‘By all means let us hear what the Pope has to say,’ Louis said. ‘We must be ruled by God’s holy law.’ He took her arm to lead her to a couch and commanded a servant to pour wine into a rock-crystal cup.

Thierry remained standing behind Louis. ‘We were all deeply sorry and shocked to learn of the death of the Prince of Antioch,’ he said in his smooth, cold voice. ‘We heard he fought bravely, even if he brought death upon himself by his folly.’

Alienor felt as if Thierry was twisting the knife. She could sense the hatred emanating from beneath his cool, urbane exterior, but hers was a match for it. ‘Had we kept our promise to help him, he would not have been put in that position,’ she said. ‘I hold you responsible.’

‘Me? Ah, come now, madam.’ Thierry bowed and gave a supercilious half-smile. ‘I did not send him out into the desert to make camp in the open; that was entirely his own choice and a poor commander’s decision.’

‘As were your own at Damascus. Had you marched on Aleppo, my uncle would be alive now.’

‘Alienor, you know nothing of the business of war,’ Louis warned.

‘And you do? All I have ever seen of you and warfare is one disaster after another as you are led by the nose by your so-called advisers. I do not have to be a man to know strategy. You left my uncle no choice. His blood is on your hands.’

Louis flushed under her scathing assault. Thierry recoiled as if he had been struck by a snake. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Your uncle did have a choice and he made the wrong one and it cost him his head. I understand the emir Shukira struck it from his shoulders and had it embalmed and borne in a silver casket to the Caliph of Baghdad as a trophy.’

Alienor sprang to her feet and dashed her wine in Thierry’s face. ‘You misbegotten whoreson! Get out, get out now! How dare you!’

Thierry gave her a look that flashed daggers. ‘I am sorry, madam, I thought you knew all of the circumstances.’

‘Then there was no need to tell me now except to gloat.’

‘Leave us, Thierry,’ Louis said. ‘Go and wipe your face.’

De Galeran compressed his lips, bowed to Louis, narrowed his eyes at Alienor, and left the room, his great cloak sweeping behind him.

‘Why do you keep him by you?’ Alienor was shaking. ‘He poisons everything he touches. You let him whisper in your ear; he slept in your tent and in your bed all the time we were travelling on crusade while you barred me from ever entering.’

‘He cares for my welfare in ways you could not begin to understand,’ Louis said, and there was an almost bleak note in his voice.

‘Indeed that is true,’ Alienor said bitterly. ‘And he makes you less of a king because of it, and even less of a husband. With his advice you made the decision to go to war against Damascus and you let others pay the cost. All that you lost was the final shreds of your reputation as a leader of men. They will remember my uncle as a hero; they will remember you as a weakling under the sway of others who pulled you in all directions and warped your spirit out of true. And I shall never forgive you for the decisions you made that led to his death. Never, for as long as I live.’

‘Madam, enough.’ Louis set his shoulders. ‘You wonder why I barred you from my tent – then look no further than your behaviour. I thought I might find you in a mood for conciliation after all we have endured on our journeys, but that is plainly not the case.’

‘Why should you think that?’ Suddenly she was weary – exhausted with the futility of it all. ‘Neither of us has changed. I have no wish to continue this conversation. I am going to pray for my uncle’s soul, that it may find peace. There will be none for me.’

She left him standing in the chamber, clenching and unclenching his fists. Thierry was standing by the door waiting to go back in to Louis. He had wiped his face, but his hair was still wet at the front and she could smell the wine on him. She was afraid of him and hated him at the same time.

‘You deserve no mercy for what you have done,’ she said in a shaking voice. ‘God sees all and you will be judged.’

He bowed to her with a cynical flourish. ‘As shall we all. I do not fear His judgement when all I have done is to protect my king and serve my God.’

‘Truly you are sick in mind and deed,’ she said.

He gave her a look filled with venom. ‘Believe what you will, madam. I know what God tells me about the Serpent and the Whore of Babylon. I am the one with the King’s ear. What power do you have?’ He entered Louis’s chamber and closed the door behind him.

Alienor clenched her fists. She was trembling with anger, shame and grief. She should not have had to hear about her uncle from Thierry’s lips and forever have it associated with the Templar’s gloating. She should not be standing out here while Louis and Thierry were closeted together. But then perhaps if Thierry did not deserve mercy, he and Louis certainly deserved each other – and she deserved better.


34

Papal Palace at Tusculum, August 1149

Pope Eugenius leaned forward on his chair, pale hands tightly clasped, and peered intently at Alienor. He was a small man, made smaller by his posture, and resembled a shrew clad in magnificent episcopal robes.

‘Your Eminence, I am ready to hear your judgement,’ Alienor said. This was it, the fulfilment of the journey. Louis had agreed to the annulment and had spoken to the Pope earlier that morning. She had not seen him since, but he had resolved to go forward with the matter. All that stood between her and the dissolution of her impossible marriage were a few words from this elderly little man and the necessary documentation.

Eugenius rubbed the shining sapphire in his pontifical ring with the pad of his thumb. ‘As I told your husband earlier, this is a matter for God, not for man, and God forbids the separation of those he has joined together, except in very serious and complex situations, neither of which pertain in your case.’

He had a habit of slurring his words at the end of sentences so that it was difficult for Alienor to tell what he was saying, but she understood enough to know he was not taking the tack she wanted.

‘But our bloodlines say our marriage is consanguineous in the third degree. Louis and I share the same ancestors.’

‘By all means laws should be kept, but sometimes they are used as conveniences without due sincerity.’ His voice was an old man’s, thin and gravelly, but nevertheless imbued with power, not least because he was passionate and sincere about what he was saying. ‘I trust you will put your faith in God. You do not wish to raise His anger. Be meek and bend your will to His. That is what I told your husband.’ He raised a warning forefinger. ‘I was much disturbed when I heard that he too desired an annulment. It is not the behaviour I would expect from a true son of the Church. Too many people sue for annulment when they should be doing their best to cherish their marriages. I told him he must reconsider, and he agreed to do so.’

Alienor gazed at him in growing, sick dismay.

Eugenius now pointed his forefinger at her. ‘It is not your place to deny God’s purpose. I do not sit in judgement beyond that which God allows me. I urge you with all my heart to come together with your husband as you were once before and go on your way united. From your union you shall bear an heir for France.’ His brow furrowed in bafflement. ‘You are a young woman still and have no need of resorting to such stratagems in this matter. You must beg God’s mercy for the waywardness of your thoughts.’ A sad but almost kindly smile curved his lips. ‘You have come to the proper place to make it right. All it needs is the determination and everything can be made whole again.’

Alienor was in shock and turmoil, but she set her face and held onto her dignity. Eugenius’s gaze was filled with compassion and concern and also a little troubled censure, as if he were rebuking an erring child. It was plain that the pontiff was not going to agree to annul the marriage and that his mind was set on a very different path.

‘Daughter, you should go to confession and pray upon what I have said, even as I have entreated your husband to do. Let today be a renewal of your marriage vows with your husband, not an ending.’ He held out his hand for her to kiss his ring. ‘I shall hear no more on this foolish matter of annulment. Go and prepare yourself to be your husband’s bride and you will be vouchsafed a son.’

There was nothing Alienor could do but make her obeisance and leave. She was numb, unable to believe the meeting with Eugenius had ended like this. There was no room to appeal his decision. She and Louis were more irrevocably bound than ever.

That night Alienor walked barefoot in her shift and cloak through the corridors of the papal palace at Tusculum, her right hand set lightly on Louis’s left wrist. He too was barefoot and similarly clad. They both wore the gold crowns that had travelled in their baggage from the outset of the crusade. Alienor’s hair fell in burnished ripples to her hips. The scent of roses and incense wafted from her garments and her body as she walked. Louis too was bathed and groomed. Before and behind them a choir of secular canons sang God’s praises, and attendants strewed rose petals from the palace gardens across the floor tiles.

Eventually they came to a polished oak door decorated with wrought-iron curves and scrollwork. With great ceremony an usher knocked upon it with his ebony staff and, at a command from within, turned the latch and admitted them to a bedchamber ablaze with light and colour. It reminded Alienor a little of the stained-glass glory of Saint-Denis because here too the effect was of walking into a reliquary. It felt sacred, and she was filled with trepidation and uncertainty.