Almodis (26 page)

I sit on the high table next to Ramon, wearing a gold crown on top of a thin green silk veil over my hair. My hands are covered with rings with green and red jewels. Ramon, too, wears a crown. He is clean-shaven and has a gold ring in one of his ears. I smile a very little because he is in fact a very handsome man.

Musicians play in the minstrel’s gallery, accompanying the singers, the
jongleurs
; and
ioculators
or jesters, cavort between the tables. The giant door of the hall groans again on its hinges and a single man, with an instrument, strides up the aisle. ‘Ah, the troubadour!’ says Ramon, taking my hand. ‘Music is essential to aid the digestion of food.’ I laugh at that and he laughs with me, looking relieved. The troubadour sings about Ramon and myself. ‘This is the lovers’ music,’ Ramon whispers to me. ‘The music of
fin d’amour
, fine love.’

‘I thought the convention was that the lover should love
someone
other
than their marriage partner,’ I say.

‘We are the exception.’

‘Such a great love had the lord for his lady,’ sings the
troubadour
, ‘that nothing could stand in its way. The mountains, the rivers, the snow and the ice must part for the love of the lady.’

The stories and singing come to an end and everyone is
yawning
and stretching. People start to lay out their cloaks to sleep on the floor.

‘Shall we retire, my Countess,’ he asks me with great courtesy. I rise and keep the wobble from my smile, remembering two other nightmarish wedding nights, but why should I worry with this husband? In the bed-chamber he sends the wedding party away as soon as the priest has blessed us and the bed, and he locks the door. He holds me gently. ‘Perhaps you would wish to be left alone, since you are with child, darling?’ he says, clearly not
wishing
it himself.

‘No,’ I say, forcing myself to unbend. ‘I would not wish that.’

The light in his eyes at my response, is like a boy presented with his first puppy. Why is my mind so old and his so young? I run my hands over his blond head, tracing its beauty. Our loving
in Narbonne had been done in the dark, in secret, but now we are man and wife and the candles are blazing, the room warm and scented with the perfume of so many roses. I place his fingers on the bow of silver thread at the top of my bodice.

Despite the kind companionship of my husband, I feel alone and exposed without my household – my women and my family who have always been around me. This is the first time I have been separated from Bernadette since I was ten years old. I
remember
when she arrived sullen and miserable from Paris. ‘Don’t you want to be here with me?’ I asked her, but she would not answer me, just hung her head with tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Are you missing your mother and home,’ I tried in Langue d’Oil.

She nodded her head at that, looking at me in surprise that I could speak her tongue. I took her hand. ‘We shall be friends,’ I told her and she looked abashed and curtseyed. In truth, it was hard for me to like her in the beginning with her complaining and her ridiculous sayings. If she hadn’t done her work so well, I would have sent her back to her mother. She grew on me little by little and now I am bereft without her.

The ladies of the court keep me company but I miss the easy and intelligent company of Dia. Yet to be rid of Pons, I thank Saint Uncumber. Not to be walled up in the anchorite cell in Moissac, I thank the Virgin. To have Ramon to husband … yes, I warm to him. I look to where he is standing in the passage
talking
to a huntsman. Ramon is flamboyant in a tunic of orange trimmed with black. I like him. It would be impossible not to like him.

Pere lingers close to his father’s elbow. He is always with him, like a faithful hound. He refuses all my invitations to come and
speak with me, to play at tables or chess, to ride together. ‘Not now,’ he says, or just shakes his head. ‘Sorry,’ he says, but there is no remorse in his voice or his gaze.

‘Tell me something of the history of Barcelona my Lord, and of the Taifa lords,’ I say to Ramon.

‘My father sought peace with the Taifa lords but my
grandmother
wished to drive them from their lands in the name of God.’

‘And you?’

‘I must strengthen my comital control first, stabilise my
relationships
with my neighbours across Catalonia before I can consider the border with the south. The frontier lords, my
neighbours
, castellans, even some factions within the city have taken advantage of the years of minority rule, first by my father and then by me. Ermessende’s base is in Girona and she has been intent on holding her own rights and not especially on holding mine for me, and what she has held she will not give up. Tribute from the Taifa lords is greatly enriching my counting house. I see no need to war in the south at present. I am on very good terms with Tortosa and the ruler of Dénia. My grandfather gave too much to Ermessende. His testament left her lands and powers well beyond her dower, lands that in custom would have gone to my father. The little that was left over when he died was divided between me and my two brothers. My brother, Sancho, decided to enter the church a few years ago and gave over his rights in the Penedès to me.’

‘Your grandmother acts against you, against family.’

‘Yes, it’s true she does. She incites the rebel lords, Mir Geribert and Besalú, against me.’

‘Why? What will she gain in the end by this?’

‘She wishes to hold onto her own power. She thinks I
innovate
too much and should continue to defer to her advice. I have not thought so since I was fifteen. Since I saw you in Toulouse in fact and she disagreed so violently with me then, taking me away against my will. Now, of course, I have offended again and proven her view that I am not fit to rule by kidnapping you,
causing
a great scandal.’

‘Perhaps she has a point,’ I say.

‘Am I not fit to rule with you my glorious queen?’

‘Now you flatter me!’

‘No, I don’t think so. All Occitania sings praise of your
government
of Toulouse.’

‘All Occitania! Berenger of Narbonne perhaps!’

‘All.’

He is thoughtful for a moment. ‘My grandmother is looking for ways to avoid relinquishing her power. She does not wish to be a dowager countess.’

‘I can sympathise with that.’

‘My father tried, unsuccessfully, to limit her to Girona.’

‘She is a remarkable woman.’

‘Oh certainly. My father died when I was eleven and she took control as my regent, even though my father had wanted the Count of Urgell to act for me. When I came of age I initially allied myself with the rebel lords in an attempt to challenge her. Then those same lords, led by Mir Geribert, rebelled against me; and factions in the city, led by Bishop Guislabert and the Viscount of Barcelona, who is married to my father’s widow, his second wife, also rebelled against me. People went so far as to lob missiles from the clock tower of the cathedral at the comital palace!’

After a pause, I say, ‘The system of the Council of Good Men works well in Toulouse. You could introduce that here. It is a way of acknowledging the leading men of the city rather than allowing them to grumble against you.’

‘Will you organise it?’

‘But you know the leading families, the personalities of
people
,’ I say in surprise.

‘And you will find it out,’ he replies with certainty.

In every way he has involved me fully in government since I stepped off the ship. All orders and documents are issued in both our names, Conde Ramon and Condessa Almodis de la Marca, as it is in Catalan. I am getting used to this sound and the change in my fortunes.

It will be six months before my household can risk
themselves
to the sea voyage and they cannot come overland over the
mountains in the winter or the spring mire and floods. Father Benedict has asked if he might return to the abbey and I have given him leave. I am very pleased that Rostagnus has asked to come to me. The bishop has given him permission and he will travel with Dia, Lucia, Bernadette, Melisende, Hughie and
Adalmoda
. Dia writes to me that they are the guests of Berenger and Garsenda in Narbonne who are lavishing affection on my
children
. Hughie and Adalmoda must be bewildered at my sudden disappearance. My poor babies, they will hardly remember me and will think that Bernadette is their mother. By the time they get here I will have another baby in my arms, Ramon’s child, that will come in March. He asks me about my children.

‘Adalmoda is four and Hughie is five. I have negotiated for him to go to Cluny. We have nicknamed him Hugh the Bishop. Melisende is the child of my first marriage and she is twelve now and betrothed to the son of the Lord of Parthenay.’

‘You can be sure that Garsenda is taking good care of them.’

I am jealous at the loss of six months of Hughie’s time with me. I have so little time with my sons. Ramon suggests that I keep him with me here in Barcelona until he is twelve or thirteen and then send him to Cluny.

‘Dia was my principal
trobairitz
here,’ he says, ‘before I sent her to you as the gift of my love,’ he kisses my hand. He besieges me with his love and kindness at every opportunity. ‘It will be good to have her back here again.’

I must acquaint myself with Ramon’s court and the political situation. Whilst I ruled in Toulouse, covertly and behind Pons’ back, and in Lusignan because my lord could not, here it is clear that Ramon regards me as his co-lord and that my counsel is of the utmost importance to him. ‘What,’ he jests, ‘did you think I married you for love! Did I risk all the opprobrium that is being heaped on our heads because of your beauty. No, no, it was merely your ability to write, count and organise that appealed you see.’

Despite his jokes, his every word and action breathes his love and yet I cannot allow myself to trust to it.

Ramon has received a letter from Countess Ermessende and passes it to me:

I place my hand on my stomach. Ah good, I think, now I have something to do, something to contest.

The second letter he opens seems to cause him much more concern. ‘It’s from Rome,’ he says, his face serious for once as he looks up and hands it to me. ‘We are excommunicated and our marriage ruled illicit.’

I scan the document. This will undermine his authority.

‘The church should stay out of the business of lords,’ he says angrily.

‘It is not entirely unexpected,’ I say to him.

‘It is my grandmother’s doing.’

‘With or without her intercession, it was inevitable.’

‘My grandmother took Lady Blanca with her to Rome to
complain
of me to the pope.’

‘It will not last,’ I say. ‘We will weather it and next year we will sue for it to be lifted. We will send emissaries to the pope. And gifts.’

He nods.

‘We will hurry on the building of the new cathedral. Its
dedication
will win us favour.’

‘Yes,’ he says, squeezing my hand, ‘you’re right.’

He shows me around the new, half-built cathedral. ‘If we die before its completion,’ I say, ‘since we are excommunicated, we would go to hell. What if I die in childbirth?’

‘You won’t die,’ he says, blasé, ‘and neither shall I. We have too much living to do together now.’

We knew that our marriage would carry a heavy price. The bad news continues to roll in over the next weeks.

‘Besalú has broken fealty with me again.’

‘Still, the majority of your neighbours have reconfirmed their allegiance.’

He nods. ‘Thanks to your efforts.’ Shortly after my arrival I began working on this, inviting and corresponding with the Counts of Urgell, Empurias, Pallars Sobirà and Pallars Jussà and all the neighbouring lords.

‘Any good news?’ he asks, gesturing at my correspondence.

‘Yes. Dia has made the arrangements for my household’s journey here in the spring, and my sister, Lucia, is coming with them.’

‘Good!’ he says, his expression brightening.

‘My mother writes to offer us her allegiance.’

‘Excellent!’ he says and I smile wryly at him. It is hardly recompense for being excommunicated.

My brother has remained silent, neither condoning nor condemning my marriage. He sent me no wedding gift. I do not suppose that the scandal has been especially helpful or pleasant for him. However, my sons have all written to me. They seem so far away now.

‘My son Jourdain writes from the Priory of Lusignan to tell me that he is working on a history of his grandfather, Hugh IV, and my sons who are training with Count Geoffrey in Angers, that is Hugh of Lusignan, Guillaume and Raymond of Toulouse, they have written together.’

Ramon raises his eyebrows, surprised I suppose that Pons’ sons should write kindly to me.

‘They are all
my
sons,’ I say to him, jutting out my chin.

‘So I shall be of little consequence, then,’ he laughs, ‘with our children?’

I shake my head, smiling. ‘Shall I read you their letter,’ I say.

‘Please.’

‘Chère maman, La Condessa de Barcelona, we greet you and kiss you and send you our happy wishes that you are safe and well. We decided to write to you together and tell you how dearly we love you and cherish you and will cut off the heads of
anyone
disparaging your name.’ I look up laughing to Ramon. ‘It is a boys’ letter: Hugh is fifteen, Guillaume fourteen and Raymond thirteen. They tell me about their dogs and hunting and their bruises and scrapes from training and who is good at this and
that.’ I hand it to him to look at, to cheer him up. ‘I suspect that the letter itself is the work of Raymond but they have all three signed it. And then there are five postscripts.’

‘Five!’

‘See: Raymond first writes in a postscript that his cousin, Audebert’s daughter Almodis, is named for me and is very
beautiful
and Guillaume is mooning over her. Guillaume has written under that: Raymond is an ass. Then Raymond writes that Hugh has been chastised by Count Geoffrey for kissing the cook’s daughter and seems to have gained some training from my old groom, Piers, who was well known for his womanising. So Hugh writes: Raymond is an ass. Finally Raymond adds that Hugh is rightly named ‘The Devil’.’

News of my children lightens the bad news. Last week I received a formal letter from Pons repudiating me, signed by the Bishops of Toulouse and Albi. We hear that Sancha of Aragon will take ship in the spring to wed him, poor child. Pons’
letter
demanded the return of all his children, but in the case of Hugh the Bishop and Adalmoda I have refused on account of their age and in the case of Guillaume and Raymond they have written themselves from Geoffrey’s camp at Domfront where he is now resisting the siege of Duke William of Normandy, to say that they cannot leave. Raymond wrote to me, ‘I told father we will of course attend him when our training is completed and Count Geoffrey can spare us. I expect that to be quite a few years yet, Mother.’

Of course none of my family know the full circumstances of my flight, of Pons’ threats to me, my adultery and pregnancy. Though they may all start calculating when my baby is born in March, none of them can prove it or be sure now that I am safe here with Ramon.

‘Since a marriage of inclination is very much condemned here in Catalonia,’ I say, ‘why did you send Alfaric for me, especially since you didn’t know that I was carrying your child.’

‘I thought you might be convinced by the romance of me sending a musulman to whisk you away,’ he says with
characteristic
levity.

I am surrounded by strangers again, including my husband and
must get to know him. He is beautiful to look at. He is fair where Hugh was dark haired. His skin is olive brown and slides like silk under my hands. He is gentle, humorous, open-minded, quick-witted. I keep waiting for him to show some bad trait but, so far, none is evident.