Who was there to protect her? His brother Raymond was far away in Antioch. If only Raymond was at hand. He was something of a hero and the Duke had often thought that his father would have preferred Raymond to have inherited Aquitaine. Very tall, fastidious in his appearance, possessed of a natural elegance, Raymond of Poitiers was born to command. He had been the ideal crusader and was now Prince of Antioch, for he had married Constance, the granddaughter of the great Bohemond of the first crusade. But it was no use thinking of Raymond in far-off Antioch as a protector.
Could it be that he was going to die? As each day passed his conviction became stronger. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe; there were times when he was not sure whether he was on the road to Compostella or fighting for possession of Normandy with the Duke of Anjou.
In his moments of lucidity he knew that he must abandon hope of reaching Compostella. His sins would be forgiven but he must pay for forgiveness with his life. And his affairs must be in order. He must be sure that Eleonore was protected.
There was one way to do this. He must ask for help of the most powerful man in France: its king.
He would offer his Eleonore to the King’s son. He had no qualms about the offer being joyously accepted. Louis had long coveted the rich lands of Aquitaine and this marriage would bring them to the crown of France.
He called to his litter two of the men he most trusted.
‘Make with all speed to Paris,’ he said. ‘Let it be known that you come from the Duke of Aquitaine. Then the King himself will see you. Take this letter to him. If the letter should be lost before you reach him, tell him that I wish a marriage between his son and my daughter without delay, for I fear my days are numbered and if the marriage is not arranged others may step in before him.’
Having despatched the messengers the Duke felt easier in his mind. If he were to die, Eleonore would be in good hands, her future assured.
King Louis VI of France, known as the Fat, lay on his bed breathing with difficulty. He deplored his condition and it gave him no comfort to realise that he should never have allowed himself to reach such bulk. He had enjoyed good food and had never restrained his appetite for it was an age when men were admired for their size. If one was rich one could eat to one’s fill; it was only peasants who went hungry. It therefore behoved a king to show his subjects that he was in a position to consume as much food as his body could take. But what a toll it took of a man’s strength!
He longed for the days of his youth, when he had sat his horse effortlessly; now there was no horse strong enough to carry him.
It was too late to repine. The end was in sight in any case.
He often said to his ministers that if only he had had the knowledge in his youth and the strength in his old age he would have conquered many kingdoms and left France richer than when he had come to the throne.
But was it not a well-known maxim: If Youth but knew and Age could do.
Now he must plan for the future and he thanked God that he had a good heir to leave to his country.
God had been good to him when he had given him young Louis. He was known throughout the kingdom as Louis the Young, as he himself was known as Louis the Fat. He had not always been the Fat of course, any more than his son would always be the Young; suffice that those were the soubriquets by which they were known at this time.
Young Louis was sixteen years old - a serious boy, inclined to religion. Not a bad thing in a king, mused Louis. Young Louis had been destined for the Church and not to rule at all for he had had an elder brother. He had spent his early years at Notre-Dame and he had taken well to the life. But it was not to be. Fate had ordained otherwise.
Bernard, that rather uncomfortable Abbot of Clairvaux, who was inclined to fulminate against all those who did not fall into line with his beliefs - and none knew more than rulers how irritating such prelates could be, for had there not always been certain friction between Church and State? - had prophesied that the King’s eldest son would not take the crown but that it would fall to his brother Louis the Young.
The King had been uneasy, for Bernard had a reputation for making prophecies which came true; and sure enough this one had.
One day Philippe the heir, after hunting in the forest, came into Paris where a pig, running suddenly across the road, tripped his horse. Philippe fell and struck his head against a stone and died almost immediately.
By this time Bernard had become revered as a holy man who could see into the future, and young Louis much to his dismay was taken from Notre-Dame to study the craft of kingship.
The boy had always hankered after the religious life. Perhaps it was not a bad thing. A certain amount of religion was good for a king provided it did not interfere with duties. He would be called upon now and then to defend his kingdom and his father hoped that when such occasion arose he would not be squeamish about punishing those who rebelled against him. Young Louis was too gentle. Also he must get an heir. Louis had never frolicked with women. So many young men of his age had fathered a few bastards by this time. Not Louis.
Now the King sent for his son.
He sighed a little as the boy stood before him.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘you see me prostrate. Never indulge your appetite as I have done. It is not worth it.’
‘I see that, Sire.’
‘Be seated, my son. I have news for you.’
Louis sat down.
‘My friend and ally, the Duke of Aquitaine, is in the same sad state as that in which I find myself. It would seem neither of us is long for this world.’
The King saw the lights of fear spring up in his son’s eyes. They did not mean so much that he could not endure to lose his father as that he feared the heavy responsibility which that death would place on his shoulders. A king should never be afraid of his crown, thought Louis the Fat. A pity indeed that he had brought him up in religion. But how could he have known that Heaven had already signed Philippe’s death-warrant and sent a paltry pig to be his executioner?
Louis would forget that he had loved the ceremonies of the Church when those of State were forced upon him. It was merely the contemplation of great power that frightened him.
‘Therefore,’ went on the King, ‘I think it well that you should marry and that without delay.’
Now the boy was really frightened. This would never do. A pity he had never dallied with a girl in some secluded part of the hunting forests. It was all very well to be as he was if he remained the second son. But he would change when he was married to a young and beautiful girl and by all accounts Eleonore was this.
‘You cannot get an heir too soon, my son. I have a bride for you. I could not have chosen one who pleased me more. The Duke of Aquitaine is dying, so his messengers tell me. He has suffered much hardship on the road to Compostella. His heiress is his eldest daughter. She is fourteen years of age and very desirable. There is to be a match between you two.’
‘Marriage,’ stammered young Louis, ‘so soon …’
‘Without delay. It is what the Duke wishes. He has placed his daughter under my protection. This is the finest thing that could happen to France. Eleonore is heiress to all the Duke’s dominions, Poitou, Saintonge, Gascony and the Basque country. I could not have chosen a more suitable bride for you.’
‘Father, I am as yet unprepared …’
‘Nonsense, my son. Little preparation is needed to get an heir. We shall put you to bed with this desirable and very rich girl and you will know what to do. Think of the good she can bring to France. The more lands under our protection the less likelihood of wars. The more powerful we are the more we can work for the good of France.’