping at jewelled shrines beside which the church of Saint-Denis paled into insignificance.

The French army was forced to remain outside the defensive walls under canvas and only permitted through the gates in strictly controlled small numbers. The Emperor was not about to let a mob loose in his city. The soldiers’ experience of Constantinople was different to that of their liege lord and lady for they saw the parts that Louis and Alienor did not, yet it was just as edifying. The troops experienced the stinking, fetid underworld of the poor, riddled with disease and thievery. In the dark, narrow streets in the bowels of the greatest city in Christendom, where even full daylight was dim at ground level, the denizens lived a squalid, subterranean life. Pilgrims and soldiers reported back to their fellows that the city resembled an enormous golden stone turned over to reveal the mud and wriggling creatures underneath, and, by comparison, even the dankest, most unpleasant parts of Paris were places of high illumination.

A fortnight passed and Louis continued to wait for the arrival of the part of his army that had travelled by a different route. The feast of Saint Denis fell on the eve of that arrival and the Emperor sent Louis a select group of clergy to sing the service in celebration of the saint. Each monk was furnished with a tall taper elaborately decorated with gold leaf and vivid colours. There were eunuchs among the Greeks, castrated before their voices had broken. Their bodies were soft and plump and they sang in sweet high tones that blended with the deeper resonance of the other men, and the wonderful sounds brought Louis to tears.

Alienor wondered at the purpose of this musical gift, because she knew the Greeks were too wily to give anything purely for itself, even if they too celebrated the feast of Saint Denis in their calendar. Nevertheless, the service was beautiful and she thanked Irene graciously.

The Empress smiled and arranged the drape of her dalmatic on her sleeve so that the gold edge fell in a precisely straight line. They were seated in one of Irene’s many chambers at the Blachernae Palace with glorious views of the Golden Horn through the open windows. Servants had come on quiet feet to pour sweet wine and serve delicate rose-water pastries. ‘The Emperor and I have done our best to make you welcome in our land, and we felt that it was a fitting culmination.’

Alienor picked up on the last word. She reached to the delicate glass cup on the mosaic-inlaid table. ‘Culmination?’

Irene waved a smooth, manicured hand. ‘Naturally once your contingent from Italy has arrived, you will want to continue your journey.’

‘Indeed,’ Alienor said. ‘But our companions will need to rest before we set out.’

Irene inclined her head. ‘We are happy to welcome them while we make ready boats and supplies. However, your kin in Antioch must be anxiously awaiting your arrival.’ She affected a concerned expression.

So the Emperor wanted them gone, Alienor thought, and the celebratory service for Saint Denis was a punctuation mark on their stay. ‘My uncle will be glad to receive us,’ she replied, ‘but he understands the dangers of our journey and he would want us to set out well prepared and in strength.’

‘Indeed, but you should leave before the winter sets in.’ Irene leaned towards her as if speaking in confidence. ‘My husband hears reports that the German army has defeated all resistance it has met thus far. There has been a battle and thousands of Turks have been killed. Your way will be clear if you follow now.’

Alienor was surprised. ‘That is news I have not heard.’

Irene looked smug. ‘Indeed not. The messenger has not long returned with the tidings. The Emperor will send word to your husband this very day.’

‘Even so, we should wait for our contingent from Apulia and then travel together. That has always been the understanding.’

Irene dipped her head. ‘Naturally you must do as you see fit, but the Emperor intends to set up a market for you on the other side of the Arm of Saint George so that you may prepare from there.’

Alienor thanked her hostess, and the conversation turned to other matters, but the moment she could politely leave, Alienor made her excuses and hastened to find Louis.

He was in his quarters with his senior barons and churchmen. His preoccupation was telling in that he neither glared at her as she entered the room, nor sought to put her in her place. Geoffrey and Saldebreuil de Sanzay were there too, and the former exchanged a swift glance with her.

‘The Empress has just told me about the German victory,’ she said.

Louis’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright. ‘Fourteen thousand Turkish dead,’ he said.

‘That is a large host. Do you think it is true?’

Robert of Dreux shrugged. ‘Who knows? Numbers are always difficult to interpret and the Greeks cannot be trusted. If true, it means the way is clear to advance and that the Germans have made great progress.’

‘The Emperor says the Germans have agreed to do him homage for every place they capture along the route,’ Louis said. ‘He demands it of us also in exchange for guaranteed supplies along the way. But I say it is his Christian duty to supply us as a given, not as a matter of coercion and barter.’

There were mutters of approbation. Alienor went to sit in an unoccupied chair and rested her hands along the gilded arms. ‘He wants us to leave before the Apulia contingent arrives. The Empress Irene said as much to me just now. Perhaps he is exaggerating German successes.’

‘He fears that once our reinforcements arrive, we will prove too mighty for him,’ said the Bishop of Langres. ‘If we unite with the Germans and the Sicilians, we could seize Constantinople and use its wealth to fund our objectives.’

Louis cupped his chin and gazed narrow-eyed at the Bishop.

‘Indeed,’ Langres warmed to his theme, ‘if we put our minds to the deed, it would be easy to take the city. There are places where the walls are crumbling and would not withstand an assault. The people are inert – like gaudy slugs – and would easily be overcome. They have no stomach for war. They employ others to do their fighting and prey on those they think they can dominate – whether by threat of arms, or by treachery and subterfuge. All we need do is cut off the water supply to their conduits.’

Alienor felt a frisson of alarm. If Louis turned their army on Constantinople, it would divert them from their original purpose and they might never reach Antioch.

‘The Emperor is no friend to us,’ the Bishop continued in a belligerent tone. ‘This city is Christian in name, not in fact. Her emperor prevents others from bringing aid to the oppressed, and he is himself the oppressor. Did he not intimidate Antioch recently and demand the homage of Count Raymond? Does he not make pacts with infidels? Does he not expel Catholic bishops from cities under his sway and replace them with his own priests? Far from uniting Christian forces, he divides them.’ He jabbed his crozier towards Louis. ‘Ought you to spare the man under whose rule the Cross and the Sepulchre of Christ are not safe?’

They were emotive words and had some validity. Alienor could see men nodding.

‘But we did not come here with the intention of seizing Constantinople,’ Louis said. ‘What does it say of our own Christianity if we attack the wealthiest city in Christendom and then enrich ourselves? In so doing, we must kill and be killed. Will plundering this place expiate our sins?’ He gazed around the gathering with disapproval. ‘Do you truly believe this? The Emperor should not have attacked Antioch, but that hardly makes him the anti-Christ.’ Louis opened his hand towards the red-faced Bishop. ‘Is it as important to die for the sake of gaining money as it is to maintain our vows on this journey? Our priority is to protect Jerusalem, not destroy Constantinople. How would we control it without weakening ourselves for the remainder of our journey?’

‘If the Germans have had such great success in Anatolia, we should follow swiftly,’ said Robert of Dreux. ‘Otherwise they will gain all the glory and carve up the territory between themselves and Manuel Komnenos. I say we cross now.’

‘You are making a mistake,’ the Bishop countered. ‘The Greeks will betray us at every turn. You may wrap a turd in gold, but it remains a turd nevertheless.’

‘Enough, my lord bishop,’ Louis said tersely. ‘I take your point and I shall consider it, but for now we do nothing to upset the balance.’

The meeting broke up with the Bishop stalking from the room, shaking his head and muttering that Louis would regret his decision not to take Constantinople by force. The barons fractured into groups to discuss the matter among themselves. Alienor retired to her own quarters, but summoned Geoffrey and Saldebreuil.

‘The King made a good speech,’ Geoffrey said. ‘No matter what the Greeks do to us, it would shame us as Christians to turn on Constantinople.’

‘But you are a man of honour and chivalry, my lord, not a covetous bishop with a bellyful of bile.’ She gave him a taut smile. ‘And you are a man of Aquitaine, and therefore see the situation more clearly than most. I agree that the King lived up to his role just now, but Antioch and my uncle matter nothing to him. It is his conscience before God that drives him. That it is doing so in our direction is to our advantage, but we cannot take it for granted. Louis is full capable of digging in his heels, but he can also be swayed, especially by the Church.’

‘The Bishop was right about not trusting the Greeks though,’ Saldebreuil said with a shake of his dark ringlets. ‘They are plotting something. I fear to turn my back lest I feel the prick of a dagger between my shoulder blades.’

‘Who is not plotting?’ Alienor asked with a sour laugh. ‘We are all seeking gain of one sort or another. They want rid of us before we grow too powerful and turn on them. Can you fault them for that?’

Saldebreuil shook his head. ‘No, madam, but I dislike the way they go about it by such underhand ways and means.’

‘Indeed, we should be vigilant,’ she said. ‘But that does not include making war on them. Our duty is to bring an army to my uncle so he can deal with his enemies. We must bolster the King in this effort and keep his resolve strong. That is my direction to you. The goal is Antioch.’

‘How long before it’s our turn to cross the Arm of Saint George?’ Gisela asked. The young woman was playing with a pretty grey and silver kitten, dangling a length of red ribbon for it to chase and pounce upon.

‘Soon,’ Alienor said. They were waiting in the Blachernae for the call to go to their ships. Most of their baggage was packed and ready, and only the small fripperies remained, such as games and sewing to while away the time. Muttering to herself, Marchisa was busy checking her pouches of remedies and nostrums. She had stocked up on syrup of white poppy this morning, and Alienor was still feeling the hole in her purse, but better to have it than not in the months to come.

‘How soon is soon?’ Gisela danced the silk strip just out of reach of the kitten’s paws. ‘A few hours, a few days – a few weeks?’

Alienor swallowed her irritation at Gisela’s whining tone. They were all on edge and she had to make allowances. ‘Hours, I should think, certainly no more than a day.’ She went to look out of the window. The river bustled with ships travelling up and down the Golden Horn. The sky was overcast this October morning and the waters of the inlet choppy and grey. If it weren’t for the lateen rigging on the ships, it could almost have been the Seine.

Louis had begun ferrying their army across to the markets on the other side of the Arm of Saint George. This was partly because the Emperor had cut supplies to the existing camp to a dribble, so he had no choice, and partly because the French soldiers were itching to be on their way before the Germans claimed all the land and the glory. Emperor Manuel had been most accommodating with ships for the crossing and the embarkation was going forward at speed.

Gisela sighed. ‘In Paris the trees will be shedding their leaves,’ she said, ‘and they will be harvesting the apples. I wish I could drink a cup of new cider this instant.’

‘You risk being accused of being a barbarian,’ Alienor teased. ‘Why is Greek wine not to your palate?’

‘Because it goes down so smoothly, and only kicks you later,’ Gisela said.

Alienor had to nod at her sagacity.

The kitten tired of its game and went to curl up on a cushion of plump red silk. The last group of soldiers embarked and set off down the Golden Horn towards the lower chain across the mouth of the inlet, leaving their campsite no more than an area of bare ground, pocked with black scorch marks where the cooking fires had been.

Alienor expected an imminent summons to the quay, but the sun moved another hour on the dial without any word. Growing impatient, she sent Saldebreuil to find out what was happening. He returned looking grim. ‘Madam, the Greeks are delaying again. They say they are waiting for ships to return from the other bank and that there have been difficulties with the money changers at the new market, but I can glean no more than that. They either do not know, or will not say.’

Food arrived: vine leaves stuffed with a spicy meat mixture, and flagons of dark, Greek wine. The eunuchs pretended not to speak French or Latin, and to every question the women asked, they merely shook their heads and gave them bovine looks from kohl-rimmed eyes.

Sunset turned the waters of the Golden Horn the colour of blood and as darkness cloaked the room and the servants lit the scented lamps, Alienor gave up waiting and retired for the night.

By dawn there was still no summons. Looking out of the windows on a world lit by pale sunlight, Alienor noticed fewer vessels travelling on the waterway, and none going in yesterday’s direction. Her sense of unease increased.

Geoffrey de Rancon arrived and was ushered into her presence. He knelt at her feet. ‘Madam, there is news,’ he said. ‘The contingent from Apulia will be here by noon.’

‘Well, that is all to the good.’ She gestured Geoffrey to rise. ‘When do we embark? Have you heard from the main camp?’

‘Yes, madam, a moment ago.’ His eyes were troubled. ‘The Emperor is withholding his ships – keeping them all on the city side, and refusing to trade supplies with us. We had to cross over to you in a fishing vessel.’

‘What?’ Alienor looked at him in angry alarm.

Geoffrey grimaced. ‘There was rioting yesterday at the money-changers’ camp. Some of Count Thierry’s Flemings ransacked the Greek tables and caused mayhem. The King and the Count have punished those responsible and made reparation and the Emperor says he will restore the market once he is sure there is decent order, but he desires securities.’

‘Such as?’ Alienor’s unease deepened.

Geoffrey drew a deep breath. ‘He demands the homage of the King and his senior barons and the promise that any towns we take will be handed over to him.’

Alienor waved her hand impatiently. ‘That was discussed earlier. We knew it was likely. It is not worth fighting over, because once we are clear, we can do as we please.’

‘If that were all, madam, it would be simple,’ Geoffrey said. His gaze flicked to Gisela. ‘He also wants to seal the bargain with a marriage alliance between one of his nephews and a lady of the French royal house.’

Gisela’s eyes widened with shock. ‘I came as an attendant to the Queen, not as a piece of merchandise to be bartered for goodwill.’

‘What does the King say?’ Alienor asked.

‘He is considering the Emperor’s requests, madam,’ Geoffrey replied neutrally. ‘He thinks it might be a reasonable price to pay.’

‘No!’ Gisela cried. ‘I won’t do it! I would rather die!’

Alienor’s irritation stirred. What choice had she had when Louis entered Bordeaux in the summer of her thirteenth year? What would she have given to be able to refuse him? What would she have given for a rescue? ‘Be quiet,’ she snapped. ‘Weeping and railing will not help matters. Use your head, you foolish girl.’

Gisela swallowed and sent Alienor a beseeching, terrified look.

‘There are fates far worse, believe me,’ Alienor said grimly. ‘You would live a life of luxury here. You would dress in perfume and silks and want for nothing.’

‘Madam, I would lose my soul,’ Gisela wept. ‘Please do not let this happen to me. I would die.’

‘You only think you would. I tell you this because it happened to me ten years ago, but I live still.’ Alienor turned to Geoffrey. ‘That was why the Emperor wanted everyone across yesterday. If he withholds his ships, he can ransom us for whatever price he wants – or so he thinks.’ Her lips hardened. ‘He may have withdrawn his ships, but the Genoan traders still have theirs, and there are always those who can be bribed to take us across. Louis may do as he wishes in the matter of homage, but I will not stay here to be used.’ She placed her hand on Geoffrey’s sleeve. ‘Find a way for us to leave, and swiftly.’

He put his own hand over hers in reassurance – a steadying gesture to others but conveying much more to Alienor. ‘Trust me, madam.’ He squeezed her fingers, bowed and left the room.

‘I should have known,’ she said. ‘I cannot fault the Emperor’s politics, but we should have been more wary.’ She looked at the trembling Gisela. ‘Do not worry. I have more compassion than to leave you to the fate Louis would seal for you.’

Gisela swallowed. ‘When you said I would live a life of luxury here, I thought—’

‘I know what you thought,’ Alienor said. ‘Indeed there are some advantages to being a bride here, but I would not leave you behind.’

Gisela knelt at Alienor’s feet. ‘Thank you, madam, thank you!’

‘Oh, get up,’ Alienor snapped. ‘The women who serve me are not milksops. Make yourself useful. Our baggage is prepared, but we may have to travel light. Take the things you truly need and tie them in a bundle, and have your cloak ready. Who knows how quickly we may have to move.’

Geoffrey returned at noon with six serjeants dressed as servants, tunics covering their mail. ‘I have hired a ship from the Genoans,’ he said. ‘We should make haste. They have not tried to stop us by force, but they may change their minds. The sooner everyone is on the far bank, the better.’

‘We are ready.’ Alienor fastened her cloak and, beckoning her women, followed Geoffrey to the door.

At the foot of the stairs, one of the Emperor’s eunuchs barred their way, but Geoffrey showed him a foot of drawn sword and after a moment the man lowered his gaze and stood aside. The guards on duty at the gate were reluctant to let them pass, and pretended not to understand at first even under the threat of Geoffrey’s blade. Alienor turned to Marchisa. ‘Tell them that I am going to the new camp to talk to the King about the marriage arrangements for his kinswoman and I will make it worth their while if they let me pass.’

Marchisa spoke to the men in Greek with much supplication and elaborate hand gestures, augmented by a bribe in the form of a casket of gold rings that had originally been a gift to Alienor from the Empress Irene.

The jewellery changed ownership in a metallic flash and the guards opened a postern door to let them through. Beyond, waiting on the riverbank, two shallow fishing boats rode at their moorings, waiting to cast off.

Alienor’s heart drummed against her ribcage as Geoffrey took her hand and helped her into the first one. His firm grip steadied her, and she sent him a grateful look.

The soldiers took up the oars and rowed out from the bank to a waiting Genoese galley laden with men from the contingent of Louis’s army that had travelled via Apulia. Aboard the ship was Louis’s brother, Robert of Dreux, who had been talking with its commanders.

‘Thank God, madam,’ he said, as Alienor stepped aboard. He turned to embrace Gisela. ‘You are safe now, cousin.’

Gisela gave a small gasp and leaned into him, trembling. ‘I prayed you would not throw me to the wolves.’

‘I won’t let them have you,’ Robert growled. ‘I would rather swear fealty to a dog than Manuel Komnenos. Let my brother do as he sees fit, but they shall not have my oath, and they shall not have you.’

Alienor gave him a sharp look. ‘Louis still intends swearing fealty?’

Robert shrugged as the Genoese ship made its way down the Golden Horn. ‘He must if he wants to obtain the supplies and guides the Greeks have promised, but if it is like all their other promises, I doubt we’ll see much in exchange. I have told him I refuse to take it, and as to a marriage between Gisela and the Emperor’s nephew – let Louis agree if he wishes, but he cannot hand over what he does not possess.’

Alienor raised her brows at him. ‘You would abduct Gisela?’

Robert shrugged. ‘I would rather call it taking her under my wing.’

‘Do what you must,’ Alienor said with a brisk nod. ‘I applaud you for it, although you risk your brother’s anger.’

‘I do not fear him,’ Robert said with a steely gleam in his eyes.

Robert disembarked his charges at the French camp on the far side of the Arm and made swift preparations to ride on to the outpost scout camp at Nicomedia, two days’ journey away. ‘Madam, I am in haste, or I would offer to bring you too,’ he said as he swung into the saddle.

Alienor smiled and shook her head. ‘I can fight my own battles. Godspeed you now, and bless you too.’ She watched him clap spurs to his mount and ride out with Gisela at his side. Not for the first time she wished that the birth order between Louis and Robert had been reversed. She could have better borne her burden and perhaps even found a modicum of happiness as queen to Robert’s king.

Shortly after noon, Louis arrived at the dwelling where Alienor and her ladies were being accommodated. Exhaustion had set dark shadows under his eyes and deepened the lines between his nose and mouth. He glanced around the room at the women making up the beds and bringing water for washing. ‘Where is Gisela?’ he demanded.

‘With Robert,’ Alienor replied. ‘She has gone with him to Nicomedia. She does not wish to wed one of the Emperor’s kin and Robert has taken her part.’

‘You stood by and let him do so?’

Alienor shrugged. ‘Whatever treaty you have planned with the Emperor will not be sabotaged for the loss of an unwilling bride.’

His face darkened. ‘You have no notion how difficult it is keeping a balance between all factions. If I do not agree to the Emperor’s requests, he will cut off our supplies and leave us stranded. If I do agree to them, my own men call me a weak fool. What am I supposed to do?’

The retort on the tip of her tongue was ‘Be a man’, but she curbed herself. ‘I realise how difficult it is, but who has your best interests at heart? And who will guard your back?’

‘Precisely,’ Louis snapped. ‘Do I trust the Emperor who makes stealthy plans while facing me like a dog doing his business, or my precious brother and my wife, who do exactly the same? Which should I choose?’

‘Why don’t you ask God or your precious eunuch and see if they will give you an answer?’

He struck her across the face so hard that she staggered against the wall. ‘You are poison!’ he shouted, his face contorted with fury. ‘You are a foul viper, clad in all the sins of Eve! You sicken me!’ Turning on his heel, he slammed from the room.

Alienor put her hand up to her face. She had bitten her tongue and there was blood in her mouth. She hated him, how she hated him. Antioch could not come soon enough.

That evening she held court lavishly with musicians, entertainment, food and copious amounts of wine. It was an act of defiance both to the Greeks and to Louis, who did not put in an appearance. Alienor had not expected him to do so, and even while she felt like crying inside, she raised her head in defiance and set out to dazzle all who came within her orbit.

Geoffrey and Saldebreuil arrived from arranging matters for the march to Nicomedia and found their lady at the centre of the dance, a shield of laughter brightening her face. She wore a dress of dark green silk embroidered with stars, the long sleeves and skirt flowing around her as she swept and turned.

‘Something has upset our lady,’ Saldebreuil said wryly. ‘Best beware on the morrow.’

Geoffrey said nothing, because the sight of her had stunned the words out of him. He had always loved her, first when she was a bright, precocious child and the daughter of his seigneur, Duke William. He had been a very young man then, with a wife and a growing family, and Alienor had been a general part of that group. But then Burgondie had died bearing their fourth child and Alienor had begun to grow up and, as his grieving eased, he had started to dream of a future with her. Duke William was a widower himself and considering a new marriage in order to beget a son. Had such a thing come to pass, Geoffrey knew he would have stood a chance of wedding Alienor. Fate had decreed otherwise when William had died untimely. Geoffrey was sufficiently pragmatic to accept what had happened, but still romantic enough to remember the dream. Alienor had matured and changed, but she remained his Alienor, shining with all her different facets, and the wanting never went away.

Geoffrey followed Saldebreuil and joined a group of knights in conversation, but he was still intensely aware of Alienor. She turned this way and that and he saw the pale skin of her wrist and the gold silk of her sleeve lining, the suppleness of her body and the grace of her movements. And then he saw the bruise on her cheek and he felt sick. There was only one person who had the right to strike her, which was no right at all when he should have valued her above all things; yet he was Geoffrey’s liege lord and entitled to all that Geoffrey was not.

He turned on his heel and left the chamber. To join in the merriment and dancing was impossible. That was Alienor’s way of coping, not his. Leaning against a pillar, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, seeking calm to settle his anger, but it would not come. Had Louis been present, Geoffrey would have throttled him.

He heard Alienor’s bright laughter and her voice telling whoever was with her that she would not be long. And then her footsteps, shadow-soft; the rustle of her gown; and the subtle scent of her perfume.

‘Alienor …’ He stepped out from behind the pillar. She gave a gasp of surprise and after a hasty glance over her shoulder, hurried towards him.

‘Why did you leave?’ she demanded in a low voice. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I left because I could not trust myself to pretend any more.’ He drew her further into the shadows where no one could see them. ‘What has he done to you?’ He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘It does not matter,’ she said impatiently. ‘He is furious that Robert has gone and taken Gisela. He needed a scapegoat, and as usual it was me. This will all end once we reach Antioch.’

‘So you keep saying.’ His voice was grim.

‘Because it is true.’ She stroked the side of his face, reciprocating his action. ‘Geoffrey …’

He pulled her against him. ‘It does matter.’ His face contorted. ‘You do not realise how much. I cannot bear it.’

‘But you will bear it, even as I do – because we must. There is no choice for now.’

He made a sound of despair and kissed her, his grip tightening on her waist. She put her hands in his hair and parted her lips and he came undone because the kiss was such a blend of sweetness and pain. They had been so careful for so long, keeping their distance, behaving as vassal and lady, but it was as if the underground river had risen in full spate and, bursting its banks, had overwhelmed them and swept them to a place where all that existed was this moment and themselves. He leaned against the pillar, lifted her and entered her with all his pent-up love and frustration. She wrapped her legs around him and buried her face against his throat with a sob. And in those moments they lived a lifetime, knowing it was all they might ever have of each other.