Devil's Consort (50 page)

‘So you did. And here you are. I trust your gerfalcon is in good health?’

‘Yes, Majesty.’ A grin dispelled his solemnity. ‘She hunts better than my father’s eagle.’

I laughed. He was still only a boy, still hunting mad. Dismissing my women, I gestured that they should sit, as did I, disposing my skirts with éclat, my senses still stretched, fully alert. ‘We are preparing to journey to Outremer,’ I explained, indicating the upheaval around
me, giving myself time to think. ‘Louis and I have taken the Cross.’

‘So I hear, Majesty.’ Geoffrey looked at me across the rim of his cup. ‘You are to be commended. A noble cause. And for you to accompany your husband on so dangerous a mission. Praiseworthy indeed.’

‘Indeed.’ I thought he mocked me, so, resenting such impudence, I chose to aim my own dart. No one mocked the Duchess of Aquitaine. ‘And you are not tempted to join us, my lord Count? For the salvation of your earthly sins?’

‘Christ, no! If I absent myself from my lands for more than a se’ennight, there’ll be some enterprising brigand stepping into my shoes. I’ve no ambition to return to find myself a landless beggar.’

‘And I’ve got my eye on events in England, lady.’ Henry leaned forward, alight with enthusiasm. ‘My lady mother’s supporters are at war with Stephen. It’s my intention to lead them, to take the Crown for my own.’

But the Count waved his son to silence. ‘I’m here to discuss the project I put before you in Poitiers, lady,’ he remarked without preamble. ‘I think I have your support when I put my case to persuade His Majesty.’

Had I not said I would support him? Something was afoot. And that same flutter of premonition held me back from the reassurance the Angevin wanted. ‘You must dine with us,’ I invited simply. ‘His Majesty will hear you and make his own decision.’

‘In my favour, I trust.’ The Count put down his cup, still half-full. His eyes lifted to mine, undoubtedly mocking. ‘It may be that your decision to go crusading, lady, has given me an unlooked-for advantage in my arguments.’

‘And that advantage would be?’

He shook his head as if it would be beyond my comprehension. ‘Not one that I wish to discuss where walls might have ears.’

It was a mistake on the Angevin’s part. I would not accept such condescension and I tilted my chin. We were alone, so why not tell me his plans? In that moment his handsome features were illuminated in a glow of hard northern sunlight and I saw him clearly for what he was, as I never had in Poitiers. A self-interested rogue despite his lands and title, one who would snatch at fate and whatever was offered, without thought for any man or woman who stood in his way. Yet I knew he was still drawn to me. He would come to my bed if I made it possible for him to do so. Was that it? Was he waiting to see a way to my chamber?

Ah, but would I? Would I really do what he expected of me? If I did, that would put me under his power. And just how was he intending to use that power? Beware! The warning whispered in my head. There was speculation in his gaze that I did not like, the close fixation of a cat deciding whether it was worth its while pouncing on a mouse.

I was no mouse. I would not be the means to any of Geoffrey of Anjou’s ends.

‘Then you must rely on that unexplained advantage to persuade my husband that your offer is in his best interests,’ I replied.

‘I wait with impatience.’ Abruptly, Geoffrey stood, gesturing to his son that the audience was at an end, even though I had given no such indication, and they made their farewells as the steward waited to escort them to their accommodations. Geoffrey was as immaculately polite as on his entrance, his salute to my fingers just as lightly formal, but when Henry and my steward had gone on ahead, suddenly, as he had intended, we were alone in my solar. Polite formality vanished in the snap of fingers. The Count’s hands grasped my shoulders, burning through the silk of my gown, and I was pulled hard against him.

My breath hissed my objection through my teeth but I controlled every muscle. ‘Did you wish to say more, my lord?’ I asked sweetly, refusing to squirm, his mouth a kiss away from mine.

‘Yes. I want you to add your voice, to persuade the King.’

‘I have already said I’m not hostile to the match.’

‘No warmer than that? I think you might have an incentive, lady.’ His smile was outrageously seductive but still the warning hammered in my head.

‘And that is?’

‘It would not be healthy—for either of us but especially
for you, Eleanor—if Louis were to hear whispers of our weeks in Poitou. Our delightful sojourn in the Maubergeonne Tower. The woman in the liaison is always punished with a harder hand than the man.’

I all but gasped, yet didn’t. ‘Are you offering me threats, my lord Count?’ I asked, as smooth as the silk I wore and that his hands crumpled.

‘Threats? No, lady. I’ll not threaten, merely persuade.’

He kissed me.

Damn him, he kissed me hard with a possession that stirred up in me all the remembered heat and colour of Poitou. But beneath the sweetness of it I tasted danger. It was tart and urgent. Beware indeed. If I was moved by honesty, I would say that fear slithered its path down my spine.

It was, of course, the height of court etiquette that Louis and Geoffrey should sit together at the High Table, side by side, the King of France flanked by one of his most powerful vassals. How unfortunate. Louis paled into a fragile candle flame, almost guttering into non-existence, beside the bright torch that was the Angevin Count. I sat at Geoffrey’s other side, aware of every nuance, every slide of light and shadow. Louis urbane and unaware, always the innocent. Geoffrey all courteous charm and winning argument. And cunning deceit. Abbot Suger listening with a deepening frown, for what reason I was as yet unsure. He had not forgiven me for
my championing of Louis’s dreams of Jerusalem, but I did not think that I was the reason for his ill humour. And then there was Henry Plantagenet, dividing his concentration between the food on his plate and the discussion of politics, politics most frequently winning. His eyes darted from one to the other of the protagonists, dissecting, weighing, storing information.

Barely were we into the stews and frumenty of the first course than Geoffrey launched into his campaign. He was not a man to waste time.

‘I have a proposal, sire. My son and heir … I look for a wife for him. A wife with power and influence to match what, one day, will be his own.’

Louis twitched his colourless brows in faint interest.

‘In the fullness of time,’ Geoffrey added, ‘Henry will be Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy, thus one of your foremost barons.’

Louis continued to look vaguely unimpressed. Suger’s ears pricked up and he pushed aside his cup and platter. In delicate discretion, I sat back and sipped the thin wine of Anjou, to let them do the talking while I remained vigilant. I became aware of Henry again. He was leaning forward. He too was alert, keen like a hound scenting a fox. When his eyes touched momentarily on mine they were bright and involved. They lingered, widening, and I realised in that moment of recognition that there was more depth to this vivid young man than to his father, although he was certainly more transparent. With young Henry, I had the
suspicion that what you saw on the serving platter was what you got on your trencher. An interesting young man. There was a control here that had not been present in Poitiers. I suspected the exuberant energy was the same, but now it was harnessed and his concentration was ferocious. Yes, he was restless at the enforced inactivity, his fingers pulling apart a piece of wastrel bread and rolling the soft dough into perfect and equal balls, but his mind was wholly taken up with the discussion of his bride, and what that would mean for his future power.

Suddenly, astonishingly, a sharp bolt of some unnamed emotion held us. A frisson of something that was more than an understanding, more than a recognition. I did not imagine it. It dried my mouth and … I found myself frowning.

With an apologetic grimace and duck of his head, Henry Plantagenet gave his attention back to the exchange of views, which had increased in intensity.

‘Not only will my son inherit my estates,’ Geoffrey was continuing, ‘but through Matilda, my wife, he has a direct claim to the throne of England.’

Louis continued to be unmoved. ‘Except that your wife’s cousin Stephen is securely on the throne of England with a son to follow after him. I don’t believe there’ll be too many English lords who would raise his sword in the Lady Matilda’s cause.’ He might spend an inordinate length of time on his knees but Louis still
had a finger on the pulse of power in the neighbouring states, courtesy of Abbot Suger.

‘Matilda faces difficulties, I can’t argue against it,’ Geoffrey growled. ‘The English barons are reluctant to cede power to a woman. Unlike the sophistication of Aquitaine, where sex is no obstacle to power.’ He bowed his head to me, a glint in his eye. ‘But Stephen’s claim stands on shaky ground. My son Henry has the legal right and I think England will be open to the man with the weightiest sword. Would you care to venture with me, Majesty? To have your daughter wed to my son, and ultimately be Queen of England?’

Louis laced his fingers thoughtfully and cast his eye over Henry, who returned it, skin heating with the sudden attention.

‘What do you say, Henry Plantagenet?’ Louis asked him directly.

‘I say that by the time the lady, your daughter, is of an age to wed me, I will be King of England.’

I tried not to smile. Such arrogance, such assurance in his own talents. He had the confidence of a man twice his age.

Taken with the thought, Louis narrowed his eyes. ‘I think it has merit.’

‘And I think Her Majesty is not against the match.’

Louis turned slowly, looking beyond Geoffrey to me. ‘Eleanor?’

‘I was gratified to meet with Her Majesty in Poitiers when she travelled there,’ Geoffrey explained, before I
could consider a reply. His smile was as innocent as the skin on a dish of warm milk as he dropped the dangerous little pebble in the pool and waited to see how the ripples would form. ‘We had an exchange of opinion over the possibility—on more than one occasion.’

‘I was not aware,’ Louis said, a crease digging between his brows.

‘Her Majesty was pleased to show me some of her favourite hunting grounds,’ Geoffrey explained. ‘We had excellent sport.’

Well, now. My spine stiffened beneath the layers of linen and silk brocade as a quick shiver ran its length. The Angevin was deliberately playing with fire here and I might be a brand for burning.

‘You were in Poitou when Eleanor was there?’ Louis asked.

‘Indeed, sire.’

Louis’s eyes snapped to mine, and I recognised what I read there. Had I not seen it before? Jealousy, as vital and green as the braiding on Geoffrey’s expensive sleeve. So Geoffrey would make mischief for me, would he? It was no secret that Louis doted on me as a mother hen on her chick. The tale of Marcabru, my much-lamented, banished troubadour, had lost nothing in the telling. So the Count of Anjou would stir that pot of eels for me, would he? I continued to smile but anger—and not a little contempt—began to stir. How dared he sit there, juggling with danger, holding the truth over my head, threatening to allow it to fall on
my neck like a fine-edged sword unless I sided with him. Would he do it? Would he uncover my indiscretion before Louis and the whole court?

Would he accuse me of infidelity unless I sided with Henry as a royal bridegroom?

I took a sip of wine to ease my dry throat.

No. No! Mentally I shook my head as sense took a grip. Of course he wouldn’t. It would be far too dangerous for him—Louis’s vassal discovered in a sinful relationship with his wife. But he thought to threaten me with enough suspicion to cause me harm. Did he truly consider me so weak that I would support him in return for his silence? Fury flared again—that the man I had taken as my lover should put me in this invidious position, and even worse that it was of my own making. He would pay for it. I would make him pay. I summoned my resources and smiled at Louis.

‘I went from Poitou straight to Aquitaine before I returned home, Louis—and so in the expanse of time I probably forgot so trivial a discussion with your Seneschal. And, yes, I believe my lord of Anjou mentioned his hopes over the marriage.’ I allowed my smile to encompass the Angevin, and lifted a shoulder carelessly. ‘But I suppose I forgot that too. No decision could be made without your consent.’

‘You did not tell me.’ Louis’s face was set in obdurate lines.

I lifted a shoulder again, beautifully negligent. ‘When I returned you were taken up with an urge to
go to Outremer. You could talk of nothing else. What point in discussing a marriage of our daughter who is not yet two years old? I thought the plan had merit—an Angevin marriage for Marie, with the prospect of England as well.’ I smiled serenely at Geoffrey. ‘Now I’m not so sure. As you say, Stephen seems to have the upper hand in England.’

It delighted me to watch a shadow of what could only be temper flit through Geoffrey’s eyes, although his face remained carefully expressionless.

‘I see advantages to the match,’ Louis said slowly, avarice replacing suspicion. ‘Marie as Queen of England …’

‘I think it is far too important a decision to be made without deep thought, Majesty.’ For the first time Abbot Suger intervened, had he but known it, as my ally. I could have laughed aloud, but lowered my eyes to my softly clasped hands. ‘I think it would be wise to sleep on it.’

Louis looked thoughtful.

‘Excellent advice,’ I purred.

‘Yes! I will pray for guidance.’ Louis smiled ingenuously at his Seneschal. ‘Dine with us tomorrow, my lord Count. I will give you my reply.’

So he would hold me to ransom, would he? No one would do that, certainly not the Count of Anjou. And if he thought he would find his way to my bedchamber to renew his persuasion in person, he underestimated
me entirely. Was this why he had seduced me in the first place? The idea flirted with my mind, refusing to let go. Had the conquest of his mouth and hands been simply to pull me into compliance with his plans for Angevin aggrandisement?