Devil's Consort (51 page)

My anger was so strong my hands shook with it as I threw a silver goblet against the wall of my bedchamber. The resulting dents in the precious metal gave me no comfort at all.

I had no idea where Geoffrey spent the night. If he sought me out at all, he would have found my rooms empty, for I spent the hours at Louis’s side in Notre Dame in a night vigil. Yes, I actually did that. How slowly the minutes passed. How cold it was. I yawned and fidgeted and had to force myself to stay awake, but it was a valuable exercise. Louis and I prayed together for divine guidance in the matter of our daughter’s husband. Surprised at my presence, Louis was warmly grateful and reassured of my loyalty.

Yes, I prayed, but not quite along lines that Louis would approve. I spent those night hours in meticulous planning, and in a measure of self-blame over that turbulent autumn liaison when I had allowed desire to overcome good sense. I should not have mistaken the intentions of the Angevin. A queen must never put herself into the hands of a subject.

Returning to my chamber at dawn, I dressed with care and sent Agnes with a message.

‘Tell my lord Abbot that I need a moment of his time.
And tell him that it might be politic if His Majesty was kept in the dark—for the time being.’

We had a most informative discussion, Abbot Suger and I, in which a copy of a certain document exchanged hands. Abbot Suger’s reluctant compliance became overlaid with enthusiasm. An unlikely ally but in extremis I would work with God’s thorn in my flesh.

I admitted to a sense of pride in my plotting. Declaring war on the Angevin, I would play to win. A pity that it would mean the end of Henry’s hopes to wed Marie. He would have made an admirable husband.

We dined. Privately. Should I mention that I wore emeralds? Not the single jewel of Geoffrey’s gift but a heavy chain of gold set with more than a dozen of them, shining in baleful glory. I saw them take Geoffrey’s eye. I was aware of a tension in him lurking below the well-mannered exterior, and from the beginning he left me in no doubt of his intentions.

‘Majesty. You are more beautiful than the songs of the troubadours.’ And then the sting of the snake’s tongue. ‘You shine brilliantly in this dark setting, far more dazzling than when I recall you in the golden warmth of Poitou.’ How innocent of malice he appeared, hiding the venomous snake that would swallow me whole. ‘The emeralds become you, Majesty.’

‘Do they not? And so many of them! A gift from my husband on the occasion of Marie’s birth.’ I smiled at the Angevin snake and then across at Louis.

‘Eleanor is worth all the wealth of my kingdom.’ Gratified, Louis touched my hand. It took so little effort on my part to gratify him.

‘The Lady’s reputation goes before her.’ Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, confident of his imminent victory. ‘The marriage, Your Majesty. Have you considered it?’

‘I have. Prayed over it throughout the night. With Eleanor at my side.’ I felt the slide of Geoffrey’s sardonic expression in my direction. ‘I’m of a mind to give my consent.’

‘An excellent decision.’ Geoffrey all but rubbed his hands together. ‘Do we draw up an agreement for when the infant is older?’

‘No, my lord.’ It was the quietest of interjections. ‘The marriage is not viable.’

Geoffrey froze. Louis looked startled, Henry interested. I feigned total ignorance.

‘It is not appropriate that our princess marry the Angevin boy.’ Still low and even, Abbot Suger’s voice held the authority of Almighty God. ‘I will not countenance it, Majesty. Neither will the Church.’

Irritation rapidly replaced Louis’s amazement. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Yes. A problem. And after past history you should be aware of it, sire.’

‘Speak up, man.’

‘It is Her Majesty …’ Abbot Suger inclined his head to me ‘ … and Lord Henry. A matter of consanguinity.
They are related in the third degree. They share a common ancestor. It is too close for marriage between the two young people.’

Louis’s hands clenched on the table edge as if an arrow had pierced his gut, his voice strangled in his throat. ‘I’ve had my bellyful of consanguinity.’

‘Indeed, sire!’ Suger fixed him with a stern expression. ‘It would not be politic for you to cross Holy Mother Church—again.’

‘And this can be proved?’ I asked in spectacular astonishment.

‘Indeed, lady. Proved beyond doubt—by an eminent scholar.’

Of course it had been. Had I not informed him of the connection myself? What a valuable hour the Abbot and I had spent with the Bishop of Laon’s document between us. Now I listened as the worthy Abbot set himself to explain with pompous exactitude, not needing to do anything other than continue to appear surprised, that I was related by some distant connection back through Duke William of Normandy and his whore Herleva to Henry Plantagenet. Suger had learned his script well, his voice clipped and assured.

Barely listening to the complicated lines of descent, I allowed my eyes to flicker to Geoffrey. He did not seem in any way disturbed by this. For a moment he met my gaze and then smiled at Louis.

‘I’ll not dispute it. But dispensations have been sought and acquired for such in the past. Think, Majesty.’ He
spread his fine hands on the cloth. ‘You are going crusading. The journey is long and the dangers great, life is cheap. If you don’t survive the Crusade, your daughter is barred from the French succession through Salic law. Now, if she’s betrothed to my son, we might manage to weasel around such legislation. Henry and the little princess would rule France and Anjou together. And, with God’s will, England too in the fullness of time.’

Again I saw the shine in Louis’s eyes at the unfolding of such an extent of land. ‘France and England united. And Aquitaine, of course.’

‘No, sire.’ There was Abbot Suger, reliable as ever, drawing Louis’s attention back from the gleam of avarice. ‘No Angevin should be King of France. Get yourself a male heir, sire. How would our barons accept the prospect of this manner of circumventing Salic law? Rebellion on our hands—and you out of the country … Such a marriage is not permissible through the teaching of Holy Scripture. I don’t need to remind you of it, do I?’

For a moment I saw Louis’s face darken in anger against the hectoring tone of his minister. Now was the time for some careful intervention. I pulled on Louis’s sleeve.

‘My lord. If you are in any doubt over this …’ I let a little smile curve my lips as I angled a glance at Geoffrey. He thinks I’m going to push Louis into Angevin arms. He thinks I’m going to throw my weight behind this increase in Angevin power. By God, I won’t do it!’I
want only the best for our daughter. But you know it cannot be. Do you not realise where the strongest voice will be in opposition to such an alliance? Abbot Bernard himself. He has no truck with consanguinity. He will condemn it—and he’ll condemn you too if you allow it to go any further.’

Louis struggled with indecision and anger in equal measure.

‘Does the King of France bow before the dictates of the Abbot of Clairvaux?’ Geoffrey needled.

My fingers tightened on Louis’s plain wool. ‘You know you must not become inveigled into the trap of consanguinity again, my lord. You remember how it ended last time.’

Vitry-le-Brule. Excommunication. I was very sure of my ground here. And for Louis? It was the final straw. His narrow features hardened and he all but choked the words.

‘Vitry. Of course. I have decided, my lord Count. I will not give my consent.’

Thank God. I had won. It had been balanced on a knife-edge but I had done it.

To give him his due, the Angevin kept his disappointment well hidden. His nostrils flared, his mouth was thin-lipped, but his reply was even. ‘I regret your decision, my lord.’ But I was in no mood for admiration. Time now to twist the knife. I would risk all on the Angevin’s unwillingness to betray either of us. I would accept his challenge and prove I had nerves to
match his. Did he truly think of me as a foolish woman, gulled into believing my reputation in danger?

‘My lord of Anjou,’ I informed Louis dispassionately, ‘has expressed his reluctance to join the weight of his forces with ours in the Crusade. Perhaps you could add your voice to mine and persuade him?’

Pleased to escape the previous quagmire, Louis looked suitably shocked. ‘Not go to fight for Christ?’ How desperately predictable he was. How easy to manoeuvre. ‘Every Christian lord should answer the call to take up the Cross.’

Geoffrey inclined his head stiffly. ‘I must not. I have to protect my interests in Anjou and Normandy. If I take my troops to Outremer, I cannot guarantee peace at home—which would be in no one’s interest. And I have my duties in Poitou—’

‘I would have thought your family obligations would have swayed you, my lord,’ I interrupted.

Louis brows knit. ‘What’s that?’

‘My lord of Anjou’s half-brother, Lord Baldwin …’ How satisfying this was. If it came to duplicity, Geoffrey had met more than his match in me. ‘The Lord Baldwin is King of Jerusalem. And so will come under direct attack from the Infidel if we do not stop them.’ I looked at the Count, wide-eyed. ‘Louis and I go to safeguard my father’s brother Raymond of Poitiers in Antioch. Would you not do the same for your brother? Would you not, in God’s holy name, fight to keep your brother from possible death?’

The Count’s fingers clenched round the cup before he eased them out. ‘I fear not.’

‘I think you should reconsider.’ Louis was now doubly shocked.

‘I cannot.’

It was only a hairsbreadth short of rudeness

‘If Count Geoffrey is concerned for his duties as Seneschal of Poitou …’ My concern was magnificent, my gaze lambent. I lingered on the pause, looking from Louis to the Angevin and back again. ‘We could appoint another seneschal for Poitou if the Count wishes to take up his obligations in the Holy Land. Do reconsider, my lord of Anjou. We would value your company with us. What is earthly power—a mere Seneschal of Poitou—in the balance with God’s approval and the promise of reward in heaven? There are other men I would trust with Poitou in your stead if you felt God’s call.’

At last I smiled directly into Geoffrey of Anjou’s bland, furiously governed face.

What a beautiful, not-so-thinly-veiled little threat.

After that, the meal came to an unsurprisingly abrupt end. The Count of Anjou’s manner was tight with anger as he left the chamber with the briefest show of respect. I thought I had made an enemy there but it did not disturb me. His son managed a more respectable bow and I thought his eyes sought out mine before he strode after his father to the door.

I would not comply, turning my back on the pair of
them, nothing but two ruthless, self-serving wolves, with nothing to choose between them.

And yet I found myself regretting Henry Plantagenet’s disappointment—but he was young and would find another bride who would bring him power and status, even if he did not achieve it for himself. I thought he would. It was a marriage I would have liked for my daughter, but not at the cost of my freedom to choose.

The outcome for me was entirely satisfying. How I enjoyed it.

The Angevins departed, with nothing to keep them longer. Returned to my cold existence, I was left to bury myself once again in crusading matters, with my own consanguinity lurking on the edge of my consciousness, pricking at me like a spur. Geoffrey’s emerald? I took it from my jewel casket, handling it with distaste, on a whim holding it out to Agnes.

‘Take it.’ I smiled at the surprise on her face. ‘In recompense for all you do for me. It will go well with the russet of your gown, and I have too many jewels to wear.’

I held it out on the palm of my hand, so that it glinted in the light with the fire as only emeralds could. Then, before she could take it, I closed my fingers over it.

‘Majesty?’

‘No.’ I lifted a string of agates from the box instead. ‘No, these will be better. The gold and brown will be more becoming to your colouring.’

As Agnes accepted with a curious glance, I replaced the emerald in the little coffer. I would keep it—but I would not wear it again. I would keep it as a warning against deceitful men who would use and manipulate. I had come off best, but it did not do to be complacent. I remembered the boy’s cunning placement of the chess pieces. A knight to take a queen? Never!

I would never put myself in so invidious a position again.

The final result, apart from Count Geoffrey’s ignominious defeat, amused me, filled me with exhilaration. Eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, so it’s said. I wouldn’t dispute it, but still I got my own way.

‘Your Majesty.’ Abbot Suger was addressing Louis as I stepped into one of the audience chambers, and he continued unaware. ‘I have reconsidered. I think you should take her Majesty with you to Outremer.’

‘I thought you opposed me over it.’

‘I did, Majesty. Now I think it would be best for all of us if she were with you, under your eye.’

‘Well, if you think—’

‘I do. You can’t trust her at home alone. Take her with you, Majesty.’

I pretended not to hear, and by the time I’d reached Louis’s side, they were discussing some minor point of finance.

All in all, a neat little victory. Over Anjou. Over
Abbot Suger and Louis. I had got my way and I was going to Outremer.

With grateful condescension, I congratulated the Abbot on his appointment as Regent in our absence. I suppose he deserved some recompense.

T
HE
Angevins were forgotten. The moment of my liberation grew closer, minute by minute. What a glorious adventure it would be. The bells tolled until their vibrations beat painfully against my ears like the throb of a military drum. Once again I stood in the abbey church of Saint-Denis. Once again Louis approached the altar, and as before the heat and emotion pressed down on us. Today he was clad in a black pilgrim’s tunic, the red cross of the crusader emblazoned on his breast, as it was on hundreds of others around me.

It was over twelve months since Abbot Bernard had preached the Crusade at Vezelay. How long does it take to muster an army and all its accoutrements? Far longer than any of us had expected. Now we were ready, the army gathered, the retinues assembled, the baggage carts pulled by oxen packed and repacked. Around me the church blazed with thousands of candles. Banners
and gonfalons shivered in the air from every surface. It was an awe-inspiring occasion—if only it would end and we could get on with it. I would be in my dotage, my hair grey-streaked, before we set foot out of Paris at this rate.