The Summer Queen (31 page)

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.’