He sighed and allowed her to lead him to the bed. She fetched a small vial of scented oil from a wall niche and bade him remove his gown and shirt. His skin was pale and smooth, cool as marble. She set about the task with slow sweeps of her palm. ‘Will this new Pope sanction Raoul’s annulment, do you think?’

‘I do not know,’ he said into his folded arms. ‘He has lifted the interdict, but there are factions who continue to press him to hold firm. There is a meeting tomorrow at Saint-Denis with Suger and Bernard of Clairvaux to discuss matters.’

‘And what of de la Châtre and Bourges?’

She felt him tense under her hands. ‘There is no news on that. I swore my oath, and they know where I stand.’

She continued to knead and smooth and said casually, ‘If you accepted de la Châtre, it would take the wind out of their sails and we could go forward.’

‘You would have me go back on my sworn word?’ He twisted to look up at her, his eyes bright with anger. ‘You would have me glide through all this like a false serpent? I have so sworn and that is the end of it.’

Alienor thought he was being foolish and stubborn, but she was trying to gentle his mood. ‘Of course you must do what you think fit,’ she soothed. She kissed his ear and his neck and worked her way down his back, under his shirt.

He turned over and with a groan put his arms around her and began to kiss her. She kissed him back and loosened her braids, shaking them out in a tumble of golden twists. Her loins were heavy with a dull ache. She knew she would conceive from this. She could feel the seed within her body, ripe and waiting. Louis rubbed his face against hers, and she felt the prickle of his beard. He pressed himself against her and unfastened the laces at the sides of her dress to put his hands inside. They rolled on the bed, pulling clothing out of the way, gasping between kisses. Alienor tugged off her gown and swiftly followed it with her chemise so that she was naked except for her stockings, tied with blue silk garters. Louis, still in hose and braies, ran his eyes over her; he licked his lips. His pale complexion was flushed with lust. She lay back, parting her thighs for him.

‘Louis, come to me,’ she said. ‘Make us a child.’

He fell upon her, his hips bucking and thrusting. She reached down to free him and guide him home, felt him firm and hard as she stroked him. He groaned at her touch, but as she opened to him, he suddenly became flaccid and soft in her hand.

‘Louis?’

He pushed her aside and rolled away. When she reached for him, he struck at her. ‘Let me be with your whore’s tricks!’ He stuffed his failure back into his braies and, almost weeping, threw on his tunic and strode from the room.

Alienor sat up and covered her face with her hands. She could smell him on her fingers. What was she going to do? How could she reach him? If this state of affairs continued her position as queen would become untenable. And, as much as she loved Petronella, she wanted her own offspring to rule Aquitaine after her, not those sired by Raoul de Vermandois. Wearily she sought her chemise and gown. Perhaps Petronella’s jesting was right. Perhaps she ought to dress as a nun … or a Templar.

‘God does not love me, but I have ever striven to obey him,’ Louis said to Suger, his voice echoing between the carved pillars of the new ambulatory in the abbey church of Saint-Denis. Behind him the light from the magnificent stained-glass arches strewed the tiled floor with jewelled luminescence. He sat down on a bench and rubbed his hands over his tonsure.

Suger had come from contemplation in his cell to attend on Louis, who had arrived on a lathered horse in a state of agitation. ‘Why do you say you do not have God’s love, my son? Is it because of this meeting tomorrow? Is that what bothers you?’

Louis shook his head. ‘No,’ he said bleakly. ‘That will just be more talk of the kind I have heard many times over.’ He swallowed, struggling to say the words. ‘It is because … because I cannot procreate with the Queen. I am cursed and robbed of my purpose as a king and a man.’ He raised a tormented gaze to Suger. ‘I swore a public oath that de la Châtre would never cross the threshold of Bourges Cathedral as its archbishop. Do you think that oath is the reason for my failure? The Queen suggested I should rescind my vow, but how can I do that when I made it before God?’

Suger frowned at him. ‘What prevents you from procreating with the Queen?’

Louis flushed. ‘I cannot … cannot perform the deed,’ he muttered. ‘When I go to her, it is with every intention of begetting a child, but my body refuses to obey my will – sometimes in the final moment. It is God’s punishment.’

Suger laid a firm hand on Louis’s shoulder. ‘Then you must ask for God’s help and mercy, and so must the Queen. He will show you the way if only you ask Him with an open heart.’

‘I have asked.’ Louis’s voice grew querulous. ‘I have prayed and made offerings, but He has not answered.’ He leaned forward, clasping his hands. ‘Perhaps it is her fault,’ he said, his mouth twisting. ‘Perhaps she has done something to anger God. After all, she was the one who miscarried of our child.’

‘That is for her conscience, not yours,’ Suger said neutrally. ‘For yourself, I tell you to lay yourself open to God’s will with true humility and intent, and accept His chastisement if it be necessary. I will do what I can for you – as I always have.’ He transferred his hand to Louis’s dishevelled tonsure in a tender gesture. ‘However, perhaps the Queen is right. If you show your humility by agreeing to let Pierre de la Châtre take his place as Archbishop of Bourges, it will ease the pressures on you and on France, and that in turn will lead to greater harmony in your life. I will pray for you and ask God to look with favour upon you and the Queen.’ He added after a moment, ‘It will do no harm for you and the Queen to show humility and respect to Abbé Bernard. He is a terrible enemy but a powerful ally, and it is in your interests to wean him away from Theobald of Champagne.’

Louis began to feel a little better. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I will think on your advice.’ He raised his gaze to the glorious windows. Their shining clarity gave him tenuous hope and inspiration. Suger always knew what was for the best.

Alienor held the rock-crystal vase between her hands. Although she cupped it securely, she still imagined dropping it and watching it shatter on the tiled floor like ice smashed on a frozen pond.

Louis had suggested they should present it to Suger as a dedication gift to the new church of Saint-Denis. He was fired up with enthusiasm, and it was as if last night’s tearful rage had never happened.

‘It will be a fitting place to keep it,’ he said.

‘And Suger has long coveted it.’

‘It was not his notion, but mine.’ Louis sent her a sharp look. ‘I saw the light shining through the windows and I wondered what I could give that would be fitting for a dedication. I thought this might cause God to shine His light on us and give us a child.’

The overcast daylight painted the vase in varying shades of white and pale grey, revealing none of the subtle, heavenly fire. Alienor had the feeling that it would never do so again in her hands. Remembering that she was loved was difficult indeed. She had always known Suger would eventually claim it, but what did it matter? Whatever it took to render Louis capable of performing his duty, she would embrace. If the vase could accomplish such as miracle, it was worth the price. ‘As you wish,’ she said. ‘Whatever you deem necessary.’ She gave it to him, just as she had done in Bordeaux, with equal care, but the feeling was different now – flat rather than optimistic.

Louis took it carefully and for a moment their fingers overlapped. Then he withdrew. ‘I am going to break my oath, and allow Pierre de la Châtre to assume his position as Archbishop of Bourges,’ he said.

She looked at him.

His mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It is a great shame for a king to break his word, but I have no choice. I have done all I can, but it is like beating my fists against a solid castle wall until my hands are worn down to the bleeding bones.’

‘In exchange for that, at the very least, we should have the ban lifted on Raoul and Petronella’s marriage,’ she said quickly.

‘That will be open to negotiation,’ he replied in a way that told her not to expect a positive outcome. ‘I expect you to do your part in this too.’ Holding the vase as carefully as he might hold an infant, he left the chamber.

Alienor sighed, and then drew herself upright. She would not shirk what had to be done. And Louis might have finished beating his fists against walls, but there were other subtler means of taking castles down.


21

Paris, June 1144

The dedication of the refurbished and extended basilica church of Saint-Denis, burial place of the Kings of France, took place on 11 June and drew crowds of worshippers from all across France. The small town of Saint-Denis had grown fields of tents overnight. Every lodging house bulged at the seams, and every guest house within a twenty-mile radius was packed with visiting travellers. Everyone was eager to see the remodelled church, its glittering interior said to resemble a bejewelled reliquary built to house the presence of God. Even the mortar was flecked with gemstones.

Alienor had slept in the abbey lodging house, while Louis had spent his own night in vigil with Suger, the monks of the abbey and various ecclesiastics, including thirteen bishops and five archbishops.

Alienor had shared the guest room with her mother-in-law, who had travelled from her dower lands for the ceremony. The women had been civil but cold with each other. They had not shared company since the Christmas feast, and that at least made tolerance possible. Adelaide eyed Alienor’s ruby silk dress with a slight curl of her lip as if she found it garish and distasteful, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Nor did she mention Petronella and Raoul, although the very absence of the subject was like a dark hole in the middle of the conversations they did have. Petronella and Raoul were absent because they were excommunicate and not permitted to enter a church.