Louis was thoughtful. It was true he did not wish to go to war and he knew very well that that was what it would mean. Yet on the other hand he wished very much to please Theobald.
‘It is too late to hold back,’ said Louis.
‘Too late! Why should it be? I doubt Geoffrey Plantagenet wants this war. All you have to do is to withdraw your support from Prince Eustace and the matter will be settled.’
‘So Normandy will remain in the hands of Matilda and her husband.’
‘Who have more right to it than Theobald’s brother Stephen. There will be a bloody war in England when Stephen dies if he does not recognise Henry Plantagenet as his heir.’
‘Then what can I do?’ asked Louis.
‘You can invite Geoffrey Plantagenet to court. You can discuss the matter with him.’
‘You think he will come?’
‘There is no doubt that he will. He did not take up arms against you in support of Robert. That is something to remember.’
‘Then I will send for him,’ said Louis, relieved in his heart that war might be avoided.
So Geoffrey Plantagenet came to the court of France.
Geoffrey was at this time in his late thirties. He was noted for his handsome looks and his habit of wearing a sprig in his hat of the planta genista which had earned for him the name of Plantagenet.
He was pleased to be invited to court. He could only believe that Louis had no heart for the fight. Geoffrey was determined to hold on to Normandy for the sake of his son Henry, who was now about seventeen.
There was one thing about which Geoffrey and his virago of a wife agreed and that was that their son Henry was not only going to keep his hold on Normandy but was going to take the crown of England on the death of Stephen.
Eustace, Stephen’s son, was not worthy of such honours - nor had he any right to them. He, Geoffrey, had no intention of going to England to settle that difference. Matilda had tried it and failed. It was not difficult to understand why. Their, son Henry would succeed he was sure when the time came. The boy must win his own spurs. And he would.
Still, if he were the heir to Normandy he would be in a better position to fight for the crown of England and it was all to the good that Louis had decided against going into battle on behalf of Stephen and his relations.
So with great confidence Geoffrey of Anjou, sporting a planta genista in his hat, came to Paris.
Eleonore watching from a window saw his arrival. A fine-looking man, she decided; it was long since she had seen one who reminded her, although faintly, of Raymond Prince of Antioch.
She would admit that he had not Raymond’s good looks, fine bearing and charm of manners. But he was not lacking in these qualities. And there was one important virtue so sadly lacking in her husband. Geoffrey Plantagenet was a man!
There was a friendly atmosphere at court. Louis, now that he had been persuaded by Suger, was delighted that there was to be no war. Theobald and his son were disappointed. He would try to make up to them in some other way.
He had explained to young Henry of Champagne that it would be wrong to indulge in a war against the Plantagenets on such an issue.
‘We must remember, my dear friend,’ said Louis, ‘that Geoffrey Plantagenet’s wife is the daughter of the late King of England, Henry I, and he was the son of William, Duke of Normandy who conquered England. Matilda has a claim to the Duchy which could never rightly be that of Eustace while Matilda has sons.’
Theobald and his son were angry. Louis was like a piece of thistledown, they said to each other, blown this way and that by the wind. They would have to try to persuade him later when the Plantagenet had left court.
But Geoffrey had no intention of leaving court just yet. He was finding it all so diverting and more than anything was he delighted by the interest of the Queen.
Eleonore had shown from the first that he interested her. She invited him to one of her musical occasions when she herself sang songs of her own composing. They were concerned with the joy of loving and being loved.
Geoffrey was not one to ignore such gentle innuendoes. Cursed with a wife for whom he had no affection or desire, for years he had been seeking consolation elsewhere.
Matilda was now an old woman of fifty. Eleonore was some twenty years younger. She seemed very young to him, and she was one of the most beautiful and attractive women he had ever seen.
That the Queen of France was light in her morals he knew full well. There had been rumours about her adventures during the crusade. Geoffrey of Anjou was not one to refuse what was offered.
Within a few weeks of his arrival at court he and Eleonore were lovers.
She liked to talk to him. He was a man of charm and easy manners. He reminded her very much of her uncle Raymond. Not that he could equal him - no one could do that, but the resemblance was there and very agreeable to her.
Not only did she enjoy their love-making but their conversation was amusing.
He told her of the wild conflicts that had ensued between himself and his wife.
‘She still calls herself the Empress because before she was married to me she was married to the Emperor of Germany.’
‘We have all heard tales of that virago,’ said Eleonore. ‘What a time you must have had with her!’
‘Think of the most difficult woman in the world and that is Matilda.’
‘And is she beautiful?’
‘She was handsome enough in her youth. But I was a boy of fifteen at the time of our marriage. She was twenty-five. She seemed an old woman to me. I never took to her. And her temper … it is beyond description.’
‘But you got three sons by her.’
‘We were at length prevailed upon to do our duty.’
‘And she loves these sons?’
‘Even Matilda is a mother. Our eldest is a fine boy. He’s going to rule England one day.’
That would be … Henry.’
‘Ah, young Henry. What a fellow!’
‘Is he as handsome as his father?’
‘He is the least handsome of my sons. Not tall, but stocky and he cares not for his looks. He refuses to wear gloves in the coldest weather and his hands are chapped and red. He despises the graces of living. He will be a man, he says. He is never still. He must be here, there and everywhere! He tires out all about him. He is a boy to be proud of.’
‘Tell me more of him. He is very young, is he not?’
‘Seventeen winters or so.’
‘And he is religious?’
‘His religion is to live every minute of his life to the full.’
‘I should like to see this son of yours,’ she said. ‘What does he feel for women?’
‘He likes them … he likes them very well.’
‘Like his father mayhap?’
‘Well, he has already sired two bastards, I hear.’
‘And he but seventeen! He is not a man to waste his time. I shall see him then?’
‘He will come to Paris to swear fealty to the King.’
‘He might have been my son-in-law. We did once think of a match between him and my daughter Marie.’
‘That was a match I greatly wished to see take place.’
‘It was old Bernard of Clairvaux who opposed it … on grounds of the strong blood tie between the two.’
‘That was what he said. I’ll dare swear he thought that such an alliance would give too much to our house. He was never a friend of ours.’
‘We talk much of your son.’
‘Yes, let us now consider ourselves.’
They did, and when in due course Geoffrey’s son Henry Plantagenet arrived at court, Eleonore was completely overwhelmed by the personality of the youth. He had a vitality which she found intriguing; a virility which was undeniable.