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Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

The Summer Queen (36 page)

BOOK: The Summer Queen
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When he kissed her cheek, she clung to him, feeling like a shipwrecked sailor being thrown a rope by the master of a seaworthy boat. ‘You look so much like my father,’ she said, a quiver in her voice.

Raymond smiled, revealing large white teeth. ‘I hope that is a flattering comparison. We are so glad to see you and welcome your aid. I hope you will find Antioch pleasing.’

‘I feel as if I have come home,’ Alienor said, her throat tight with emotion. She turned to Raymond’s young consort, and embraced her too. A perfume of incense hung around Constance, smoky and spicy at the same time. Louis’s jaw was tight with tension, but he was not hostile, just wary.

‘The bulk of my army is taking the overland route and will be here in a little less than two weeks,’ he said. ‘We will be glad of your succour until then.’

Raymond raised his brows. ‘You are welcome to stay for as long as the campaign requires,’ he replied. ‘I had heard that your troops were on their way overland. You have found to your cost that the Greeks charge extortionately for their services.’

‘Indeed, I have found to my cost that trust and loyalty are rarer than Tyrian purple and the horn of the unicorn,’ Louis replied grimly. ‘And that everything has its price, and it is always more than it is worth.’

‘That is so,’ Raymond replied. ‘Welcome to Outremer.’

For the first time in months, Alienor was able to truly relax and feel safe. Raymond reminded her so much of her father, but a version that was larger than life and filled with vitality and exuberance. He was secure in his manhood and he occupied his space effortlessly. He casually tousled the heads of his children as he introduced them. Baldwin his heir, four years old and shining gold like his father, and two dark-haired enchanting daughters, Maria, who was two, and Philippa, a babe in arms. Alienor felt a pang as she looked at Maria and thought of her own daughter of that name. She would be running about now and learning to say ‘Mama’ to other people – to Petronella and the women of the court. It was a world away – another life, and one to which she did not intend returning. There was another child to consider also, its life a tiny flickering secret within her womb.

The palace at Antioch was not as large or as opulent as that of Constantinople, but still gracious and filled with riches beyond anything that the courts of France possessed. The floors were dressed with iridescent tiles and mosaics. Marble fountains plashed in flower-scented courtyards and the courtiers wore silk just as they did in Constantinople. Alienor and her ladies were afforded a set of chambers with cool marble floors and high latticed windows to sift the breeze. Although the outward trappings were similar to Constantinople, the ambience was very different. She could feel her power here, and it was the power of Aquitaine, not France. She had presence and influence. As Duchess of Aquitaine and the niece of the Prince of Antioch, she was treated with respect and reverence. Her ideas and her abilities were valued, and the way she chose to dress and comport herself was regarded as normal and the right thing to do. It was in such contrast to her treatment at home and on the journey that it made her throat ache.

Indeed, Antioch felt close to Aquitaine in many more ways because her uncle had imbued his palace with that land’s energy and traditions. The court’s official language was the
lenga romana
, and the culture and music was all of the southern lands. Alienor and Raymond had memories to exchange – he of the times before she had been born, when he had been a child growing up with her father, and she of the years after he had gone.

‘I would love to see Poitiers again before I die,’ Raymond said, ‘but my life is here now and I know I shall never go back.’ He squeezed her hand in his and kissed her cheek. ‘You must do it for me, niece. Govern wisely and well.’

Alienor looked down at his broad, capable hand over hers and drew a deep breath. ‘I want to annul my marriage with Louis,’ she said. ‘I loved my father dearly, but he did me no favours when he made the match.’

Raymond’s expression grew very still. ‘That is a serious undertaking. Does Louis know your intent?’

She shook her head, feeling tense. What if Raymond took Louis’s part and refused to help her? ‘Not yet. I wanted to be in a safe place before I broached the subject with him.’

‘Why do you desire an annulment?’ He fixed her with an intent stare. ‘What makes the match untenable?’

She could not tell from his words and his expression whether or not he was sympathetic. ‘Because it is not right for Aquitaine,’ she said. ‘Louis hems me in and belittles my abilities. He is no husband to me in any sense of the word.’ Her mouth twisted bitterly. ‘He might as well be married to Thierry de Galeran. The Templar has shared his tent throughout this campaign and sleeps in his chamber. Louis is swayed by the advice of men who have no love for me or for Aquitaine. And because you are of Aquitaine and keep a southern court, he will not love you either.’

Raymond leaned back in his chair. ‘An annulment would leave you vulnerable and open to predators.’

‘I know I would have to remarry, but I would be able to choose my own consort and not be forced by the dictates of others.’

He stroked his chin. ‘But your choice would be dictated by the needs of Aquitaine.’

‘And I shall make it carefully indeed.’

‘Do you have a choice in mind?’

Alienor closed her face. ‘Let that come later.’

‘You can trust me, you know that.’ His voice was as warm as sunlight.

She gave him a straight stare. ‘I have got out of the habit of trusting anyone.’

‘Well then, you are wise, because I am of the same mind myself.’ He patted her hand. ‘I need your husband’s support for the campaign against Aleppo, but when that matter is concluded, I will offer you what aid I can.’

Alienor’s caution did not completely dissipate, but she was relieved at his favourable, if qualified, reply. ‘And you will succour me here in Antioch?’

Raymond embraced her. ‘Your home is mine for as long as you have need, niece.’

It was late in the evening and most folk had retired to sleep, although the oil lamps in the palace corridors were still burning. Alienor had stayed a long time in her uncle’s chamber, catching up with the past and discussing future policy. Louis had his own apartments and had gone early to bed, pleading tiredness and a need to pray. Thus far she had managed to avoid him, only joining him for formal occasions and mealtimes, and had steeled herself to smile and put on a courtly façade for the duration.

As midnight approached, Alienor finally retired to her own chambers, escorted by her ladies and the protective presence of Geoffrey de Rancon and Saldebreuil de Sanzay. The latter bowed at her door and went off to check that all was well with the men. Alienor dismissed her women to their beds in the anteroom, all save Marchisa, and with her as chaperone bade Geoffrey enter her own chamber.

‘Wine, Marchisa,’ she said, ‘then you may go, but stay within call, and leave the door open a little.’

‘Madam.’ Marchisa performed the duty with quiet efficiency and left the room, skirts softly whispering on the tiles.

‘That will go some way to satisfying propriety,’ Alienor said, ‘but it still affords some privacy.’

Geoffrey raised his brows. ‘You are optimistic,’ he said, but sat down on the long couch beside her.

‘I fear nothing at my uncle’s court. He only has my wellbeing at heart.’ She watched him sip the wine – the flexion of his throat, the curl of his hair near his earlobe. He would be leaving with the dawn, returning to Aquitaine by the swiftest routes. He would be free and clear and she was glad, but her heart was aching. She set her hand over his. ‘I am with child,’ she said. ‘That moment in Constantinople …’

His gaze sharpened and filled with shock and anguish. ‘Dear God … why didn’t you say before?’

She could see him calculating the months, and put her forefinger to his lips. ‘Hush. There would have been no point in telling you sooner. What you did not know was protection for you.’

‘I was a purblind fool,’ he said grimly. ‘I should have had more control.’

‘Then so was I. We were both a part of it, as we are part of it now – and I am glad.’ Taking his hand, she placed it on the gentle curve of her belly. ‘I cannot regret this.’

‘But I am leaving.’ He swallowed. ‘I cannot let you face this alone.’

‘You can and you must.’

‘I don’t—’

‘No.’ She cut him off. ‘I need to accomplish this in my own way and it will not help to have you here. We might give something away and no one must ever know, for the sake of all of our lives.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I intend to have my marriage with Louis annulled. I have already written to the Archbishop of Bordeaux to set matters in motion. My uncle will make me welcome here for as long as I choose to stay, and I shall do so until the child is born.’

‘Does your uncle know of your condition?’

She shook her head. ‘No, and he does not have to know either. There are places I can go when the time comes, and the child can be raised honourably in my household without anyone knowing but us. He or she will receive a fine education and career and never have to be bound by the constraints that have bound us.’

Geoffrey dug his hands through his hair. ‘What if Louis refuses to consent to an annulment?’

‘He will see that it is in his best interests.’

‘And if he does not?’

Her voice filled with steely determination. ‘I shall persuade him.’

‘Might he think the child is his?’

Alienor exhaled a bitter laugh. ‘It would be a miracle. He hasn’t been near my bed since we left France.’ She met his gaze without looking away. ‘I am not sorry that this has happened,’ she said forcefully. ‘I may not have chosen such a route, but I am glad.’

He was not reassured. ‘There is more at stake now than there has ever been, yet you want to send me away where I am powerless to do anything.’

She pushed his hair back from his brow in a tender, intimate gesture. ‘I know it is difficult, but it is the safest path for us and our child – trust me.’

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I do trust you. It is myself I find wanting.’

‘Do not,’ she said. ‘I will not hear you say that.’ She sealed his mouth with a kiss when he inhaled to protest, and instead took his breath into her own body, and imagined it travelling down to her womb, giving their child life and sustenance.

It was deep in the night when Geoffrey finally left Alienor’s chamber, his footfall stealthy as he crossed the anteroom. Alienor accompanied him, and Marchisa walked before them, shading a small oil lamp in her hand. The other women slept behind their gauze curtains. At the door, Alienor bade Marchisa go to bed. The maid curtseyed and silently withdrew.

Beyond the doorway, lit by stars and a large crescent moon, the fountain glistened with dark rills of water. ‘God speed your journey and make your way fair and good,’ Alienor whispered. ‘I will pray for you every moment.’

He brushed her face with his hand. ‘As I will pray for you and our child.’ His throat worked. ‘I would have stayed …’

‘I know you would, but someone would put a knife in your back even here in Antioch. You are better gone from this, and there is much work to do in Aquitaine when you return. While both of us are in this world we shall always be together.’

They had kissed their farewell within her chamber, but now he took her hand and lifted it. She felt the soft brush of his lips on her skin. And then he drew back, bowed and walked away. Alienor watched until he was out of sight and then closed her eyes, letting him go.

She was turning to retire when Raymond stepped out of the shadows soft-footed as the cheetah he kept for the hunt and which slept in his chamber. ‘Ah, niece,’ he said. ‘You are fortunate there was only me to witness that tender farewell. What would others construe from so fond a parting?’

Alienor drew herself up and concealed her fear by meeting his gaze full on. ‘I do not think “fortunate” is the right word, Uncle, but since you used it, I take it you are not going to expose us?’

Raymond sat down on a bench facing the fountain and gestured Alienor to join him. ‘He is leaving tomorrow, is he not?’ he said.

‘You do not know how difficult my life is with Louis,’ she said with quiet intensity.

‘A veritable monk,’ Raymond said. ‘With all a monk’s proclivities and vices, no?’ He spread his arms across the back of the bench and crossed his legs.

‘You might say that. My only value to him is because of Aquitaine. For the rest he treats me as a necessary but worthless appendage. And I have long since ceased to have any respect for him.’

‘And this other man, de Rancon?’

Her uncle’s tone was mild but she was not deceived. ‘I would have married him, not Louis, if I had been given the choice.’

‘Would you indeed?’ Raymond looked thoughtful, his posture that of a great indolent lion. ‘But not such a good choice for Aquitaine. Would the people follow him? Would they account him Duke? Louis may have proved to be a fool, but your father’s policy was sound at the time. De Rancon would not be a wise choice to make even if you were free; I strongly counsel you against it.’

Alienor swallowed her anger, and a frisson of alarm. She could only be thankful again that she was sending Geoffrey back to Aquitaine. She liked her uncle, but she had no illusions. He was ruthless, because only a ruthless man could survive in this environment. ‘I am not foolish,’ she said. ‘I see further than I did at thirteen years old. My decision will be the best one for Aquitaine.’

‘Some might consider Louis expendable,’ Raymond said after a moment.

Alienor looked down at her hands. ‘That is up to them, but he is an anointed king, and I believe they would only create more difficulties by solving the one.’

‘Indeed,’ Raymond replied and smoothly continued as if he had not just broached the matter of having Louis removed: ‘I have still to gain your husband’s measure in terms of how far he can be persuaded on matters of policy and whether he will agree to a campaign against Aleppo.’

‘His desire is all for Jerusalem,’ she said. ‘I doubt he will heed you, because you are my uncle and of Aquitaine. You have seen how it is between us. He will not listen to me, and neither will those around him, although his brother may be more open to reason.’

BOOK: The Summer Queen
10.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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