Виктория Холт - The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine

We had to entertain our guests in a royal manner and I was determined to show the French that we in Aquitaine lived as graciously as they. But though I arranged banquets and tournaments, Louis took little part, though the Counts of Champagne and Vermandois distinguished themselves. I watched Petronilla. Her eyes were on Raoul of Vermandois. I thought: I really do believe she has fallen in love with him.

I had discovered certain facts about Raoul. He was married to the niece of the Count of Champagne. Of course, I told myself, Petronilla was young and frivolous. I remembered my own infatuation for my uncle Raymond. That had been intense while it lasted. I believed Petronilla would be more reckless than I, and I guessed that she had inherited our grandfather’s sensual nature. I had myself inherited that nature to a certain degree but I had always been imbued with the love of power, and I thought that would prevent my being carried away by my emotions.

Meanwhile I was interested in Louis. I had to be if I were to spend the rest of my life with him.

I was pleasantly pleased. Not that I was by any means in love with him. Perhaps I did not want to be. I wanted to be in command, and being in love might prevent that. I saw that I could make Louis my slave. He was inclined to be puritanical. Poor boy, fancy being in the care of Abbot Suger all those years! I could imagine what that had been like. He would have led the secluded life of a monk ... prayers, austerity, discomfort ... And suddenly to be snatched from that sequestered life and brought out into the activities of the Court ... and not as an obscure member of it but as its future King. No wonder he looked bewildered half the time. If what I had heard of his father’s health was true, it would not be long before the crown rested on Louis’ head; and now he had to be a husband.

I was not sure which would be giving him the greater qualms.

But his shyness certainly endeared him to me and I was beginning to think that I liked him better the way he was than I should have if he had been a man of the world like Vermandois. I knew that gentleman’s type well. I had seen so many of them at my grandfather’s Court. They were exciting, true; but they were not to be trusted.

So, on the whole, I was grateful for Louis. I would look after him as I looked after Petronilla. I would mold him to my way of thinking. I would make of him the husband best suited to myself.

Our wedding day arrived. It had been decided that there was no point in delay.

It was a hot July Sunday and Bordeaux was en fte. Even the smallest houses had banners hanging from them, and the people had been crowding into the streets since dawn. All over town bells were ringing.

Louis and I rode through the streets amid the cheers of the people. They shouted for me. I was their Duchess. For Louis they had curious stares. He was the son of the King of France, but what was France to Aquitaine? Still, it was a good marriage. I was young and female and there should be strong men to protect Aquitaine now. They had to remember that France was the sovereign state and even prosperous Aquitaine was a vassal to its King.

So we stood before Archbishop Lauroux and made our vows. The golden diadems were placed on our heads. We were Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine and heirs to the throne of France.

As soon as the wedding banquet was over we left Bordeaux for our journey to Paris. At Taillebourg we were to spend the first night of our marriage.

As a girl I had listened to many songs of such occasions, and this was perhaps an advantage for I was more prepared than Louis. I saw at once that it was I who must take charge and teach him. He was extremely nervous, having some garbled idea of what was expected of him, but he was in no way certain how he must go about it. I had to guide him.

I was rather proud of the manner in which I was able to do this. The act of love came naturally to me. As I suspected, I was meant to enjoy it and I did. I knew at once that, even with my stumbling Louis, marriage suited me.

Louis was extremely grateful. I had been tender and tactful. I was a year younger than he, but I might have been several years older and compared with him I was worldly. I think I had been born sophisticated. From the age of two I had been precocious, and of course those first five years in my grandfather’s Courts had made a deep impression on me.

Louis changed overnight. He admired me. Not only was I beautiful beyond his imaginings, not only had I brought him rich Aquitaine, but I had made him see that marriage was not so fearful after all. There was even some enjoyment to be gleaned from it.

The marriage was a success.

We were in Poitiers for a few days, and there we were to be consecrated Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine at a very impressive ceremony.

It was pleasant to be in that castle which—much as I had loved the Ombrire Palace at Bordeaux—had always been my home. Dangerosa was there and it was wonderful to go into the Maubergeonne Tower and talk to her. She wanted to hear all about the wedding and I was able to talk to her frankly about my relationship with Louis.

She was amused. She said it was a pity that the fat King of France did not see fit to teach his son a little of the ways of the world instead of so much about those of Heaven. “Time enough for that when you get there,” she added.

She was still the same Dangerosa who had delighted me in my childhood and my grandfather in the last days of his life.

We were now going to entertain the company at Poitiers and she must help me.

“We have to show the French that we can do better than they can,” I told her.

“We shall. What do they think of us so far?”

“We shock them a little. Our dresses ... our gaiety ... our women. They think we should be a little more demure. And what they think of our songs, I cannot imagine. I believe they think we should be more subtle.”

“We will shock them even more. I will tell the minstrels to sing our most bawdy songs.”

“I don’t think my Louis would be amused by that.”

“What a pity your grandfather is not here to see this.”

“Louis is not like my grandfather.”

“Nobody on Earth ever was.”

“No. But I am rather pleased with my young Louis.”

“Then I rejoice with you. Let us plan how we shall entertain them. Does he love the chase?”

“I think he loves best meditation and prayer.”

“I hope he does not engage too much in those habits in the bedchamber.”

“I think he is just a little eager to be in bed with me.”

Dangerosa laughed. Then she looked wistful—thinking of my grandfather, I guessed.

While we were at Poitiers I arranged a hunting expedition for Louis and some of the men. An unfortunate incident occurred—or perhaps not so unfortunate, for it gave me a different view of Louis. One of the castellans of the duchy, a certain Lezay, who had often been in conflict with my father and was always stirring up some mischief, had refused to pay homage to Louis as Duke of Aquitaine, and when the party went out on the hunt, Lezay with a few followers waylaid them and set upon them. It may well have been that they planned to take Louis hostage. However, Louis, it seemed, had a side to his nature which I had not suspected. He had a violent temper and when it was aroused—which was rarely—he was quite unable to control it.

He turned on his would-be captors and slew several of them. Lezay, unfortunately, managed to escape. The party returned to the castle with the tale of how they had been attacked and how, largely through Louis, they had routed Lezay and his men.

Louis told me his version of the affair after. “When they attacked us, I was seized with a fury which was uncontrollable. I just drew my sword and slashed at them. I am afraid I killed several of them.”

“They deserved it. I’m proud of you.”

“Such rage is not pleasing to God. I should have controlled my anger.”

“And stood by and let them slay you! No, Louis. It is no use your pretending you are not a hero. You are. And I intend to treat you as such.”

He was very pleased that I should admire him, but I could see that his conscience still troubled him, and he was on his knees for a long time that night before getting into bed, though I was there waiting, propped up on my pillows, looking, I knew, most alluring.

His upbringing could never be completely eradicated. Even I, with all my wiles, could not do that. But I did not give up hope.

It was a glittering ceremony which took place in the cathedral at Poitiers when Louis and I were consecrated as Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine.

Afterward we went back to the castle for a banquet, and we were feasting merrily when Suger came into the hall.

He strode to where Louis was seated and fell on his knees.

Louis rose to his feet and I saw his color fade. He knew what this meant.

“Long live the King,” said Suger, kissing Louis’s hand.

Poor Louis! He had only just become accustomed to a wife and now a crown was being thrust at him—neither of these had he wanted, although he was becoming reconciled to his wife. The unwelcome crown was going to weigh heavily on his head.

As for myself, a great triumph was rising in me.

I had just been proclaimed Duchess of Aquitaine and now I had become Queen of France.

PARIS IS A FASCINATING city. I have never known one like it. When I knew it, it stood on a crowded island in the River Seine. Parts of the wall which the Romans had built around it remained, and where it had fallen away steps had been made down to the river, making a landing-place for the numerous craft. Two bridges connected the Ile de la Cit with the banks of the Seine and that extension of the city which was fast expanding.