The Summer Queen

32

Jerusalem, September 1148

A ceramic platter of the dainty almond and rose-water confections the Arabs called faludhaj stood on the inlaid table between Alienor and Melisande, Queen Mother and co-ruler of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Melisande bit into one with pleasure. ‘Too many give you the toothache and gripes,’ she said ruefully, ‘but they are delicious.’ She had a golden complexion and sparkling dark brown eyes that, while full of humour, were shrewd and knowing. ‘These are women’s dainties. Men devour them in one bite, and never discover the joy of true appreciation, but even so, they are a useful lure, I find.’

‘Is that not typical of all male behaviour?’ Alienor smiled and took one herself, playing the role of the gracious French queen. It had been her anchor in the terrible months since the birth of her stillborn son in the Lebanon, and the only way out of the darkness that had threatened to engulf her. She dared not lower her guard for the pain was too great when she did, and her nights were disturbed by vivid, terrifying dreams. Nevertheless, she was living through each day, surviving the nights, and time by infinitesimal increments was thickening the scab over the wound. Saldebreuil had rejoined her in Jerusalem a fortnight ago, still weak from his beating at the hands of Thierry de Galeran and his henchmen, but able to resume his duties, and that at least had comforted her a little, because she had thought him dead.

She and Melisande were sitting on a flat rooftop of the palace of Jerusalem, protected from the sun by an open tent with gauze linen curtains blowing in the breeze. The women wore comfortable loose silk robes and turbans in the way of the Jerusalem Franks, and were enjoying each other’s company while they rested during the hottest part of the day.

Melisande laughed. ‘I fear you are right on the whole, although sometimes there are men who are different, and we should treasure them.’

Alienor looked out across the blue sky and the heat haze rippling from the ancient golden stones. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘But so often we do not get to keep them, do we?’

She was aware of Melisande’s thoughtful scrutiny, but it did not disturb her. Melisande’s blood carried the right to the throne of Jerusalem, but her husband Fulke in his lifetime had tried to seize power from her and she had had to fight for every shred of authority she possessed. She had also been accused of conducting an affair with Hugh le Puiset, lord of Jaffa, one of her closest courtiers, but she had brazened out the storm and emerged from the scandal with her strength intact.

‘No, we do not,’ Melisande said. ‘It is a sad fact of life.’ She gave Alienor a look that was both piercing and gentle. ‘You can tell me what you will and it will go no further. I know enough of you and your situation to listen and understand. See me as a point of respite on your journey from which you will move on in good time.’

Alienor was silent for a moment; then she drew a deep breath and said, ‘I asked Louis for an annulment. Our marriage is consanguineous …’

‘As are many,’ Melisande replied to the point. ‘Most people are related to their spouse in some degree or other, but it does not lead them to annulment unless they choose.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘You say you asked Louis – not the other way around? Why is that?’

‘Because …’ Alienor looked away, her throat tightening and tears pricking her eyes. ‘Because it was a mistake from the beginning. I love my father and honour his memory. I know he did what he thought was the best for me, but it wasn’t. Louis is …’ Her mind filled with words she could not bring herself to utter. ‘Neither of us has fulfilled the other’s expectations. I am Duchess of Aquitaine and Queen of France, but it means nothing. I desire only to be rid of him and have this marriage dissolved. I want my own power and the wherewithal to make my own decisions. I have been forced to take roads I would never have set foot upon without being coerced.’ She looked at Melisande, who was watching her intently. ‘Louis is weak and foolish. He takes bad counsel from those around him and will not listen to sense. I do not wish to be at the beck and call of a dolt and his minions for the rest of my life.’

‘Ah,’ said Melisande. She clapped her hands and a servant appeared to refresh their cups with wine that had been cooling in a cistern. ‘I well understand that. It is difficult when men prefer to take the advice of other men, and make unwise choices. That decision to attack Damascus was a case in point.’

Alienor grimaced. ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘How different things might have been if they had made Aleppo their objective.’ She had still been recovering from the stillbirth of her son when she had arrived in Jerusalem. No one knew of it even now save for Marchisa and Mamile. There were scurrilous rumours doing the rounds of the barons and clerics, but those rumours concerned impropriety between herself and her uncle and were being spread by the likes of Thierry de Galeran in an attempt to blacken Raymond’s name and turn against him men who might otherwise have listened to his pleas to strike at Aleppo. A council had been held at Acre and Melisande had been present in her capacity as co-ruler of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Alienor had been excluded by Louis and had been too unwell and powerless to protest the exclusion anyway. Melisande had tried to persuade the other attendees that it would be more to their advantage to ride on Aleppo, but she had been overridden. Damascus was a far more tempting prospect to all in the short term, rather than looking to any longer gain. Raymond had refused to come to Acre to argue his point, declaring that there was too much treachery abounding for him to consider risking his life for what was obviously a foregone conclusion.

The army of Jerusalem, bolstered by the French, had assaulted Damascus and been routed, the campaign a disaster. Louis’s reputation had suffered another setback as all the impetus and opportunity to improve the security of the Christian kingdom had been squandered. Louis had now firmly exchanged the mail shirt of a soldier for the robes of a pilgrim. He said it was a precious thing to breathe the same air that the Saviour had done, walk in the same dust, touch the same temple walls. So it was, and Alienor had visited many of the places herself and been humbled and moved, but pilgrimage had become Louis’s obsession and bolt hole from reality. He was currently absent on an expedition to Lake Galilee where he intended collecting vials of the precious water on which Jesus had walked and where he had declared he would make his disciples ‘fishers of men’.

Melisande gave a flick of her wrist. ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘Beware all men. I grew to be fond of the husband I was forced to wed, but in our early years, he did his utmost to lock me out of power even though I was his key. It took him a while to learn the ways of this land, and just as we came to an understanding, the fool fell from his horse and broke his skull.’ Her eyes filled with pain, and then she shook herself and reached for her wine. ‘What did Louis say? Has he agreed to give you an annulment?’

‘He would if left to decide on his own, but others have advised him against it,’ Alienor said. ‘He does not want me because he says I am sullied and I do not obey God as I should, and therefore God declines to bless us with an heir – although if Louis will not lie with me how can he beget that heir? But he knows if he does agree to an annulment, he loses Aquitaine and he loses face. Men will call him a failure on all fronts.’ She gave a sour smile. ‘He cannot live with me, he cannot live without me, and so he hides on his little peregrinations, where he can be the King of France with all the dignity and none of the problems. He can fulfil his spiritual needs and forget he has a wife at all. It is an annulment of sorts, just not official.’ Her expression hardened. ‘We shall be visiting Rome on our way back to Paris, and when we do, I hope for a positive outcome.’

Melisande looked troubled. ‘You are set on this?’

‘I already have deputations at Rome working on my behalf.’

‘What will you do if your annulment is granted?’ The Queen of Jerusalem shook her head. ‘You will be an irresistible marriage prize to someone. You will be immensely wealthy and still with many years of childbearing ahead of you. What ambitious noble would not snap you up and devour you?’

‘I have loyal protectors,’ Alienor replied with bravado. ‘I shall do what I must.’

‘Then I wish you well. The world is a murky place, as well you know, and it is wise to look ahead and to plan for more than one situation.’

‘I have always tried to do so,’ Alienor replied. ‘I was taken by surprise in Antioch. I underestimated my enemy and it was my downfall.’

Melisande gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You must be aware of the rumours about you and your uncle in Antioch. I do not for one moment believe them, because I know what it is to have defamatory tales spread about your moral reputation by those intent on bringing you down, but the smear remains.’

‘Yes, I have heard the gossip,’ Alienor said with stiff composure and drew back a little, because Melisande was touching on ground that was still too raw to bear a footfall.

‘You should bear a son, and become a widow,’ Melisande said. ‘That is the best power you will ever have as a woman, believe me – unless you become a nun of your own volition. And even then, sons grow up and demand power in their own right. They will fight you for it, even as a husband will take it from you. That is the way of the world.’

‘What comfort am I supposed to take from that?’ Alienor asked, her throat tight with suppressed emotion.

‘I was not offering you comfort,’ Melisande replied coolly, ‘but if you are going to plan ahead, you should take these things into account so that you may deal with them should they arise.’

‘My heir is a daughter,’ Alienor said. My sons have died.

‘As I was to my father, and as you were to yours.’ Melisande leaned forward in emphasis. ‘You are still young enough to have a different life.’

Alienor took a drink of wine and steadied herself. ‘I intend to,’ she said.

Louis celebrated the Nativity in Bethlehem under a cold star-glittered sky, kneeling at the shrine covering the site of the stable where the Christ child had been born. Tears of exalted rapture streamed down his face. Alienor celebrated at his side, although it was almost more than she could bear, this joy for the birth of a holy infant, when her own son lay in an unmarked grave, never to be acknowledged except by her. She was tired of being a guest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Much as she enjoyed Melisande’s company, she was ready to leave. All the commands, all the arrangement, all the government was by another’s will and it was not her home. Louis remained obsessed with his pilgrimages. Like a little child craving sweets, he was greedy for more even though he had had a surfeit.

The French army had broken up in September and the troops had begun wending their way home. Louis’s brother Robert had set out with most of the French contingent, leaving a nucleus of soldiers and servants – enough for an entourage, but not an army. Louis said he would follow shortly, but the intent went no further than words and was soon forgotten.

Alienor paced her chambers in Jerusalem like a prisoner, albeit that she had every comfort. She went to the souks and the bathhouses. She attended the local shrines; she prayed at the sepulchre. She read, embroidered, played chess, wrote numerous letters and marked time. Still Louis made no effort to return home. There were more shrines and holy places to see and others to revisit to fix them in his mind. While he was thus occupied he did not have to think about what was waiting for him: the hardships of governance and the decisions about the future. He hid himself amid the glories of God and made them his only reality.

Suger sent letters urgently requesting Louis’s return, and Louis cast them to one side after barely scanning the contents. Alienor had received letters too, from her nobles and clerics, and although Suger had not written to her, she knew full well what was happening.

‘Suger is losing control,’ she said, pinning Louis down to a conversation before he could disappear on yet another excursion. ‘There is no reason for us to stay here. You have seen every site of importance and numerous others more obscure. France will descend into chaos if you do not return, and Aquitaine too.’

‘You exaggerate,’ he growled with a dark look. ‘Suger is an old woman; he fusses too much, but he is still capable of holding all together.’

‘No,’ Alienor said. ‘Suger is an old man beginning to fail. It is your duty to rule France, not his. And I have a duty to my people in Aquitaine – how can I fulfil that duty while I am here? How much longer can we govern from a distance, Louis? Your brother Robert is threatening to seize the regency from Suger and your mother is egging him on. Raoul of Vermandois sits on the fence. Even if we set out today, by the time we arrive in Paris, we will have been gone for three years. And we won’t set out today, or tomorrow, or the next day, or even next week, and all the time your rule at home falls into chaos. How long since Suger wrote to you?’

‘Do not badger me,’ Louis snapped. ‘There is time enough, and Christ must come first.’

‘Then in all that time enough, tell me when shall we leave? At least I can begin to make preparations.’

‘Easter,’ he said. ‘I shall celebrate Easter in Jerusalem, and then I shall see about departing.’

‘That is more than two months away.’

‘Then it gives you time to prepare,’ he said coldly. ‘I refuse to go until then. I worshipped in Bethlehem at His Nativity. Now I shall celebrate His death and resurrection in the time and place where it happened.’

He had the stubborn glint in his eye that told her she would get nowhere by arguing. ‘When we reach Rome, I shall still have my annulment,’ she said.

Louis shrugged. ‘If the Pope agrees, then let it be done.’ His tone was indifferent, but there was tension in his jaw. She knew Suger kept advising him not to agree to an annulment. People would say that a man who could not keep his wife or beget heirs was a poor warrior and a weak excuse for a king; and when a king was not virile and in command, then the country suffered. To her advantage was the fact that Louis was ambivalent about Suger’s advice. An annulment would mean a fresh start, and to offset the loss of Aquitaine, Louis could find a new queen with a good dowry and whatever affinity she brought to the match.

When he had gone, Alienor called for parchment and quills, and wrote to Geoffrey de Rancon. It took several months for correspondence to reach Aquitaine and the same the other way, and she had to be certain there was nothing within her letters to give her away. It was the same with him. He wrote her reports that on the surface were no more than the words of a loyal vassal discussing business with his liege lady, but they were both adept at reading between the lines.

She had told him of the loss of the child and he had grieved. He was doing his best to hold Aquitaine steady during her absence, but was finding Suger and French meddling a trial. He thought of her often, and prayed for her return, and a positive outcome in Rome. He had accompanied his most recent letter with a brooch bearing the symbol of an eagle enamelled in jewel colours with its wings outspread. She wore it every day and she touched it now before dipping her quill in the ram’s horn of dark ink and writing that she would be home by the time the next harvest filled the barns, and that, God willing, she would be free.