Текст книги "The Plantagenet Prelude "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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‘You should be guided by my uncle,’ Eleonore warned him. ‘Remember how many men you have lost.’

Louis might have said, Yes, through your folly. If you had obeyed my orders and gone to the plateau we could have been defended as we made our way to you. But he said no such thing. He was glad that her good spirits were restored and that she so obviously reveled in the comforts Antioch had to offer.

He did remind her gently that they had after all come to fight the infidel and restore the Holy City to Christianity.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Eleonore sharply, ‘it would be folly to go on with the enterprise until we are equipped to do so.

Our men have suffered greatly. They need time to regain their health.’

‘And where better than here,’ said Raymond, ‘where they can rest secure among friends?’

Eleonore and Raymond exchanged smiles, and Louis agreed that they must indeed rest for a while. He turned to Raymond. ‘Although I thank you for your hospitality and am indeed grateful for it, you will understand me, I know, when I tell you that I am impatient to conclude my mission.’

‘I understand, of course,’ replied Raymond, ‘but I think the Queen is right when she says you should tarry a while.’

‘God will bless you for your goodness to us,’ answered Louis.

There was a walled garden in the palace. In it was a beautiful fountain in the centre of which was a statue depicting lovers embracing. Eleonore often went to this garden. Raymond knew it and it had become a meeting place.

They walked in it together arm in arm. She liked to feel the pressure of his fingers on her arm.

‘I live in fear,’ he told her, ‘that you will leave us soon.’

‘I will do my utmost to stay.’

‘The King grows restive.’

‘The King!’ There was a note of impatient contempt in her voice which he was quick to notice. It merely confirmed the assessment he had made of their relationship.

‘You should have been the commander,’ he ventured.

‘A woman?’ she asked.

‘A goddess rather.’

‘You say delightful things, Prince Raymond. I wonder if you mean them.’

He turned to face her. ‘Do you really doubt that?’

‘I am not sure.’

‘I would I could convince you.’

‘Perhaps one day you will.’

‘I would that you could stay here...forever.’

‘Forever? That is a long time.’

‘When two people are in such accord as I believe you and I are it does not seem long.’

‘Yes, we are in accord, are we not? I sensed it from the moment we met.’

‘You and I,’ he said. And he bent forward and laid his lips on her forehead. She trembled with a pleasure she had never before experienced.

‘That was a very pleasant uncle’s kiss,’ she said as though reminding him of their relationship.

‘Is it because of the nearness of our kinship that we understand each other so well?’

‘That may be so and we must not forget that kinship.’

‘Why should we remember it?’ he asked.

She was faintly embarrassed and said: ‘Perhaps I have misunderstood.’

‘Nay,’ he cried passionately. ‘You have misunderstood nothing. You know the state of my feelings for you. I lie awake at night wondering about yours for me.’

She said: ‘You are the Prince of Antioch married to Bohemund’s granddaughter. I am the heiress of Aquitaine married to the King of France.’

‘What of that?’

‘And you are my uncle.’

‘I never set much store by laws, did you?’

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Shall we be frank?’

‘Let us be.’

‘There is nothing in my heart that I could not say to you.’

‘Nor is there in mine.’

‘I love you,’ said the Prince of Antioch. ‘You are the most exciting woman I ever met. I would that I had been the King of France. You and I would have been as one. What have you to say to that, my Queen? Will you be equally frank with me?’

‘You are the most exciting man I ever met. I would that you had been the King of France.’

‘Eleonore, then why should we deny ourselves what so clearly belongs to us?’

‘Because...’

‘Because of this close relationship.’

‘Raymond, you are in truth my uncle.’

‘Eleonore, you are in truth my love.’

He embraced her and her resistance fled. She laughed at him. Was she a woman to be bound by laws? She had sung of love, had written of love. Should she be afraid of it when she confronted it in its living form? This was the greatest adventure of her life. Raymond was the hero of romantic songs; Raymond was the lover she had always wanted. She despised the King of France. She loved the Prince of Antioch.

Neither was of a nature to hesitate. All barriers were swept away. That day Eleonore and the Prince of Antioch became lovers in truth.

He rode with her often; now and then they endeavoured to evade the party that they might repair to some secret place which he knew. They made of it a rendezvous. A bower – a small summer house in the grounds of one of his palaces.

His servants knew better than to interrupt him when he was there. Perhaps he had used it many times before with other women. Eleonore did not care. She believed that there was something in their relationship which set it apart from anything else either of them had experienced.

She was twenty-six years of age and he was forty-nine; yet to her he seemed the perfect lover. His experience delighted her; his charm overwhelmed her; constantly she compared him with Louis and deplored a fate which had given her to him.

She was passionately in love, recklessly so. Perhaps one or two people were aware of their relationship, but she did not care.

What if his wife discovered? Eleonore shrugged her shoulders. She knew that this was not the first time Raymond had broken his marriage vows. How could he have known that Eleonore was the one woman in the world for him if he had not had experience with many others? And if Louis discovered what was happening? She snapped her fingers. Let him discover; let him learn that there were real men in the world.

So they met and Eleonore assured herself that everything she had suffered on the road to Antioch had been worthwhile.

He told her he adored her; he could not imagine what his life had been without her. Dull, uninspired, scarcely worth the effort of living.

As they lay in the arbour guarded by Raymond’s servants, the Prince talked to her of his plans to keep her beside him.

‘Louis must be persuaded to stay here,’ he said.

‘He will never do that. He is quite stubborn. He has a fixed idea that he must go to the Holy Land to redeem his sins. He still dreams about Vitry-the-Burned. He will never give up the idea.’

‘Let me tell you of my plans. You will understand readily, I know. I would rather talk to you before I attempt to put my ideas before the King. Perhaps you will be able to make him see reason. We are harassed here continually. We are surrounded by the infidel. The French settlement here is so small that although it consists of brave men it is not enough to hold the land. If we are not stronger, in time we will be overrun by the Saracens. Aleppo is but a short distance from Antioch and here the enemy has his headquarters.

Only by strengthening our holdings here and taking these menacing cities can we assure the Christian influence on this territory, and if we were to lose the one way to the Holy Land it would be closed to Christians.’

‘And you suggest that Louis stays here, that you and he march on the Saracens in Aleppo?’

‘That would be wise. Louis should have taken Constantinople. He could have done it and I believe some of your bishops advised it.’

‘But that was in the hands of Manuel.’

‘The treacherous Greek! He is no friend to us.’

‘You think that he gave false information to Conrad?’

‘I am sure of it. Thus the Germans were almost destroyed.’

‘Then your enemy is as much Manuel the Greek Emperor as the Saracens.’

‘I would like to see him destroyed. You know that the rulers of Antioch are his vassals. I must accept him as my suzerain or he could bring forces superior to anything I could raise and take Antioch out of my hands. I want that man destroyed. I want to make this strip of Mediterranean coast safe for Christians, and free passage to the Holy Land assured for Christian pilgrims.’

‘And you think Louis could help you succeed in this?’

‘He has an army.’

‘Very much depleted.’

‘But fine soldiers. The fact that there is a French army on this soil has put heart into Christians throughout the territory and fear into the infidels. Louis was ambushed but he had before that won a great victory. If he had tried to take Constantinople he could have done so.’

‘And what can I do?’

‘Louis sets great store by you. Everyone talks of his devotion. If you could persuade him to join with me, to postpone his journey to the Holy City, to do the work which is at hand, he would be doing greater service to God than in any other way.’

‘And to us,’ said Eleonore, ‘for we should be together. I would ride with the army. I would be in camp with you.’

Raymond was not sure of that but he remained silent.

‘Speak to Louis,’ he said. ‘Sound him. But do not let him know that I have confided in you.’

She would do it, she promised. She was ready to do anything Raymond suggested; and since the project meant that they would not have to part, she could throw herself wholeheartedly into the project.

She could scarcely endure to have Louis near her. She was constantly comparing him with Raymond. There could not have been two men more unlike. Why did Louis the Fat, King of France, have such a son? Any of his brothers would have been more worthy to be King. One of his brothers, Robert, Count of Dreux, had great ambitions, she had heard. Henry, the next in age to Louis, was the Archbishop of Rheims so he would no doubt be content with his lot.

There was another Philip to replace the one who had been killed by the pig, and Peter. Any of those would have made a better king than Louis. A king whose heart was in the Church was no man to rule a country. Louis had nothing but his piety to recommend him and what a bore that was!

She had held herself aloof from him and was glad that when he was occupied in State affairs he had little desire for physical contact. What a man to have married such a woman as she was! Although she had always known how unsuited they were, she had realised this more fully since her liaison with Raymond. There was a man who was indeed a man. Ruler, lover, everything that she could desire.

She was going to work for him with all her power.

Louis came to their apartment in the beautiful palace which Raymond had put at their disposal, his brow furrowed, clearly thoughtful.

What was disturbing him, she wondered? Some ritual in one of the church processions? He could be enthusiastic enough about them. He was becoming obsessed by religion.

‘Louis,’ she said, ‘how beautiful it is here! How peaceful! Yet at any moment this lovely country could be overrun by infidels.’

He was silent and she went on: ‘It is a pity that such a spot cannot be made safe for Christians.’

‘There is no safety on the road to Jerusalem. That is why a crusade such as ours is fraught with danger.’

‘Then we should make that road safe, Louis.’

‘No,’ said Louis, ‘we should go on to Jerusalem.’

‘But what if this coast were to fall into the hands of the infidel?’

‘The glory would be great for those who tried to wrest it from his hands.’

‘Should not a Christian do the work that is at hand?’

‘He should indeed and our duty is to march on to Jerusalem.’ Louis’s eyes were fanatical. ‘I see us driving the Saracen from the Holy City and making it a stronghold for Christianity for evermore.’

‘That would come later,’ said Eleonore. ‘First should you not make it possible for armies and pilgrims to come this way?’

‘We were brought here by the grace of God.’

‘And given refuge by the grace of the Prince of Antioch.’

‘Whatever has happened, whatever will happen in the future, our duty lies clear before us. We must march on to Jerusalem.’

Having gleaned through Eleonore that Louis was disinclined to accept his schemes, Raymond had no alternative but to call together an assembly to which he invited Louis and his chief advisers.

He laid his schemes before them and spoke passionately of the need to establish a firmer stronghold on the road to the Holy City. He pointed out the proximity of Aleppo, of the numerous infidels who lurked on the route.

The way must be made safe and the Holy City must be restored to Christianity, and until that could be done war must be made on the Saracen. Christians must band together.

The very thought of aggressive war roused a passionate revulsion in Louis. Never as long as he lived would he forget the screams of those dying in the burning church of Vitry.

He would not, he declared, make war until war was made on him.

In vain did Raymond put his case. He could see that he was swaying the priests and the nobles; but Louis remained adamant and the King’s consent was essential to the plan.

In the summer house Raymond discussed the position with Eleonore. ‘Louis is no soldier,’ he said. ‘It is disastrous that he should command an army. He does not understand that it is far more important to make this land Christian, to strengthen our hold on it, than to make a futile pilgrimage to the Holy City.’

‘He is concerned only with obtaining forgiveness of his sins.’

‘What sins could such a man have committed?’

Eleonore laughed. ‘He is a monk in his outlook. He should never have been taken from the Church. And to think that they gave me to such a man.’

‘I wonder he wished to marry.’

‘I think he did not, but when he saw me he was reconciled.’

‘I can understand how you charmed even him. But reconciled! What shame! And you...the Queen of love and song.’

‘As I say he should have been a monk. Reluctantly he went to war and there was this unfortunate incident at Vitry.

As if such things do not occur in every war. I would I were free of him. Since you and I became lovers I have realised more and more how distasteful he is to me.’

Raymond embraced her, but his mind was busy.

Louis had married her because even he had seen that union with Aquitaine was desirable for France. Eleonore must have been the richest heiress in Europe. And although Louis had been given the title of Duke of Aquitaine, Eleonore was still the ruler of that rich land.

Suppose she were free of Louis? Suppose she remained in Antioch? What if he could arrange another marriage for her? Whom could she marry? It was impossible. But why not a divorce from Louis? Some excuse could be found. A close blood tie! That was the usual grounds and so easy to find because the families of most people in their position had been connected with each other at some time if one went back far enough.

His mind was busy as he made love with Eleonore.

It was essential for Raymond to fight this war. He must subdue the infidel; he must escape from the intolerable position of remaining a vassal of the Greek Emperor. Here was his great hope and Louis...ineffectual, monk-like Louis stood in his way. How delighted he was that Louis’s wife was unfaithful to him and with himself – her uncle. How easy it was to understand the simple fellow. A man who hated war and thought little of the profit it could bring his crown! A man who could reproach himself because his soldiers had killed a few women and children! A man who found little pleasure in the act of love and who had only been induced to indulge in it because he hoped to get children and because he had a voluptuous temptress of a wife!

Raymond laughed and set about planning how he could get the better of this king whose refusal to fall in with his plans made it impossible for him to carry them out.

They talked earnestly together...he and Eleonore. They must find a means of keeping her in Antioch.

He understood her far better than she understood him.

He knew that her passion for him was as superficial as his for her. She did not know this. Eleonore, the romantic Queen of the Troubadours, was enamoured of love itself and she saw it as supreme. He did not tell her that since he had been the means of freeing her from irksome convention, she would break away from an accepted mode of behaviour, and nothing would restrain her. But he knew this to be so.

It would not be long before she took another lover.

They parted tenderly. They would not emerge from the arbour together. She should go first.

As she did so she saw a figure detach itself from the bushes. She pretended not to notice but walked on. The man who had emerged from the shadow followed her.

Before she reached the palace she turned and came face to face with him. She laughed derisively.

‘You!’ It was a man she had always despised, Thierry Galeran, a eunuch of immense stature. He was clever and had made his name at the court of Louis the Fat, who had singled him out and made use of his statecraft. It was this King who had recommended Thierry Galeran to his son and Louis had as deep a respect for him as his father had had.

‘For one moment,’ said Eleonore, ‘I had thought you might have planned to seize me for a certain purpose. What a joke! That would have been quite outside your range.’

Galeran bowed. He said: ‘I saw you in the gardens and recognised you, my lady. I thought to offer my service should you need protection.’

‘I need nothing from you,’ she answered shortly.

She hurried into the palace and briefly wondered whether he had seen her enter the arbour. If so would he guess what she had been doing there?

She laughed to herself. ‘Something, my poor eunuch, which you could not understand,’ she murmured.

Galeran retraced his steps to the arbour; it was thus that he came face to face with the Prince of Antioch and he knew at once that the Prince had been the companion of the Queen of France.

Smarting under the Queen’s insult, he debated with himself whether he should inform the King of France of what he had seen. Perhaps it was a little premature. No, he would do nothing as yet, but he would keep a close watch on the Queen.

Since she had broken her marriage vows with Raymond, Eleonore thought often of some of the handsome men who had made advances to her and whom she had rejected.

There was Raoul, Count of Vermandois who had turned in desperation to Petronelle, and was now with the Abbé Suger helping to govern France. She had had a great fancy for him; there was Saldebreuil who was in the hands of the infidel. She thought of him a good deal.

She mentioned to Raymond the fact that many of the best soldiers in Louis’s army had fallen captive to the enemy and how she often wondered what had befallen them.

Obsessed by his great scheme Raymond constantly sought methods of bringing it to fruition. And an idea had occurred to him which on immediate consideration seemed hopeless but on closer consideration less so.

‘There is a Saracen named Saladin who is a prince of some power,’ he told her. ‘He is a man of good looks and a certain culture. I think he might even become a Christian one day.’

‘A Saracen become a Christian! It is unheard of.’

‘Not so, my love. Saracens have become Christians and Christians Saracens for certain considerations. It is not unheard of. But this Saladin is an interesting man. Do you know, I believe if you sent a message to him to the effect that you wished to make a request he would at least listen.’

‘This is what I wish more than anything. I could then make an offer of a ransom and see if I can bring about the return of my good Saldebreuil. Will you help me?’

‘With all my heart. Leave the matter to me.’

The result was that in a very short time there was a message from Saladin. He had heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of the Queen of Troubadours. She wished to make a request to him. He would grant this and ask only one favour in return which she might feel it in her heart to grant him. Would she receive him that he might have the great pleasure of hearing her request from her own lips and of seeing for himself the lady who was so renowned for her grace and beauty.

Such a reply delighted Eleonore. The incident was worthy of one of her own ballads.

If he could come to her she would be delighted to receive him, was her reply.

She told Raymond of the matter.

‘He will have to make his way through a hostile army. How can he do this?’ asked Raymond.

‘He says it is what he will do.’

‘He will risk his life for a glimpse of you and the pleasure of saying a few words to you!’

Yes indeed. This was the kind of romance of which her troubadours sang. She was delighted to find that it existed in real life.

‘He will never reach here,’ said Raymond sadly.

‘He will. I know he will.’

‘I will do all I can to help him. I will send out an escort, and he shall be disguised in such a fashion that no one will recognise him.’

Eleonore was delighted. ‘My dearest Raymond, how good you are to me!’

‘Why should I not be to the one I love?’

Life was exciting, thought Eleonore. This was how it should be lived. Alas, from one day to the next she did not know how long she would stay here. Louis was restive.

Never had she seen him so determined as he was now to go on with his plan. He would not listen to reason. Every day she grew more incensed with him and passionately wished she could end their marriage.

But she would not think of Louis. She would think of this romantic infidel who was going to risk his life to come and see her.

How his dark eyes flashed as he contemplated her! How tall he was! What a warrior!

He spoke a little French, not much, but enough to convey his admiration of her and the effect she had on him.

She was no less impressed by him. He was different from any man she had ever known and the alien quality was irresistible.

She wished to ask a favour of him, he believed. She told him that a man for whom she had some regard was a prisoner in his hands. His name was Saldebreuil de Sanzay. She was ready to offer a substantial ransom for his return. Saladin declared that he would accept no ransom. It was enough that she had made a request. His greatest pleasure would be to grant what she wished.

A messenger should be disguised and sent to the castle where the Frenchman was incarcerated. He should be immediately released and given safe conduct.

‘What a charming gesture,’ cried the Queen. ‘How can I thank you enough.’

She set out to please him. She sang songs of her own composition, songs of love. He listened entranced.

Raymond joined them and seemed delighted that they found such pleasure in each other’s company. How very cultivated her uncle was, thought Eleonore. How different from poor gauche Louis! She and Raymond were lovers, but he saw at once that there could not fail to be a strong physical attraction between herself and the fascinating infidel.

The very fact that he was an infidel added to his attraction. She could not help feeling completely excited in his presence.

Raymond said that he must not attempt to leave the palace for a while. He had traveled far and risked much.

He and Eleonore should have more delightful interviews before he returned to his armies. Raymond would make sure that he was well guarded and that his identity was kept secret. They could rely on Raymond.

When he was alone with Eleonore – Prince Saladin having returned to the secret apartments Raymond had found for him – Raymond said to Eleonore: ‘I have a plan. You may think that it is impossible. If so, do not hesitate to say so. You know I think of nothing but your good.’

‘I know it,’ said Eleonore.

‘You are weary of Louis.’

‘Utterly so.’

‘You would be glad to be free of him.’

‘Nothing could please me more.’

‘Why should you not be free of him? There must be a blood connection between you two. It would not be difficult to trace it. A divorce – and you would be free from Louis.’

‘And then?’

‘Why you could marry someone else.’

‘You are married, my dearest Raymond.’

‘Oh, I had not hoped for that ultimate bliss. What if you found another bridegroom?’

‘Are you suggesting one?’

‘You are greatly taken with our handsome Saladin.’

‘Raymond! You know a marriage between us would be impossible.’

‘I see no reason why.’

‘Saladin...a Saracen!’

‘A remarkably handsome one. A man of power and great wealth. There is no reason why he should not become a Christian.’

Eleonore stared at her uncle. She was thinking of the attractive Saladin and a wild excitement possessed her. He would be so different, so alien and therefore fascinating.

‘If it were possible...’ began Raymond. ‘Imagine if it were possible...’

‘Yes, Raymond.’

‘You would stay here...for a while. You would be ruler with him of great lands.’

‘An infidel!’

‘He would have to become a Christian.’

‘Would he?’

‘For you...I know he would. What great glory would come to you. With your incomparable charms you would achieve what armies cannot do. You can bring Christianity to these infidels. For if Saladin became a Christian so would his people.’

‘And Aquitaine?’

‘My dearest Eleonore, you and he could travel to your dominions now and then. You could spend your lives traveling from place to place which is always a more entertaining way than to stay in one place.’

‘It does not seem impossible.’

‘You do not find him repulsive?’

‘Not entirely so.’

Raymond hid a smile. His voluptuous niece desired the man, and their own relationship had lost the first flush of novelty. He was visualising the outcome of this daring scheme. If she married Saladin who would look after her estates in Aquitaine? Who better than her uncle who after all might have inherited them if he had been the elder brother. Eleonore could enjoy her Saracen and he would go to Aquitaine, for his position in Antioch was very insecure.

And in time Aquitaine would be his. It would suit him very well, for if he were not going to get French help to subdue the Greek Emperor he would need to make other plans.

‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘and you will see it is not as impossible as you at first believed.’

She did think about it. Her mind was full of images. The Saracen was such a handsome man – so tall, dark-skinned with enormous expressive eyes.

Saldebreuil de Sanzay arrived back. She was delighted to see him not because he was a man whom she found charming so much as because his return was a symbol of Saladin’s desire to please her.

Comparing the Saracen with Louis she despised her husband more than ever. So much meditation, so many prayers irritated her and she had no doubt whatsoever that she wished to escape from him.

She loved her uncle but he was after all her uncle and he was getting old. Saladin was young.

The prospect of having a new husband excited her. She would not wish to make the same mistake again. She would not want a half man as she was beginning to think Louis was. What had Louis but his dominions? Strip Louis of his crown and there was not a man at his court whom she would not have preferred.

But Saladin! A Saracen!

Why not? There had been marriages between Christians and Saracens before this. She would test herself. She would see how she felt about marriage with a Saracen. She must be sure that there should be a perfect union between them.

Her manner had changed towards him. She was warmer, more inviting. Saladin was not the man to be blind to her veiled suggestions.

At their next meeting they became lovers. A most exhilarating experience for Eleonore. They lay together afterwards and talked of the possibilities of a marriage. First of course she must rid herself of that tiresome encumbrance, the King of France.

Saladin was dubious of this possibility, but he did not say so. He was eager to please his new and exciting mistress and was ready to indulge in any fantasy she suggested.

Louis was becoming restive. He had tarried long enough in Antioch; he had profited from the respite; he had refitted his army and he was now ready to march on to the Holy City.

This was something Eleonore would not tolerate. She was how deeply absorbed in her love affair with Saladin. She believed that she could happily marry him and remain in this area not far from her beloved uncle.

Louis paced up and down in their bedchamber. Eleonore lay in bed watching him, noting his lack of physical charm, comparing him with Saladin and Raymond.

‘Within a week I intend to move on,’ Louis was saying. ‘I have delayed here long enough.’

‘You were glad enough to get here.’

‘Indeed I was after all our troubles, but we have tarried long enough and must move on now.’

‘You are wrong. You should stay here.’

‘For what purpose?’

‘My uncle has explained the need to fight the infidel here.’

Louis looked weary. ‘It is something I have decided against.’

‘Why? Because you are afraid to fight? Because you are only half a man?’

He looked at her sadly. She had shown so often – and particularly of late – that she despised him.

‘You know the reason,’ he said. ‘I have come on a crusade. I do not intend to use my armies in other wars.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Are you a king in truth?’

‘You know I am the King of France and you the Queen. It would become you to behave as such.’

Was this an implication that he knew of her adventures? She would rather boldly confess to her indiscretions than that he should discover and think she had sought to hide them.

‘It is clear to me,’ she said, ‘that you and I should never have married.’

‘Never have married! Ours was a marriage which was highly approved both in France and Aquitaine.’

‘I have much to bring you. You had something to give me. That in itself was not displeasing. But as man and woman, Louis, you must know that we are quite unsuited.’

‘As King and Queen we must agree to suit each other.’

‘Why so?’

He looked astonished. ‘How could it be otherwise?’

‘There is such a thing as divorce.’

‘Divorce! You cannot be serious. The King and Queen of France divorced!’

‘I see no reason why a marriage which is unsuitable and distasteful should be continued.’

‘Distasteful?’

‘To me...yes! I want a man for a husband not a monk. Let us have a divorce. I will marry again and you can go back to the Church. That is an admirable solution for us both.’

‘I do not think you can be speaking seriously.’

‘I am deadly serious. I have had enough of this, Louis. I want my freedom.’

‘You would give up the crown of France?’

‘It does not mean so much to me, and you, Louis, will have to give up Aquitaine.’