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‘And if you married,’ she cried, ‘how could you be sure that you would get this male heir by which you set such store?’

‘I am content with my daughters.’ He quailed before her fury, which was in itself ridiculous. He, a father and a duke, to be overawed by a girl, and his daughter at that! Why should he feel this need to placate her? ‘It is my ministers …’ he began feebly.

‘Then your ministers must needs mind their own affairs.’

‘Dear daughter, this is an affair of the Duchy.’

‘Very well then, marry, and I’ll swear you will soon be making a pilgrimage to some saint’s shrine asking for a fruitful marriage.’

‘A pilgrimage?’

”Tis the custom. But I wonder at you. You have sins to answer for, Father. You need redemption even as my grandfather did.’

‘I never lived the life he did.’

‘His sins were committed in the Courts of Love. There are others which have to be answered for. You have offended many, Father. It may be that the prayers of your enemies would be answered, prayers for retribution and not yours for forgiveness of your sins.’

‘Daughter, you turn all to your advantage.’

‘Mayhap I uphold the truth. I was ever one who liked plain speaking and always shall.’

‘So then let us have plain speaking. You are the heiress of Aquitaine and are determined to remain so.’

‘It is my wish and natural in me. A poor ruler I should be if I did not view the loss of my inheritance with abhorrence. If you marry and there is male issue I should be displaced. The people would regret it.’

‘Nay, they would not regret my giving them a duke.’

‘First you have to get your little duke, and God has shown you in two marriages that it is daughters for you.’

‘If you believe this you will not be disturbed at the prospect of my marrying.’

‘I shall be disturbed by your disappointment, Father.’

He laughed at her. ‘My dear Eleonore, you are a diplomatist already. And you but fourteen years of age!’

‘I have made full use of my fourteen years, sir, and something tells me that God will never give you a male child.’

‘Have you become a prophet then?’

‘Nay. So many royal lords marry for sons. There was the King of England, think how he strove for a son. And what happened? His marriage was barren. There was a man who had scattered his bastards throughout the realms of England and Normandy, but he had one legitimate son who was drowned at sea and never could beget another. God denied his dearest wish, as he may well deny you yours. I believe that Henry of England regretted his second marriage. Of what good was it? It did not bring him the very thing he married for. Sons.’

‘He was a man who had led a life of great immorality.’

‘He and your father were alike in that. Perhaps he did not repent enough and so Heaven turned a deaf ear on his entreaties.’

‘I am no Henry I of England.’

‘Nay, Father, you are not. But you stood out against the Pope. It may be that he is asking Heaven not to grant your wishes for that very reason.’

The Duke was silent. He had wondered the same himself. Was Heaven against him for supporting Anacletus II against Innocent II when almost the entire world agreed that Innocent was the true Pope? He had been forced to give in in time, but it would be remembered against him. When Henry of England had died and Stephen of Blois had proclaimed himself king, the Duke had joined forces with Geoffrey of Anjou and sought to subdue Normandy and bring that disturbed dukedom to Geoffrey, the husband of Matilda, Henry’s daughter who many said had more right to England - and Normandy - than the upstart Stephen. And what had followed? Bitter defeat!

He, like his father, had never been a man to indulge in warfare. Aquitaine had been secure for generations and its people enjoyed a peaceful life. The Duke had hated war. He could not forget the sight of men dying around him; the heart-rending wailing of women and children driven from their homes.

Could it be that he had offended God and that until he received absolution he could not hope for a son?

He wanted to explain to this vital girl of his why he wanted a male heir. He wanted her to understand the difficulties that could befall a woman. She never would because she saw no difficulties. Yet they were there.

He wanted to see a son growing to manhood, a son who would take the reins of government in his hands before his father died. That would give continued peace to Aquitaine.

Then the idea came to him which had come to so many before him. He must placate his God and the one way to do this was to go on a pilgrimage to offer homage to the shrines of the saints. The most ardent sinners gained absolution in this way. He, the tenth Duke William of Aquitaine, would follow their example.

‘What I must do,’ he said, ‘is go on a pilgrimage. I will visit the shrine of a saint and there I shall gain forgiveness of my sins. When I have done this I shall come back and marry, and God will grant me the blessing of a son.’

Eleonore narrowed her eyes.

The pilgrimage would not be achieved in a few weeks; then there would have to be the matter of selecting a suitable bride.

It was always best to put off evil for as long as possible. There was a good deal to be done before her father could marry and beget a son.

Something told Eleonore he never would.

There was the bustle of preparations. Having made his decision Duke William felt serene in his mind. He was to travel to the shrine of Saint James at Compostella and there he would pray for a fruitful marriage. His daughter watched his preparations with a certain cynical satisfaction as though she knew his prayers would remain unanswered.

He felt contrite in a way, for he loved her dearly. He admired her, as did most people who were aware of her dominant personality. If only she had been of the male sex he would have asked nothing more. He wanted her to understand that only in being female had she failed. And not for him; like his father, he had the utmost admiration for her sex, but it was others he must consider.

At the moment she was the heiress of vast possessions. Rich Aquitaine could be hers and thereby put her in command of as much territory as that possessed by the King of France. It was true that they were the vassals of the King of France but in name only. The kings of France knew that the dukes of Aquitaine wielded as much - perhaps more - power than they did. It was a matter of form that the dukes bowed to the king.

‘It is a hazardous journey to Compostella,’ said the Duke one day to his daughter. ‘It is that which makes it certain that any who reach it, by the very arduous nature of their journey, will have their prayers answered.’

‘You are a fool to undertake such hazards.’

‘I feel it to be a duty.’

‘Duty! Bah! But make the journey if you wish it. And see what comes of it.’

‘Would to God it were not necessary, Eleonore. I think of you constantly. I find it hard to leave you.’

”Tis of your choosing,’ she told him coldly.

‘Not mine, but those to whom I owe a duty. I shall take few men with me.’

”Twould not be fitting to travel in great state on such an errand,’ she agreed.

‘And I would leave my bravest behind to protect you.’

‘I can protect myself.’

‘There is no harm in having a stalwart guard. And I shall confer with the King of France for he will be eager to come to your aid if I should ask him.’